#sorry obviously i have many thoughts about a sore subject that is difficult to talk about!

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 20: Second Assist

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane reunites with friends and family, hashes out some feelings, and gets real with Sy. Can their relationship survive her trauma? And the threat that still looms above them?

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: Mention of rape, alcoholic beverages, violent imagery…feels out the butt.

Author’s Note: You guys are so splendid and beautiful! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement to finish this piece. First, welcome to new readers! I know poor Henry’s injury and subsequent physiotherapy has driven some of you here, and while I’m sorry for him, I’m glad I can consider myself something of a pioneer in this particular genre and provide you some help for your newfound thirst. To my OG readers, it is to you I owe this entire work, parts written and incomplete, and I hope an eventual book deal. I mean to mention you in my acknowledgements, should this ever reach a willing publisher. You’ve inspired me so supremely that I cannot quantify it, even with the words I hold so dear.

Since my last chapter was posted, we’ve said a relieved goodbye to 2020 and a tentative hello to 2021. To be honest, this year has started out worse than last year. Lots of bad weather in my area this winter, my sister is currently on her way to a new life in another state, and my grandmother, the last grandparent I had, passed away in February. Those last two things have been especially difficult to shake off and recover from, both coming to fruition pretty suddenly. Amongst all that, I’ve been pretty distracted by my other fandoms, especially Marvel, and I’ve been reading a killer book series that I’m utterly in love with. (The Throne of Glass novels by Sarah J. Maas. 10/10 recommend.) But I knew I needed to get back into Shane and Sy’s story, especially given the new and rekindled interest in the subject matter. In all honesty, I’ve had most of it written for months. It’s just been a matter of finishing it off to set up the rest of the story.

I really hope you all enjoy Chapter 20, Second Assist, and would love your feedback and notes. You are all so important to this story, and your notes, reblogs, and comments are cherished. Thank you so much for reading! Love from Hannah!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

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Shane woke in her warm bed, late morning sun streaming in through her sheer curtains, the heavier drapes parted to let in the light. She wished she'd remembered to close them before now. She really was not ready to be awake.

She was sore. Achy. Her sleep had been fitful and full of shadowy nightmares and muffled screams. Beyond that, she didn't try to remember images or events. She knew the general premise of the dreams. It would take a lot of time, effort, or a miracle to make her forget those traumas she'd been through in the last week. Not even forget. She knew she never would. But move on from them. Accept them. And heal from them…even that seemed a mighty obstacle. One she was not sure she could surmount.

Through the open bedroom door, she could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd and the clanging and sizzling of pans, and she could smell bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Sy had left the room, but had not, it seemed, gone far. She gingerly sat up, stood from the bed, and donned her robe as she walked out into the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

The sight before her warmed her heart. There was Sy. In only his boxers, daringly frying the notoriously dangerous breakfast meat. Upon her entry to the kitchen, she could also smell pancakes, and she thought syrup, as well. He seemed to be warming a bottle of the maple unction in a pot of hot water. He turned as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and grinned widely at her.

"Mornin' sunshine." And she was struck by the irony of someone with such a radiant smile calling her sunshine. Especially when she didn't feel much like beaming. But she couldn't help return the expression, even through her pain.

"Mornin' bear. Did you go to the store?" She knew she couldn't have any bacon in her fridge, and she doubted her eggs and milk were still good at this point. But she also couldn't think that he would leave her for any reason.

"Nah, some of the guys brought over some provisions. Matt worked on your car all night, too, and filled up the tank. It's as good as new. He and Nate brought ‘er over as well as the groceries. I just had ‘em get stuff I knew your family wouldn't be bringing later. They've had tons of food given to them this week, and they're ready to share. You should have seen your mom loading me down with sandwiches and chips and whatnot when I visited them."

"I still can't believe you met them. I really wanted to introduce you personally." Shane's face fell. She would never be able to get that back. She wanted to cry. Sy had poured her a cup of coffee and sat it in front of her with her favorite creamer.

"Darlin' I’m so sorry. I had to talk to them."

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm not mad. Not at you. Just…"she didn't want to say Elliott's name. "I'm disappointed that the experience was stolen from me." That so many things had been stolen from her. By that monster. There was no other way to describe him. Sy growled. As if he could read her mind. He really just knew her well enough and shared her thoughts.

"Well, don't worry, we'll have a nice dinner with them one of these days, and we can pretend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, and I can feign nervousness." she laughed.

"And I'll pretend too. That I'm scared to meet your dad." he chuckled. "What if he threatens me with his shotgun?"

"I'll pull the ol' 'Daddy, no, I loooooove him!' line, as I throw myself between you!"

"That oughta work." he laughed and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped toward the stove and flipped a pancake.

As they sat eating their late breakfast, Shane's mind wandered. Nothing had changed on the surface, but everything was different now. This cozily mundane breakfast with her boyfriend felt like an out of body experience. As delicious as it was, as wonderful and comforting as it should feel, her guard was up. Even through her amiable façade. She was not the person she was two weeks ago. She was not the same woman who said goodbye to Sy at the base. Maybe that was the real transformation. Maybe that was why nothing felt normal. It wasn't the world, but her own self coming back into it.

"Shane?" Sy asked, gently, but it felt like he was speaking through a megaphone directly into her ear. She was so startled, she nearly dropped the half full mug of coffee that was paused midway to her lips. A bit sloshed out onto the table and splashed her shirt.

"Shit!" she chided herself. It wasn't a big deal, but she felt stupid jumping at the sound of her own name.

Sy reached for the closest towel, hanging from the oven handle, grabbed it and started for her clothes with it. She stopped him. But she couldn't think about why the intimate act made her uncomfortable.

"No, don't, it's fine. These clothes have seen better days, anyway." She pulled the towel from him and began to mop up the small puddles of coffee around her plate.

Sy seemed to note the stains already present on the shirt, as if trying to divine their history. She was something of a messy eater, so the battle wounds of many a barbecue, spaghetti dinner, and hurried breakfast peppered the now off-white SATB club tee she'd gotten her second or third year in college choir. She thought back to a huge room with high ceilings. White, cinder block walls, flecked tile floors, a beautiful, glossy, black baby grand in front of a long whiteboard with black lines to resemble sheet music. She thought about the mnemonic device she'd learned to help her remember what notes appeared on each line, and in the spaces between them. She pondered the deeper meanings and implications of these devices. EGBDF…every good boy does fine. She thought about the "good boys" in her life. She knew many. Her dad, her brother Ethan, Sy, obviously, her many male coworkers and friends…and honestly they did far better than "fine." They were wonderful. But she was letting the "bad boys" she'd encountered dictate her mood. Permeate her psyche. Tear her down. She didn't want to be like this. Then FACE came to mind, and above their purpose of indicating the notes between the lines on the staff, they called her to action. To face these newly minted demons with all the strength she knew she possessed, and she too would "do fine." But as with almost all actions, this was easier said than done.

She felt a warm presence on her left hand which had paused it's torture of the now coffee-infused kitchen towel. Sy's hand was squeezing hers gently.

"Shane." he uttered, barely above a whisper this time. She looked at him through tears that she had not realized had formed. He continued.

"Shane, what can I do, darlin'? I'll do anything."

"Babe, you're doing everything you can, and more. This…this is all going to have to come from me. I…don't know when I'll be myself again…" she paused, tears streaming now. "I'm…I'm different."

"You're not though." he reached for her face, but she pulled away.

"I am, damn it! Sy, I was…" Words had power. And the one she was thinking of had more power than she thought was warranted. She knew that uttering it would take away it's power…and yet mustering the courage and strength to actually do so…seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, and disassociated herself from the statement, even though it was about her own past.

"I was raped." She refused to cry. She felt it all again. She had never said the words. She had never thought it necessary. Everyone understood. Sy, his friends, and she was sure her own loved ones had made the connection. But she knew she needed to say it now to drive home the points she was about to make.

Sy, looked at the table, nodding, not needing to be told in so many words something he already had surmised from the clear evidence. He remained silent. She went on.

"I love you, Sy. I have since the day we met, on one level or another, and I believe that I always will. But I…right now I can't be a proper girlfriend to you. I can't…be with you, touch you, be touched by you, in the way we used to be. In the way you deserve…and I don't know when…or even if…I ever will. Not that I don't want to. That's ALL I want in the world. To go back. To be the woman who fell in love with this…incredible man. To make love with you, but…I can't."

Sy's eyes were full of tears, their predecessors already descending his round cheeks and disappearing into his thick, dark beard.

"Sy, I don't want to lead you on and keep you tied to a relationship with no life in it. You deserve someone who's whole. Someone who can be a fully invested partner for you, and not this broken, damaged--"

"You stop that, Shane. I won't hear no more of this kinda talk. Y'hear? You're my girl. My woman. My person. No matter what. You gotta know I'd never leave ya just cuz you aren't ready for sex again. You don't think that I would, do ya?"

"Well, you went to Virginia…you took that job…knowing the distance it would put between us. Literally and figuratively."

"Biggest mistake of my life." Shane raised her eyebrows in surprise as Sy elaborated. "I couldn't focus on my classes without wishing you were there. Wishing I could team up with you for discussions and hand to hand combat training…that thought got me a little too excited, if you catch my drift." He smirked, pulling a sheepish smile from Shane. "Then in that forest. I dreamt about you every night. I thought of you constantly. I could barely breath sometimes, I missed ya so damned much. I was an idiot. I was insane to think that I needed anything other than you. Any MORE. There IS no more. You're it. You're the MOST! The most important thing in my life."

The declaration hung like vapors in the air, more felt than seen. Tangible yet ethereal.

"And when I found out that you were missing…I was…well, I think I looked like death…and not warmed over. You can ask the program director I met with after I got the news. She could tell I was just sick over it. And as I thought about it on the way home, pieced things together, started thinking about who'd taken you, I got murderous. Shane, I have been in dozens of battles, skirmishes, firefights, you name it. War. But…the sheer bloodlust I felt thinking about what you could be going through…I've never experienced anything like it. Everything was red. Everything. For days. Until I saw you, alive. And then it went red again when I saw the fear and damage on your face." she could tell he was doing his best not to talk about the farmhouse and that basement, but she still flashed back to the moments before and after his appearance there. The moments when she simultaneously prayed to live and hoped to die.

"You don't owe me anything, Shane. I just want you in my life, and I don't care what your presence looks like. Romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. I'm here for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Shane felt the urge to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, but could not seem to move more than one arm to place her other hand on top of his. She hoped the gratitude and love behind the small, but heartfelt gesture landed. It was all she had in that moment, no matter how abundant her affection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shane's family's arrival was a complete blur to her. It was joyous, tearful, and the happiest she'd been in a long time. The moment she opened the front door for them, she was surrounded, engulfed with hugs from her parents and siblings. They stood in their affectionate huddle for several moments before Peg waved Sy over with marked insistence. He'd been standing by, observing happily, but not wanting to intrude on the familial reunion.

When they finally dispersed, John asked the two younger men to help him bring in groceries. The women headed into Shane's bedroom for a more private setting in which to talk. Shane filled her mother and sister in the best she could given the rawness of the wounds left on her mind by the events.

She leaned against the headboard cuddling with Gabby while her mom rubbed her feet. She had insisted on doing this thing that had always comforted her children, and made them feel much better when they were younger.

"Well, I'm very proud of you, pumpkin." The girls both looked at their mother, who rather uncharacteristically hadn't spoken in some time. Shane was nonplussed. Peg elaborated.

"You survived something that many women don't. You're talking about it now, which even more women don't. You may think you're broken, but you're just a tree damaged by a storm, but standing stronger than ever." Trust her mom to lay such wisdom on her. When she felt like giving up. When she just wanted pity. When she could only see defeat. Her mother had always found a way to encourage and buoy her and show her the victory.

"Mom's right." Gabby affirmed, and it was Peg's turn to be nonplussed, as the two women, though similar in so many ways, never seemed to see eye to eye. "It's true. Shane I've seen a lot of women come into the clinic in shoes very much like yours. And trust me…some of them…they don't make it to this point. You've got a long way to go before you're fully recovered, don't get me wrong, but you'll get there. You have us. And you have Sy."

"And then there's Sy." She diverted. "How am I supposed to plan any sort of future with him when…" She looked at her mom, and hesitated. Peg rolled her eyes.

"Shane, I know what the two of you get up to when you're alone. You don't have to be shy with me."

"Still…" she took a breath and spoke. "When I can't bring myself to…sleep with him?"

"Look at him, you're kidding, right?" Gabby chided, insensitively, but recanted at the pained expression on Shane's face. "Sorry, sis. Trying to lighten the mood a touch. Too soon. But seriously, I don't think this reluctance you feel will be permanent."

"And even if it is," Peg took over, "that man is out-of-his-mind in love with you, Shaney." She kissed Shane's toe before putting a sock on her foot. "He almost seems to worship you. Now, you know how I feel about using that term outside of religious context, but that is exactly the kind of love I want for you. Devout, and unconditional."

"But, mom, I can't--"

"Did you hear me? I said 'unconditional,' sweetie." Peg interrupted. "No matter what. No matter the obstacle. No matter the distance. No matter the circumstances. Love unwavering. That's what Sy has for you. I've seen it in him. Trust the momma."

The insistence her mother placed on trust had always ruffled Shane's feathers. Gabby's too, who she could feel stiffen slightly beside her. But Shane, for once, really wanted to trust her mother, hoping against hope that she was right. And that she, herself  wouldn't screw up the best relationship she had ever been in or was likely to ever be in again.

The girls had begun talking about some of the coworkers who'd brought food in the past week, and Peg couldn't resist remarking on the character of her favorites and judging the ones she didn't care for…oddly enough, getting more or less, the correct measure of them, as Shane saw it.

After what must have been an hour from the time they'd arrived, they heard a knock on the slightly ajar bedroom door. John poked his head in.

"Ladies, we've put a casserole in the oven, and completed various manly projects around the house--"

"Oh, daddy, what projects?" She cringed. She hated that the men had felt the need to "fix" things.

"Babe, your guest bathroom had not one, but two leaky faucets, your kitchen table seemed to be more of a teeter-totter, and half the light bulbs in the living room were out. Among other tiny things. You're welcome." he smirked his crooked smirk so similar to her own, and she returned it as if he was looking in a mirror.

"Thanks, dad."

"Anyway, lunch is almost ready. So, when you've finished your confab, let's eat."

Dinner passed amiably, Shane found a reserve within herself to allow some quasi-normal behavior, as long as you didn’t look too closely. She was talking animatedly with her siblings, making their parents and Sy laugh riotously. Shane noticed some odd looks passing between Sy and her father, but chalked it up to paranoia. She wished at least Gabby and Ethan could stay, but Heather would be over soon, and she deserved her own dedicated time. Shane wanted to give that to her.

She said her farewells to her family with promises to visit them the next day, and at least one more time before her siblings went back home, if she could work it out.

Sy was so wonderful the whole time. Standing by her, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they waved goodbye to the departing vehicle. He made her feel so safe. They went into the kitchen and cleaned up from lunch. Well, Sy cleaned. Shane was texting Heather about when she'd be over.

"Heather says she'll be here in about a half hour. She's picking up wine and pizza." Shane told Sy without looking up from her phone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, though, that he had just closed the dishwasher and was selecting a cycle.

"Sounds great. Do you want me to get out of here? Give you guys some time, one on one?" He asked as he dried his hands, wet from preparing dishes for the machine.

She thought about it, and shuddered. She played a scene in her head that startled her. In her mind's eye, she saw Sy leave and then moments later heard a knock on the door. Presuming it was Heather, she opened the door with abandon, only to see Elliott standing there under a flickering porch light, smirking maliciously at her and ready to overpower and abduct her again. She shook the thought from her head, but remained uneasy as she answered his question.

"Uh, no. Thanks. I'm sure she'll want to talk to both of us. She likes you." Shane grinned softly at Sy in an attempt to mask her trepidation over the thought of him leaving her alone for any period of time. She thought it had worked.

"Okay, well, whatever you think, sunshine. I don't wanna get in the way." He was wiping down the countertops. She felt so impossibly full of love for him, she was starting to wonder how she hadn't yet burst with it. She couldn't bear the thought of holding him back from a fulfilling relationship. He deserved everything she couldn't give him right now. And she knew she should make him leave her. Cut him loose. But she was, as she'd been since she'd met him, a weak woman. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him. Of him no longer being hers. And somehow worse, of not being his, herself. She would always need him for so many reasons, not least of which being her love for him. Maybe one day, she'd recover from this trauma, and be able to be who he deserved. To give him what he needed.

"You're never in the way, bear." She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him as tight as she could. He placed a loving hand over hers, sighing and smiling, though she had no visual proof of the latter. It was just a feeling.

Heather's greeting was no less exuberant than that of Shane's family, but it was more joyful and less emotional, even though she was immensely relieved to see her best friend after so long. They talked as if no time had passed, and Shane mustered up the dregs of her former self to have one more interaction for the day. Thank God it was Heather and not someone who would require more. She wouldn't have it to give.

"I am so glad you're okay, Shane! Things around the clinic have been bleak as fuck. Susan is loosing her mind, Anita is beside herself with concern, and the rest of us just plain ol' miss the hell out of you. And not just because of all of the overtime everyone has been pulling to get your patients seen."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…wow, I'm awful. I didn't even think---"

"That you'd be missed? Think again, sister. The place would fall apart if you ever really left. But don't feel guilty. It's the least everyone can do, and they've all said it themselves. We all love you, and know that you'd do the same for any of us if you could at all. Hopefully you won't have to, though!"

Shane nodded, eyes wide in agreement. She wouldn't wish the last week of her life on her worst enemy. On the worst person in the world. Except maybe the people responsible. Tit for tat.

"Well, I'm sorry my absence has caused extra work for all of you." Shane looked into the deep glass of Chardonnay Sy had poured her from the bottle Heather had brought. She felt about as small as the air bubble making it's way up the sloping curve of the stemless vessel. She felt a guilt that she knew was fully void of logic. It made no sense for her to feel guilt for being kidnapped. But she had always had this notion, this nagging voice in her head that told her that her misfortunes were a direct result of her decisions. That she'd inadvertently stepped on the butterfly that resulted in the monsoon she was currently experiencing, and whatever cataclysmic events she would face next.

"Why in God's name are you apologizing for this, Shay?" Heather's tone was kind, but still mildly scolding.

"If I'd never been with Elliott, none of this would have--"

"Bitch, are you a fortune teller?"

"No, but--"

"Soothsayer?"

"No."

"Time traveler?"

"I wish!" Shane chuckled. But she really did wish.

"Have you any real and proven success at consistently predicting the future?"

"I don't, but--"

"No. No buts. No howevers. You had no idea what becoming involved with Elliott could have done. Were there signs, sure. But you can't look on the past as a rubric to judge the quality of your decisions. You know that. You can only learn from your mistakes. And you have."

"Heather's right, sunshine. You really have learned. You look for Elliott's behaviors in mine and shut me down quick if you see 'em. You're not going to let yourself go down that road again. And I'm proud of you for it."

Shane silently worried her wine glass. It was hard to argue with such truth. But it was hard to agree when her own feelings were in such stark opposition. So she did neither.

"Well, I've preached my sermon for the day." she laughed. "I've taken up enough of your time. Oh, your phone. It's in my purse. I think it's fully charged, but I turned it off."

Shane thanked her friend, then Heather hugged them both and took her leave.

"Y'okay, bug?" Sy asked her after what she surmised was several minutes of silence. Minutes she didn't notice as they passed.

"Mmm…" she trailed off.

"Can I do something for ya?" And she really thought about the question. He could probably do a lot of things for her. He could make love to her until she felt whole again, even if it hurt her at first. Not an ideal option. He could probably get them both some new identities and enough money to spirit her away to somewhere her past wouldn't follow. If she became someone new, literally, would she have to bring that old baggage, those old scars, with her? Again, suboptimal. But he could definitely take the source of all grief and turmoil in her life far into the Missouri back country, somewhere not even the hunters would venture, some fallow field or forgotten cistern, and end him. Snuff out his spark of life like a candle caught in a tornado. Spill a fatal amount of his monstrous blood onto the unforgiving earth and send him to the Hell to which he was undoubtedly destined. But did she want that? Did she want another soul as a scar on that of the man she so deeply cherished? He'd say it was worth it. He'd say he'd take a thousand more for her. A million. That was Sy.

"Nothing comes to mind." She lied. And he knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. She was so grateful that he respected her, not for the lie itself, but for the reason she wasn't giving him the whole truth just now.

His phone went off and he picked it up as he stood from his seat at the table. She could only hear that it was Matt, the guy she thought she understood had the car place, before she heard tension in Sy's voice. Even from the next room, she could tell something was wrong, though he was talking too quietly for her to make out words.

She heard him suddenly shout a stream of profanities that he rarely said at all around her, at least, let alone together. There was a bang, and the walls of her kitchen quaked like the tectonic plates beneath them were shifting.

Sy walked back in, his face was red, as were his knuckles. He was shaking an injury out of his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, deep concern at his appearance and demeanor, suddenly ominous.

"I need to fix your wall in there." he grumbled, evading, without success. She'd be doing therapy on his hand, next.

"What's really wrong?" she repeated, sternly.

"That was Matt. Elliott's…escaped, somehow. He's in the wind."

Shane's heart became so heavy, she could almost feel it smashing through the kitchen floor and burying itself deep in the cement floor of her basement.

"Oh, God! No! What if he goes to the police!?"

"Fuck that, I'm more concerned about him coming after you!"

The two stared, faces full of equal measures of concern for the other.

Up Next: Chapter 21-Patient Education

[fanficshiddles]

His ray of sunshine, Chapter 24

Keira, Jessica and Tilda were sunbathing together in the middle of the cabins on the green. It was another sunny day so they were making the most of it while chatting.

‘Can I ask you both something… a bit… private?’ Keira asked, her cheeks already going slightly red just from the thought of what she was about to ask them.

‘Of course, you know you can ask us anything.’ Tilda said, turning onto her side and leaning up on her elbow to face her. Jessica did the same at the other side of Tilda.

‘Well… you know that Tom has claimed me now. A few times.’ She blushed harder and wasn’t able to look at them directly yet, so kept an eye on the blue sky above her instead. ‘So, it’s just that… he hasn’t knotted me yet. Says he wants to wait until my heat, because it will be easier on my body. Is that… Is that what happened with you both, too?’ Keira then turned to look at them.

Jessica was first to share. ‘I was knotted during my first time, with Michael. We were both too far gone in pleasure to realise what had happened before it was too late. It hurt a bit, because I was being stretched not only from the first time but also because of the knot. But after that, it became easier.’

‘We waited, because Idris is a big man and we both knew it would hurt a lot if we knotted during my first time. It was maybe our third or fourth time before he knotted me. But we did a lot of foreplay and used some extra lube too.’ Tilda said, happy to share with Keira.

‘So… it’s not weird for Tom wanting to wait for my heat?’ Keira asked.

‘No, I wouldn’t say so. You’re really precious to him, he won’t want to hurt you.’ Jessica smiled.

‘And he has incredible stamina and self-control, probably the most out of all the Alphas here. That’s no doubt part of why he’s such a great leader of the pack.’ Said Tilda.

‘Yeah… probably.’ Keira nodded.

‘You don’t seem so convinced?’ Tilda asked.

‘Well, I just. I don’t know. I think I want him to knot me, I just have this feeling that I want to feel him in me completely.’ She blurted out.

Tilda smiled. ‘That’s a natural instinct for an omega to feel. To want to be knotted. Tom will have strong urges to knot you, too. But he’s fighting against them because he feels it will be right and better to wait. But, perhaps speak to him and tell him you want it. Then he might change his mind.’

‘I don’t think it would take much persuasion, because the knot is the most sensitive part on an Alpha.’ Jessica said.

That gave Keira a lot to think on. She was glad she could talk to the other omegas about it, without worrying about the subject.

Keira did speak to Tom about it that night, but he was adamant he didn’t want to hurt her so was going to wait for her heat. She didn’t say anything else about it, not wanting to annoy him.

But the following day, she did want to do something for him…

She was a little nervous when she sank down on her knees on front of Tom. But she really wanted to please him. God knows he had done it for her so many times already.

Her hands were a little trembly as she started just stroking him at first, feeling him grow harder in her hands. She admired the prominent veins and also the wider part at the base of him, where his knot was.

When she trailed her fingers down the length of him and stroked around his knot, Tom let out a moan and let his head fall backwards. Keira smiled, feeling a little empowered she carried on stroking him and touching him here and there, finding where his most sensitive spots were. It definitely seemed to be around his knot.

She leaned in closer and wrapped her lips around the tip, she gave some small tentative licks at first till she got used to the taste and feel of him against her tongue. When she became braver, she took more of him into her mouth and used her tongue to swirl around him while she sucked him off.

‘Ooooh, yes. Good girl.’ Tom praised, reaching down to stroke her hair back from her face and he slid his fingers through to massage her scalp for a moment.

Keira flourished from his praise. And she found herself wanting to make him even prouder of her, so she took him as far down her throat as possible. Even though she gagged around him, she squeezed her thumb tightly to try and stop her gag reflex from kicking in too much.

Tom was surprised with how far she was taking him down, so surprised that he almost lost it completely. Especially when she took him so far in that the area where his knot was ended up in her mouth. He could feel her tongue on the underside of it, and it felt so delightful.

But then he started to swell, and he realised that wasn’t a good idea.

‘Sweetheart, pull out my knot is swelling.’ He tried to pull back but she was determined and followed him. In that short few seconds… it was too late.

His knot swelled entirely in her mouth. That’s when her eyes flew open in fear, realising her mistake. She started to panic because she couldn’t breathe and couldn’t get his cock out of her mouth. Her gagging was getting worse. It didn’t help that he was cumming too, spurting his seed down her throat, although his cock was taking up pretty much all of the space there. She was sure he was just depositing straight into her stomach. Or it certainly felt like it.

Tom stroked her hair and had to quickly snap out of it, even though it was difficult he managed to focus and calm her down.

‘Calm down, love. Breathe through your nose and relax your mouth and throat.’ He reached down and stroked the side of her neck softly.

She was panicky, but listened to her Alpha and relaxed herself as best she could. Her nostrils were flaring as she took deep breaths through her nose.

‘That’s it, good girl. Now we need to get through to the bathroom. We are going to move slowly and carefully, together. Ok?’

She glanced up at him and nodded slightly.

Tom took slow steps backwards, Keira had to crawl along on the floor with him. He was struggling to not find the sight erotic, it was difficult because he knew her jaw would be sore and she was obviously a bit distressed. He tried to think of anything else to help his knot go down as quick as possible, no matter how incredible his cock felt right now.

They reached the bathroom and Tom quickly poured a cup of cold water.

‘Now, this may hurt your teeth a bit but it’s the only thing I can think of.’ He said, regret and strain in his voice.

He poured the cup of cold water down his abdomen and over the base of his cock. He hissed when the water hit his skin, but it didn’t take the knot down enough. So he had to pour it into her mouth awkwardly from the angle. She let out a gargled whine at the coldness on her teeth.

But Tom’s knot did go down, it was only a few seconds before it was down enough for him to pull out of her mouth with a pop. Strings of his sperm and her saliva connected his cock with her lips. Then she dove for the toilet and puked up some of the water that had went down her throat, her reflexes kicking in hard.

Tom crouched down and rubbed her back, gathering her hair out of the way. ‘Are you alright? Breathe, love.’

After coughing a bit more and then flexing her jaw, she sat back on her heels and looked at Tom sheepishly.

‘Sorry… I got too carried away.’ She blushed.

Tom gently slid his fingers down the side of her face and along her jaw line. ‘Are you ok? Are you sore?’

‘It’s a little achy, but not too bad.’

‘Ohh my love. I’m sorry I didn’t pull you off quick enough. Perhaps next time we make sure that the knot only goes where it should go.’ He tapped her nose. ‘Did you mean to keep it in your mouth, Keira?’ He asked.

She looked down and nodded, not able to lie to her Alpha.

‘Oh sweetheart.’ He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, but he pulled her into his embrace.

‘I’m sorry. I… I wanted to please you, and I know that your knot is really sensitive.’ She said shyly.

Tom rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. ‘You already please me, darling. Every day. You never disappoint me. But it is flattering that you wanted to please me so much.’ He paused and sighed again. ‘You aren’t going to be happy waiting until your heat, are you?’

She leaned back a little and looked into his eyes, blushing hard. ‘I’d rather not…’ She said quietly.

Tom grinned. ‘Alright then. I will knot you. But we take our time and do it slowly.’ He purred in a seductive manner and leaned in to kiss her on the lips.

She nodded eagerly, getting excited at the mere thought. But Tom saw her wince slightly, obviously still sore.

‘Once you’ve taken some painkillers, though. I’m worried about your jaw.’ He cupped her chin gently.

‘Ok.’ She nodded in agreement.

She definitely wouldn’t be doing that again. Ever.

[justheretobreakthings]

Remember Me - Chapter 21

(First Chapter) (Previous Chapter)

Word Count: 4,366 (Total Word Count: 84,026) Read on AO3

Story Summary:

It was strange enough for the paladins of Voltron to have found another human this far from home, locked in a Galra prison. But it was stranger still when this human insisted that he knew them, and even that he was the former red paladin of Voltron.

That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? After all, if this Keith was actually a part of the Voltron team, then why does nobody remember him?

It was difficult to get a proper read on Keith over the next couple of days. Not to say that it wasn’t always difficult to get a read on Keith - how many of their problems could be solved if the guy just came with goddamn operator’s manual, Lance couldn’t even fathom - but more specifically, it was hard to tell how Keith was feeling toward Lance.

He wasn’t openly glaring at Lance any more, the way he had been during their last coalition meeting, but he wasn’t really looking Lance’s way at all, either. Not greeting him when he entered the room, not speaking with him, not smiling when Lance cracked a joke during a meal. Nothing.

And for the life of him, Lance couldn’t remember if this was a change or was a return to the norm. Was Keith giving him the cold shoulder, or was he just being the same grumpy, closed-off person he always was, and Lance was just now feeling more aware of it?

Part of him wanted to broach the subject, to walk straight up to Keith while he was on the training deck or in his room and ask whether the whole deal had blown over, or whether Keith was still mad.

The other part of him was sure that Keith was still mad, and that bringing it up would only fan the flames.

Still, whether the tension between them was real or just in his imagination, it was still leaving Lance feeling awkward whenever he was around Keith, unsure of his own footing. Which was not a feeling he relished. Fortunately, even now Keith wasn’t much more social than he had been when they’d first brought him into the castle, so the awkwardness only really had to be endured during meals and training. So far, at least.

He let the subject stew for his mind for a while before finally bringing it up with anyone, and he chose to spring it on Pidge and Hunk. The three of them had been hanging out in Hunk’s room, chattering about nothing important with toolkits open as they worked on a project. That is, Pidge and Hunk were working. Lance was dangling off of Hunk’s bed, feet against the wall and head on the floor, watching the proceedings upside-down; a while back they had instituted a policy that Lance was only allowed to assist with engineering projects up until the point that he broke something, after which he was relegated to watching from a time-out spot for the rest of the project. Today, it had taken him only four minutes.

They were doing… something, with one of the cleaning bots. Pidge had told him when they’d first started what they were changing, but it had seemed very complex and had mostly gone over Lance’s head. In any case, judging by the fact that some of the ‘upgrade parts’ Pidge had brought along looked suspiciously similar to pieces of the Altean blaster rifles he’d once helped Coran clean, he was pretty certain that the cleaning bot was going to be much more dangerous once they were done with it than it was when they had started.

The conversation had drifted toward reminiscence about their Garrison days, and somehow landed on talking about past school projects, so Lance had quickly been growing bored of that topic - he had suffered enough while doing school projects; it was just cruel to make him talk about them so long after the fact. It was high time for a subject change.

“Have you guys noticed anything weird about Keith?” he asked as he sat back up onto Hunk’s bed. He closed his eyes for a few seconds as the blood rushed out of his head now that he was right-side-up again.

Pidge glanced at Hunk before shrugging. “Well, yes, Lance, but that’s kind of old news by now, isn’t it?

Lance shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean - I meant, like, just over the past couple of days. Like, since that dinner on Thotirn?”

“Uh, he was hungover the day after,” Hunk said. “Does that count as weird?”

“What? No,” Lance huffed. “What about, like, his behavior in training and meals and - and with the way he’s acting?”

“Here’s an idea,” Pidge said. “How about instead of being weird and cryptic, you just tell us what you think he’s doing that’s so weird, and we’ll agree or disagree.”

Lance huffed out a frustrated sigh. “I’m talking about – about how he’s, like, avoiding me and not talking to me and – and seeming like he’s, um, in sort of a rotten mood…”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just how Keith is all the time,” Hunk said. He picked up a screwdriver and turned his attention back to the cleaning bot.

“No, that’s not – ugh!” Lance flopped dramatically backward onto Hunk’s bed, his foot narrowly avoiding kicking Pidge’s head as it swung out. “I’m trying to figure out if Keith’s mad at me! Have either of you noticed anything different about him the past couple days? Has he said anything about me to you guys? Or, maybe one of you’s seen him glaring at me when I’m not looking? Something like that?”

There was a pause before Pidge sighed. “Lance, what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Lance insisted as he straightened up again.

“Why would Keith be mad at you for nothing?” Hunk asked.

“Well, I mean, not nothing nothing, just – see, back during that dinner party on Thotirn, Keith had nearly drunk his weight in alcohol, right? So I take him back to the castle and get him to bed so he doesn’t cause a scene or drown in his own puke or anything. And when we get back to his room, he starts having this, like, emotional breakdown. Just getting really riled up and crying, and I needed him to calm down, you know? To just settle down and go to sleep.”

“So you… knocked him out?” Hunk said as Lance paused for breath.

“What? No! I just told this little white lie to calm him down before he went to sleep. Thing is, by the time he’s sobered up next morning, he of course realizes that it’s a lie, and he’s real pissed about it. He chewed me out after training the other day and he hasn’t said a word to me since. So I’m just trying to figure out if this has all blown over, or if he’s still mad at me. Keith kinda seems like he’d be the grudge-holding type, you know?”

Pidge let out a thoughtful hum as she crossed her arms. “What lie did you tell?”

“I kind of, um - ” Lance scratched at the back of his head. “I kind of maybe sorta told him that when he woke up his team would be back?”

The other two stared at him for a long moment before Hunk softly said, “Dude.”

Lance held up his hands. “Okay, look, before you guys get all judgey - ”

“Too late,” said Pidge.

“ - I honestly didn’t think he would remember what I said. You two both saw how hungover he was yesterday morning; that should give you a bit of an idea of how wasted he was the night before. It’s a fucking miracle he remembered. And also, you know what, it was very obviously done to calm him down and make him feel better, right? Like, once he sobered up and all, he should’ve realized that.”

“Maybe,” Hunk said. “But that’s still, like, a really sore point for Keith. Not really the sort of thing you should be poking at.”

“Yeah, fine, in retrospect, yeah, I probably should have come up with something else, but it was a high-pressure situation and late at night and I don’t think we can dismiss the fact that I’d had a couple of drinks too and - and it’s way easier to sit here and figure out other options after the fact. Hindsight is twenty-four/seven, and all that.”

Pidge raised a brow. “It’s ‘hindsight is twenty-twenty’.”

“There aren’t twenty days in a week, Pidge, that makes no sense.”

“... Remind me how you passed the Garrison entrance exams, again?”

“Not important, Pidge,” Lance said with a scowl. “Look, I made a mistake, all right? I know it. And I apologized! I told him I was sorry, but he was being a stubborn ass as usual and decided that him feeling disappointed for a few minutes in the morning was the worst tragedy in the world, and of course he shouldn’t have been drinking that much in the first place – ”

“Is this how you worded your apology when you gave it to him?” Pidge asked. “Because if so, I have a theory about why he might be mad at you.”

“No, no, I’m just – ” He sighed again. “I’m just frustrated. Everything’s all tense now – as if things weren’t stressful enough already – and I just wanna, like, put the whole stupid incident behind us, you know? I’m making an effort here.”

“Have you tried talking to Shiro about it?” Hunk asked.

Lance turned to him, head tilted in question. “Hm? What’s Shiro got to do with this?”

“Nothing directly,” Hunk answered. “But he’s the leader of Voltron, right? If there’s a problem between team members, he can mediate. He’s done it plenty of times before.”

“I guess…” Lance said slowly.

Pidge nodded. “Right, ask Shiro. Seems kinda the obvious solution now I think about it.” She furrowed her brow as Lance said nothing in reply. “Lance? Don’t tell me there’s something up between you and Shiro too.”

Lance shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s… if Shiro’s gonna be doing conflict resolution or whatever, shouldn’t he be, like, unbiased? As a rule?”

“What about it?” Hunk asked.

Lance folded his arms. “What, you don’t think Shiro’s just gonna agree with whatever Keith says?”

There was a beat of silence as Pidge and Hunk cast confused glances at each other. “Since when does Shiro do that?” Pidge asked.

“Pretty much since Keith showed up, right?” Lance said with a shrug. “He was siding with Keith against Allura from day one, he’s been letting Keith get away with stunts in our battles that he would never let the rest of us do without getting a ten-hour lecture afterward, he basically believes anything Keith says and lets him do whatever he wants – ”

“Lance, that’s not true,” Hunk said. “Keith follows the same rules the rest of us do.”

“All right, yeah, maybe so, but he’s the only one with Shiro’s arm around his shoulder the whole time he does it. Come on, I can’t be the only person here who’s noticed it, can I? Go ahead, have either of you spent half as much time training with Shiro as Keith has? Or has Shiro talked to you nearly as much as he talks to Keith? You can’t honestly tell me you don’t see it!”

“Well, it’s – that’s not – ” Hunk started, but to Lance’s satisfaction, he was clearly wavering.

“You see it, right? It’s blatant – ”

“Lance,” Pidge said.

Lance ignored her. “Blatant favoritism, is what it is. It’s like he’s – like he’s more concerned about Keith. Like he needs Keith more.” His arms tightened over his chest. “What’s he need Keith for so badly, huh? He’s already got his team. He’s got me.”

A longer beat of silence rang in the room this time before anyone moved or made a sound, and it was only broken when Pidge unfolded her legs and stood, joining Lance on the bed. The mattress sank slightly as she took a seat, bringing her sock feet and letting out a long breath. “Back when the Kerberos mission crew was first selected,” she said, “Back when Matt and Dad first started training for it, I was kinda pissed.”

Lance blinked at her. He turned to Hunk, looking for an explanation, but Hunk appeared just as bemused as him. “Um… okay?” he said, turning back to Pidge.

“I guess there had been sort of a closeness there between Matt and Dad for a while already, on account of Dad working at the Garrison and Matt being a cadet there, then a junior officer right under Dad’s command. But once they were selected for Kerberos, they started having more and more time together. They were training and studying and running mission simulations and going to meetings. We could barely find the chance to do so much as have a meal together as a whole family. It was kinda like the family had been split in half, you know? The half that was going to Kerberos, and the half that was staying behind. And it kinda sucked. Matt was there at Dad’s side all the time, and I was starting to feel like an afterthought.”

She sighed and brought her knees up to rest her chin on them. “Came to a head this one night. See, back at home, first Saturday of the month was always Family Game Night. We’d set aside the whole evening for whatever game we could all play together for hours on end, and we’d been doing this since I was too young to even understand how board games worked. So this one night, Dad calls us up at like four o’clock to tell us that some important presentation got moved up at the very last minute and he and Matt wouldn’t be able to make it to game night, and I sorta lost it. Yelled at him over phone for a couple minutes straight, didn’t answer it when Matt tried to call me after.

“So, naturally, when they get home from their big important presentation thing, Dad sits us all down to have a ‘family discussion’.” She made air quotes around the words with her fingers. “And basically we just… talked it out, I guess. Like, got it all into the open. And on some level, you know, I’m feeling like a bratty little kid because, yeah, I know that he needs to be doing all this stuff for Kerberos, and I know that he’s not intentionally prioritizing Matt over me, it was – it was the circumstances. Still didn’t mean I felt good about it, though.

“So I tell him that, and in the end, I guess it did sort of need to be said. I don’t think Dad was really realizing how much the Kerberos prep was taking over his schedule and his life, and I mean, it was going to be a long mission away from us, Mom and I needed some time with him and Matt while we still could. I suppose in all that goes into working toward a space mission, some stuff winds up pushed aside even if it shouldn’t be. Not his fault. He’s only human, you know? And he was focusing on things he needed to focus on. Sometimes people need a reminder that there’s other stuff going on around them. Once he had that, we worked things out. Got actual bonding time scheduled with me, finally, so it did the trick.”

She lifted her chin and stretched out her legs. “We all know how badly what happened with Shiro affected him. I mean, we’ve all been around for flashbacks and stuff, right? So getting someone on the ship who’s apparently been dealing with something so similar, and getting to talk about the stuff and help someone out with all that shit is probably good for him. Shiro needs that. And Keith? Well, we’ve all seen that he’s all kinds of fucked up, so having someone like Shiro around to try and help sort out the fucked-up-ness? Yeah, I’m betting he needs that.

“That’s all it is, I think. They’re just focused on what they need right now, and other things are gonna end up falling by the wayside. That’s just what happens, you know? There’s only so much a person can focus on at once. And if it gets to be a problem, that’s when you sit down, have a family discussion, and get that shit out into the open. Tell me, Lance: have you mentioned this to Shiro?”

“I - ” Lance gritted his teeth as he hesitated.

“Well, there you go,” said Pidge. “If there’s a problem between you and Shiro, you’re not gonna get anything solved by complaining to us about it. Go to Shiro. Use your words.”

“I shouldn’t have to talk to Shiro about it, you know?” Lance said. “He’s the team leader, the Black Paladin. He’s – he’s supposed to know what’s going on, and know what to do, and – ”

“And walk on water and cure the blind and ride his magical unicorn over a rainbow and into the sunset?” Pidge finished, a smirk hovering at the edge of her mouth.

Lance grimaced. “I didn’t say all that.”

“Lance, I’ll have you know that this is the same Shiro who once narrowly avoided getting expelled as a cadet because Matt dared him to go streaking on a campus tour day. He’s a great guy, and a great leader, but it’s always dangerous to put someone on a pedestal. Talk to Shiro.”

“…Okay,” Lance sighed. “Okay, I’ll have a talk with Shiro. But I’m still not thrilled about the idea of having a big conflict mediation with Keith.”

“If you don’t wanna have a counseling session, maybe some sort of grand gesture would do the trick for Keith,” Hunk suggested as Pidge slid back onto the floor. “I’ve had success in the past with baking apology cakes, writing ‘I’m sorry’ in icing on the top. It’s hard to be mad at someone who gives you cake.”

“Hey, there’s an idea,” Lance said, face brightening. “Could you make a cake for me to give to Keith?”

“It’s your apology, man. You’ve gotta bake the cake.”

“Mmm, I dunno if I wanna bake…”

“Then maybe get him a greeting card,” Pidge said. “Hallmark sells ‘I’m Sorry I Messed With Your Sense Of Reality’ cards, right?”

“Very funny,” Lance grunted.

“A balloon bouquet?” Hunk said. “Flowers? What flowers are good for apologies?”

“This isn’t helping at all,” Lance groaned. “What the hell would Keith even want with flowers or balloons?”

“Well, what does Keith want?” Hunk asked.

Lance furrowed his brow as he thought it over, and the right answer came to him soon after. He let out another long groan and dropped his face into his hands.

Keith had better fucking forgive him after this.

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

Lance left Hunk’s room once Pidge had declared their project finished, and before she and Hunk had a chance to test out the cleaning bot’s new upgrades. He still wasn’t entirely sure what those upgrades were or how they were going to test them, but if by tomorrow the Castle was still in one piece, that would likely be the sign that the project was a success.

He went to the living quarters, coming first to Keith’s door and knocking. He didn’t identify himself – Keith was less likely to ignore the knocking if he didn’t know who was on the other side of the door – but he still got no response from inside. He pressed his ear to the door just to be certain, and when he heard nothing, decided to move on to Shiro’s room instead.

His fist was raised and poised to knock when a voice sounded from behind him. “Oughtn’t disturb him right now, Lance.”

He jumped an inch in the air and whipped around to see Allura strolling around the corner, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “My apologies,” she said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Lance said.

“Oh?” Allura quirked her brow. “You jumped.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I was startled. I’m just… battle-ready.” He stretched his arms and leaned languidly up against the doorframe. “Sharpshooter reflexes, you know? Gotta always be on my toes.”

“Ah. I should have guessed. In any case, if you plan on visiting with Shiro, you ought to save it for later. He only just went down for a nap a few vargas ago. I believe he had one of his restless sleep cycles this past night, needs to catch up a bit.”

“Oh. He was with you?”

Allura nodded. “And Coran. We’ve been sorting and studying coalition reports and correspondence for the better part of today. I certainly don’t blame him for being tired, it can be frighteningly dull work.”

“I see.” He knew what she meant. Coran had roped Lance into helping out with coalition correspondence before, and even without the additional tediousness of him having to run every line through translator programs, the supply and logistics reports were so boring to take notes on that it made even his dullest math classes back at the Garrison feel like a non-stop party in comparison.

“Did you need him for anything urgent?” Allura asked.

“Nah,” Lance said, shaking his head. “Mostly just looking to chat. I’ll save it for tomorrow.”

“If you have time to,” Allura said. “I’ll let the rest of the team know at dinner and we’ll brief you all this evening, but tomorrow we’ll be assisting the Blade a bit. There’s a supply depot on one of Mapukil’s satellites that they believe may be involved in one of the transfer routes they’ve been trying to track for that odd strain of quintessence the Blade’s had its eye on, but they’re having difficulty travelling into that sector undetected. We’re going to try to wormhole through and investigate the depot on their behalf.”

“Sounds like fun,” Lance said. “We planning on attacking or – ?”

“Not if we can avoid it.”

“Less fun. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be good. We’ll be in and out in no time. By the by, you seen Keith anywhere? Wanted to chat with him too.”

“I passed him returning to his room from the training deck a little while ago.”

“Already checked, he’s not there.”

“Most likely in the kitchen, then. You paladins do tend to get peckish after exercising, don’t you?”

“True,” said Lance. “I’ll check there. See you ‘round.”

Allura waved him off as he turned and set off toward the kitchen. Sure enough, he walked through the entrance to find Keith sitting on the counter, feet dangling, a bowl in his hands filled with some berry-like fruit that only Coran could pronounce and popping them into his mouth.

Keith looked up as Lance entered, then immediately dropped his gaze back to his fruit, and Lance wasn’t sure if he was imagining the scowl that had just appeared on his face, or if it was just due to the angle. He sighed internally. Well, best get this over with. “Hey, Keith,” he said.

Keith’s only reply was a wordless grunt, and Lance tried his best not to be offended by that. Instead, he strolled across the kitchen and hoisted himself up onto the counter as well. Not right next to him – Lance was pretty sure anyone besides Shiro trying to sit that close to him uninvited would wind up with a black eye – but on the opposite side of the sink. Keith seemed to stiffen, but he didn’t make to leave or tell Lance to go away. He counted that as a win.

“So, uh…” Lance began cautiously. “Whatcha eating?”

Keith tilted the bowl toward Lance so he could see the fruits better, then popped another into his mouth, chewing audibly.

“Cool, cool. Do you, uh, do you mind if I have one? Haven’t eaten anything since – ”

“What do you want, Lance?” Keith asked, his tone flat and eyes still on the bowl.

Lance quickly turned a frustrated huff into a little cough. He was here to make nice with Keith, not get into another spat with him. “Well, I actually, uh, needed to talk to you about – about something.” He paused, and when Keith didn’t ask him to elaborate, he went ahead. “See, I guess some of the Lions have been feeling a little, um, lonesome as of late, on account of us all being busy with our missions and training and meetings and all that. And I’ve been doing better about that with Red lately, trying to visit her more often, but I think she’s kinda bored, you know? Like, needs a bit of variety?”

“Okay…” Keith said slowly. “So what’s that got to do with me?”

“I was thinking about, like, how you had asked about, um, visiting with Red sometime? And I know I had been kind of, uh, not sure about whether Red would be cool with that, but, um… I dunno. I think, you know, long as I stick around and oversee the visits, she might be okay with having someone else pop in a few times and chat with her. She’s more of an extrovert than she pretends to be, I think. So, there you go, if you wanna visit Red…”

Finally Keith had lifted his gaze to Lance’s face, and Lance couldn’t read his expression. Keith blinked at him for a moment before saying, “Are you serious?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be?” Lance started swinging, bumping his heels against the counter, keeping his posture as casual as possible. “So, you wanna do that or not? We could hang out in the hangar after dinner or tomorrow morning or something, your pick. I mean, if you want to.”

“…Yeah,” Keith said. “Yeah, I’d, uh – I’d like that.”

“Okay. Okay, cool. So, um.” He cleared his throat and slid off of the counter. “So, whenever you’re up for it, just find me and we’ll head down. Whenever.”

“Yeah,” Keith said again with a nod. “Um… thanks.”

Lance nodded back. “Right, no pr– uh, you’re welcome.”

He rocked uncertainly on his heels for another few seconds before the awkward silence got to be just too much, and he made his hasty goodbyes and headed out of the kitchen, leaving Keith to his fruit. He let out a relieved breath once he was back in the hall. He did it. Apology made, apology accepted.

Perhaps things were looking up.

[moeruhoshi]

Natsu bringing up the subject of wanting children to Lucy for the first time

OMFG ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THE ORIGINAL RETURNED IM GONNA KICK SOMEONE

Natsu sighed as he twirled his fingers absentmindedly, sitting at his usual table in the guild. He’d been grateful that Levy had taken his wife on a girl’s only quest that would last a week, giving him an appropriate amount of time to sort out the messy thoughts he had.

It had been two wonderful years since they finally tied the knot after their many years of friendship that transpired into dating, and now, he had the best wife in the guild. Alzack would probably argue that Bisca was the best, but he was surely too shy to make such a public declaration.

Natsu loved Lucy more and more each day, thankful he was able to wake up with her and not get kicked out of bed. Going to bed with her was just as nice, and depending on the night...well, you know.

She’d moved out of her apartment and into his house, after a very intense discussion on how clean he and Happy would need to keep things. He’d do anything to keep her there once she moved in, or moreso anything to keep her comfy bed where his hammock used to be.

Recently Natsu had thought about expanding their home by making a room for them, a room for Happy, and a room for...the little fledgling he’d had a sudden desire to hold.

Seeing Al with Asuka, Macao with Romeo, Levy with her twins, even Gildarts with Cana, made his thoughts wander to having a baby of his own. He loved kids and was known for being one himself, so he worried that maybe Lucy wouldn’t want to make such a big commitment.

He could practically hear what she’d say to him;

“Eh? You want us to have a baby? I’d have to hire a nanny for the both of you! There’s no way you’re mature enough to take care of a kid!”

And he had his rebuttal prepared;

“I raised Happy, didn’t I? And he turned out just—“

Okay...maybe Happy the best example.

As much as he loved his little buddy, Happy was a rascal, and knew just how to pick on Lucy’s nerves. But he teased out of love! And did it less now that they were living together.

But she’d seen him with Asuka before, and played nice with the twins. He would have totally been their babysitter when metal breath and Levy went on missions if not for the fact that Gajeel trusted Juvia way more.

And he’d been saving money! Money was important if he wanted to have a kid, so he secretly put away ten thousand jewel from every quest they took. He nearly had a million or two stashed away, plus now that Lucy didn’t need to pay rent, they had a lot more they were able to spend between them. The extra money would give her some peace of mind when they’d be too busy to go out on jobs, it’d surely be enough to manage their lifestyles as they took time to learn a new routine.

He cooked a lot too, learning from Mira how to make anything but burnt campfire fish. Lucy was obviously better than him, but his food wasn’t half bad! Lucy was gonna need a lot of bed rest after having their kid, so he wanted to let her know he could take care of her in that sense too.

Natsu wasn’t gonna lie, he also thought his pregnant Lucy would look...just amazing. He imagined rubbing her swollen belly as they laid together in bed, or pressing his ear against it to feel the baby kick and heat them moving around. She’d get moody and tired and he’d wait on her hand and foot, even carry her around if she wanted it. He’d take care of her in...other ways too, much to his own delight.

So he’d been sitting in the same spot for nearly a week, nervous as it became the day before Lucy would arrive home. He was finally gonna bring it up...maybe...no definitely! Or...

“Okay, spill it,” Cana plopped herself in the seat across from the dragon slayer, starling him out of his thoughts. “I’ve been watching you make the same five faces all week and it’s starting to get annoying.”

“Sheesh, Cana, I don’t gotta tell you an—“ Natsu yelped as she cut off his sass with a flick to the forehead, grumbling as he rubbed the now sore spot.

“Oh, hush. Don’t get an attitude with me, I’m here to help. You’re plannin’ to tell my Lulu something important, right? As her interim guardian, I need to be breifed before you say a word to her. And it better not be some shit about divorce or so help me, Dragneel, you’ll never walk again,” The card mage warned as she rose a suspicious eyebrow to him and drank from the pint she’d brought along with her.

“Geez, I’d never leave Lucy!” He quickly clarified as she still looked at him sideways. “It’s nothing bad...it’s just that I wanted to have a serious conversation with her,”

“Which is...?” Cana drawled on her question until he finally sighed and gave in to her curiosity.

“I want, I want us to have a kid,” Natsu quickly slapped a hand over the brunette’s lips as she almost yelled out to the whole guild. Luckily enough, everyone was too occupied with their usual hustle and bustle to pay attention to the intimate subject. “Don’t you dare!”

“Alright, alright! I won’t say a word! But oh my gosh, a little Natsu and Lucy! I’d reach that kid everythin’ I know, ‘specially about drink—“

“This isn’t about you, Cana,” He rolled his eyes and stopped her before she could go on, but smiled as she did, unable to hide his excitement.

“I know, but! Ugh! Okay, I really have to tell someone—“ The dragon slayer quickly snatched her wrist in his hold before she could make off with the information.

“No way! I only told you because you said you wanted to help me!”

“Oh yeah, sorry, got carried away,” She retook her seat and hummed with lips now puckered as she thought. “What’s got ya so nervous? She’s your wife, ain’t she? I figured something like this would be easy to talk about,”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if Lucy thinks I’m ready. It’s a lot of responsibility and I’m not the most responsible...but I know I could be,” Natsu frowned as his worries began to churn again. “I’m ready to be a dad,”

“Then it’s as simple as that. You need to voice your concerns with her or she’ll never know how you’re feeling.” Cana said as she took a swig from her barrel-like stein. “And you’ve practically taken care of us all since we were kids, I don’t think there’s anyone better suited to raise a someone, you’re a good guy, Natsu.”

Cana’s words provided the strength he’d been looking for all week, encouraging him to take the leap and bring up the difficult question with his wife.

He even planned to set the mood; sending Happy off to Wendy’s for a couple nights, cleaning the house, washing their sheets, ordering flowers and chocolate-covered strawberries Lucy couldn’t get enough of. He showered like crazy too, styled his hair, wore a nice suit, even let his stubble grow in. That was one

[rayroute-clear-saeran-text-sound]

Hi! Could you do a ship for me? I’m 5’3 with long dark brown hair and grey/blue eyes. I’m interested in many types of history and media such as writing, drawing and photography and i’m currently taking a film course. I’m usually the mom of the group and am seen as quite sweet but i’m also very sassy, stubborn and teasing. I enjoy many types of games and play them whenever i get time i also have an extensive folder of memes. I’m a straight girl, Libra and an INFP. Thank you!💕

Yes, of course! I’m sorry, I went for kind of a low hanging fruit here, but I still hope you like it!

I pair you with Yoosung!

He obviously was first drawn to you through your hobby of gaming, so excited to have another gamer besides Seven in the group. But later, your variety of interests and sweet and nurturing personality made him feel at ease and comfortable, and he wanted to be around you 24/7.

 He would love playing any type of game with you when ever and where ever, whether it be a casual card game, board game, competitive round of LOLOL or Smash Bros, or a fun game of tag and/or hide and seek.

 Despite not wanting to be, he would be a sore loser. If you teased him about it, he would pout even more, probably retreating within the safety of his hoodie. You could only draw him out by saying you were leaving, which would startle him into profusely apologizing and begging you to stay.

 Would constantly brag about you to his gaming friends. Any opportunity to bring you up in the chat during a party mission on LOLOL, he would take. He would invite you to join his guild and play with his guild members, but eventually he would regret this decision; he could get jealous pretty easily, especially when you were talking too much with the other guild members for his taste.

 He would constantly ask to be updated on meme culture, as he would sometimes miss some trends due to his studies and LOLOL. He honestly thought it was adorable when you sent him memes, and his heart would absolutely melt if you ever sent him wholesome love memes. However, Seven would call a double standard because Yoosung would only get irritated whenever he would send memes.

 He would act super annoyed whenever you teased him, but deep down he loved it. He would actually find himself sad if a day went by without you poking fun at his cuteness and childishness. 

 He loves your entire personality, but secretly, your sassy and stubborn side is his favorite. Even if he acts like it’s obnoxious to him (usually it’s poor acting and you can see right through him), he finds it fun to watch you refuse to leave something or let go of an idea, and adores when you tell him off; he thinks you’re at your most attractive when you tell him what to do, bonus points if you’re irritable about it. He’s a definite bottom. 

 This boy is impossibly happy whenever you take care of him. He gets stressed over having to care for himself, so he usually gives up on it entirely. He also struggles with making decisions for himself, but he’s trying to get better about it in order to “be more of a man” for you. A guaranteed way to get him to cheer up if he’s having a rough day is to mother him a bit. Your strong maternal characteristics and voice of reason for your friend groups really draws him closer to you, as your vibe makes him feel comfortable. 

 He doesn’t really understand your interest in history, as it’s one of his least favorite subjects; however, that’s not saying much considering he hates any class that has nothing to do with animals. He tries to take a liking to it for you, but unless it has to do with cool warriors and battles, he loses interest pretty fast. But, if he has any problems with history, he knows exactly who to go to for help. Expect a lot of calls in the middle of the night for help with last minute history homework or projects.

 He honestly thinks your passion for the arts is so cool. He wants all updates on any stories you’re writing, and probably will present multiple story ideas to you; most are about his LOLOL character, and all the other ones aren’t very fleshed out, but you have found a few gems in his pile of terrible suggestions.

 He would draw with you sometimes, but he’d start feeling bad when he began comparing his work to yours. You’d draw him his LOLOL character for a gift, and he would start tearing up. No joke, real tears would be shed that day. 

 He’s pretty fascinated with your photography, as he’s been around it when Rika and V were still together, but always assumed it wasn’t that difficult. Photography also left a bad taste in his mouth after Rika’s death, but you managed to change that for him. He definitely had more respect for V’s work after you explained all the different factors that go into a good photoshoot, and all of the little details kind of overwhelmed him. He loved to watch you take pictures, and would secretly wish for you to ask him to be a subject of a photoshoot. Would love it when you wanted to photograph animals, and would beg you to let him tag along. If you were interested, he would put aside his differences with V to ask him to give you a lesson in photography to give you extra tips. 

 He would be such an active supporter of all your film projects. He loves movies, and would love any short film or project you produced. Any time you finished something, he would absolutely go overboard and make a viewing party for you to show it off, inviting all of the RFA over. Usually, only Seven, and sometimes Zen, would show up, but it was the thought that counted. If Seven got a hold of your files, you know he would be on them in an instant, promoting them in the same way he got Zen famous. 

 Anytime you would cry, he would begin to cry too. Any fight with him would be incredibly emotionally charged, but there weren’t very many, as you both managed your relationship well.

 You would often help him study, although it wouldn’t usually go well unless it was history. For almost every other subject, the two of you would either get distracted by games, the RFA, or yourselves. However, he would try harder in school for you

He lives for the fact that you’re on the shorter side. It makes him feel less pressured when he stands at a small 5’7”. He likes the fact that he can just lean down to kiss you on the forehead, and that he can rest his chin on your head.

He would constantly try to get you to wear his hoodies, even if you didn’t want to. He thought you looked adorable in them, and it made him so happy.

Always sending pictures of you to the messenger, trying to flex on everyone with his beautiful girlfriend. Zen is of course always jealous, and Seven always refers to you has his best friend, which makes Yoosung jealous for two reasons: he’s pretty possesive over you, and he thought he was Seven’s best friend.

Your phone rang out and pierced the silence of your dark room, and without sparing the caller ID a glance, you knew who was calling you. Who else would call out of the blue at three AM? 

“Yoosung...you do know what time it is, right?” 

“Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry...but I need help.” You sighed, grasping the covers in one hand, holding your phone up to your ear with the other.

“I’m sorry too. You procrastinating until last minute on your history homework really isn’t my problem. Goodnight-”

“Wait, Cala! Pleaseee?” His voice took on a whining tone, the one he knew would get him what he wanted one way or another; whether that be you getting so exasperated that you just give in, or you feeling bad enough that you agree to his terms.

“Fine. You know all these favors are stacking up, right?” You sat up in bed, pinching yourself to prevent yourself from dozing off.

“I owe you big time, I know! I just...haven’t figured out how to repay you yet.” His voice got smaller the longer his sentence went on, and you felt yourself smiling.

“Oh really? Because I know how. You could gift me your ultra rare-”

“Anything but that! I’ll even come be your maid for the day!” You examined your nails in the dark, smirking at his sensitivity when it came to his LOLOL items. You could imagine his red face despite the fact that he knew you were joking, and it made you miss him more than ever.

“Just come cook for me this weekend and we’re even. Anyways, what era is the assignment on?” You could hear him heave a massive sigh of relief, so glad that you would help him, regardless of the time.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you, Cala?” You heard the shuffling of papers, and pictured him organizing his history homework meticulously. 

“Yep, all the time.”

[freaoscanlin]

Given Unsought, Part 3

Jemma came back from Maveth with a little something in tow. She and Daisy attempt to deal. Part 1, 2

A/N: hey, all! Welcome to part 3! Daisy and Jemma have a heart to heart about consequences of Jemma’s choices, and a little trio bonding over horror movies is had. This is the last part of the first trimester, which according to the websites is when all the morning sickness typically happens. Canon-compliant warnings apply. Rated PG-13, 3912 words.

Week Ten

Part and parcel of surviving life in the Playground, with their rooms stacked like Legos and the walls thinner than the shell around Hunter’s masculinity, meant developing a knack for finding spots to be alone, and for avoiding others who wanted to do the same. As Mack put it, sometimes quality alone time at SHIELD meant pretending not to see the other fifteen agents brooding in the room with you.

Daisy had her spots. The lounge on sublevel C that smelled like old man and shoe polish. The mess hall on Tuesday afternoons. Fitz and Simmons’ lab when they had assays to be run downstairs. And as a courtesy, she left others alone to brood—with the exception of Fitz.  She needed a scapegoat to make her watch those horror movies that would invariably keep her awake, and whatever, Fitz brooded way too much anyway. She left Hunter to his sulks, Bobbi to her pensive reverie, and Mack to his philosophical musings. If May’d had a brooding spot before she left, well, Daisy had never found it, but no way would Daisy have ever disturbed her. There was a woman who believed in “me time,” and Daisy could respect that.

But now Daisy broke all her rules and picked her way through the hydraulic supports for the hangar doors, careful not to step anywhere that would make Mack sigh at her. She had two brown bottles dangling from her left hand and a determined look in place.

“Hey,” she said.

Jemma, who’d been staring at her feet rather than the clear skies overhead, looked up swiftly. A smile appeared. “Daisy. You found me.”

“Should’ve disabled the cameras if you were gonna give the warden the slip. Here.” Daisy held out one of the bottles. “Got you the closest thing to beer you can have.”

“Just because it has the word ‘beer’ on the label does not actually make it similar, I must point out.”

Daisy took a seat, grimacing as the cold immediately ate through her jeans. She could see a comm unit, no doubt “borrowed,” resting by Jemma’s knee, which would warn her of any incoming or outgoing quinjets and allow her time to get out of the way of the doors. But apart from that, it was a peaceful spot for quiet reflection. Nobody would think to look atop the Playground, and it held a really pretty view of the stars. The November wind was particularly cutting tonight. Daisy wished she’d grabbed cocoa instead of root beer, even if it would’ve made climbing more difficult.

Carbonation hissed as she cracked open her bottle of root beer. She tapped it against Jemma’s. “Feels like all those times we used to sneak Ward’s beers on the Bus.”

“Mm-hmm. He hated that.”

“Good.”

Jemma traced her finger along the edge of the bottle label. “You could’ve brought a beer for yourself. There’s no need to abstain simply because I am.”

“Drinking beer when you can’t is cruel, Simmons.” Though she would have preferred it. The root beer was too sweet, cloying and sticky and cold. “Solidarity, sister.”

“I notice this noble sacrifice doesn’t extend as far as your morning coffee.” Jemma bumped her shoulder against Daisy’s, smirking.

Daisy grinned back at her. “It’s better for everyone if I don’t give up my morning coffee. Morale plummets, things get shaky, you know.”

“You could try going to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Too sensible. Coffee’s easier and bonus, it doesn’t judge me for my sleep cycles.”

“Fair.” Jemma sighed. “I dreamed about coffee in the other dimension.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows.

Fond exasperation laced a second sigh from Jemma. “Very well. I’ll confess: I dreamed about tea. Brewed in a proper, actual kettle—”

“Someday you’ll have to tell me about the microwave that hurt you, to make you hate them so much.”

“—at just the right temperature, and steeped to absolute perfection. A dollop of milk. The taste, the warmth. The caffeine.” Jemma rested her head back, her eyes closed like she was dreaming of it then, too. “After hugging Fitz, and you, and Coulson, and everybody, it was going to be the first thing I did. Brew myself a proper cuppa and drink it at the window, basking in proper sunlight.”

Daisy’s lips curled up. She’d seen Jemma do exactly that on countless mornings on the Bus. “Sounds like a good dream.”

“It was. I’ve had every part of it but the caffeine now.” Jemma set the root beer aside without drinking any. She let out a long breath and rubbed her hands down her thighs. “I’m ten weeks along.”

“Congratulations,” Daisy said slowly, suspecting this might be why Jemma had come up to the roof in the first place.

Jemma surprised her by leaning over and resting her head on Daisy’s shoulder, not saying a thing. She rarely initiated contact first, and it was usually only a hand pat or a hug. But it felt like a storm might be brewing deep inside, and all of the words kept quiet in the past four weeks might come spilling out. She’d been back a month and the only person she’d really talked to, it seemed, was Dr. Garner. With May and Hunter still gone, Jemma quiet, Coulson obsessed with Rosalind Price, and Fitz buried in portal calculations, it had been a very odd and disconnected time for Daisy. She wrapped an arm around Jemma.

“Is ten weeks significant?” she asked. “Confession: I haven’t read the books yet. I mean, I started, but maybe Bobbi had a point about me never reading.”

“It’s near the end of the first trimester. The books cautioned about waiting to tell others until after the ten-week mark had passed,” Jemma said, her voice dull. “Well, ten to twelve weeks. The chances of a miscarriage decrease significantly then. So it’s prudent to wait just in case it didn’t take. To avoid awkwardness and painful reminders.”

“Did you even want kids?” Daisy asked, as she’d never really had that sort of conversation with anybody on the team. Growing up in the system, kids were such a weird subject. She liked them, and babies were cute, but the whole motherhood thing felt strange and ill-fitting to her. Possibly because she’d been taken from her own mother, and the woman had turned out to be kind of a vampire.

It was bound to leave a mark.

“Someday, I did,” Jemma said. “In the distant future. I’m a scientist, with plans. I have goals. I’m not—I’m not careless. There was supposed to be a proper order. I’d meet someone, fall in love, an acceptable amount of time would pass, they would propose or I would, and then a wedding, time to be married as adults enjoying each other. I’d be running a proper lab, by then, and writing groundbreaking papers in my field. Then, and only then, children.”

“Equal-opportunity proposals? Very forward of you.”

“I’m a strong woman, Daisy, I know my own mind.”

“It’s one of my favorite things about you,” Daisy said, letting out a laugh without meaning to. Jemma wrinkled her nose at her. “I’m a little bit in awe of you for even having a plan. I can’t even figure out what I’m having for breakfast when I wake up in the morning.”

“You’ve got other admirable qualities.” Jemma’s voice grew quiet and impossibly small. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

“You have options, you know. Whatever you choose to do, I’ve got your back. And nobody will judge you, whatever choice you make.” Daisy took a sip of her root beer, which definitely hadn’t improved. She added, “Unless you name him Alistair. Then I’ll judge.”

“Hey! I have an uncle named Alistair and I’ll have you know he’s a lovely man.”

“Them’s the breaks,” Daisy said.

“Oh, Daisy.” Jemma shook her head, finally lifting it off of Daisy’s shoulder. She didn’t pull away, so Daisy could feel the tension rippling up her shoulders. “I don’t think I want to…not what you’re suggesting. What if Will never makes it back and this baby is all that’s left of him?”

“And what if he does come back and he wants nothing to do with it? You’re the one here and now, you have to make the choice that’s right for you and that’s right for this baby. I saw so many kids that their parents didn’t care, or didn’t take them into account and they ended up in those homes, just like me.” The words came tumbling out before Daisy could stop them. She swallowed hard and shut up, mostly because if she kept talking, she suspected her voice might break.

Jemma grabbed her hand. “It wouldn’t be like that, ever, if I have this child. I wouldn’t be doing that out of a sense of obligation, and I wouldn’t leave the child without backups in place.”

“Right. You’re right. Sorry for even suggesting—”

“No, Daisy, no, you’re completely in the right.” Jemma grabbed her hand. “It’s a sore subject, I have to figure.”

“A little.” Daisy’s laugh was humorless. “And in the end, it turns out that I’m one of the rare cases. My parents did want me. But…is it too flippant to say ‘shit happens?’”

“Sore subject,” Jemma said again. “I don’t know if I want—actually, no. What I mean to say is that it doesn’t feel real, even though I’ve seen the tests. But now ten weeks have passed and I have to make choices. I was hoping it would feel real by now.”

“Choices?”

“I’ll need to decide my future with SHIELD. Less fieldwork, obviously, and I’ll need to reduce my working hours dramatically. I don’t think Agent Coulson would approve a crèche, not with how dangerous things get in the Playground, so naturally I’ll need to look into that eventually.”

Daisy made a mental note to look up what a crèche was.

“Bobbi will need to step up and take over more of my responsibilities in the field.” Jemma was fully rambling now, lost in her own thoughts. She tilted her head. “And of course I’ll need to prepare Fitz so he accepts that, and my moving out of the Playground.”

“Wouldn’t he just go with you?” Daisy asked, baffled.

Jemma frowned. “Why would he—oh! We’re not together. We went—he took me to a restaurant right after I came back, and it was…” She blew out a breath. “It was a bloody disaster, honestly.”

The correct and friendly response would be to offer sympathy. Daisy felt more like dancing, and had absolutely no idea why. “That sucks. I was pulling for you two.”

“I think we both were, but I need him as my friend. Navigating coming back from another dimension whilst pregnant, on top of a romantic relationship that could ruin everything? Can you imagine the stress?”

“Right,” Daisy said. Strangely, she no longer felt like dancing. “Going from friends to being together while dealing with all of that, it’d be a nightmare.”

“Thank you for seeing it right away. It took me forever to persuade Fitz.” Jemma sagged a little. “And I’ll have to tell my parents. The easiest lie might be that Will was a fling of some sort. Just in case…”

“We’re going to get him back.”

“As ever, I appreciate your optimism, but in this case, I must be pragmatic. Even if we get him back…he was somebody who was there, you know? I don’t know how a relationship in the real world would work, or if I even want that. So, a fling it is.”

“How’re the elder Simmonses going to react? Are they super traditional about this sort of thing?”

“I expect Dad would have preferred that I get married and the like first, but Mum’s somewhat of a free spirit.”

Daisy twisted suddenly, giving her friend a wide-eyed look. “Free spirit? Simmons, is your mother a hippie?”

“She may have taken part in protests and marches.” Jemma straightened up primly.

Daisy laughed and finished her root beer. “Go Mama Simmons.”

“She’ll be very pleased, no doubt, to have your approval. I’m grateful that Coulson never told them I was missing, as that might’ve invoked more questions that I’m willing to answer.” Jemma glanced over when Daisy gave her a confused look. “They think I took a lab job when SHIELD fell. Fitz, too. They have no idea about what we do, and I’ve no desire to tell them. Adding a baby to that mix? It’s something of a nightmare. In addition, once I tell them I’m pregnant, it really is real.”

Daisy looked down at Jemma’s midsection. “Hate to be the one to tell you this, but it’s real,” she said.

“I know.” Jemma sighed and rested her elbows on her knees, staring up at the sky and falling silent.

Daisy would have been content to sit beside her all night and let her have her quiet reflection, but: “Simmons?”

“Yes?”

“I lost all feeling in my ass, like, twenty minutes ago. It’s cold. Let’s go inside.”

Jemma laughed. “Yes. Let’s.” She collected the neglected soda bottle and comms unit and climbed to her feet, holding out her hand. Daisy wasn’t sure why she didn’t let go as they made their way back across the hangar roof to the stairs. But she definitely didn’t mind.

Week Eleven

“Why are men so frustrating?” Daisy asked as Mack lowered the quinjet ramp. “Is it, like, a thing that you learn in the womb? Is there a secret man school where you take lessons? Is it sponsored by Axe body spray?”

“I don’t know, but yes it’s probably a thing like that, there’s no school, we might take lessons—I’ll never tell, and no, we prefer to smell better than that.” Mack wheeled a flat of boxes down the ramp, parking it out of major hangar traffic. He walked past her, back onto the jet. “Let me take a wild stab in the dark here—someone’s having man troubles.”

“What gave it away?” Daisy climbed aboard the quinjet to help him unload the cargo.

“Lincoln again?”

“The ATCU almost caught up to him. In getting away, he fried the power grid for a small city near Augusta.”

“Maine or Georgia? Never mind, not important,” Mack said, catching Daisy’s expression.

“The more property damage he does, the harder it is to convince the ATCU to bring him in peacefully.” Daisy held up a bag. “This is a lot of potatoes.”

“Bobbi’s a fan. Lincoln will come in when he’s good and ready. He’ll learn there are people he can trust here.”

Daisy wasn’t so sure. The longer Lincoln remained on the run felt like a personal slight, even though she knew it had nothing to do with her. Coming from Afterlife, he’d been skeptical of SHIELD from the start. And he wasn’t wrong to be—Coulson had pretty much sold him out to the ATCU. But he couldn’t just kiss her and decide she wasn’t capable of handling all this weird shit.

“I guess I’m just a little upset because I was kind of hoping this whole thing would’ve passed by now. And if he comes in now, he gets stuffing and turkey.” Daisy grabbed the last box to carry down and load onto the flat, trailing behind Mack. She’d really hoped Lincoln would be done with this fugitive thing by now. Having him there with her team on Thanksgiving would have been amazing.

But no, the world continued to be stupid.

She helped Mack transport all of the food for the feast to the kitchens for the staff to whip into shape under the direction of Coulson, who’d made the holiday his personal mission this year for some reason. Afterward, she spent a couple hours trying to break through ATCU firewalls—unsuccessfully—until a text from Fitz arrived. Daisy glanced over the message once and immediately set her laptop to the side, heading for the den.

“Mack says you’ve been asking about why men are terrible again,” Fitz said when Daisy dropped onto the couch next to him. He held out the bowl of popcorn as an offering.

“You, Coulson, and him, you’re all excluded from that.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m terrible.”

“Never.” Daisy rested her head on his shoulder, which she knew he hated—or pretended to hate. Sometimes she and Jemma messed with him by using excessive amounts of affection, and he’d bat at them irritably. It was such a high school thing to do, but it wasn’t like any of them had had a normal experience there. They had to make up for lost time. “What’s on the cinematic menu tonight?”

“Even though it’s a Wednesday and not our typical Saturday?” Fitz stressed, as he generally liked to gripe about Thanksgiving being on a Thursday. “We’re now considered off-duty, so we’ll be doing a double showing. Funny Face and Duck Soup.”

“What? Those aren’t horror movies.”

“Jemma’s joining us as soon as she’s off the phone with her parents.”

“After everything we’ve lived through, horror movies can’t be that scary for her. She should be able to deal! C’mon. Something with a lot of blood and some quality creepiness. You know you want to.”

Fitz definitely did look tempted. After a moment, he nodded but he gave her a sideways glance. “Fine by me, but it’s your bed she’s crawling into when she can’t sleep later, not mine. I’m locking my door. She’s a cover hog and maintenance still hasn’t fixed that draft in my room.”

“Acceptable losses,” Daisy said, sitting up. “Play the scary movie, Fitz.”

She’d already jumped three times—and had gotten into two arguments with Fitz about the plausibility of torture scenes—before she heard Jemma’s footsteps. Jemma tiptoed in, made a face as the viscera onscreen, and settled herself between them, collecting the popcorn bowl from Fitz. “You two are going to give yourselves nightmares,” she said.

“I’m not scared,” Fitz and Daisy said in unison, and Jemma shook her head at them.

As much as it delivered on the creepy front, the movie wasn’t one of their better selections, even though it made the three of them jump. When Fitz let out an involuntary “no!” at the main lady being menaced, Daisy and Jemma teased him mercilessly. He tried to return the favor, picking on them about drooling over the main dude in a shirtless scene, but Daisy and Jemma merely giggled.

“You two are the worst,” Fitz said in disgust, stealing the popcorn bowl from Jemma. “Should be ashamed of yourselves, you should, ogling him like a piece of meat. Of manflesh!”

“Clearly he takes the time to work out, and we’re…appreciating his hard work, aren’t we, Simmons?”

“It’s only right to acknowledge it, Fitz,” Jemma said, giving him a gigantic smile. “He works so hard.”

Fitz took a giant handful of popcorn and muttered something about bad influences. Daisy threw a kernel at him and pointed innocently at Jemma when he whipped about in indignation.

Hot men or not, though, the plot grew a little predictable for her and the jump scares became passé. Fitz continued to absently shovel popcorn into his mouth, absorbed in the film, but Daisy noticed that Jemma had begun to stare off into space, mind clearly somewhere else.

Daisy nudged her shoulder and gave her a questioning look. “What’s going on?”

“I told my mum and dad,” Jemma whispered, leaning away from Fitz.

“How’d they take it?”

“Shocked, I think. But happy for me. I pretended I was happy about it, for their sake.”

“Yikes,” Daisy said, as that sentence left a lot to unpack.

“It’s fine,” Jemma said. She forced a smile, leaning even closer to Daisy so that she was whispering directly in her ear. “They asked if it was Fitz’s. That was a bit awkward.”

“A bit?” Daisy asked a little too loudly, and Jemma shushed her. Daisy wrinkled her nose back at her and dropped back to the whisper. “Bet you feel better now that you told them, though.”

Jemma frowned, looking upward as she gave the matter some thought. “You’re right. I do feel better.”

“I always feel loads better when I break down and tell Coulson whatever I’ve been keeping from him. Last week, I—”

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting gossip night? I thought this was movie night,” Fitz said.

“Sorry, Fitz,” Jemma said.

“Yeah, sorry,” Daisy added.

On screen, the killer swung his machete. Entrails flew everywhere, inspiring Jemma to gasp “Oh good lord!” and hide her face in Daisy’s shoulder.

“Now that’s properly gruesome!” Fitz said, his eyes lighting up.

“You okay there, Simmons?” Daisy asked.

She didn’t move. “Let me know when it’s over.”

“The gross part? That’s over.”

“No, the movie. The whole thing.”

Daisy laughed and shifted to get more comfortable and to make it easier for Jemma to hide her face. From the squeaking sounds occasionally emerging from under her arm, she figured Jemma had to be peeking. They stayed that way for the rest of the movie, Fitz occasionally shushing them whenever they whispered to each other.

When the credits rolled, and the main character had successfully vanquished the killer at the cost of all of her friends’ lives, Daisy carefully sat up and extricated her arm from beneath Jemma. She tried to be nonchalant about getting the feeling to return.

“Can’t we watch a comedy?” Jemma asked, blinking owlishly as she sat up. “Ooh, a romantic comedy. Something with dancing.”

“Nothing black and white,” Daisy said.

“No Cary Grant,” Fitz said at the same time. He thought about it. “And no cats.”

After a good deal of bickering, mostly from Fitz, they found a movie in the archives that met all of their criteria. Fitz relinquished the popcorn and laid down on his part of the couch, resting his head in Jemma’s lap. He didn’t even complain when Daisy scrunched her fingers through his curls. The movie, however, did not get such consideration. “I’ve always wondered how everybody automatically knows the words to these songs,” he said as Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor tapped their way through an elocution lesson.

“Oh, Fitz. It’s make-believe.”

“That doesn’t make me any less curious. Make-believe or not, it should be based on reality, shouldn’t it? You don’t see Daisy bursting into song randomly, with—with Coulson joining in!”

“No, but I would pay good money to,” Daisy said.

“I took two years of tap-dancing lessons as a kid,” Coulson said, making all three of them jump as he crossed behind the couch to collect a beer from the fridge. He settled on one of the overstuffed chairs and pointed his beer at the tap-dancing on screen. “I was not up to this level, however.”

“Maybe you should practice,” Daisy said. “I’ve heard dancing’s a good way to keep in shape for older people.”

Coulson smiled benignly at her. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Boy was she going to pay for that crack later, Daisy could tell. But it was worth it, for the way she could feel Jemma giggling next to her. As the movie played on, other members of various teams drifted in and grabbed beers and snacks, settling on comfortable surfaces to watch Don Lockwood and Kathy Seldon fall in love.

It was, Daisy decided, a pretty good start to what was rapidly becoming her favorite holiday.

Part Four

[dememarquette]

ASHWATER: Epilogue [...pt 2]

[First Part by malum--in--se]

The only person I knew in this city was Adria.

I mean, really knew. As far as connections went, I was at a loss. My life had been rooted deep in good old California. Due to circumstances you can catch at 7 PM Central on HBO, it was violently severed last month. And while I was hitting it off in Modena better than expected, no one should have been at my door. Adria was also the only one who knew my address, but this early in the afternoon she’d be elbow-deep in CSI: Modena. My door beeped again. After the second time, sheer annoyance prompted to peek at the security camera. A stout woman, barely clearing five feet stood at the foot of the building. I don’t recognize her, but she sure was acting familiar with my buzzer. It pinged again, extended as she held her thumb on the button. This time I responded. ”Apartment 312 speaking; do you mind?” She stopped her pacing, pivoted, and jammed a finger on the intercom, a little too excited. “Mr.Marquette? Hello, hello! This is Kathy Grover- I’d like to sit down with you for a meeting. It’s- it’s confidential.” “Confidential?” “You’ll see, uhm." She adjusted the large messenger bag on her shoulder. "I'll only need fifteen minutes for a quick chat. It’s in your best interests, honest! Pretty please, please pleaseee.” Well that doesn’t sound creepy.

I glanced at my television. Noting that the Kardashian’s weren't going anywhere, I supposed I could postpone my afternoon plans a bit. I sighed, giving her the all-clear. “I’ll bite. Come on up.” She disappeared off the camera. Three minutes later, tiny knocks hit my door in record time. I welcomed her in. She rushed inside, already flipping open her laptop to make herself at home before a proper introduction. I smirked, admiring her spunk until it looked like she was about to have a mental breakdown on my coffee table. I require coasters, even for tears. “If Julia asks,” She exhaled. “I’m not here.” “If Julia asks, neither am I." I pocketed my hands. "What’s this about?” “Ashwater. I'm writing your account.” Right, I snorted. I knew she was going to milk it for everything it was worth. That line in the contract about a book deal was much more appealing a year ago. “If this is really about business you really should have made an appointment.” It's worth nothing that I'm using the terms ‘business’ and ‘appointment’ lightly. Things aren’t what they were. I was out of the limelight, but our personal notoriety in the city had gotten me somewhere within healing the community. To put it lightly, the mass suicides completely fucked up Modena. Not that they needed a dose of Catholicism to fix it right up- but my niche and trendy factor multiplied by survivor status gave me a leg-up on the competition. It’s not television, and it’s little more than a step higher than where I started at the inception of my career but the church I operate from is mine. Mine. At one month in, I’m wondering how lost track of that concept in the first place. "-And I have made it clear I'm done with that whole mess." “I am here for my business, but it is about your business.” She paused, nose wrinkled. “I’m sorry- she did tell me not to contact you, but I can’t help it. It’s your life. The history major in me wants it to be accurate.” I can't blame her for that. Part of me knows Julia would dance on the border of defamation of character all day if she could. I pulled up a chair. “Noooow that you mention it, I think I'd rather it be accurate too.” Sure, it was valuable time but I will never pass up the chance to talk about myself. "Most if it is on film though, what do you need to know? “This romance with Adria. It’s so confusing.” Record scratch. Uh. “What?” “It’s up, down- off, on- it’s difficult to fill in the blanks between takes.” “What do you mean ‘romance’?” Now she was confused. “W-what?” “There is no romance. Nada.” “Oh no..." She cupped her mouth. "Did it fall apart after you moved to Modena?” “What?! No. It never happened. Where are you even getting that? Don’t tell me the forums or I'll kick you out right now.” Suspicious, she turned her screen my way. Alright PAUSE. It's time for me to admit it: Adria and I's closeness has...never been an easy subject to broach. I'm not oblivious to my on screen chemistry with Adria. What am I saying- I'm not oblivious to our chemistry in general.What made Ashwater great, and not a repressed episode of trauma, was Adria. She was a breath of fresh air when Hollywood met a cornfield. Our banter was great, her devotion was pure, and I'll be the first to say I came out of that town a new person. The US audiences saw that within us. That was the whole draw- aside from all the spooky shit, of course. We just worked really, really well together. Miss Kathy thought so to, and decided to condense that down into a ten minute montage. She spliced together our interactions. Starting from a little bit before the family dinner, to post-Boris, to the kid's hospital, and then the whole Crocotta roller coaster that was only nuanced on television, but never clearly explained. I don’t blame her for losing track. While I can account for all the stupid stuff I did between takes, the cameras couldn’t. I found myself smiling when reliving Adria's candid honesty, and cringing like a kicked dog when I had fucked up. "Uh-" I stopped her as soon as the two of us stepped into the frame in disguise. "We can skip this part..." “Well fine- one last one though! This is my favorite.” Her cursor jumped ahead on the timeline, and my heart stopped. I had no idea the film was salvaged that far into the night. It was post-Modena in the heart of the cult warehouse. The entire scene was dark except the licks of fire on the edges. How the camera was still rolling, I had no clue. It was on its last leg. The footage shoddy at best. All scratched up, and battered. The woman I was following was barely visible, completely obscured by smoke, but by the time I had gotten out of the wooden shack the lens was clear. Adria was in the background, at the edge of the trees. You could tell the moment I saw her- she was my focal point. She was my purpose. It captured every step I limped towards her until I ultimately collapsed by her side, and the frame turned upward into the storm clouds. The feed went still. Nothing except the wave of trees overhead, and smoke clearing out until Kathy sped it up again. She stopped, just before- “Deme?” Adria’s voice cracked. It still gave me chills. But in that moment, a wounded and battered Adria had a different connotation. The view turned- energized, and sharp enough to catch a frame of our hands interlocked. Our voices were so bad it merited captioning, but miraculously every detail was intact through the trauma. I hadn’t realized I stopped breathing until the screen was ripped away. Kathy pulled up a littered word document, eyes wide and grin stretching ear to ear. “See! You can’t hide anything from me, Mr.Marquette.” I blinked, faltering when ripped out of the past and put on the spot. “I’m not hiding anything- what- what are you writing?!” I ran around the table. Her fingers, going a mile a minute, tried to capture my reaction. Something about warmth in my face, the light in my eyes. She completely scripted a flashback that honestly didn’t happen. The moment in the raw was way better than any metaphor she could twist around. “'That's the moment I knew we were destined to-what?! That is NOT how I’d say that.” “How would you put it?” “Uh- I’d say that yeah, I was happy to see her alive, but-” “No, no.” She primed her hands back at the starting line. “Start from the beginning?” Fifteen minutes, my ass. It was the longest two hours of my life. - - - 6 AM the following Sunday, I was setting up the chapel. I couldn't get her film off my mind. The scenes, everything. I'd never get around to re-watching the series because: A. My shoulder revolted just thinking about it. B. It was still a sore spot for both of us. Not the whole thing, obviously, but what it’d inevitably lead up to. Though we got past that. I’d like to think she forgave me after all this time, but I'd understand if she didn’t. Point is that we set it aside to grow as people. I was content with how our cards fell. We were close, and we cared about each other. A lot. That was sort of it... But then the weird part kicked in. Someone else saw something...Not some creep online, but someone trusted enough to write my fucking autobiography, for example. She saw something was there. That's when it really sunk in. Was it that obvious? And did its obviousness meant she felt...something too? The signs were there. It sounds nice on paper to say she did, but is that why we were here? Is that why I invited her? Did I pick Modena because I honestly thought this was the only place I could make it after Julia? And did she only join me because she was intending to go there anyways? Or was it more? I acted on impulse in that hospital- or at least that’s what I played it off as. Why? Because I don’t know how to explain an alternative. It’s truly what I wanted at the time. Now I have to figure out what it all means, and what's is going on in her head- which is easier said than done, by the way. She hasn’t said anything about it! And if there was any reoccurring theme from our time there, it was that I don't know what she’s thinking. I didn't know, and maybe I never will. She's so different. She's everything I'm not, and would never think to be, but inspiring. That's what made her exciting. Not that golden Jesus would agree. Throughout the course of this mental monologue, I didn't realize I had dusted His head so many times he was starting to get a bald spot- ah… These thoughts were best saved for a time outside the church. I coughed, trying to dismiss the shallow guilt wadding up in my chest. "Sorry Jesus." - - - Our schedules had a tendency to clash when she got into detective boot camp. Communication became sparse. We caught each other at odd times on odd days just to keep in touch. It was fine. I understand it was a whole lot of settling in for the both of us. I had a whole community to cultivate, and she had be rehabilitated into dealing with delicate humans instead of kicking monster ass. Reasonably, that'll take awhile. Still- that left me bored after services were said and done. I don't miss the danger. God no, I don't. I missed the interaction. I missed the dependency, my partner in crime. Restlessness became an itch anytime I had too much time on my hands. Small at first, until the two month mark when it became maddening. I thought it was attention deprivation at first. I put myself out there. I would do stupid AMA's online, and reply to fan mail in an attempt to catch the same high I did a year back. Surprisingly it.... Didn't help at all. Especially not when little postscripts on the letters asked how Adria was doing, too. It left a sour taste in my mouth when I didn't know what to tell them so that hobby ended rather quickly. Community events were my next go-to. That had more luck. They were equally productive and fun. I got the chance to raise funds to spruce up my chapel to what it should be, and could be the center of the attention while doing it. That cured idle hands a little more. One of the latest was a bake sale benefit held downtown. It wasn't exactly my scene, geared toward your more elderly audiences. Don't get me wrong, I'll always have fun charming the older ladies, but they had it under wraps. I snuck out when the chance arose but stopped cold on the stoop. “What the-” A sudden flash of fury sparked when I saw a pink ticket on my dashboard. I did not put that EXTREMELY tacky parking pass on my windshield of my 'Rari for nothing. I stormed over and swiped it off the dash, ready to raise all sorts of holy Hell with the city of Modena when I noticed it was a blank form. Nothing was scribbled on it but the word ’Lunch?’ in sloppy cursive. Her handwriting. I put it with the other one. - - - The weekly lunches started back up afterward. Absolutely non-negotiable. Not even the sickest orphan could make me work within the noon-3PM block on Fridays. Granted, we weren’t at Jo’s. I didn't have any show on the air, and she didn't have to play damage control for her mom, but it was pleasant. It was a tiny piece of Ashwater I'm glad we reinstated. Location changed weekly as I found new spots I thought she’d like. Hearing she'd never had sushi before was unacceptable. My hands around hers, I guided the grip of her chopsticks. With a little adjustment, they were functional. "-That's horrifying." I balked. "What? It was worse training to be a cop! This was more procedural stuff." "But running five miles in how long? How is that humanly possible?" "Hey," She grinned. "That's just keeping in shape. Join me at the gym sometime. I'll make you the buffest preacher in New England." "Pass." I said, rejecting that mental image. "But really, how’s the force?” “It’s great!" She beamed. "Surreal compared to Ashwater, which is saying something. Exciting but different. A good kind of different.” “‘Different’?” I asked, giving up chopsticks for a fork when her dexterity as a newbie already had mine beat. At least I know what a soup spoon is. “That’s not what I was expecting. Just not the same as running straight into monsters, huh?” “Maybe I don’t have anyone to chase.” She propped up her chin with a hand, warm smile from across the table. “Except, you know, the bad guys.” “Except the bad guys.” Somehow I don't think they'll have as much fun being tailed by her as I've had. Their loss; but that would be weird to say. Instead I accidentally opted for something weirder entirely, because I'm a teenager. “How’s your partner?” Her eyebrow flicked up. “Partner?” “Yeah, don’t you get assigned one? Or something.” I picked at the sashimi with practiced disinterest. "Cops are never alone on TV." "Well yeah. Uh. He's fine. We get along great. He's been on the team a lot longer than me, I've got a lot of learning to do." "Oh, he's way older?" "Uh...yes?" I tried not to sound too relieved. "Oh nice, nice. He'll be a good, uh. Mentor." Puzzled, she lost sight of where I was going with this. "...I guess?" "I'm happy for you." Great. Now it's awkward, but you wouldn't have known that from my attitude. She finished her lunch, and I flagged the waiter over. Adria reached for her wallet, and I stopped her. "No- no. Don't worry about it. I got this." "You? Pay?" She said, in exaggerated surprise. "Am I dealing with the fake Deme again?" I laughed, painfully. Ha ha ha. Now she did it. I felt even worse, itching to make a desperate call. "Consider it a congratulations for making it through training." "I was done two weeks ago-" "Oh, if you don't want me to, I won't." I recoiled, defensive. The beginnings of a coy smile crept into her lips. She let go of her wallet like it’d explode with any sudden movements, sarcastic. I wanted to run. "No, I won't stop you~" "Great." "Great." - - - For the first time in forever, I couldn't wait to shove her into her car to LEAVE. I screwed that up. Royally. What kind of message was I trying to put out? That I'm into her, or that I'm a freaky stalker? Subtly isn’t my strong suit, and if any RomCom had ever made it okay just to say ‘Date me, already, god.’ and skip the formalities, I would. Thankfully, my phone still had a very special number on speed dial. The second her vehicle turned the corner, I was on the line. "Ashwater Cottage, Margie speaking!" "Marg, I need your help." - - - Our call spanned the entire drive back to my apartment. I explained everything. I went over the signs I was seeing, to how badly I screwed lunch up. It was irredeemable in retrospect, but Margie didn't think so. In fact, she reassured me three separate times that hand holding wasn't something Adria did with just her best buddies (and that she was really, really sure) before I cracked. Little did she know that was another hour long conversation in the making. “Okay- how about this:" I splayed my fingers on the steering wheel. "DRIVE IN MOVIE. Or is that too much of a smalltown cliche?” “A drive-in would be lovely.” “I don’t know- Footloose was just on the other night, she might know it was uninspired.” "You're overthinking it, dear." “I don't think so! There has got to be a reason she hasn't said anything. I haven't really wow'd her yet. How did her parents do it?” “Uh…” “No! No, you’re right. That’s creepy. Ugh, do you see why I need help?!” Margie chuckled. “Honey, have you dated anyone before?” “Well YES-” I paused. “No? Maybe?” “Not like this?” She suggested. I slumped against the the steering wheel. Yeah, exactly… I've never had to deal with this. Any of it. Even in high school I was the type more interested in fun for the night than anything that spanned longer than a week. And before a year ago, that just made more sense. You want to know why? Because this is hard. She knows me deeper than a flash of the smile, and pretty words. She knows ME me, and some of the gross, off-putting selfish stuff Demetrius Marquette entails. Like, even the literal gross gore and inner tendons. If you asked me a year ago what it’d take for someone to be my better half, I’d have said “zeros and commas.” Now, I have a whole list of strangely specific virtues, and adjectives that would only come to a poet. I don’t want to ruin this because I am damn sure I’d never find something like this again, and I don’t want to. Margie sighed, the pleasant kind where you could hear her smiling as she did it. My silence was intuitively taken as an affirmative. “Don’t you worry about it. Adria isn’t a girl who is going to be impressed by a diamonds and opera theater. She doesn’t need grand displays or money- she just wants you." “..She does?” “Haha, well I won’t speak for her! You’ll have to figure these things out on your own, but don’t dilly dally. Be yourself.” “Right…” I shifted. “Don’t...say anything to anyone about this, okay?” “Your secret is safe with me. Good luck!” - - - So drive-in movie wasn’t happening. Regular movie is too basic (and cheap). Not much else wasn’t much jumping out at me. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, I came up with nothing. Margie put emphasis on a personal flair instead of flashiness. But what if my personal flair is flashiness? I had to find a middle ground between, and that idea didn’t come to me until a horse and carriage tour clopped outside the chapel. It helped me come up with a plan. Mentally, too. No, I wasn’t going to take Adria on a stinky, over-crowded novelty ride around the town. I went on my own time, for a better grasp of the city. Something around here had to be us and I found it. The reservation to a five-star was an afterthought and the catalyst. This dinner itself would be the two of us. Despite the exuberant exterior, we’d content in our world just as we’d have been on the hood of her cruiser or on a bale of hay. I made the conscious effort not to think about what I was doing or what she was thinking because I never had before, and that’s what worked for us. What Adria was to me was comfort. I needed to stop saying things I thought I should and just...go with it. The skin-tight red dress was just a bonus. Afterwards was more important, anyways. I told myself if we got to that point, there was no longer any room for doubt. - - - After dinner, we took to the streets. I walked. My eyes were studiously focused on the sidewalk ahead. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her double take in the opposite direction. This was the part where I normally walked her back to her car, but she didn’t say a word nor miss a step. Wordlessly confirming, my hand slipped out of my coat when the cool autumn air would normally advise against it. Our fingers didn’t brush against each other. Instead, they instinctively clasped. The city was gorgeous this time of year. And the park? Beautifully abandoned. Kids were in school, and the homeless populace had found shelters above forty degrees. I scoped this spot out via tour before booking our reservation. It was only a block away. It spoke to me. When you got past the statues and benches, the main attraction was the fountain. The guide warned that it’d be the last few days of the season where it’d be in up and running. Soon the ice would claim it; it felt like a metaphor, in a way. For now, it was left on, lights and all. We stopped to sit on the fountain walls. Sign dissuading it be damned, we only paid attention to the plaque. It was engraved on the side with the names and descriptions of heroes from another calamity before our time. Adria took the time to read over it. I was less patient, finding more to revere in the woman before me. I patted the concrete beside me. “We should have really got one of these in Ashwater, huh?” “Yeah. But they already dedicated a day to us.” She said, taking the spot. She shimmied closer until our arms touched. “What more do we need? Wait- don’t answer that.” “What?” I said, offended. “I wasn’t going to say anything. Well, except I don’t know how they’d fit Kyriakoulopoulos on it.” “Hey,” She nudged. “You learned my name.” I winked. Learning a woman’s name on the first date, Dating 101. I didn’t trust myself to say that out loud. Instead, the stillness baited our eyes to the water. The colored bulbs shifted under the icy surface in a continuous luminescent transition. Blue, green, yellow, orange, red... The glow on the half profile of her face was driving me crazy, even when I tried to ignore it. There's no word in English to describe the feeling when there’s so much comfort it hurts. It’s been full year of memories, broken boundaries, and new horizons. It all jumbled together into a rocky formation to spite me. It urged me forward because staying still was no longer an option. The fingers that curled around mine burned. Pulsing, like they threatened to disintegrate if I let another moment pass me by. If there was more to us, I had to have more. “Adria…" I broke the tranquility, stilted. "I need to say something. You’re...really important to me.” “I already told you I can’t get you out of a parking ticket,” She chuckled. I ignored the bite of sarcasm, moving my hand away from hers to free it. I rehearsed this so many times. I don’t know the words that go along with the scenes, only the motions. They're intimate- like a silent film. When she looked back at me, all humor drained away. ‘Oh no, he’s serious.’ Maybe I am. No- I bit my lip. There’s no maybe. I am serious. I am I am I am. We were heading for uncharted territory, but I needed to go. The change of scene wasn’t doing anything if we were staying in the same place. I couldn’t be satisfied with where we were anymore. Tonight, I was cashing in everything. “Deme...” Her voice broke. Instead of moving closer like she was scripted to, she leaned away. I twitched. Just as I was about to reach for her, the muscles in my palm turning to stone. “I always do this. I’m sorry.” …? My brows furrowed. Scratch that- what?! Okay, I was heading into uncharted territory, and she was fumbling on the opposite side of the map. “Adria...what- what are you talking about-?” “It’s so stupid- I went too far. You don’t have to say it.” Her freed hand balled into her other one, nearly aggressive in nature. “I’ve already made you leave once, and I can’t- I can't do it again...” My head was reeling trying to figure out where we got off track. She got up to leave, and I grabbed her hand. Her lack of conviction to keep going proved she didn’t really want to go. “Are you crazy?” “The whole priest thing, I know you-” “Can’t wait?” “What?” Her eyes finally met mine, glassy. “You’re not serious right? Adria, you're not asking me to do anything I don’t want to do. If I’m doing anything it’s because I want you.” I squeezed her hand like she had in the clearing. “Very bad.” “Deme, I-” Oh God. No. I pulled her down beside me to trade her hand for her cheek. Delicate- I held her chin, examining her slightly smudged mascara from different angles. “Are you- are you crying? You’re literally crying!” I laughed, brushing an icy tear from her cheek with my thumb. “You’re ridiculous." "It's not ridiculous!" She said, cheeks flushing at the touch. She was burning, too, but on the outside couldn’t decide what emotion she wanted to embody. That was…relieving. In that moment, I realized two things. One, we both really, really sucked at this, and two: if this- this unsaid, indescribable thing between us was wrong, I had zero will-power to stop myself. The time for talking was gone. The mist from the fountain was steaming off of us. Dead in the middle of Autumn, we were on fire. Our breaths fogged up everything around us except each other. The timing was right, so right. I went for it. I kissed her. With bated breath, I pulled her in. One firm hand on her cheek and the other at the base of her neck, I wanted her. So bad- and I let her know. She wanted me, too. She was waiting for it. Unlike the talk before, there was zero awkwardness. She was fluid. Her lips moved in perfect sync with mine with an ease stated the obvious. We held back too long, but it was the wait that ignited it. A warmth that pushed through our entire bodies. It drove us into each other, both equally fighting to make up for lost time in the other’s arms, and to say the things we had no words for. The girl with walls a mile thick melted into me. And I lured her in just so we could go down together. The hand supporting her followed the curve of her spine. Past the scars, past the pain- she fell with me, recumbent on the fountain’s edge. Her hands gripped tight onto the collar of my coat, while her legs went weak on either side. I held her steady when we threatened to throw ourselves over the edge. I’m not going anywhere. Nor did I plan to. Things were changing again, but there’s no way we’d hesitate.

[amongushq]

Welcome (back) to Among Us, NAT! GENEVIEVE KANE ( with the faceclaim of MADELAINE PETSCH ) has found shelter in NEW ATHENS AND CAMP HALF-BLOOD, where we hope SHE will fit in nicely. Please make sure to check the “after applying” section of our navigation here!

We most definitely feel like Genevieve works well as a daughter of Aphrodite. She, at first, definitely felt a lot like the steretoypical vain chearleading bitch kind of character à la Cheryl Blossom and Quinn at the beginning of Glee, but it was refreshing to get into her head and see that yes, she does have feelings! A girl who wants to fall in love so badly, she goes to extremes to even get a glimpse of the real thing. Her anger is completely justified and we can’t wait to have her around.

AND YOU ARE…?

What is your full name, and when were you born?

Genevieve sighed, tapping her fingers on her leg. She didn’t understand why she needed to do this. It wasn’t like she hid who she was and everything about herself.  “No offense, but I don’t have time for this. I want to like, live my life while I can since it seems it won’t be much longer. Okay? Okay. I’m Genevieve Kane, but please, call me either Viv or Evie. I’ll answer to either but nothing else. I was born on August 6th, 1997 and am an obvious Leo.”

Have you been claimed, or do you belong to a legacy? If yes, state your godly parent / heritage.

She almost laughed. It wasn’t like there were hundreds of kids like her. “My mom is Aphrodite. Isn’t it obvious? I scream beauty! Plus she is the best goddess there is. My daddy’s mortal and he shall not be spoken of.”

Where are you currently based? Are you attending a Camp (Half-Blood / Jupiter), or are you living full-time in New Athens / New Rome? Is it a combination of both?

“I just graduated New Athens High, sue me I was a year behind. I am now currently shacking it up in NAU and have a internship at Camp Half-Blood. It is important for me to help out the little and helpless ones. Plus Camp Half-Blood has been a part of my life for a good amount of years now.” She didn’t like talking about her academics since they were an actual sore subject for her. “I have a pretty decent education as expected.”

Can you tell us a little bit about yourself? ( If you’re applying for a canon character, are you diverging from book-canon? If so, how?)

Evie grinned. “Finally, something I love to do. I could talk about myself forever. I am very much into acting and cheer.” She gestured to the cheer outfit she never bothered changing out of before her interview. What? It was her favorite thing to wear. “ Some say I can be a little over-dramatic, but I think they aren’t passionate enough. I don’t like boring people, stupid people, or ignorant people. I love social media and hate when I can’t use it. I know that’s a lot with what I deal with but whatever. I also like animals and am totally going to go vegan soon. I also am an only-child as far as you know. My hair is red and whether or not I have a soul is questionable. People think I am too demanding but I think they don’t know how to follow directions. Despite my hatred for weak people I do try my best to be nice to everyone. I can be a little materialistic at times and people love to call me a typical Aphrodite kid, but I’m not.” She paused, flashing a smile. She wasn’t going to boast about herself too much. She had to be a better role-model.  “I’m taking extra courses while managing my volunteer work this summer because I really wanna do something extravagant with my life. I’m not just a gorgeous face.”

What were you doing prior to The Recall?

She felt herself turning a little red. This wasn’t her proudest moment, but she wasn’t going to lie. At least not completely. “Okay, so, funny story. Before the Recall I was umm…I wasn’t the best student. I skipped a lot of school to hang out with my boyfriend and I well…I was with my boyfriend and then everything went down and I had to leave, obviously. It was an awkward situation and we don’t talk anymore. Can I go now? I have to make up for the time I lost now….”

SHOWTIME!

To Evie, love was a big deal. It was everything to her, actually. From the moment she could speak she knew she wanted to fall in love. She had her first boyfriend in preschool and she thought he was the one. He would give her candy and hold her toys for her and honestly, that was all she wanted. But a week later, he was doing the same for at least two other girls. It broke Evie’s heart and she pushed him off the swings at recess and let her heartache consume her. That is, until boy number two. And for years she would follow this pattern of loving too hard and breaking just as hard. She couldn’t help it! Whenever she thought of love, she thought of her mother. Her daddy used to tell her stories about her and even though their interaction was brief, her father was absolutely smitten by her at the time. Why she had to go, Evie didn’t know, but she wished she never did. Because after that, her father began looking for love with all of the wrong women.

Looking back, Evie could hardly believe she had to deal with so many stepmothers coming and going. But her father had an insatiable appetite for women of any age and any situation. It wasn’t like he needed them for their money, he was a well-off banker and knew how to keep his money lasting. Evie thinks that what he needed, what he so desperately craved more than anything, was their love. Evie used to love weddings and extravagant events but after wife number four, the magic of it all started to fade a little. Why couldn’t her dad just get back together with the one woman he’s ever felt love for? Where was her mom? She had always wanted to know, but she never dared to ask. Just bringing up the woman made her dad a wreck. It was a bit pathetic.

One day she couldn’t hold her tongue though. She was eating breakfast with her father and wife number six when it happened. “Tell me about mom again,” she started with and her father’s eyes widened and her stepmom looked outraged. Her daddy stuttered, muttering something about inappropriate timing, and tried to act like she never asked. That made Evie mad. She wasn’t one to just let things go after they were up in the air like this. “Daddy, what was mom like? Was she beautiful? Did you want to marry her?” Her stepmom was visibly angry at this point, but Evie could care less. It wasn’t like this one was going to last much longer anyways, she saw wrinkles. “Evie, not here,” her daddy said, clearly annoyed. She huffed, It wasn’t like it was easy for her to bring it up! “Um, right here and right now daddy. If we go somewhere else, you’ll only try to change the subject. What. Was. Mom. Like?” Her stepmom stormed off and her daddy looked tempted to follow for a moment, but he just sighed, slumping in his chair. Evie almost felt sorry for him.

“Evie,” her daddy started, looking at her. “…..your mother was beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world! She was a goddess in her own right. And even though our interactions were brief, I just….found myself in love with her smile. It was foolish and I was young, but I couldn’t seem to help myself….” Evie knew there was more to the story. She was young, but not that stupid. Reading people was one of the things she was best at. But looking at her daddy was growing to be difficult. He looked sad, pitiful, and it was in that moment that Evie decided she wasn’t going to be like that. She was going to chase her true love and not let them get away.

[nezzfiction]

ENMY Chapter 40 - Black Feathered Omen

Chapter Synopsis: With the battle between Team ENMY and Team RNJR ended, along with Qrow's defeat, the dust starts to settle. And Yang must face the aftermath of her decisions. A time not given sparingly as new events arise.

Series Synopsis:

Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy.

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

Black Feathered Omen

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“Uncertain times come with the territory.”

.

.

A gruff voice drifted to Yang’s ear. Harsh, rough, but caring.

“I won’t always be around, kiddo,” Qrow said to her.

A phrase that would resound itself a number of times as she grew up.

It was the night a young, childish Yang found what she thought was a clue to her mother’s whereabouts. A night she dragged her younger sister, on a wagon, through a forest teeming with Grimm. A night their lives would have been cut violently short, if not for their Uncle who had come to their rescue.

Ruby was already fast asleep in her bed, but Yang was still in their living room, getting an earful from Qrow. A scolding that lasted for an hour now. And it would only continue once Taiyang returned home.

The firelight crackled softly as the two figures sat on the floor.

“You were lucky I got there fast enough.”

*Sniff*

“What the hell were you doing out there?!”

“I was—”

“You and Ruby could have been killed! Do you get that?!”

*Sniff* “I’m sorry.”

Qrow groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose.

The sight of Yang crying made him slow down. He was beginning to feel ashamed by the way he was acting.

A grown man yelling at a girl, who’s practically in shock.

That’s what I’m doing.

Yang gave a violent tremble, and Qrow grabbed one of the blankets nearby. He threw it around his niece and pulled her closer to the fireplace for warmth. After a time, her breathing slowed and her nerves settled.

“Alright, I’m listening. What the heck brought you out there?”

“…”

Yang sheepishly pulled out the picture with a note written on the back. From there, Qrow connected the dots.

“Geez, kid. You should’ve just ask—”

He stopped himself.

She should’ve asked?

How many times has she asked us about Raven, and we ignored her?

We’re just as much to blame for this.

He took the picture and set it aside.

“Look, I’m not gonna yell at you anymore. But you gotta understand, you can’t pull stunts like this. You have to be smart. Know your limits.”

“Okay…”

“I’ll level with you here, cause Tai and I have more than our fair share of blame in this. Your mother… she’s a sore subject for me and your dad. We don’t like to talk about her, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to know.”

“…”

“Obviously. How about this? We promise to tell you all about her—when you’re older. No secrets, no lies, just the truth. ‘Kay?”

“…Okay.”

“Hell, maybe by that time, I’ll even help you find her.”

“Promise?”

“……Yeah, kid. I promise.”

Yang crawled over, and snuggled up to him.

“I’m sorry, Qrow,” she whispered.

“Yeah. Just promise you won’t do anything reckless like this till you’re older.”

“I promise.”

“Or at least, until you have a way to defend yourself.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t breathe a word of this to your dad. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“That’s the deal, then.”

He ruffled Yang’s hair. His Semblance simulated her tiny body being severed apart. Broken bone and torn sinew hovered like ghosts. Qrow wanted to take a drink so badly, but thought he should stay sober until Taiyang was back.

He couldn’t stop from worrying what life had in store for his “nieces”. Ruby inherited so much from Summer, and Yang was showing the traits so prevalent in Raven. This girl he held in his arms, was the bearer of such terrible fate.

Qrow wanted with everything to protect her from it.

“Qrow?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for saving me and Ruby…”

He grabbed some tissues on the table and handed it to Yang, who had snot dripping from her nose.

“Anytime, runt,” he said with fondness.

“Maybe someday, you’ll return the favor…”

…

…

Yang blinked her eyes open.

As she lied on the floor, unmoving, she felt soreness permeate every fiber of her muscles. Almost like strings being pulled taut, that were on the verge of snapping.

“Ugh… Am I dead?”

“Yup! Welcome to hell, lion queen.”

“Has to be hell if you’re here,” Yang snarked at Emerald sitting beside her.

One look at the Tower’s mid-crumbling ceiling, and the memories came flooding back. A little ways away from her, were the remnants of her Ember Celica. Its damage so severe, she would likely need to dedicate days to its reconstruction.

“So, Neo didn’t kill me.”

“Nope.”

“And only a busted-up arm to show for it. That worked out better than I thought,” she grunted, as she sat up. “And Ruby?”

Yang followed Emerald’s glance to the others scattered about.

Mercury was giving the air skiff they crash-landed a look over. The members of Team RNJR were conscious and crowding around Qrow. Observing them, was Neo, who stood guard over the restrained Diana and Apollo Black. The small girl caught notice of Yang, and quickly turned her head with a pout.

“She’s pissed I blackmailed her into not killing Ruby, isn’t she?”

“Ohhhh, yeah.”

“I’m kinda surprised she didn’t just do it while I was out.”

“I know, right? That’s true love.”  

Yang revealed a small smile of relief. She wanted to walk over and give Neo a hug, but almost doubled over from intense pain.

“Gah!” she cried, feeling needles shoot up her body.

Her breath became ragged, as she stared down at her badly damaged arm. The wounds needed disinfecting and stitches. Medical treatment that should have been provided by Neo or Emerald, but was disregarded for some reason.

“What the hell, Em? Couldn’t trouble yourself?”

“Why waste the effort when we’ve got miracle touch over there?”

“Yeah, okay.” Yang arched her neck in Team RNJR’s direction. “Yo, Jaune! Little help?!”

The boy only returned a loathing scowl.

“What? ....EM!”

“Hm?” Emerald grinned innocently.

“You didn’t tell them?!”

“Tell ‘em, what?”

“For fu—Help me up!”

“Pff! Alright, alright.”

Emerald braced Yang’s waist, and helped her to her feet. Together, they limped their way over to Team RNJR.

On their approach, every one of them, save Ruby, stared with so much hate, Yang and Emerald could feel the heat on their skins. The younger sister chose to pay them no mind. Her attention focused solely on Qrow’s sleeping face.

“Oh, no,” Yang sighed.

“Pft! What?”

“Stop laughing.”

“Pshhhsttt…! I’m not laughing….! *Ahem* I’m not laughing.”

“You guys are such—”

“Oh, is Yang going to tell them now?” Mercury yelled from the other side of the chamber.

“You told Mercury, but not them?” Yang exclaimed.

“Slipped my mind.”

“Em! They draped his cape over him, and put a flower on it! Where did they even get a flower?!”

“Pfffft—I don’t know! Ahahahaha! I jus— I can’t hold it anymore! It’s hilarious!” Emerald wiped tears from her eyes, while launching into another laughing fit.

“You people are the worst…”

“Okay, I’m here,” Mercury joined them. “Have you done it?”

“HEY!” Jaune yelled. “You think this is funny?!”

“Jaune, calm down,” Yang attempted.

“Don’t talk to me! After what you’ve done, and joining up with THEM! You make me sick!”

“Jaune, I can explain.”

“Explain teaming up with Pyrrha and Penny’s murderers?! Explain killing your own uncle?! WHAT’S THERE TO EXPLAIN?! There’s no excuse, not a single thing you can say to stop me from—”

“Be cool, Jauney boy. You don’t even have your weapons,” Emerald intervened. “And if you gave her a minute, or spared just the tiniest bit of thought to your surroundings, you wouldn’t be so confused and rage-y right now.”

Jaune growled, struggling not to lose his temper. But it was Ren, who replied to the comment. His curiosity was piqued.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno. Maybe think, ‘why is the Tower still frozen in the air, and not twirling around until it’s crap in the wind?’”

“Huh?”

“There’s a storm outside, ninja boy. We were all bouncing around in it? Now, we’re not. Why?”

“Because Qrow…”

Ren and Ruby tensed at a thought. Ren laid his palm on the stone floor and Ruby’s eyes glinted with silver. They both confirmed what Emerald hinted at.

Qrow’s Aura still coursed the Tower.

“But…HOW?!” Ruby finally spoke, her voice cracking.

For the first time, since holding Qrow’s unbreathing body, she looked at Yang in the face.

The girl met her gaze with a bitter smile.

She wasn’t the darkened villain Ruby saw when she first arrived. Nothing of the one that dealt Qrow the finishing blow. Or the one who fought Team RNJR with such ruthless disposition.

It was her sister.

Different in some facets, worn by experience, but someone she recognized all the same.

“Seriously, Jaune. Heal me up already,” Yang said.

Jaune was going to protest, when Ruby grasped his shoulder.

“Ruby?”

“Please. Just do it.”

“…If you say so…”

With great reluctance, Jaune activated his Semblance to heal Yang. A difficult thing, he found, since the ability worked proportional to his intent to treat the receiver. But after some extra effort, he was able to close up Yang’s most severe wounds. Her Aura was also replenished somewhat.

She opened and closed her hand, flexing the forearm muscles to check its condition.

“You got a lot better at this, from what I remember,” Yang complimented.

Jaune ignored it.

“What, now?” he asked testily.

“Now…” she concentrated. “…I return a favor.”

Yang’s irises flickered with a new crimson. Her Semblance revealed the lifeless scars that webbed Qrow’s body. It was an eerie sight. Devoid of any vitality, and matching the corpses she’d seen in the aftermath of Dracul.

She knelt down and positioned her left fist over Qrow’s chest. Her arm drew back, and then, she drove it right where she inflicted her last punch.

Yang’s Aura channeled through the strike and dispersed light into the pathways, which were once empty and dead. Life flowed from Qrow’s heart. It spread to the ends of his limbs. A dull warmth returned to his complexion.

The Huntsman suddenly heaved, inhaling a deep gulp of air, as if he had been drowning until just now.

*Cough! Cough!* “Damn it, kid! You scared the hell out of me!”

“More like, I punched the hell out of you.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Qrow coughed again.

“No way…! How?” Jaune awed.

“That’s what I wanna know…! I’ve never known the Reaper’s Semblance to do that before.”

“Yeaahhh,” Yang cockily grinned. “I’m a little bit different.”

“Uh huh. You’re gonna have to spell it out for…me…” Qrow saw Ruby, whose expression was twisting between relief and crying. “Sorry, speedy. Did I make you worry?”

Ruby tackled him and started sobbing uncontrollably. Her wails made even the winds outside sound quiet.

“I thought you were dead! I thought Yang killed you, and…and…*hicc*”

“I know. I know…”

“I’m just *hicc* glad you’re—!!”

“Okay. Let’s give them some space,” Yang ushered everyone else away.

While they spread to give Qrow and Ruby their time, Yang and Mercury convened at the air skiff wreckage.

“No way we’re all going to fit into this thing,” Yang commented.

“All? Your sister’s team got here pretty well on their own.”

“Mercury. We’re helping them.”

“Oh, you mean, we could write them a sign, and they could hitch hike their way back.”

“Merc…”

“Yeah, fine. I gave the engine a look,” Mercury added. “Even if we made the tight squeeze, the thing’s built for speed, not load bearing.”

“We’ve still got the airship we came in,” Yang stated. “It’s junk now, but we should be able to salvage parts from the engine. Put something together that way?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Let’s get to it, then.”

Yang lead the way, and the two entered the section the Dust Reactor was held. A lot of machinery was scattered on the floor, and the wall panels were disjointed from the collision. They picked at the remains and set aside components they thought could prove useful.

“Hey, Merc?”

“Hm?”

Yang snuck up on him with a sucker punch, followed by a kneeing gut shot. The two-hit combo caused Mercury to hunch over and sit on the ground. He almost threw up, but was able to control the reflex.

“WHAT THE HELL—Oh… Right...! Tried to kill your uncle. Don’t know why I forgot about that.”

“Yup.”

“Hey! You plotted with Em, behind me and Neo’s backs!”

“Is that… somehow worse than trying to kill my uncle behind my back?”

“No. No, I guess not. Yeah, that was pretty weak.”

“Yup,” Yang crossed her arms.

“……Look, I don’t know how much you know—”

“Em told me everything.”

“Oh…Okay. You see, my family blackmailed me and—”

“Em told me.”

“Yeah, I get it, Yang! Em told you. Just let me, huh?”

“……Go on.”

Mercury sighed.

“I’m… sorry. I really mean that. Should’ve said something,” he apologized.

The awkwardness of the words caught in his throat. He wrestled with getting them out, but knew he had to. It was an unfamiliar thing, but it didn’t feel wrong.

“I’m sorry. It was my fault…” he paused. “Hmph, I can live with a lot of the things I’ve done, but icing your uncle wouldn’t have been one of ‘em.”

“Really? I thought you hated my uncle. Why would that be harder than anyone else?”

“Because he’s different.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, god. You’re gonna make me say it?”

“Tried. To. Kill. My—”

“We’re friends, Yang! There, I said it. Doesn’t matter who the hell he was, it mattered who he was to you. Geez, feels like I’m breaking out in hives!”

“It’s called blushing.”

“Can’t you just hit me again? Let’s just get back to you hitting me again.”

“Nope. We’re good,” Yang offered a hand.

“……This a trick?”

“Em also told me how much you wanted to come clean. How you were really going to do it, if she didn’t stop you herself.”

“...”

More uncertainty. More unfamiliarity.

But it didn’t feel wrong.

“We good, Merc?” Yang asked him.

“Yeah,” he took her hand.

“Spades.”

.

* * * * *

.

“Tell me we’re at the finish line, Oz.”

“The synchronization process was stalled, due to Miss Xiao Long’s intervention. It has resumed, and fortunately, nears completion.”

“Good to know.”

“Qrow…There is something I feel, I must advise you on.”

“And what would that be?”

“You should be wary of your niece’s newfound ability.”

Qrow thought about it for a moment.

“Yeah, it is something. Different from the Reaper’s Semblance, but just as dangerous.”

“That is not what I am eluding to.”

While embracing Ruby, Qrow stared at Ozpin’s cane next to them.

“Why? What is it?”

“Huh?” Ruby looked at him curiously.

“Nothing, just nothing.”

Qrow picked up the cane and gripped its handle. A short surge of energy prickled at the touch.

“Uncle Qrow?”

“Hmm?”

“Before the fight, we saw something when we used my powers. We saw Professor Port and Professor Oobleck. They were talking about the truth behind—”

“Hey, old guy,” Yang approached.

“Don’t call me old, runt. And don’t you go thinking this mess is settled. I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

“Thought you might feel that way. But I got some asks first.”

Qrow remembered Ozpin’s words.

“…Ask away.”

The Huntsman could feel Yang’s concentrated gaze, as she activated her Semblance.

“What are you doing here? How can you use Professor Ozpin’s abilities? And why…”

In her vision, she could see green streams of light pulse from Ozpin’s cane to her uncle’s hand. It acted almost like an extended limb, the way the Aura pumped like connected blood vessels. Rather than just being a weapon, it appeared to be assimilating with Qrow’s body.

“Why does that thing look alive?” Yang pointed to the cane. “And why does it look like it’s growing into you?”

“It’s complicated.”

He thought for a moment. The weighing between Ozpin’s caution and his trust in Yang hung on the scales. Would he keep it secret? Or would he trust her?

“I followed Ozpin’s instructions here.” Qrow ultimately leaned on the latter. “This Tower is one of few places in Remnant his power can be passed on. And he wants to pass his legacy to me. That’s why I’m here. As dumb as it sounds, I’m here to synchronize with Ozpin’s magic cane, if you can believe that.”

Yang’s brow instantly narrowed. The misgivings she had were clear to see. It made Qrow second-guess telling her the truth.

“The Wizard wants to ‘synchronize’ with you?”

“Wizard? Where did you hear— Did Raven tell you that?”

“Never mind what mom told me. From what I can see, that thing looks like it wants to take over your body.”

“It’s part of the process.”

“The process for you to become the next Wizard? I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“You don’t understand, Yang. I don’t know what Raven’s told you, but contrary to what she might’ve said, the world needs Ozpin.”

“Uncle Qrow,” Ruby got both their attentions. “I… don’t think we should trust Professor Ozpin either.”

“Ruby?”

“At least, not yet. We can wait a little bit, right? We don’t have to let the process finish right now. I think we should make sure of some things first.”

“Look, the both of you. I appreciate the concern, but I have to do this.”

“Even if it costs you your life?” Yang asked.

“Yes,” he replied with conviction. “Even if I have to become a new host for Oz, it takes what it takes. I don’t expect you to understand that.”

“No, I understand perfectly fine.” Yang’s left Ember Celica shifted from its standby mode to its gauntlet form. “It’s my fault I didn’t notice it early enough. This time, I’ll destroy it before I revive you again.”

“You’re running empty and with only one arm. What have I told you about being smart and knowing your limits?”

“You’re looking a little dull on the edge yourself, old guy. Besides, I’ve got them to pick up the slack.”

Emerald, Mercury, and Neo had been keeping tabs on the conversation and taken notice of the disagreement. As they spoke, the trio readied to fight again. However mentally and physically exhausted they were.

“Yang,” Ruby called her attention. “Ozpin said the synchronization process continues as long as he’s in the room.”

“Ruby!” Qrow yelled, but she continued anyway.

“If you take Uncle Qrow out of the Tower, everything should be fine.”

Yang nodded.

As the figures began to encircle him, Qrow made one last plea.

“You don’t understand what’s at stake! Don’t you see?! This is just what Salem wants! She’s the cause of this!”

“‘Wants’, yes. The cause? No, the Wizard brought this on himself…” a dark voice echoed from the empty space.

Then, a familiar-looking portal ripped open the middle of the office. And out from it, stepped two swordsmen.

“Hello, little brother.”

.

* * * * *

.

Time slowed to a crawl, when Raven and Adam entered the scene.

The air grew thick with tension. Everyone in the office shared thoughts that raced a thousand miles a second. A thin line kept the peace, but it would snap hinging on whether the new visitors were friend or foe.

Team RNJR was at a complete loss, never having met either one personally. They could only switch their attentions between Raven, Qrow, and Yang.

And then, the decision was made for them.

“Look alive, idiots!” Emerald hollered, as she, Neo, and Mercury tossed the members of Team RNJR their respective weapons.

“Who are they?!” Jaune yelled back.

“Our employer.”

“Then, aren’t they your allies?”

“Depends if she’s here to fire us, or not.”

As the whole room seemed to turn on them, Raven and Adam merely rest their hands on their swords. Ready to be drawn at any sudden act of hostility.

“Yang,” Raven turned to her daughter.

“Mom,” Yang replied. “Sorry, I didn’t call back. I was busy.”

“I can see that…… But I remember telling you how important it was to be ready for my call.”

“Yeah. That was my bad.”

“We can’t change the past. I need you to work with me now.”

“And with Adam? No thanks.”

“Yang, I need you to drop this petty grudge already. The same goes for the rest of Team ENMY,” her stare addressed Emerald, Neo, and Mercury. “Cinder’s life is on the line, or have you forgotten?”

Emerald gave an inadvertent twitch. Her guard weakened—but only for a brief moment. In any other situation, she would have given in to Raven’s words immediately. But now, things were different. She was different.

Emerald had trust, however difficult and inconvenient it was to maintain at that moment.

“What’s the play, Xiao Long?” she spoke from the side of her mouth. “Your mom still have our best interests?”

“Not sure. Something’s off,” Yang answered.

“Well, hurry up and decide! I don’t like where this is heading. If she’s here to take out your uncle, why don’t we let her? It’s what we were about to do just two seconds ago.”

“I know, but this isn’t right. Something’s…”

And then, Yang spotted it. The source of her unease.

She didn’t exactly understand what it was, but it flagged all her sense of danger.

Through her Semblance, she saw bloody roots reach from Raven’s sword into her body. An image not so dissimilar from Qrow and Ozpin’s cane. The only major difference being, the heart beating katana seemed to have taken full hold of its host.

Damn it!

Yang cursed herself.

How many times did she notice the oddities of Raven’s blade, but never worried? Only now, did she understand the sinister vibes surrounding it. It was dormant the last time she saw it, but in this moment, it exuded its own Aura—which likely meant, it possessed its own soul.

“Salem presented me with the sword I use now.”

Raven’s past words echoed Yang’s memory.

Did mom know this was going to happen? Is that why she told me to be ready?!

She couldn’t help, but think if she answered her mother’s calling, instead of joining her team, the present events would have unfolded differently.

This is the worst.

Even if we were at full-power, I don’t think we could take her. She also has Adam along.

What do we do?

Emerald, Mercury, and Neo can still survive this.

I can’t abandon Qrow, but they can. If I—

One glance at her team, and Yang’s resolve faltered.

As if reading her mind, her three teammates met her with a firm stare that said all she needed to know. They would not abandon her. They wouldn’t let her take the fall for them. She was one of their own, and there was no turning back on that.

“This… might be the end,” she muttered in resignation.

“Well………shit,” Emerald shrugged.

“Think I can make one last, selfish request?”

“You might as well,” Mercury joined.

“Can you guys buy me an opening on Adam? I really wanna take that bastard down before I go.”

Fine =)

Neo gave her a wink.

“Sorry, guys.”

“Yang,” Raven said sternly. “Stand down. We’re not enemies.”

“Actually, our team name says differently.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“I’m not playing. We’re not going to let you kill Qrow.”

“But you’re willing to kill your own mother?”

“I won’t kill you either.”

“How ridiculous.”

“Hey, I told you I don’t like ultimatums. Especially when they sound like scams.”

“……Fine,” Raven answered. “Have it your way.”

She drew her blade and sliced open a new portal. Without giving him a chance to react, she kicked Adam into it. Raven wouldn’t be able to avoid killing him otherwise.

The woman turned to the others with death in her eyes. She then, proceeded to cut her thumb on her sword’s edge, feeding it drops of her blood. The being residing in the blade took the tribute and blazed with unfathomable power. It was nothing like any of them had witnessed before, even for Qrow.

It was a strength that rivaled the abilities of Maidens. A force Ozpin’s Magic could only hope to match.

In that instant, Qrow cracked his cane on the marble floor, and enveloped everyone in jade-green light. Raven’s katana drew a wide slash that encompassed everything.

The Tower and the airship mangled in it, was split through. A great, red gash tore up the storm and sky itself. The crimson blight hung there for a while, like a wound inflicted on the world. It even dyed the landscape in its own colored hue.

What remained of the ruin were handfuls of bits and pieces. Raven’s dreaded technique practically wiped the Tower from the face of existence.

She landed on the ground with ease, staring up at where the building once was. There, she beheld her handy-work for a minute. Her pensive state only interrupted when a mass of shadows erupted behind her.

Adam and Blake passed through.

“What happened?” Adam asked.

“I destroyed the Tower,” Raven responded.

“And your brother? The others?”

“Who knows. We can investigate it later.”

“I’m asking if you killed them,” he demanded.

“I’m not sure. I can’t control the sword too well, yet.”

“Salem will be informed of this.”

“She likely already knows, pup. But don’t let that stop you from wagging your tail for her,” Raven said, with a condescending bite. “Blake. How are your wounds?”

“I’m ready,” Blake answered. “Who are you both talking about? Raven…? Who did you kill?”

“We can leave that discussion for later. For now, we have a task ahead of us. Are you ready, Adam? Or did you need to consult your master first?”

The young man snarled, but argued no further. Whatever fate befell the ones in the Tower, the answer could wait. Right now, it was crucial that their dynamic was aligned. Adam, Blake, and Raven needed to work in perfect harmony—or they could not hope to survive what came next.

…

The various mountains along the Windpath fissured and broke apart, like hatching eggs. Countless fleeting wings of black flew from its gaps. Some large, some small, but all in vast flocks.

They took to the air and circled the swirling tornados. Each of them cawed in a cacophony of bird calls. And from the soaring swarm, a single creature swooped down to meet those who freed them.

It was a Grimm unlike any other. Human at its base shape; arms, legs, torso, and head, but its stature was twice an average adult’s. It had a pair of grand feathered wings spouting its back. A long, jet-black blade wielded in its hand. Scaled, white bone crusted its skin in the fashion of a samurai’s armor.

And perhaps most worthy of note was the Grimm’s mask. An eternally fierce expression, carved with intense eye brows. Its nose protruded long, like a beak. It had a beard that bristled, adding to its wrathful features. Despite its unassuming size compared to larger Grimm, the being imposed an intimidating presence that dwarfed the others.

This was Kurama, a Nightmare-Class Grimm. The only known of its kind to utilize an actual weapon and technique in its fights. Ancient records stated the tengu-like creature displayed an unmatchable sword prowess. And as was true with the other members of its classification, possessed a unique, disaster-level threat, equivalent to a force of nature.

Although Raven was sent to deal with the Wizard, her main goals were in actuality, to destroy the Tower, set the Grimm free, and defeat Kurama.

The katana at her side burned with desire. It hungered for the challenge, to test mettle against mettle.

Once again, Raven swiped her finger across its edge, and paid her tribute. The sword oozed with power as it drank the blood heartily. A mad glow dancing along its sheen.

She chuckled at the words commanded of her.

“I seek the name of the strongest.

And in defeating you, I will prove my worthiness of the title.”

.

* * * * *

.

The group of Teams ENMY, RNJR, and Qrow tumbled through a violent vacuum, before being dumped on a hardwood floor.

The Huntsman collapsed after expending the last of his Aura in the transfer. Everyone else piled randomly on each other. All of them, groaning from the induced nausea.

“What…the…” Taiyang could only murmur at the sight of nine people appearing in his living room out of thin air. His focus centering on three individuals in particular. “Qrow? What’s going on? How did you all get here? Yang, Ruby, are you two—?”

““We’re fine, dad,”” the daughters answered simultaneously.

“It’s a long story, Tai,” Qrow replied. “Sorry about the mess. This was the safest place I could think of before Raven almost wiped us out.”

“Raven?”

“…”

“I don’t get it, Qrow. What happened?”

“Dad…” Yang spoke with a lamenting tone.

“The Witch has mom.”

.

.

.

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NOTES

-The Tower of Tamonten is a reference to a deity of teaching, Tamonten. The figure is often depicted as holding a small pagoda in one hand.

-Kurama is a reference to Mount Kurama, in Kyoto, Japan. The area is home to many legends and tales of the Tengu. I would explain what Tengu are, but the stuff I can write about them could fill pages. Better to look them up on your own, if you’re interested.