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honeysmokedham · 10 months

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WHEN: July 7th, 2023 LOCATION: The Mines PARTIES:@magmahearts @honeysmokedham SUMMARY: Cass joins Nora on her farewell trip to the mines. This is the one where Nora dies. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

"Destination reached." Nora's phone announced as she reached the pin on the map Cass had sent her. The two had agreed to meet near the mines, but unfortunately, Nora was the first one there which meant she had to wait. Nora paced the clearing, a coil tensed and ready to spring. Her body felt different. Heavier. Her bones ached a complaint, while something itched underneath her skin. Perhaps it had something to do with her left hand, where crystal encrusted all her fingers. She kept that hand firmly pressed into her pocket, refusing to acknowledge her impending death. At least she would get to choose where she died. At least she could spend this final moment with Cass.

Nora had never been a mines girlie. They weren't on a list of places she would avoid, they just weren't on a list of places she'd go out of the way to see. Which should have been her first red flag that something was wrong. Now there was an unyielding certainty in her that the mines were exactly where she needed to be. Her pacing continued, the slam of her boots against the ground sounding the beat of her wait. Babadook sat as still as a statue, watching Nora pace. Every now and then he would let out a long mournful whine. If Nora hadn't been distracted, she might have realized it wasn't the regular sad cries of the yeth hound. Instead, she was caught up in the world inside her head. The one that told her everything about life, and her soon-achieved death, would make sense the moment she stepped into those mines.

The cracking of twigs, the scent of sulfur, moss, and earth. Cass was here. A smile spread across Nora's lips as much as a smile could. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "Hey." Nora stopped pacing, standing stiff as a rock, aware that her body felt wrong. That the movement had displaced some of the energy she felt digging within her. Now that she stood still it was like it was too much. Too much to be in the open. Too much to not be out in the sun. The sun hurt, had the sun always hurt? Nora had never been a daytime creature. "So this is the entrance?" Nora pointed towards an entrance, exaggerated by wooden beams. "I waited for you."

Stepping towards the entrance, Nora picked up the backpack she'd packed for herself. It held one change of clothes, one flashlight - no extra batteries - a few water bottles, and some food. Because what Nora hadn't told Cass, was she didn't think she'd ever want to leave the mines. The two of them could stay there forever. Just like they could have stayed in New York together. Forever. Nora glanced back at her best friend. "Ready?" However, Nroa didn't wait to see if she was. Nora stepped into the darkness that welcomed her home.

—

Cass could admit that Nora’s newfound obsession with the mines was a little unexpected. She’d never shown much of an interest in them before, and she’d certainly never talked about them with the same reverence she seemed to hold in conversations as of late. But Nora’s admiration of the mines seemed to extend to an admiration of Cass that felt good enough for her to ignore the out of character nature of her friend’s latest fixation. If Nora loved the mines, loving an oread would be a logical next step, wouldn’t it? She’d already seemed interested in Cass’s abilities in a way that felt different from the usual fare of people who wanted to use her for them. Nora liked Cass first, and then her abilities. So it was okay to let her like the mines, too. Wasn’t it?

She smiled as she approached the meeting spot, noting that Nora was already there. She’d been early but, given how excited she’d clearly been to get into the mines, Cass wasn’t surprised. She waved as she approached, slowing to a stop next to her friend. There was something… different about Nora today. Cass couldn’t quite put a finger on it. It felt like something was wrong, like a strange shiver down her spine. But the whole town felt wrong lately. Ever since that face-stealing rock monster burst out of a crack in the Magmacave, things in Wicked’s Rest felt off. Like the Earth herself was upset about something, somehow. Cass tried to push aside the feeling, intent on not ruining this. Nora wanted to hang out with her. That was all that mattered right now.

“Hey,” she greeted. “I’m glad you waited. This is an entrance, yeah. There are more all over town, you know? Some of them that people put there, some that opened up on their own. There are some in my cave, too.” The mines were a strange thing. Cass wasn’t sure, sometimes, how she felt about them. She could feel the rocks in the walls, the gems that the miners wanted so badly, but they didn’t feel the same as the ones in her cave just like the mineral abnormality didn’t feel the same as the volcanic rocks she was used to. There was always something just a little off about it.

Eyeing the backpack curiously, Cass found herself wondering how long Nora planned for their mine trip to last. She hadn’t brought much herself, but she didn’t typically need to. She was built to survive in caves and volcanoes, so flashlights weren’t necessary for her. Would they be down there long enough to need food? Surely this trip couldn’t take more than a couple of hours. What was there to do in the mines? Deciding not to question it for fear of upsetting Nora, Cass only nodded. “You want me to walk in front?”

—

“More entrances, that’s good.” And Nora meant that. The more people that got to experience the beauty of the mines, the better. Wasn’t it weird? That she wanted people to experience the beauty of the mines when even she hadn’t experienced them. Yet. This was about to change. Nora’s fingers twitched with excitement, the gems encrusting her fingers clunking together, muffled by her pocket.

The darkness swallowed them. It took a second for Nora’s eyes to adjust, and all thoughts of the flashlight in her bag left. What were flashlights for anyway? Everyone could see just fine in the dark. Because Nora, who’d never been human, and didn’t know what the difference between humans and bugbears were, didn’t know that humans didn’t have night vision like her. Cass offered to go first, and Nora took a moment to consider the question. Nora didn’t know what she was looking for in the mines, just that it was important for her to be in them. Perhaps Cass would be able to sense someplace cool.

“Yeah, go first.” Nora shifted to the side, letting Cass pass her. Her friend was a bright shining beacon in the dark tunnels. As vibrant as ever. Nora wondered if she was wearing her glamour today. What did her friend’s glamour look like? “Do you get to choose what your glamour looks like?” Nora asked, the question seemingly out of nowhere. “Or does the glamour choose for you?” Like, was it what she already looked like just masked in human features? It was a curious thing. How were glamours different then illusions? If someone touched a glamoured fae do they touch the glamour or the fae?

The mines called to Nora, reminding her that she was getting off topic while in their domain. “Oh right.” Nora rubbed against a spot in her shoulder that ached. “Can you take us deep in? The heart of the mines, or something like that.” The further in, the better. That was all Nora knew.

—

There was a strange sound from Nora’s pocket, like rocks bumping against one another. Without meaning to Cass’s eyes were drawn to where her hand was hidden away, part of her feeling a strange, unfamiliar inclination to pull Nora’s hand from her pocket and hold it. Was it because they were going into the mines? It wasn’t like the mines were scary. She was pretty sure she’d be able to get around down there just as easily as she could in a cave. She pushed the silly notion away, unsure what was wrong with her today. She might not be ‘chill,’ but she was usually more put together than this.

Cass moved past Nora and, as an afterthought, allowed her glamour to drop as they entered the mines. It wasn’t as if it made much of a difference with Nora, anyway, and Nora had said she didn’t mind it being down. Plus, it allowed her to focus her concentration elsewhere… namely, on Nora. “I didn’t choose mine,” she replied with a shrug, going through the mines. “I think… It looks like what you’d look like if you were human. I never really had it explained to me very well, though. They didn’t really use them where I lived before. They taught me how to do it, but that was about it.”

Nora wanted to go deep into the mines, and Cass wasn’t sure it was a good idea but she nodded anyway. If she said no, Nora might be upset. She didn’t want to upset Nora, not when she’d said that Cass was her best friend and that she liked her face. “Sure,” she agreed. “I think stuff lives down here, though, so we have to be careful.”

—

“Oh.” That was an easy answer, it was what she looked like as human. For a moment, Nora was curious about it. But that moment slipped by. Nora had known Cass to be the most beautiful person she’d ever met from the first time she’d seen her in New York. The glamour, while she didn’t think it would be ugly, it just wouldn’t suit Cass. It wouldn’t display her personality which was bright, warm and forgiving, just like the flames that radiated off of her. A phoenix of forgiveness and new beginnings if the way she’d forgiven Nora was any indication. Did her glamour even show the fire that danced in her ember eyes? There was a literal glow around her in the dark of the mines, illuminating their steps, and illuminating Nora’s life. How could Cass’s glamour ever come close to that? It was the world’s loss that they didn’t get to see her in all her fiery glory.

Each abnormality crystal the pair passed, Nora would pass her uncrusted hand against. If Nora had been smart, she might have connected a few dots. The crystals growing up her left hand’s fingers were purple and glowing softly. The abnormality crystals that sprang out of the earth in random locations were also purple and softly glowing. But Nora wasn’t a rock person. Nora had nothing against rocks, but everything she’d ever learned about rocks had been told to her by Cass, and Cass hadn’t told her about the abnormality crystals being anything different from regular crystals so the math wasn’t mathing in Nora’s tiny little brain. “It’s great in here, I can understand why they’d want to live here.” Nora stopped for a second, staring at a loose rock sitting on the ground. Was this rock good enough? No. They’d probably have to go deeper for better rocks.

“I need to keep an eye out for special rocks.” Nora informed Cass. “I told someone on the internet that I would trade them three really good rocks for a car.” It was a good thing she never planed to take the car for herself, because she had no interest in leaving the mines. Maybe Cass would be kind enough to take the rocks, pick up the car and deliver it? No. That would be rude to ask. Cass probably wouldn’t want to leave the mines either. Oh well. She’d work out the trade eventually. “There are a lot of good rocks here, it’s going to be hard to choose from.”

—

She wondered what it was like to see the world as Nora did, with no glamours to speak of. Not for the first time, she marveled at the fact that Nora had seen her as she was from the beginning and had never run away. She’d seen Cass in all her rocky, fiery shame, and she’d eaten waffles with her anyway. She’d sat with her on the couch and watched sitcoms, she’d held her hand. Wasn’t she afraid? Wasn’t some part of her just as terrified and uncomfortable as Kuma had been? If it were anyone else, Cass would have assumed she was just hiding that fear as a kindness, to avoid hurting her feelings, but this was Nora and Nora didn’t lie to her. Not ever.

“They?” Cass repeated the word curiously, unsure what Nora meant. Who lived in the mines? She’d never seen anyone, but she didn’t come here often. She much preferred the natural caverns of the caves to the manmade passageways in the mines. The former felt like home, while the latter felt like some strange version of it. Like someone built a house out of sand and expected it to be lived in, like it might collapse at any moment and suffocate you beneath its walls. There was still some comfort in it, still some shelter to be found, but it came with a strange sensation that you weren’t as safe as you ought to be. She wouldn’t tell Nora that, though. Nora liked the mines, and Cass liked Nora. She’d learn to like the mines, too.

But special rocks was something Cass could absolutely help with. “What kind of rocks do you think they might like? I can help you find some good ones. I saw some diabase near the entrance that we could pick up on our way back out.” To Cass, it made sense that rocks would be traded for a car. If there was any unfairness to the deal, it was that someone was parting with cool rocks and would only get a car in return. “Yeah, there’s definitely a lot of really good ones. Maybe we’ll find basalt!” That was probably too good to waste on getting a car, though. “Hey, how deep do you want to go?”

—

"Yeah, they. Whatever stuff you think lives down here. They." Since Nora had never been in the mines before, she didn't have an idea what kind of creatures lived there. Hopefully, cool things, because the mines were a cool place to be. "I'm a fan of monsters," Nora told Cass, as they walked. The silence that swallowed them was almost as deep as the caverns surrounding them. Nora's voice echoed off the rocky surfaces until getting eaten by the dirt to live in the land. "I don't think every monster wants to hurt us. I mean, look at me. I'm a monster and I don't want to hurt us." Nora's right hand, the one that had been trailing on all the crystals they passed came up to grip her shoulder. The farther and farther they went in, the more her bones ached and her skin itched. Was this the death the banshee had promised her? Would it be kinder to warn Cass that this was probably her final trip, or would it hurt less to be a surprise?

Nora smiled as Cass started to talk about rocks. It was an obvious interest for her friend, which made it an interest for Nora. "Yeah, we can definitely go back for the diabase." Would Nora make it back? The worst thing about the banshee scream was the uncertainty. Where was the timeline? Didn't this come with a clock that counted down that she could read? "If you think basalt is good, then we should definitely look for some." Nora rolled her shoulders, wishing that the pain would stop. A few months of sleeping on the stone of a crypt, and now her body was starting to protest? "The lady I'm trading, we met on the website. I was going to give the car to my boss. He's got a bad leg." Nora tried to slip that out casually because Nora didn't want to ask Cass to complete this trade if she died on this trip, but the trade was important. She knew it would need to get done. Nora, she reminded herself, was once more a black hole taking and taking. Never giving. Funny. The black hole would die in this dark abyss. Maybe.

"As far as we can," Nora answered, stepping over a crystal that had grown in their path. "Can't you feel the mines welcoming us?" Nora knew it was. It wasn't a physical feeling, but the sound of her heart singing in joy from being in the mines. "I think it wants us to go until we can't go anymore. How far do mines normally go?" Nora was starting to think she should have done more research on mines before undertaking this trip. Oh well. It wasn't going to be the mines that killed her, she was certain of that. What she wasn't certain of was if they could save her.

“Oh, right. I hope there’s none of those face stealers in here. They’re pretty, but kind of scary.” She didn’t want any kind of repeat of what had happened in the cave, even if she did know how to get the faces back now. It had been scary enough when a near stranger had his face stolen, but Nora? Cass hated the idea of anything bad happening to her. She hummed at Nora’s assessment. “I don’t think you’re a monster,” she offered quietly. “I don’t think you can be a monster for the way you’re born or made at all. I think… It’s what you do, right? Who you are. That’s what makes somebody a monster.” She thought of the nightmare she’d had in her cave, of the mare who’d caused it and how different they must have been from Ariadne. She thought of Debbie, and the knife she’d used to hurt all of Cass’s friends in one fell swoop. “I think humans can be monsters sometimes, too.” They certainly had been to her more than once. To Nora, too, she suspected.

Nora listened to her when she spoke, and it was the best feeling in the world. It made Cass feel like she was walking on air, somehow, like she was lighter than she was. Here was this fascinating, wonderful person, and she was listening to Cass. Hanging on her every word like those words meant something. Was there anything better? “It is good,” she said quickly. “Basalt and diabase are actually pretty similar. I can show you if we can find one of each.” The thought of rattling off the rocks’ components and comparing them with Nora was exciting. The thought of giving them away, less so. But the more Nora spoke, the more Cass understood it. It was nice of her to make this sacrifice for her boss, so he’d have a better way to get around. “That’s really nice of you. I bet he’ll be really grateful.” He was probably pretty lucky to have Nora as an employee.

The more Nora spoke, however, the more confused Cass became. Had she always been this passionate about the mines? How had Cass missed it? She made it a point to know everything there was to know about her friends and their interests, made sure she could speak to those interests when she wanted to impress them. This seemed to be a very intense interest for Nora. Why hadn’t she known about it before? “I think they go pretty deep. I’ll be able to find our way out no matter what, probably, but it might be dangerous? Uh, have you always liked the mines this much?” Was this a bugbear thing she hadn’t known about?

Something seemed to shift. She could feel it, some strange sensation. Like something was expanding, like she’d gone from feeling the ground beneath her feet the same way she always did to feeling something else, too. It reminded her a little of being in her cave, of feeling the rocks there. But this wasn’t her cave. This wasn’t her cave, and she’d already accounted for all the rocks she could feel. She wouldn’t be feeling more without a reason. “Nora, stop, something — Something’s happening.”

—

Nora desperately wanted there to be a face stealer in here. Just the idea of them was so intriguing. How did they see? What did it look like after stealing a face? What would she look like if her face was stolen? What would it feel like? Would it kill her? Nora had been honest before, when she said at least it was a cool way to die. The idea of face-stealers left a lot more questions than answers. Maybe if she didn't die, she could ask Emilio if they could investigate the face stealers together. After their win with Nanook the polar bear, Nora just knew the two of them could solve anything. "I think it's okay that I'm a monster." Cass was kind to say that Nora was a monster. She'd expressed the sentiment before, but again Nora let it wash off her. She lived her whole life knowing she was a monster, she'd already started to accept that about her. It didn't change now, just because her actions were sometimes okay. Besides, how often was Nora a black hole taking and taking from all those around her, instead of being a good person? Nora could claim the title of monster because she was one.

"Humans can be monsters too." Nora agreed. There was no denying that. Humans were a wild sort, always trying to clamber over each other to come out on top. She'd seen enough of the seedy competitive side of humans to last her a lifetime. She didn't need to doubt that they were monsters. But they got to choose to be monsters. If they had any sense, they could change their minds and become human again. Nora was born a monster. Acted like a monster. Could never become anything other than a monster. "Frankenstien's monster was always going to be a monster. No matter what he did." Nora muttered under her breath, the only classical literature she'd ever liked in her school days. Unsurprisingly, she'd found it relatable in her youth.

"I hope we find them." Nora meant it. If it meant that Cass got to smile about rocks. Maybe if they could find those two rocks, Cass would see just how amazing the mines were and want to stay. Nora might be beyond saving, but Cass could live in the mines forever without dying. She could live the dream. Nora started to wonder what her headstone would be made out of. Marble and granite were common choices in her graveyard. Nora hoped, selfishly, that Cass would give her an obsidian one. That would be metal. As Nora walked, thinking about the cool headstone Cass would probably give her, her hand was scratching at her side. The itch under her flesh was so bad that she freed her crystal-encrusted left hand to help. Cass, luckily, didn't seem to notice. Instead, Cass was looking around. Cass was noticing something. Nora could see the tension ripple down her friend before she expressed a warning.

A warning that was never going to save Nora.

The familiar sensation of her skin shredding itself overwhelmed her. Nora staggered to her knees, letting out an agonized scream. Her hands clutched at herself, begging her body to stay intact. This wasn't the momentary pain of her shift, where her body broke into tiny pieces and reconstructed into her other form. This pain was prolonged. Crystals burst through her flesh, tiny sharp edges cutting jagged holes in her flesh. Nora fought to keep consciousness as the pain fought to knock her out. Her eyes became blurry with tears and pain, toppled over she saw her right hand being encrusted in its own crystal talons. She screamed again, an echo of the banshee scream that had been just for her. As if the scream could scare away the pain. As if she wasn't beyond salvation now.

Nothing stopped the pain. As one pain stopped, another started, a never-ending cycle of horror that she didn't understand. Worst of all, something was happening to her face, something she couldn't see to quantify and make sense of. With a trembling hand, Nora's new talons clattered against horns growing from her skull. Horns? She was a bear, bears didn't have horns. But that wasn't even it. That wasn't the centralizing pain in her jaw. There was something wrong with her jaw, Nora needed to stop it. She needed it to stop hurting. Nora started scratching at it, faster and faster. Pieces of her flesh tore away in chunks as she tried to get rid of the pain. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the bits of gore stuck to her now crystalline exposed jaw.

And then as quickly as it had started, it was over. A pain worse than death. Her body trembled with a mixture of pain and exhaustion. For a second, she tried to exude the effort to get off the dirty ground. It was uncomfortable, a rock pocked into her side. But the pain brustling up her spine and down her arms was too much to overcome just then. Nora was forced to admit she didn't have the energy to get up. "I think I'm dead." Nora told Cass, her voice quiet, a mixture of confusion seeping in, hoarseness seeped in from her screams and tears. She knew she was supposed to die, but she didn't know she was going to survive her death. But that had to be a death, right? Even her bearformations didn't hurt that much. "I think I died." Laughter bubbled out, a little hysterical, a little relieved. That banshee was fucking dumb. Thinking death would stop her.

It seemed like Nora wanted to be a monster, like she was clinging to the word with a desperation Cass couldn’t understand. All her life, all Cass had ever wanted was to fit in. With the fae in her aos si, with the humans outside of it, with the people she’d found between Hawai’i and Wicked’s Rest who’d found her tolerable in small doses but impossible in large ones. She’d only ever wanted to belong somewhere, and she never had. Not until Nora’s hand brushed against hers in the purse hanging off a rich lady’s shoulder in New York, not until she sat across from a stranger in a greasy diner and ate waffles for the first time ever.

It had been temporary back then — she still remembered curling into herself in that empty apartment, waiting so long for Nora to return that she barely made it out before the apartment’s actual occupants returned from their trip — but she liked to think it could be now. In Wicked’s Rest, where they knew all the things about one another that they hadn’t shared before, where Nora had promised never to leave her, where Cass thanked her and meant it, they could both belong so long as they stuck together. Nora was the only one who had ever made Cass feel as though she was more than an inconvenient straggler. If she was a monster, what was Cass? If she wanted to be a monster, should Cass cling to the word too? Was belonging with Nora enough, even if it meant she’d never belong with anyone else?

(She knew the answer. It echoed in her ears just as sure as the beating of her heart. If she could only belong in one place, let it be here. Let it be with the girl who watched sitcoms with her on a stranger’s couch, with the only one who had ever apologized for hurting her. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything before.)

“I don’t think so,” she replied with a small shrug. “I think… Frankenstein’s monster was only called that because he was different. Because other people told him he was, because they wouldn’t let him be anything else. People don’t want things to be different, sometimes. They’ll do anything to stop it.” Wasn’t that why Kuma had screamed the moment Cass’s glamour dropped? Wasn’t that why her foster mother had put her on a plane and told her never to come back? Different was scary, but it wasn’t supposed to be. It was only scary to people who had decided to be scared long before there was anything to fear at all.

She wanted to say more, but she didn’t have the words. It didn’t matter, anyway. Because something in the mine was shifting, and something in the mine felt wrong, and Nora was screaming just a heartbeat after Cass had voiced this observation. It seemed to go on forever. Nora screamed, and it was the worst sound Cass had ever heard. She ached with it. She watched in horror as her friend’s flesh tore away, as human skin gave way to something that looked much more like the kind of thing Cass would see in another oread back home. But there was nothing natural about this; while oreads like Cass moved effortlessly with their rocky surfaces, Nora’s looked utterly unnatural. It was wrong, it was bad. And Cass was afraid.

She’d been afraid before, of course. There were days when she thought afraid was the only thing she was at all, though she rarely admitted it. She thought she’d seen the worst that fear could be when the mare had crawled into her head and twisted its fingers into her dreams, but she’d let a thousand mares into her cave if it meant this moment went away. Nora was screaming, and it was an endless kind of scream. One that would stay with Cass for the rest of her life.

And then it was over. It felt like both seconds and years, somehow, like it stretched on forever and ended abruptly at the same time. Cass couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. This had to be her fault, somehow. She was an oread, and her friend had just been ripped apart by stone and gems in a mine where nothing felt right. What else could it be? She’d done something, just as she had in the cave before, when her panic caused the floor to fall out from underneath them and unleashed the face stealer from the Earth.

“Nora?” Her voice was small, uncertain. She couldn’t tell if Nora was breathing or not; she wasn’t sure she wanted the question answered. But then, Nora spoke, and the relief that came with hearing her voice felt like a pile of bricks dropping onto the oread’s head. Speaking meant alive, which meant that whatever Cass had done with her powers now hadn’t made a murderer out of her, hadn’t ripped away the best thing she’d ever had in her life. She choked on a sob as Nora’s words settled. “You’re not,” she said quickly. “You’re not dead. I see you, I hear you, and that means you’re alive. Or — Or I’m dead, too, but I don’t think I am.” If she was, she didn’t mind it much. If being dead meant she got to talk to Nora, still, then there were worse things to be. “Are you — Are you okay?” She wanted to say I’m sorry, wanted to say I don’t know what I did but I didn’t mean to do it, wanted to say Please don’t hate me, but she was so afraid that if she voiced her suspicions that she had caused this, Nora would hate her for it.

—

There was a light at the end of the tunnel. A light in the darkness of the mines. Nora wavered on the edge of conscious and unconsciousness. It hurt to breathe. Each shallow lungful came with the adjustment of her body relearning its every movement to accommodate the crystals poking through. Every now and then a shockwave of pain would radiate down her, cascading through her new crystal appendages. Every now and then her body would feel normal, the same place she’d lived her whole life. There was a new weight to her. A physical heaviness that pressed down on her from places that hadn’t been there. Nora tried hard to keep her eyes open, to focus on the light at the end of the tunnel. To beg them to focus. You’re not. It was Cass’s voice, kind, warm, enveloping her, breaking the ringing left in her ears from her own screaming.

She wasn’t dead because Cass wouldn’t lie to her. Or if she had died, it hadn’t stuck. Whatever the truth was, she didn’t know. She just knew that she was alive now and in this moment. Nora blinked up. Her eyes started to focus. The light at the end of the tunnel was Cass. Standing before her, worry creasing her features, grief on full display. “If I’m not dead, why are you crying?” Nora asked her light at the end of the tunnel. Again, limbs shaking, body trembling, Nora tried to ease her body off the ground. Inch, inch by inch, she managed to get up. Everything screamed inside her. Everything protested. Her new crystal exterior moved and clattered against her bones in a way that was unfamiliar. A sitting position would have to do. Nora tried to lean her back against the wall, but protrusions coming from her back made the maneuver hard. That was going to mean she’d have to relearn to sit again.

Step one, calm down. Her heart still raced. With each passing moment the pain of the transformation faded. Nora looked down at herself. Crystals everywhere. Sick. She could work with this. Her clothes couldn’t. Her shirt and jacket were completely shredded, hanging around her as limp, torn pieces of cloth. Her jacket. Wildly, Nora searched through all her pockets making sure any of her daily hitchhikers were okay. They were. Relief washed through her. Nora settled back down, one more letting her heart calm down. Finally, she felt ready to talk again.

“Only a monster because he was different?” She’d never seen anyone else sprout into spontaneous crystals before. Nora thought of the conversation they’d been having about Frankenstein’s monsters. Just moments before the pain. Had Frankenstein felt pain as his twisted and sewn together body became full of life? Nora couldn’t remember. But now her body had become a mismatched match of flesh and crystal. A modern-day retelling of the famous story, where the players were recast. Frankenstein, played by the mines, and the monster played by someone born to the role. Had the mines been calling her here to reenact the story? Or to give her a new lease on life, a new being. Who else in this world would be strong enough to bare the physical mantle of a monster. Nora had already accepted it about herself, what was a few more monstrosities added on. “Looks like I’m the Mine’s Monster.”

—

Nora was moving and it was clumsy and it was uncoordinated and it was the best thing Cass had ever seen because movement meant that she was alive. She exhaled, and she must have been holding her breath without realizing it because it all came out at once in a way that made her chest ache and her lungs stutter. She had no idea what had happened, no clue why it had happened, but Nora was alive. Nora was alive, and they could probably fix this if they tried hard enough. Cass could feel the stony gems jutting out from under her friend’s skin, though they felt so strange and unnatural that she knew they weren’t just normal rocks. Whatever was happening to Nora, it wasn’t something Cass had seen before. And there was a part of her that felt guilty for that, too.

If she were a better oread, would she know what was going on? If she’d been less of a threat to the aos si back in Hawai’i, if they’d loved her enough to allow her to stay, would they have shown her the answers she needed now? It was one of those impossible questions, one without an answer, because if Cass had stayed in Hawai’i, she never would have met Nora at all. And if Cass had never met Nora at all, this probably wouldn’t be happening.

“You scared me,” she said quietly, and that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Nora’s fault that this had happened, wasn’t Nora’s fault that Cass’s heart was beating so hard in her chest that she worried it might burst through the skin and the stone and the magma and explode on the walls of the cave. She didn’t know what happened, but she knew it wasn’t Nora’s fault. She longed to launch herself forward, to wrap her arms around Nora, to feel her and confirm that she was a solid presence with breath in her lungs and a beating heart, but she held herself back. Nora was moving in a way that implied pain, and Cass wouldn’t forgive herself if she made that pain worse. She couldn’t.

The silence that stretched between them was tense, though not in the way silences usually were. It was heavy, it was uncertain, it was full of things Cass wanted to say but didn’t know how to articulate. She wanted to ask a thousand questions, but each potential answer scared her more than the last. She wanted to distract both of them with wild tales or long rambles, but Nora’s screams still clung to the walls of the mine in a way that made anything she could say feel like not enough and too much all at once.

When Nora broke the silence, Cass slumped in relief. Frankenstein, then. That’s what they would talk about. She didn’t take her eyes off Nora, terrified that if she looked away, the other might disappear in a puff of smoke and leave her alone. “If you’re a monster, I’m a monster,” she said quietly. If Nora was a monster, a monster wasn’t a bad thing to be. “We can be monsters together, okay? We can do whatever you want, as long as you’re okay.”

—

You scared me. Of course, she scared Cass, Nora was a creature built for fear starting with the tiny details in her DNA. It wasn’t a surprise that the crystals that grew from her would have the same scare ability etched into their makeup. Even Nora had felt the ice-cold grip of fear constricting around her heart for a moment. But wasn’t that the way it had always been? Nora had always been the creature she was most terrified of. The monster under her own bed.

Her body was starting to feel like her own again. Enough for her to stand up, her bones protested for a second, and then it passed. So, this was her new normal. Nora cracked her neck, the prick of a crystal telling her where her movement needed to stop. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Nora stepped closer to Cass, standing next to her, the two of them against the mines. Against? No. That wasn’t right. With the mines. Nora remembered Emilio bumping her shoulder at the zoo, a moment of solidarity and affection between the both of them. For a second she wondered if she should do that for Cass, maybe it would bring her happiness, like it had brought Nora happiness at the zoo. A glance at her crystal cladded shoulder made her change her mind.

Nora kept looking down at herself as she talked. Eventually she took out her phone, struggling with gripping it in her talons, and got the camera opened. Nora had never thought much about her body. It was a tool to be used, told how to dress, and what to do. It just was. Suddenly, Nora felt stunning. She felt powerful and fierce. She felt more like herself than she did in her normal skin. “Wow.” Was the breathless word that slipped out.

“I think the mines saved my life. A banshee screamed for me.” Nora confided in Cass. “But I think that was it. My death. It felt like death. I knew there was a reason the mines wanted me here.” And that was a belief Nora would continue to cling to, probably for years from now. Even if the banshee in question ever came forward and told her it had been a prank, and that had never been what the scream was for.

“Monsters together” When Nora had first seen Cass in New York, it was the first time she hadn’t felt alone in the world. It was the first time there had been another monster with her. Not that she thought Cass was a monster by heart, but by the same designation that Nora was a monster. By their otherness. She thought of them moving through the streets of New York, hands clasped in each other’s from the moment they reached into that woman’s purse. How it had felt like them vs. the world. Now it was them vs. the world again, this time with the mines here to help them. Nora looked down at her taloned fingers, she couldn’t recreate it one for one, but she could try. Carefully she wrapped a crystal talon’d pinky around Cass’s. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

—

“I know,” she said quietly. “I know you didn’t.” Nora didn’t mean to scare her, and Cass didn’t mean to be scared. But how could she not be? When your favorite person in the world, the first person who’d ever understood you and the only person who always did, was writhing on the ground in agony, their screams echoing off the walls of a place that wasn’t wrong but wasn’t right either, how could you feel anything but terror? Even now, it was coursing through her like it hadn’t yet gotten the message that Nora was okay, like it wasn’t tracking the conversation. How could she be okay when she’d been screaming moments before? How could anything be okay when Cass could still feel the echo of those screams bouncing off the walls?

Nora stood, and Cass couldn’t help herself. She moved forward and, more gently than she might have if not for the fear of causing pain, wrapped her arms around Nora. Her stony skin clattered against the gems coming out from beneath Nora’s for a moment before it seemed to slot into place, as if the rocks on her body were moving themselves to accommodate this new presence. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she breathed. She’d never been more glad for anything in her entire life.

She pulled away to allow Nora to study herself, trying to collect her own thoughts and feelings as best she could. It was a whirlwind, really; the conversation, the abrupt end to it, the screaming, the panic, the relief. It felt as if Cass had experienced every rung of the emotional ladder in one fell swoop, and she didn’t know how to correct herself. Deep breaths were hard when it still felt like the world was closing in on her.

But Nora was the world, wasn’t she? Every shimmering piece of her, every twisted gem. Whether she was like this or her normal self, Nora represented a kind of safety that Cass had never experienced before that day in New York. She’d found glimpses of it with other people since — the day at the zoo with Metzli, showing Van her cave, the conversation with Gael at the cafe — but Nora was the closest thing to constant that Cass had ever had. Maybe that was what had made the moments before, with the screams and the terror, so especially horrifying. She’d never had anything to lose before. She didn’t know how terrifying the concept was until she’d been faced with it.

A banshee screamed for Nora, and she was alive anyway. Cass wasn’t sure if the mines had saved her, but she was glad something had. Now that she had something like this, she never wanted to lose it. She never wanted to live the terror of those heart-aching moments again, not for as long as she lived. It was too much.

“Forever,” she agreed, squeezing Nora’s pinky with her own. She didn’t bind the words into a promise, though she thought she probably could have. Nora had already promised to stay with her once; she didn’t need to promise it again. “Come on. Let’s find some rocks.”

#chatzy #chatzy: cass #minecraft #art by lou

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eventiderpg · 6 months

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The State of the Stylists

Once again Panem is glued to their screens. Unbeknownst to The Capitol and its Districts, the same image is being broadcasted to District Thirteen's televisions. Additionally, captives of Panem's government had a hologram wheeled into their prison block earlier in the morning. Now, they see the faces of two whose cries they've all become familiar with.

The air is tense as exactly one month after The Victors' Purge, the country is seeing two, prominent stylists face a similar fate. Cinna and Portia Lux are standing tall. After spending the last year in adoration, it seems that time has come to an end. They're donning matching red ensembles, Cinna in a fiery suit and Portia in a gown. The former has a white rose situated in his jacket pocket; the latter has one in her hair. They look united as they hold hands.

President Coriolanus Snow is on the same platform, standing at a podium in a pristine, white suit. His expression matches the somberness of the situation. The President of Panem takes a deep breath before speaking.

"It's been forty eight days since the Rebel insurgency caused a panic within the arena. Their treachery has not ceased. In fact, they've proven time and time again that they will continue upping their brutalization of the innocent citizens of our great nation. Districts Eight and Eleven have been their most recent targets, with Katniss Everdeen leading with her sonorous war cry.

For the safety of the people of Panem, parties guilty of treason cannot go unpunished. To do so would enforce a message that the actions do not hold the unbearable weight that they actively amass. With a heavy heart, I acknowledge that the two individuals standing here not only conspired alongside Katniss Everdeen and her band of rebels, but have the audacity to seem smug about such actions.

Cinna and Portia Lux, I ask you: has our nation been so horrid to you to inspire such acts? Panem has spent great time idolizing you both, only for the pair of you to spit on those who only aspired to gift you reverence. Before receiving the sentencing for your war crimes, are there any final words either of you would like to share?"

Cinna fixes his posture before taking one step forward. His hand doesn't leave Portia's. Not many have known the terror or torture that both stylists have faced. Many were convinced that Portia Lux just disappeared. There's a comfort for Cinna, knowing that they've stayed by each other's side through it all. He takes Snow's challenge for what it is.

"I never cared to be popular, President Snow. I cared about doing what's right. I knew what I have done might ruffle feathers, but I don't regret it. I will not grovel for you or a corrupt jury of people. I stand with the Mockingjay. I stand with the Rebellion. Forever and always, until my dying breath."

Portia's eyes weren't on Snow, or at anyone else. They are on Cinna. And she can't believe what she is hearing. Or maybe she should. After all, she isn't the one that has done anything wrong, at least not in her opinion.

"But what about me? Where was I in all your thoughts about this rebellion Cinna? Me, your partner. I thought you trusted me, and yet you couldn't even tell me about this. You've dragged me into this when I've done nothing wrong. You know I've done nothing wrong, and yet you stand there okay with letting me take the fall for war crimes alongside you. So much for you loving me."

And at that point she drops his hand, taking a step away. They had shown a unified approach. The stylists from 12, who had risen in fame together. But Portia wasn't going to allow Cinna to also take her down to her death. Not when she hadn't done anything wrong. That was when she finally turned her attention back to Snow, though her words were more panicked now, almost as if she thought it would still be too late.

"No...no... I won't stand for this.... I won't let him drag me down too....I denounce it..... them... all of it.... they are traitors...... but I'm not..... "

President Snow raises his palm, as the small crowd at the execution gasp and stay wide-eyed at the scene between the two partners. It effectively silences those there as tension rises. Practiced perfection means his face does not falter, even if inwardly he feels gleeful at what had just transpired.

"Unlike the Rebels, Panem does not stand for unnecessary violence. While those in District Thirteen would be trigger happy to slaughter, such a hedonistic desire for savagery is only for barbaric individuals. Forgiveness is powerful. For those watching who toe the line and even those who have turned directly to the Insurgents, know it still isn't too late. Let Miss Lux be an example for you. Choose peace. Choose our great nation. Miss Lux, please follow me off stage. Peacekeepers, you may begin implementing Mr. Cinna's sentence."

The President and the former stylist leave the stage peacefully while peacekeepers storm it. Whether on a screen or halo, the audience watches as Cinna is executed by firing squad. The now deceased man's words ring true, as before shots are fired, he raises his arm to give the defiant, Mockingjay salute as his final act of rebellion.

With our Mockingjay era plot drops, these will be similar to the Claudius and Caesar updates. You are absolutely welcome to write a self-para or actively do threads in relation to this plot drop! If you choose to roleplay this on the dash, please tag your threads with both #eventideevent04 as well as #eventidesots. Though this event takes place on day forty eight, our players are now welcome to roleplay up to day forty nine.

This plot drop does not effectively pause time in the roleplay. It does however signify that we are getting closer to the rescue mission in this era. Later this week, a poll will be released to figure out what date would be best to start the rescue objective.

As always, thank you for your patience. Thank you for still being here with us in EVENTIDERPG. Our RPG is better with you in it. Happy roleplaying!

#eventideplot #eventideevent04 #eventidesots #death tw #guns tw

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countrymusiclover · 2 years

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32 - A Fairytale Come True

Part 33

His Golden Princess

@fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @alanaangie24

"Astrid Swan, I love you. I'll love you until I die. So I stand before you asking will you marry me?" I fling my arms around his neck kissing him deeply. "Yes, yes, yes. Of course I will. I love you Rumplestiltskin!"

Today is the day I play the princess I was born to be. My true love might not be an actual prince but he has won my heart which is enough for me. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Henry hadn't shown up to our apartment so long ago. If he hadn't I wouldn't have met Rumple or finally met our parents. Everything would have been different. So I am grateful that he changed our lives. Staring down at the golden crown from the Enchanted Forest I sighed sitting it on my head before the bedroom door opened showing my mother and my sister grinning ear to ear. "Oh sweetheart. I can't believe this day is finally here. I'm gonna cry."

Wrapping my arms around my mother I sighed starting to cry happ tears too. She wrapped her arms around me smiling and kissing my head until my sister came over hugging me before pulling out my wedding dress. "I picked up the dress in the exact detail that you asked for."

Hanging the white dress on the door I covered my mouth with my hands grinning. The long train is covered with lace and the front was a little shorter so I wouldn't trip on it. It is short sleeve and lace was scattered across the front. Changing into the dress I picked up the train doing a light spin in front of my family. "I can't believe my little sister is getting married before me. You're so beautiful!" My sister cried happy tears.

The door gently opened with my father entered dressed in a black tux almost in tears immediately. He wrapped me in a gentle hug kissing my forehead. "My little princess. Gosh you're beautiful. I uh - gosh I thought I wasn't gonna cry."

"It's okay dad. Just please don't make me cry." I chuckled wrapping him in a hug before we looped arms walking through the door coming outside underneath Granny's sign heading towards the clock tower. Intertwining my right hand with my father's I smiling keeping my eyes trained forward. Regina had gathered everyone in town to stand in rows underneath the clock tower. There's lights hanging underneath the door but when my eyes met Rumple's I pictured so much more.

He was dressed in a black suit and a red tie grinning directly at me. The wind blows through my loose hair where I imagined that we were inside my parents castle where they got married. Finally reaching my soon to be husband my father rests a hand on his shoulder saying. "Take care of her Gold."

"I love you sweetheart." He turned to me kissing my forehead placing my hand in Rumple's.

"I love you too daddy." I smiled watching him sit down before Regina stepped up preforming the ceremony at my mother's request.

She placed her hands on top of our intertwined ones mirroring our smiles. "We are here today to unite these two together. Astrid and Rumple are complete opposites but yet they are so much better together than apart. I have known Rumple longer than her but I am suprised that she actually showed him such love. But enough about me these two have decided to write their own vows."

"Astrid, before the curse I was against the idea of love. Believing that it was weakness and that no one could ever truly love me. And then I met you. You changed my life for the better and I am grateful for your love." He sniffed through tears a smile plastered on his face. "I promise to be the best husband that I can. There will hard days but I will do my best to treat you like the princess you are. I love you with all my heart."

Reaching up I wiped away some tears squeezing his hands holding mine. "Rumplestiltskin, I love you too. I am forever grateful that my visions led me to you. Because you not only helped me find the family my sister and I have been searching for 28 years. I just had no idea that I would find the love of my life alongside them. So today I get to finally be the man I have waiting for." Glancing over to my parents who are in tears. Henry is taking pictures on his phone beside my sister who is almost sobbing happily too.

"Here we go then. Do you Rumple take Astrid to be your loving wife as long as you both shall live?" Regina asked staring at the man who taught her everything about magic.

"I do." He replied never taking his brown eyes off of me.

She turned to me smiling softly asking the same question. "Astrid do you take Rumple to be your loving husband as long as you both shall live?"

"I do, always." Rumple's grin grew at my words when he waited to kiss me.

"By the power vested in me as the mayor of this town. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Regina declared before Rumple cupped my face pressing his lips onto mine deeply. Wrapping my arms around his neck I kissed back running my fingers through his hair hearing cheering behind us. "Ladies and gentlemen I present to you Mr and Mrs. Rumple and Astrid Gold."

The wedding chapter is done ya'll enjoy

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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oftincturedwords · 2 years

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chapters : 1/1 fandom : top gun ( 1986 ) , top gun : maverick rating : t+ chapter warning(s) : ¡spoilers! anxiety attack , panic attack , grief / mourning , canonical character death(s) , crying , etc. characters : tom ‘iceman’ kazansky , pete ‘maverick’ mitchell , mentioned nick ‘goose’ bradshaw , mentioned carole bradshaw , mentioned bradley bradshaw , mentioned ron 'slider’ kerner , mentioned sam ‘merlin’ wells pairing(s) : gen. established iceman / maverick. background goose / carole. additional tags : hurt / comfort , angst , post canon , pre - canon , affection , trust , hugs , affection , etc. prompt : “I can’t breathe, I don’t know what to do— I can’t—“ word count : timeline : set post top gun ( 1986 ) , yet prior to top gun : maverick summary : maverick’s grief sets out to crush him , but iceman is there to as a lifebuoy as his wingman wades through it a/n : this was another prompt challenge given by my sister , she picked the prompt & the characters / pairing whilst i picked hers then we had a half hour to write all that we could thus you can thank her for this angst ! please note i have yet to actually see top gun : maverick ( i have no spare money to spend on going to the cinema sadly even though i am dying to see this film ) thus if there are any mistakes continuity - wise i apologise & please take it with a grain of salt. all i know of this film is what tumblr has shown me & what i have read of the synopsis on wiki… yet i decided to write for it … no beta thus all mistakes are mine. disclaimer : i do not own any right to top gun ( 1986 ) or top gun : maverick. neither am i associated with the production companies , nor any of the actors who portray these characters. i make no money off any of my stories , this is purely for entertainment purposes. read on : ao3 | below the cut

He finds him knelt before Goose’s grave, head bowed low with a hand placed upon the flat surface of the tombstone’s top. Even from this distance he can see the trembling that coursed through Maverick’s smaller frame, the interment hitch of his shoulders and the way the entirety of his being shuddered with the effort to muffle the relentless outpouring of emotion.

Striving to quiet the choked sobs that Iceman can visibly see catch within the other man’s chest, despite there being none else around but him to witness the overspilling of grief.

Hiccuped and stuttering breaths were all that was audible in the hushed atmosphere of the cemetery, no cries nor sobs could be heard. A grief suffered in silence until it couldn't be suppressed any longer, yet before it had overflowed, Maverick had sought out solitude and a solace he could no longer gain, in that of his late RIO and dearest friend.

The forever stinging wound of Goose’s death had been renewed by the passing of Carole, having left young Bradley Bradshaw without either parent. And even though Mav had lost another friend in Carole, Ice knew something more had happened since Mav was here rather than with Bradley. For all Maverick lived up to his callsign and was a cocky bastard, he loved Bradley and never failed to be there for the kid, and losing a parent ( no matter the age of the child ) was a hurt that stung beyond measure when they were of the good calibre that's Ice knew Carole had been.

Which was why when Mav had fled after the wake, leaving Bradley, Ice had seen that the younger man was all right as he knew Mav would appreciate then followed after his wayward wingman.

It was a credit to how well Iceman knew the other pilot that he knew Mav would head here rather than any bar or even the hangers that stored the plane he was so fond of working on. The circumstances certainly helped guide Ice, but too he knew that the bond between Mav and his former RIO was something even death hadn't broken.

Forever Mav seemed haunted by the weight of guilt and memory of his friend that he carried. Staking his career on a certain path to ensure he could be as close as he could to the widow and her child, and being present for every event he could throughout Bradley’s life. From birthdays to graduations to even school projects. And when he couldn't be there physically, he wrote letters and sent Polaroids of his time deployed.

Military approved ones, of course. Meaning there were usually ridiculous angled photos of him with Iceman or Merlin. Sometimes candids of them in the mess or all of them squashed into their small quarters. One Mav had begged Ice to take on deck with Mav silhouetted by the orange and pink hues of the setting sun with the dark outline of his plane at his side.

“C’mon, Ice, it's for Bradley.” Mav had shoved down on the paperback Ice had been reading to look him in the eye.

Ice had sighed, the glare he had aimed towards Mav’s wide, mockingly innocent - looking eyes had softened at the mention of Bradley. It wasn't as if Iceman could deny Goose’s kid a photo, his callsign and reputation notwithstanding.

“Why did you wait until now to do this?” Ice instead asked, but he set aside his book with a quick glance to memorise the page number he was on before swinging his legs off his bunk to plant them on the deck.

“Sunsets and sunrises are the best aboard.” Was the simple explanation Mav had thrown Ice’s way, shrugging nonchalantly in direct contrast to the smug grin that split his features, “Knew my wingman wouldn't let me down.”

Ice had been wholly incapable of curbing the slow smile that upturned his lips at hearing that, unable to refute nor say anything in return to those words. Healing his head, a fondness he rarely felt for others warmed within his chest as he had ducked down to don his boots so he could follow Mav out onto the flight deck.

They had been chased off by a few of the deck crew afterwards, but the photo had come out perfect according to Maverick, and he had sent it with his next letter.

Sighing through his nose and feeling the muscles along his jaw ache at how tightly he was clenching it, Ice stepped forward. Footfalls purposefully audible and stride confident, traversing the neatly up kept field of grass before the row of graves towards where his wingman was still crouched.

It worked as Ice had wanted in causing Mav’s head to snap up, looking up and searching for whomever was walking towards him. Yet it was the brokenly uttered ‘Ice’ that had his steps faltering at sheer amount of anguish infused into that single syllable. Wretched and desolate it was. Laden thickly by tears and insatiable heartache.

Only for a moment did his misstep before Ice practically ran the rest of the short distance to reach Maverick’s side, slowing only so he could crouch down beside the other. Taking in the tear tracks that near gleamed the in low light of the cemetery, the riverlets a ceaseless wash of grief, Ice reached out to rest his hand on Maverick’s shoulder. Gripping there when his wingman didn't shy away nor flinch at the contact, instead seeming to fold underneath it all the more.

Bowing his head again, Ice felt Mav’s shoulders droop despite the tension that was still laced through every fibre of the muscles beneath. Pulled taut and trembling vehemently from both the physical strain of stress and the emotional upheaval. Ice merely tightened his grip in response, shifting closer to offer a share of strength for Mav to lean against should he wish, or for when his body finally reached its limits. Whatever came first Ice would let his wingman fall.

“I can’t breathe, I don’t know what to do -I can’t—” Mav’s words faltered and stumbled over one another, intermixed with breathless huffs that were poor facsimiles of sobs he tried so valiantly to contain.

“Easy, Mav. Steady breaths.” Ice soothed, voice pitched low yet steely was his tone, not demanding but firm and grounding as he moves his other hand up to grasp at Maverick's exposed wrist whilst his other hand slide along the other's shoulder blades to lay across his upper back and lightly grip Maverick’s other shoulder, keeping up a litany as he did so, “C’mon, you know how, just focus on breathing for me right now. That’s what you can do. In… and out…”

The near hug was steady yet loose, knowing Maverick had a penchant for fleeing when overwhelmed by emotions he wished none else to witness, Ice didn't want to force him to stay and endure if moving or space would ease the hurt and trouble that painted his wingman’s soul.

Keeping an anchoring presence nearby if it was wanted, but allowing Mav to choose, Ice continued to breathe with exaggeration and guide the other man to follow suit. Slow yet consistent, Ice could feel Mav’s breathing ease by measure. Still jarred by the intermittent hitch and inevitable sob, but it wasn't the panicked gasping of before.

And it seemed Ice’s consideration of Mav wanting to be left alone had been an unneeded contengacy for the smaller man melted into his hold once his breaths were no longer staggered and harsh, seeming to deflate against Ice’s secure embrace. An epitome of exhaustion in every line along his near seamless features and angle of his frame.

Ice easily took the other's weight, shifting his arms marginally so he could wrap them solidly around Mav’s smaller frame. Not bracketing, but offering the steadfastness of his touch. Bending his head down, Ice pressed his lips lightly to the top of Maverick’s head before turning to rest his cheek there. Content to remain here until hsi wingman’s tears had run dry, or chose to move away. However long, Iceman would be there.

“She, she asked me to pull his application.” Mav’s muffled voice was welled with sorrow, near strangled by the sheer harshness of his tears yet persistent he ever was to ensure he was heard.

Although Ice hadn't needed nor asked for an explanation, he understood immediately then. What had shoved his wingman to the edge and had him seeking out an unattainable solace. If anyone would grant the best guidance through this it would have been Goose. For any commanding officer could shuffle out the application of their subordinate from gaining entry into the USNA. And Carole had asked Maverick to do it because she knew he could, or at least see it done even if he couldn't himself.

“It was her dying wish.” Mav continued, his breaths growing short again and near hiccuping they were so stuttered, “And this’ll, Ice this… he wants to be a pilot so badly and…”

“And if he finds out, it will break whatever trust is between you two.” Ice added after Mav was silent for a few moments too long, he’s simply been shaking his head beneath Ice’s cheek and swallowing as he tried to give voice to the words Iceman had found for him.

Nodding stiltedly, Mav blinked several times to clear his vision at a renewed wash of tears before brokenly agreeing, “Yeah… Selfish part of me doesn't want to lose that with him.”

Ice stared across the expanse of the empty cemetery over Mav’s head, taking in none of the darkening sky as evening began to fall towards night, a knowing expression highlighted his features, “But you're still going to do it.”

“How could I not, Ice?” Mav said in way of a confirmation to Ice’s statement, his tone desperate, “Carole asked me to. Asked to ensure, to ensure Bradley doesn't end up like...”

The words didn't need to be spoken for Ice to know what Carole had said.

Unconsciously, Ice’s arms tightened around Maverick, unable to find the needed words to comfort and knowing that voicing his thoughts on the matter would do the opposite of help. Neither would he appeal to a pragmatic view of the situation.

“I can’t just ignore it, Ice.” Maverick shifted back, seeming to gather a modicum of what Iceman was thinking, to put enough distance between them only so far as needed for his eyes to meet Ice’s, “I owe it to her, and to Goose.”

“Okay.” Was all Ice said, his tone resolute as he held Mav’s gaze. The low light had his wingman’s irises appearing dark, their usually audacious gleam was entirely absent. Instead replaced by a sorrowful resolve, determined in his plan of action and wholly prepared to accept the consequences.

“Okay?” The single word held an edge of indignation, as if Mav thought Ice was merely placating, but Ice was quick to shake his head to forestall any further words from the other pilot before he continued.

“You don't have the clearance to pull applications, Mav,” Again Ice had to shake his head when Maverick opened his mouth to proclaim some scheme or strategy to see it done, continuing once the other had clicked his mouth shut, “but I do.”

At seeing Maverick’s eyes widened a fraction, Iceman added, knowing his wingman would try to protest dragging Ice into this more than he already was, but he would hear of it, “This isn't you asking me. You’re certain this is what you want to do, then I’m the easiest way to make it happen.”

Mav stared for a long moment, features unreadable except for the tears that still brimmed along his lower eyelashes before an upturn came to a single corner of his lips, eyes alighting with a sharp warmth, “Still trying to prove you’re the best?”

A scoff fell from Iceman’s lips upon hearing that, shaking his head with a degree of fondness he only felt for the other pilot, willing to play into the levity if that's what Mav wanted, “Much as I hate to burst your bubble, Mav, but I’ve already proved that.”

“Yeah.” Mav readily agreed, “Yeah, you have.”

Those words of acceding rather than a continuation of their usual bantered argument over who the best ( the pilot portion was implied yet had as well transitioned towards other things they were good at over the years ) had caught Iceman off guard. All the more so by the conviction that teemed throughout Maverick’s tone and the unwavering focus he held Ice’s gaze with.

In lieu of a verbal response, Ice merely leant forwards to touch his forehead to Mav’s, who let himself be guided and relaxed into the gesture in turn. Eyes closing a moment, each seemed to simply bask in each other’s presence, drawing comfort and stability from one another.

Forgetting the logistics and dawning future for the time, focussing upon the closeness of the other; the gentle pressure of their heads together, the weight of their arms intertwined together, and the ghost-like wisps of each breath taken.

“Thank you.” Mav said then, low yet significant, and Ice felt his own frame relax further at the welling of warmth in his chest. Balming the effects of what he would do for the moment, just as Maverick would do it for Carole, Iceman would do it for Maverick.

“No need,” Mirroring the other’s tone, Ice opened his eyes to see Mav looking back at him as he leant away somewhat to ensure his meaning was understood, “I’ll always have your back.”

#bayze's writing #my writing #top gun #top gun ( 1986 )#top gun maverick #top gun : maverick #pete mitchell #maverick #iceman #tom kazansky #icemav #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #this has a very loose timeline in which it's based ; i was just trying to get my writing muse flowing #so i didn't think too closely on the mechanics of everything ; i apologise for that #but this did help clear up some writer's block so i call it a win

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masterwords · 2 years

Text

ain't no memory that ever gets old (part 1)

Summary: Sean is late to Haley's funeral & Hotch is arrested for the murder of Foyet.

Warnings: Haley's death, grief, mentions of prior abuse, this is a dark one.

Pairing: Will be Hotch/Morgan at some point probably but starts out no pairing.

Words: 6.8k

Sean missed the funeral. Yeah, yeah, he knows. He's a shit brother. But here's the thing.

He'd tried to call in sick.

Even tried to sound sick, and he wasn't a half bad actor. It's just that his boss was an asshole, and maybe he was kind of...sort of...the boy who cried wolf. “You're not fucking sick, Hotchner, the brown bottle flu doesn't work here man.”

“I'm not hungover.” And okay, maybe that was a lie...but it wasn't why he was calling in. He'd worked with worse hangovers plenty of times, in fact he put out some of his best meals with a pounding headache and a sour stomach. Being sick just seemed like the most plausible excuse. He sniffled and stared directly at the dangling light-bulb above his bed until he sneezed. “I think I got what Daisy had...”

Daisy had faked sick a two days ago, so really he was doing her a favor, adding some sort of validation to her story when he knew she was really waiting in line at some scumbag's back alley office to see if she could snag some over priced tickets to Burning Man. Whatever sickness Daisy might get, she would do it at Burning Man and not a minute before. She promised to get him a spot too if he covered for her, but he wasn't going to hold his breath. She hadn't been to work since and was avoiding his texts. Still, she was a perfect scapegoat.

He sneezed again.

“Then take some fucking DayQuil like a man and get your ass to work. I got no one to cook these cops breakfast. Unless you want I should mention a few outstanding bench warrants in your name, huh?”

Sean groaned and agreed to come in, he had no other recourse. He had places to be but one of those places wasn't jail if he could help it. He'd just try to get out early, take advantage of a slow moment. So he wouldn't be there hours before the funeral but he could show up on time...

He wasn't often noble, but this time he thought that the world stacking up against him was just fucking unfair. All he wanted was to go to his fucking brother's ex-wife's funeral, and if that wasn't so damn hard to explain (and such a mouthful anyway) then he would have just been honest. But how do you say “Look, my brother was married to this chick forever and they have a kid together and last week she was murdered by a serial killer who also stabbed him a buncha times in his apartment and I never came home to check on him then so I gotta go now or I'm the world's shittiest brother...”? How do you say that to your boss who wants to turn your ass over to some bacon and egg eating dirt bag in a blue uniform for some unpaid parking tickets?

No. So many things wrong with that. First of all, he was the world's shittiest brother regardless. His showing up would not absolve him of his sins. Hell, he could have shown up at Haley's house in time to save her, maybe even taken the bullet for her, and still earn the title of World's Worst Brother in the grand scheme of things. (His only competition, ironically enough, would be his brother. But Sean knows he's the winner.) He thought about the newspaper clipping his mother sent him in a card with a sad little puppy on the front begging him to call his brother, write to him, go see him. He didn't want to hear from her, but maybe Sean could get through. The puppy stared at him with its huge watery eyes and fat little paws, but her looping cursive turned his stomach and he couldn't do it. A sincere desire for her boys to show care for one another became a heavy expectation and Sean couldn't abide by that. He didn't do expectations, at least not willingly.

Truthfully, he was too afraid of what he'd find if he heard Hotch's voice. Hearing his brother broken, hurting, he'd survived it once and only barely. He didn't think he could do it again. He eventually did send a sympathy card, some brightly colored monstrosity that showcased a teddy bear with bandages all over. He taped a Snoopy band-aid inside and signed his name. Nothing witty or beautiful, just his name.

He never heard back.

So when he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower, he worked it all out. He could get Adam to cover for him, Adam could cook scrambled eggs and toast some bread...it wasn't fucking rocket science. They weren't curing cancer, they were making greasy spoon diner breakfast. He could be on the road in time to show up and help with last minute shit, still consider it a win. Or at least a draw. He had no idea what to do at a funeral, the last one he'd attended was his father's and he was a child...but he'd figure it out. Something inside of him just said it was being there that was important.

Like it was his last chance. That was when he figured he could really shine. Pull out all the stops. The Last Chance Kid, that was Sean.

His nicest clothes smelled like smoke even though he'd washed them twice. People smoked in the laundromat, there wasn't much he could do. Maybe he could borrow something of his brother's or Derek's.

Adam didn't buy the family emergency thing when Sean floated leaving early. Argued that earlier he'd claimed to be sick, and now it was a family thing. “What is it really? You trying to go to that orgy in the desert that Daisy's headed to?”

Sean scowled. “That's not today, asshole. And no, I'm not jonesin' to go listen to shitty music, look at shitty art and get some new kind of syphilis and chlamydia mix. My brother had some really bad shit happen and I gotta go help him out.”

“Brother? Ain't never heard you talk about no brother before...” Adam was drunk. At 10:30am, he was drunk. Sean recognized it now, this was a battle he couldn't win. So he went big. He wasn't above begging.

“Yeah, well, he's an FBI Agent so our lifestyles don't exactly...shit man, just help me out. I'll do anything. Name it.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Not only did he not get out early, but as he fucked up and dumped his third attempt at a poached egg for one order of Eggs Benedict into the festering trash can, he counted down the hours and knew there was no way he made it to the funeral even on time now. Before he started the next attempt (something he was usually perfect at, it was how he got the job in the first place...best poached egg on the diner scene) he fired off a quick text to Derek letting him know he was stuck at work.

He wasn't going to be able to carry the fucking casket. Asked to be a pallbearer for a woman who had been a real sister to him and he's making poached eggs for guys who would love to see him behind bars. He ended up working three extra hours after that text, covering the lunch rush for the cook who was puking in the alley with his goddamn brown bottle flu. Fucking assholes.

Sean walked out, stormed out really, and told his boss he worked longer than planned. He fucked up his relationship with his brother probably permanently and for what? So, to compensate, he was taking the next three days off out of spite. An attempted power play by a man who couldn't give a shit about the job. And just as expected, his boss told him he could have all the time off he wanted because he didn't need to come back. “We can find someone else to fuck up a dozen eggs, jackass.”

He'd have some damage control to take care of when he got back, but he still used his last twenty bucks to fill up Wilma's tank and hit the road. Wilma, his forever girl, was a cherry red Vincent motorcycle that had belonged to his grandfather. He cared for her better than he'd ever cared for anything in his life. Not a ding or a dent, he rode her well within the posted limits, paid more to keep her garaged off of the street than he did for his own apartment. Wilma would get him to Virginia on his last dime and she would do it purring.

He'd figure out what they were going to do later.

So he showed up after dark. Parked Wilma where he knew he could see her from Hotch's window and sauntered into the building like he owned the place. Pretending, for only his benefit, that he was showing up somehow right as soon as he expected. Except he wasn't. He'd missed the whole fucking funeral. He was supposed to carry the damn casket, they had to find someone else to do it in his place. His brother would play it off, say it was fine, but he knew there was no way he could ever make that up. It was the sort of thing you got one chance at.

Hotch's apartment was dead quiet, and he almost didn't knock, thought maybe he should wait until morning but he knew his brother wouldn't be asleep. Hotch didn't sleep. He paced and he would say he was fine but he was sore or he couldn't turn his head off or his heart off. He simply couldn't shut off.

He used to have a key, but Hotch changed all of his locks after Foyet's intrusion. It was understandable. His key was useless now. But he listened as his brother pulled the chain and clicked the deadbolt...counted three, maybe four different locks. And then his brother's solemn features, cast in shadow, eyes ragged and red from crying or not sleeping. Deep, dark circles cut through his too pale skin. “Sean.”

Not a question, not a greeting, just a flaccid statement. “I'm sorry, Aaron,” he started but Hotch turned his back and limped back into the apartment, headed for the kitchen. He could barely walk, looked like his face and hands had been broken in plenty of places, and he was going to put on some coffee. Figured. Those Southern manners would kill him and he'd die with an apology on his lips for not getting out the good cake for the guests in time.

“I really am sorry. Did Derek tell you what happened? My boss is a fucking asshole...”

“It's alright, Sean.” He didn't want or need Sean's explanation. He'd heard them all before. It wasn't even that he didn't believe them, it was just...well it didn't matter. Didn't need it. End of story.

Sean felt his heart fall right down into his belly. It was heavier than he'd ever imagined it to be. Fuck. “No, it's not. I should have just come. He fucking fired me anyway, little prick.”

“You really don't have to,” Hotch started, placing his palms against the counter and leaning forward, closing his eyes. He'd had a headache all day and it wasn't any better now that his brother was here. “It's okay.” What he meant was that it was done. It wasn't okay, but it couldn't be changed now.

Sean could read between those lines. Maybe he hadn't wanted him there in the first place. Maybe he was glad Sean hadn't come because what if he'd shown up drunk or high, and then he'd had to explain that. Or he thought Sean was just lying again.

They sat in silence over coffee at the dining room table. Hotch looked haunted, he wasn't there half the time. It was just this vacant stare and Derek had warned him, told him Hotch had a really bad concussion, the fight with Foyet had been violent and really Hotch was lucky to walk away from it at all. He couldn't imagine that being true, not his big brother. Sean tried to fill the silence, keeping his voice quiet so he wouldn't wake Jack.

“How's the kid?”

“Why did you come?” Hotch asked bluntly, blinking himself back to reality. He either didn't hear Sean or was ignoring his question, either way Sean couldn't help bristling a little. “You missed the funeral. Why did you bother at all?”

Sean was six when Hotch was sent to boarding school. Six when he went from being the baby to being the only. Six when he was thrust into the knowledge that his family wasn't what it seemed. That, he blamed Hotch for. Hotch had gone to great lengths to protect Sean from it...he would wake him in the morning, make him breakfast, walk him into town for school early. Before the bells rang. They would go to the library, or get a donut, play catch...Hotch just said he wanted to spend a little extra time with his brother, but Sean found out the hard way that it wasn't exactly true. When Hotch was sent to boarding school, Sean became the sounding board. Not a lot of fists, but a lot of nasty words. “Just like your worthless brother,” his father would scowl and Sean couldn't understand what he meant. He didn't have a worthless brother.

“Sean?”

“I'm sorry. I guess I thought you might still want me to be here...help you out...”

“Help with what, exactly? Are you an expert at something I wasn't aware of? Parenting? Grief counseling?”

Sean was seven when he found out his father was sick and dying. Seven when Hotch came home for the summer and the whole family learned the truth. About the cancer, about the infidelity. He was seven when he first saw his brother smoking out behind the shed. Smoking and crying. Trembling hands and scattered butts at his feet. Seven when his brother's stutter came back. He never even knew it had existed before, years of speech therapy had all but torn it out of him until the stress of their father getting sick brought it all back. A father he hated and still couldn't come to terms with losing.

“I'm sort of an expert on you,” Sean offered vaguely. Hotch laughed. It was joyless, and he reached up to swipe at the burn of tears that he couldn't seem to stop. Sean didn't let that deter him. “I know you're standing here pretending to be some macho caveman who doesn't cry for my benefit. Like you always have. But you don't know how many times I've seen you cry, Aaron. You cry more than anyone I've ever known.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying you might fool everyone else with this act of yours, this ice cold frowny face you put on but you don't fool me. I spent all the best years of my childhood following you around, trying to be just like you. Look what it got me.” It was a low blow, he knew it, but sometimes he just couldn't help it. Most people who met Hotch were too afraid to tell him what they really thought, he could be intimidating and cruel looking. Sean knew better.

Sean was eight when Hotch ran himself a hot bath and took a razor blade to his wrists. Eight when he saw the fogged up mirror and the blood pooling on the floor where Hotch's hand hand fallen limp, dangling over the edge of the tub. He screamed so loud he could still feel it vibrating in his bones today. And he was eight when Haley and his mother rushed Hotch to the hospital and Jessica stayed with him. They said the marks were hesitant, that he didn't really want to die, and locked him up for the second time. There was hope...but under their breath Sean heard the doctor say he might not survive a third attempt. To his knowledge, his brother never made that third attempt.

Looking at him now, he wasn't sure it was off the table yet.

Sean cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting in his seat. Hotch stared down into his untouched coffee like he might fall in. “How's Jessica doing?”

“She...” A tear fell directly into his cup. Plop, it hit the surface and sent tiny fractal rings away from its salty core. “She'll be here in the morning. I have some things to take care of.”

“Of course she will. Always bailing you out.” He meant it as a joke, at least he thought he did. It was sort of his thing, joking about the way Jessica was about him. About how she was always there cleaning up his messes. Jessica, his shadow. Maybe there was a ring of truth to it. Hotch didn't seem to find it funny.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Sean leaned forward and tried to drag Hotch's attention to him. To lock eyes, touch the depth of his thoughts and sadness. “Nothing. You need help tomorrow?”

“No, thank you,” Hotch whispered back. They sat in silence over the steaming coffee while Hotch gathered himself back up, swiped at the few escaped tears and pretended they never happened. Sean didn't push any harder. He knew the limits, he'd spent years carefully calculating exactly how far he could push before he went too far. It was easy now.

“Is Derek helping you?” Derek, the only person from his team that Sean knew to mention. The only one he'd met, years and years ago, a lifetime maybe. It seemed like a fair guess, made him feel like he knew more than he did. Hotch didn't get upset or mock his attempt, he only shook his head sadly and stared down at his tear riddled coffee sadly.

“They have a case.”

“So...whatever this is...you're doing it alone?”

Hotch only stared at him and for the first time Sean really took it all in. How thin he was, how pale and drawn his face was, the deep bruises beneath his eyes. “Look, I'm sorry I missed Haley's funeral. I really am,” he said, putting one hand on top of his brother's. “I loved her. She was my sister. You know she still sent me birthday and Christmas cards? Even after she left. So did Jess. I'd like to see her.”

Sean waited, and Hotch remained silent. He wasn't exactly trying to pull himself together, but he wasn't offering anything else either. His headache was preventing much thought, nothing seemed to want to connect, and none of Sean's words really made any sense. Insomnia, concussion, grief, anxiety...he couldn't separate them anymore. They were him and he was them. “Where can I smoke around here?”

“There's a courtyard,” Hotch whispered, sniffling. He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out a little white handkerchief, rubbing his nose with it. So careful to keep his thumb over the stitched initials. “I'll show you.”

He walked Sean out the back door and gave him the code, telling him he couldn't stay outside with him because Jack was asleep. He couldn't leave him alone, but he handed him a key and walked away without looking at him. No eye contact. Just sadness. So he started in the courtyard, lighting up one cigarette and then wandering until he was sitting on Wilma's seat and staring up into the sky. He was out there nearly an hour considering what the hell he was even doing. Here with his brother, with his life, he had no idea. No job, no money, he found someone who would sublet his place so maybe he'd stick around in Virginia for a while. Nothing tethering him, he was floating on the wind again.

Hotch was in bed by the time Sean came back inside. The lights were out, but there was a pillow and some blankets on the couch waiting for him. Good enough, at least he could stay. He passed out fast and easy, still in his clothes.

Hotch got up in the middle of the night. Sean remembered that, albeit a little sluggishly. He wasn't sure his brother had ever slept a full night in his life that wasn't drugged and forced. He did his best not to wake Sean, had honestly forgotten he was even there until he was about to lay on the couch and found a body there. He sat himself in the chair, doubled over in pain, his stomach was killing him. Phantom pains, memories like flames trickling over his skin. Each scar seared, screamed to life like Foyet was driving the knife in molten hot. Not real, he knew. None of the pain was real, he was just...sometimes the nightmares just felt too real. Sometimes he woke and still smelled the stink of Foyet's breath, his sweat, his skin. He couldn't scrub his body clean hard enough.

“Aaron?” Sean rasped, half asleep. His mouth was parched and he knew it came out slow and fuzzy sounding. “That you?”

“Go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you.”

Sean sat up. Like a starving zombie, he pulled himself upright with drool dried on his cheek and his hair standing up in unruly blonde spikes. He smacked his dry lips and tried to give them some life. Water, he needed water, so he stumbled to the kitchen and filled two glasses. Manners. Handing one to his brother, he sat back down and opened his throat like he was going to chug a beer. The whole glass went down in one gulp. Hotch had only set his to his lips, sipped enough to wet his tongue and nothing more. He thought for sure he was going to be sick.

“You still don't sleep.”

Hotch had nothing to say to that. He hugged his arms tight against his midsection and willed the pain to ease up. Just a little.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“No.”

Sean laughed and fumbled around for the remote anyway. The moment the television was clicked to life, he knew his brother would relax or go back to bed. Either way, no awkward attempt at conversation.

He moved painfully slow to the couch, barely standing, still hunched over and Sean shared his blanket. There were plenty of fun action movies on, but he wasn't after watching a movie...this had always been Hotch's trick, and now was his chance to throw it back into his brother's face. Find the most dull, boring excuse for cinema available and turn it on nice and low. Humming quiet. Tonight he chose Jeremiah Johnson, a personal favorite but so slow and so quiet that Hotch was asleep with his head tipped back against the cushions within the first fifteen minutes. They were pressed against each other, and Sean waited until he thought they were all clear before tipping his brother to the side and covering him up. They were too long to share the couch, so Sean took the floor. “Never say I didn't do anything for you...” he whispered, curling up on his side on the rug and using his jacket for a pillow. He could have gone and taken Hotch's bed, or the guest room, but something nagged at him and told him to stay close.

Waking didn't bring any epiphanies, didn't bring any magical enlightenment, it only brought a throbbing headache and confusion. Hotch didn't remember falling asleep on the couch. In a fog, he slid his legs over the side and kicked something on the floor. His eyes wouldn't focus, he could only vaguely make out the shape of his brother there and memory washed over him slowly.

Not just the night before. For a few blissful moments, he'd forgotten all of it. It was all white washed and shiny. And then slowly the darkness began creeping back in until it engulfed him.

Foyet was dead and gone, so everyone kept reminding him. A reality he had to reacquaint himself with each and every morning since it happened. A silly thing, too, because he knew that part. He knew the who, the what, the where, the when, even the why...he just didn't seem to have a firm grasp on the how. Professor Plum in the parlor with a candlestick? Agent Hotchner over Foyet's body with his fists.

So they said. And had the busted up hands that made it hard to argue except he just...had no memory of it.

Hotch wasn't an idiot. He knew Foyet wouldn't be back. He'd never believed in ghosts, and maybe if someone had just told him in a roundabout way that Foyet was dead he might have some doubts...the man had ways. But he'd seen to it himself.

Maybe it had been Derek to slide his finger up under what was presumably Foyet's jaw, what was left of it anyway, and maybe it was him to confirm that no more blood pulsed through his veins. But Hotch's hands and his fury had done all there was to do.

He knew that. Derek and Dave and Emily, they all saw him. And they wouldn't lie to him.

But he had no memory of it. His doctor had said adrenaline would account for much of it, everything went black the moment he saw Haley there. She was a body, no soul, and he'd gone black. Everything between seeing her and the weight of Derek's arms tight around him was an empty void. “It's better that way,” Spencer had whispered to Derek while they finished up in the house. “You saw Foyet's body. It's better that he doesn't remember.”

“Better for who? The Bureau wants to crucify him for the bad press...” JJ interjected, pushing them into a hallway away from the sights of peeping journalists who already knew too much. “We've got to get something out of him.”

They'd tried a cognitive interview. He didn't want to, but the Bureau wanted to know, they needed their facts. They'd already made up their minds, though. JJ could read it on their faces...tired of the rogue BAU team, willing to send him to the firing squad to make everything else go away.

When given the choice of everyone on the team, he asked JJ to do the cognitive. Everyone had expected Dave or Derek, given their years of history, or Emily who had seen his apartment at its worst right after Foyet and already gone through his personal things. Spencer knew it wouldn't be him, and JJ..well, she wasn't even a profiler. Thought she was safe.

JJ was safe. For him. He looked at her, sitting across from him in the conference room, and she gave him those eyes and that smile and he felt safe with her. There wasn't anything to hide, he knew that.

But his mind hid it anyway. “Tell me what you saw, what you smelled, what you felt...” she said and his mind couldn't help flashing on a day that felt like yesterday and ancient history all wrapped up in one. A day when she'd been brand new, and no she wasn't a Field Agent but Hotch had a vision for his team and in that vision they could all pick up the slack for everyone. Each of them would have their specialty, but each of them could back the other up. Others called him crazy for training a Communications Liaison to do cognitive interviews, but he knew better.

“Hotch? What do you see?”

He smiled. “Sorry, I was just thinking about the day I taught you how to do this...”

She couldn't help it, she felt her eyes fill with tears as she pictured the day fresh as summer sun. “I remember.” Strauss had pitched a fit, asked him what reason he could posibly have for training her to do this. But he'd been so gentle. Let her do her first on him. She picked the day Jack was born, had him go through the whole thing. Later, as she was giving birth to Henry, she would reflect on what he'd told her. “Can you tell me what you saw when you walked into your...Haley's...house?”

His smile vanished, and his eyelids twitched while his mind fought against the memory. “Nothing. Everything in its place. The door was unlocked. Haley had redecorated...I didn't...” he paused, frowning. “I didn't recognize the couch. The walls were a different color.”

“Okay, good. Haley had redecorated her house...where did you go?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I went to the kitchen, because I knew...I knew no matter what she changed, she would keep an emergency flashlight in a drawer. I had this list in my office, a checklist of emergency items to keep stocked and where to have them...Haley always likes to be prepared, she wanted to be safe when I wasn't home.”

“Good,” she whispered, swiping at a tear. She wasn't sure she could go through with this. Everything from this moment forward was wrong and she knew it. The flashlight was easy, the checklist was sweet. There would be nothing good after that moment. “What did you do once you had the flashlight?”

“I cleared rooms. One by one. The house was so quiet...”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was trying not to breathe too loud. I didn't want...I didn't know...I thought I should be able to hear Jack or...” His breath was coming in shaky, drawn in great ragged bursts through splintered ribs. “I saw the blood at the...I saw it going up the stairs...”

“Could you smell anything? Was it still silent?”

“I smelled the blood. And the other...” he let out a dragging cough, like he was there now. Like he was going to be sick. “I can smell her. And I thought maybe Foyet was bluffing on the phone, until I smelled it. She's dead, I know it, I know that smell. It happens every time. No one warns you about that smell. I knew it was coming from her. Foyet can fake many things, but not that.”

She felt her gag reflex screaming and clawing at the back of her throat. That smell, that brown and rotten smell of the muscles dying and going limp, everything evacuating that had once been life. That he had to associate that with Haley now and forever...she thought she might be sick. Almost hated him for choosing her to do this, out of any of them. Derek had a strong stomach, Emily barely knew Haley, Rossi...god anyone but her. She and Haley had play dates with Jack and Henry. Babies. She called Haley in the middle of the night when she couldn't get Henry to sleep no matter what she tried. Haley passed all of Jack's old baby clothes and toys on to her, gave her solid advice, was a friend. But he picked her. She sucked in a deep breath and swallowed her sick.

“And then you saw her...”

“She was lying on the floor. She only had one shoe on. Her eyes were open...”

This was it. Was she going to get what she needed? They were hovering on the edge of his memory.

“Did you go to her?”

“I don't....no, I don't...” His eyes shot open, terror stricken and shining with tears. “I don't know. I don't know what I did. I'm sorry JJ. I was there, I was right there, staring at her, smelling her...and then everything is just black.”

“Okay, it's okay Hotch. You're doing great. Can we try one more time? Go right back there to when you saw her.”

He nodded, he was willing but he looked so scared and she went from hating him to herself in an instant. This was monstrous, she was a monster. “Whatever you need.”

“Okay. You're looking at Haley. Her eyes are open, where are they looking?”

“She's looking straight at me. I can see the blood on the floor, on her neck, it's soaking her shirt. It's so much blood.”

“And her shoe, where is her other shoe?”

“Her toenails are black. She's painted them. I've never seen her use that color before, it looks nice.”

“And her shoe?”

“There's blood on her foot. I don't...it's...I don't see it. I'm trying not to cry because I can't see...I'm sweating...I see other shoes, beneath a curtain..my heart, it feels like it's going to explode, it hurts, I can't breathe...JJ I can't breathe...”

He was hyperventilating. She'd heard Emily talk about people doing that in interviews, like they were right there experiencing it all and she hadn't believed her. Sounded ridiculous. “We're not hypnotists,” she'd criticized, but she owed Emily an apology she supposed. She was beside him in a flash, her hand on the back of his neck, her face so close to him. “Open your eyes Hotch, it's okay. We'll try again later.” His chest shuddered beneath her touch and for a minute she thought he was going to cry, really really cry, but he didn't. He let out one enormous sob, the kind that looks like it hurts, and then it was gone. He was staring at his hands again.

“Maybe someone else might...”

“No.”

And that was it, that was all they did. He wouldn't talk to anyone else, but she filled out her report the best she could and returned it to Strauss, leaving out the bit about Haley's toenails. She'd let Hotch keep that one for himself. It was the only moment that seemed to offer him even the slightest reprieve from the hell he was wading through.

After the cognitive failed to give them what they were looking for, Strauss was forced to launch a full-scale investigation into what happened. Not just Hotch under scrutiny but the actions of the entire team. He'd never felt like such an utter failure, such a monster, in his life. This was his problem, this was his responsibility and his loss...not theirs. Strauss didn't see it that way, and he knew it was less that than the higher ups looking at him through the magnifying glass of her eyes.

She'd never liked him. That much was a given. And for the most part, the feeling was mutual, but even he knew there were strings being pulled here. She was the AD's marionette, dancing for him to keep her own job secure. If he was a problem, they could just push him out. But if the whole team was found guilty of abusing their power? That would fall on her, too. She'd find herself packing her office into boxes.

She wouldn't go down for him. That much he knew. And to be totally fair, he wouldn't for her either.

So he took it on the chin and answered her questions. He didn't bother advising the team what to say, how to handle it, they could be honest. He hoped they would be, didn't want them in trouble on his account.

They hadn't done anything wrong. He had. And maybe the committed would find him to be justified...Foyet was trespassing on his property, the house was still in his name, he paid the property taxes and the mortgage. Foyet had murdered Haley in his home and he intended to harm Jack...there were justifications but at the end of the day, two bodies were cold in that house and only one was life was ended by Foyet's hand.

The other was his. With hands that were so bruised and cut up that he couldn't hold a glass of water for any length of time, couldn't flex his fingers around a knife or a spatula to make Jack dinner, couldn't turn a doorknob without multiple attempts. Sean staying with them since the day of the funeral had at least been good for something. He could use a damn can opener and cut the carrots and onions. He could unlock the door and he hadn't dropped the carton of milk all over the floor.

“Get those looked at,” Jessica told him when he tried to grip the fridge door handle. He gritted his teeth, set his jaw, and clasped his hand tight around the handle, pulling it open. Proving her wrong. Sean had rolled his eyes and made a comment about how wrong she was. “See? He can do it himself.”

She glowered at them both, neither liking the refusal to accept reality nor the latent sarcasm. Instead she pushed him out of the way and nabbed a few ice packs from the freezer. “Sit.” That was it. He didn't even grab the milk from the fridge, he was just going to pour some for Jack to go with the meal Jessica was preparing...trying to help out...but he found himself listening to her anyway. Sitting at the table with his hands splayed out before him, an ice pack set gingerly on each. “Fifteen minutes. Do not move.”

She made Sean do the rest.

“Have they come to a conclusion yet?” Dave asked, handing Hotch a glass of scotch. The team had just returned from a case, and he was beat, but he had to see Hotch. In fact each of them, in their own way, had hinted that they might but only Dave actually did.

Derek had a full night of paperwork to finish, and everyone else...well they had their reasons. He would never blame them for a single one. “No, Strauss says they had a few other people they wanted to talk to.”

“They were waiting for us to get back. That's a bad sign.”

“For whom?” He knew, though. Hotch wasn't an idiot. His head was on the chopping block.

Dave leveled his glare. “One of us goes down, we all go down. We're a team.”

Hotch shook his head, setting the full glass of amber liquid down on the table and flexing his sore hand. “No, Dave. Not this time. This was my failure, this was my mistake and if someone other than Haley has to pay for it...”

He didn't need to worry in the end. Strauss managed to find Derek in his office pouring over the case details with a cup of coffee beside him in a mug that read in big bold letters COFFEE MAKES ME POOP thanks to Spencer's wry sense of humor. It was already half empty and there was another brewing in the pot down the hall. “Agent Morgan...a word?”

She shut the door behind her ominously, and Derek sighed. He was absolutely not in the mood for her shit tonight. Or any night, really, but especially not this one. There was no one else in the damn building, why did she need to shut them in like that? No good reason, that was for sure.

“We need to talk.”

He leaned back in his chair and stared at her in silence, waiting for her to continue. He wouldn't say a word. Whatever she was here for, it wasn't going to require his input.

“The committee has just come to a decision.”

“At midnight?”

“It was a serious matter, and they have been working around the clock. Agent Morgan, they are recommending Agent Hotchner's arrest. His cognitive interview is disturbing, and while I advocated that he has always been forthcoming with information even when it would damn him, that he is rarely self-serving...they weren't convinced. They insist that you make the arrest with a member of local law enforcement.”

Derek wasn't sure he was breathing anymore. His fingers were numb. “Me?”

“You are the acting Unit Chief, this is your department. What happened in that house is your responsibility...”

“Then you arrest ME,” he growled through gritted teeth. “If it's my fault, go ahead and mirandize me right now.”

He knew it was really fucking dramatic, but he shoved his hands toward her anyway. Balled into fists, ready to be cuffed. He was the only one in the room who carried cuffs, he knew damn well, but it felt good to watch the startled look cross her face for just a moment.

“Put your hands down, Derek. That isn't how this works. Get in touch with the police and find someone to accompany you, they can make the arrest under your supervision if it's too...personal...for you. I won't be a stickler for whose name is on that paperwork.”

She almost looked emotional, like she as doing him a favor letting him stand back and let Hotch be manhandled by someone else. He nearly thought he saw tears in her eyes...but he also didn't care. “I'm not finished with this, Agent Morgan. I won't let them make him into a monster but this may take time.”

Derek stood. No matter how emotional she seemed, he was furious. Her bright eyes did nothing to abate his anger. Unable to be calmed by her empty promises, no matter how she believed them to be brimming with life. Full. She would get him exonerated and have his name cleared. He wouldn't stand trial for putting down a known serial killer in his own home...they just had to buy some time.

“They can only hold him for up to 72 hours without charging him,” she said quietly, as if it would help. He understood what she meant, they had 72 hours from the time he was booked to find a way to convince them not to proceed. Foyet had no living family, no one to charge on his behalf. They had bigger fish to fry.

“Yeah,” Derek scoffed in return. “You know, I've done some really fucked up things for the Bureau in my life...”

She closed her eyes and willed the tight sting of emotion out of her chest. “Agreed. Goodnight, Agent.”

He snarled. Goodnight. Yeah, for you, he thought. You get to go home and sleep. I get to grab a police officer and head to Hotch's house and destroy a whole family already on the brink.

#aaron hotchner #sean hotchner #derek morgan #jessica brooks #jennifer jareau #erin strauss #criminal minds #fanfiction

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oveliagirlhaditright · 2 years

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Okay. thoughts on some of the Buffy books I finished, but hadn't really had time to review before.

Halloween Rain: I feel like this one or Coyote Moon might be my least favorite ones now (or parts of the Unseen Trilogy). Just because nothing really substantial happened in either one. Like, Coyote Moon, this is another season one book, but this is very early season one (in fact, the wiki might even list this as the earliest tie-in novel, timeline-wise). Like, Principal Flutie is still alive, so "The Pack" hasn't even happened yet. I don't know which novel I like better. I feel like Coyote Moon is probably better, overall, if for no other reason than having a nice twist. Though I do appreciate this early Buffy being super brave and risking her life to defeat the scariest thing she's faced thus far: it's a villain that kind of reminded me of the Headless Horseman (though it had a head: a flaming Jack-o-Lantern one); and this demon had killed a Slayer in the past. And if Buffy hadn't acted, he would have kept coming after her every Halloween and the Slayers after her. I also loved the costumes here: Buffy as a pirate, Xander and Willow as Mulder and Scully from the X-Files, I think (and if I got those names wrong, I apologize. I've never seen that show), and Cordelia as Morticia Adams. There was also some guy dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, that Cordy went off with, and I approve;)

I'm just putting all of the Unseen Trilogy together here. Overall... I really was not a big fan of this trilogy, since it leaned too heavily on the gang and mafia stuff--and not on the magic that I'm here for when it comes to the Buffyverse--and so I was really bored most of the time. I loved the character interactions in this saga, just not the plot. Except for book three. Book three was fire, where Buffy, Angel, and Faith (and somewhat Spike) were in different alternate universes, working together to find these missing teens and go home, and Buffy and Angel even saw some realities where they could have been together (though I wish we could have gotten more of that, because it was sort of tell and not show). I also really love the girl Alina who was involved with that plot. Like, I wish that whole thing could have shown up earlier, instead of mostly book three, but oh well.

Monster Island: Monster Island is the best thing ever. After "Go Ask Malice," it's probably my favorite Buffy tie-in novel so far. This is everything we ever needed, but didn't know to ask for. -cries because I've asked for forever to see all of the Scoobies and Angel Investigations teams together, and this book finally gives it to us- And there are just so many great interactions here! Like some of Fred and Tara's are just inspired. I might ship those two together now... And tying this into Doyle stuff--like Doyle's father wanting revenge against Angel, because he blames him for Doyle's death--just gives me all the feels. I also love all the father talk in here, and everyone examining their relationship with their own fathers (most of our characters, except for Fred, Willow, and somewhat Cordelia) had horrible relationships with their fathers, but they of course realize that it doesn't matter where you come from, it matters what you choose. Just really good stuff overall.

#long post #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy tie-in novels #buffy books #angel books #angel tie-in novels

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leifinthebreeze · 1 year

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Heyyyy, just a little sneak peak into a fan fiction i was writing a while ago, if this gets enough I’ll post the next chapter. Basically it’s supposed to be a Todoroki X Reader but you don’t see that in the first chapter. Anyway enjoy!

Light. Light filtered through the car windows. Light shone down on the pavement. Light reflected colors off my mother, her clothes, her hair. If only it could have shown me her voice, so I could have seen the words coming at me. Maybe I could have dodged them, gotten back in the car and pretended none of this had happened.

“y/n, stay here. Don't follow me, or you will regret it.” Her tone had finality in it. I sat down on the sidewalk as everything I had known in my life drove away.

Why why why?! I internally screamed. Why wasn't I good enough to keep? What did I do wrong?

I watched the world continue to move around me, all while being in a state of limbo. Sun glinted against my golden hair, and the tears ran down my cheeks, filling me with unnecessary energy. I thought that that would be the rest of my life, that I would be stuck next to that road forever, that there was nothing left for me. What the hell! I was three and already contemplating my end! Why did I deserve that!? What sin had I committed!?

“O-oh my! Hey! Hey kid! Are you ok?” I hadn't heard the shoes running towards me, and I hadn't really listened to what the woman was saying, I just felt her hand on my shoulder as she questioned me. “What happened to you sweety? Where are you parents?”

“M-mommy and d-daddy l-left, a-and told me to stay here.” I said in between sobs.

The woman put her hands over her mouth as she gasped in horror. “That's it dear, I'm taking you home with me.” She grabbed my hand and gently pulled me up to standing, then picked me up and began carrying me.

Her shoulder pumped against my face slightly as she walked, rhythmic and soothing for me.

“What's you name dear?” she asked, her voice sweet and caring. Had my parents' voices ever sounded like that?

“y-y/n.” I sniffled into her shirt.

The woman chuckled. “Nice to meet you y/n, I'm Himari, and the man you are about to meet is my husband, Akio.” She said, while opening a door.

Timeskip: two years later

Tears were rolling down my face again as sirens blared around me.

Mom? Dad? Why is this happening again?

“Excuse me miss but are you the daughter of Himari and Akio Kame?”

All I could do was nod, barely even breathe.

The officer shook his head sadly, looking at the ground. “I'm so sorry kid, but your parents have died in an accident caused by villains.”

Why the hell did he look sad? He shouldn't be sad! He should've been hunting down the person who killed them! Why was he just standing there with a defeated look on his face?! For god's sake he was supposed to be an officer!

I fell to the ground and cried, water soaking the cloth around my eyes.

Why is everyone so useless?! Why am I so useless?!

After that I was brought to an orphanage, and I stayed there until I was nine when it was burnt down by mysterious causes. Yeah, those causes were me. I had been experimenting with my quirk when I accidentally set the side of the building on fire. The guilt tore me up inside, and I began to believe that I was cursed.

I was taken in by another couple, and brought to a nice home somewhere in the city. They seemed like nice people, giving me good food and a warm bed. How wrong could I get?

A few months after my new parents had adopted me, they discovered my quirk. Everything went downhill from there. I had gone crying to them that I was cursed and that they should stay away from me, and every time they would comfort me, but everytime they seemed more hesitant, and they began to distance themselves from me. When I unintentionally set a bot of flowers on fire, well i guess that was the last straw. They started pretending i didnt exist. They wouldn't feed me, and took everything out of my room, not even leaving me a blanket. If I tried talking to them, they would throw me back in my room and lock the door until I stopped crying. They called me a cursed child, drilling the thought into my brain.

When I was thirteen, I discovered they were connected to an organization dedicated to the destruction of all heroes, and that's when I had had enough. I escaped that night and fled into the alleyways and backroads of the city. I began living off of scraps and fighting for my food, picking up change thrown by strangers. I guess you could say I was a beggar. It wasnt until about a year or so later that i discovered that the family had been murdered by the very orginization they had been working for. And that's when he found me.

“Get back here!”

I ran through the back alleys that i knew oh so well, cutting corners on upcoming paths.

What did i do?!

All i really knew was that a man was chasing me, and he seemed dangerous.

Something flew by my head, only inches away.

Is that a frickin tranquilizer dart?!

Ok, kind of the last straw. I felt my legs begin to move faster, until they were only a blur, moving at the speed of light. I dodged into a building, running up the stairs until i made it to the roof. Even then i could hear his feet crashing up the stairs.

But how?

I didnt waste any time, launching myself off the edge while still at my top speed. I was aiming for a building parallel to the one i just jumped off of, a good twenty feet.

So close, so close!

When i was not five feet away, i felt something crash into me, knocking me off course and sending me flying into the side of the building. My head bashed the wall, and i think i heard some of my bones cracking.

I fell limp to the ground, the world quickly going black.

Hawks pov

I was out on patrol, flying through the more urban parts of the city at my top speed because…why not? Something flashed in front of me, something faster than even I could stop for. I made a hard impact, being sent flying backwards before steadying myself.

What the hell was that?

I looked down to see a girl limp on the ground, a pool of blood slowly surrounding her head. People had already started crowding her.

Shit!

I landed next to her, carefully rolling her over on her back. I pressed two fingers to her neck, relieved to feel a pulse.

“Someone call an ambulance!” I instructed, urgency flooding my voice.

I turned my attention back to the girl, quickly looking over her body to check for any other injuries. Lets just say she really didnt look to be in good shape. Something caught my eye. I whirled around to catch a figure standing atop a nearby building, before disappearing. I furrowed my eyebrows.

Was he the reason she jumped? She had come from that direction, so he could have been chasing her. How did she move faster than me? Who is this girl?

And thats when i noticed it. The blind fold around her face. My eyes widened in shock.

But that-no, that’s impossible. There’s no way!

Sirens began filling the street as the lights moved toward us. Quickly I ripped off my necklace and strung it around her neck, bringing her hand up to clasp the red feather tightly.

(yes i know that he doesnt wear a necklace but WORK WITH ME HERE I NEED PLOT!)

I leaned down, my voice barley a whisper. “Never take that off. Make sure you always have it with you.”

She was put onto a stretcher, then carried into the vehicle. The doctors nodded at me in thanks, before closing the doors and driving off.

Good, i managed to get it to her.

I stood up, looking back at where the mysterious figure had been.

Now, lets go investigate a bit.

y/n pov

I woke up in a hospital gown panting, my head throbbing, legs aching, and dont even get me started on my back.

Ok, i died.

I sighed, my grip loosening around the soft fibers tickling my palm. Wait…what the hell was i holding?

I looked down to see a small red feather clutched in my hand, attached to a leather chord around my neck.

Make sure you always have that with you.

The words flashed through my brain, the voice erased.

I didnt know how i got there, i didnt really remember anything, but i knew that whoever gave that to me had been the one to save me. I studied the pendant, running my fingers across the intricate structure.

“I promise.”

3rd pov

Off in the city, red wings shivered as they soared above the buildings. A smile spread across his face.

“Good.”

#Mha #My Hero Accademia #fan fiction #readerxtodoroki #Hawks #Keigo Takami #Boku No Hero Accademia

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mazoga-the-dork · 2 years

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Jerome/Ava headcanons:

Ava has been at the circus since she was tiny and basically had to raise herself. Nobody at the circus will tell her who her parents were and she is Not Happy about this

They first started spending time together after Jerome ran away while his mom was arguing with someone. She listened as he told her what had happened, which was probably the first time anyone had shown him any affection. From that point on, Jerome would run to Ava when someone at home was abusing him, which happened frequently

Ava is not a performer of any kind, she earns her keep by looking after the animals and various behind the scenes tasks

They spent their first night together as teenagers and Jerome cried afterwards because he thought Ava would abandon him after that like his mom did with her many lovers

Ava reassured him by slashing open her hand, inviting him to do the same and they held their wounded hands as they slept that night [Note: DO NOT DO THIS IRL. IT IS VERY DANGEROUS AND I'M INCLUDING IT HERE AS A WAY OF SHOWING HOW MESSED UP THEY ARE]. "Now you're forever a part of me" This *may* have led Jerome more towards killing his mother because he thought everyone fell deeply in love with people they slept with

She ran away from the circus after his arrest, first camping as close to Arkham as possible then after he died she joined his cult. If Jerome hadn't killed Dwight, she would have done it because how dare he mutilate her beloved

Having essentially taken over Arkham after his second arrest, Jerome manages to strongarm the staff into letting Ava visit him. He's initially nervous because of his scars, but Ava shows him her scarred hand from all those years ago and reassures him "you're stuck with me"

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firebirdsdaughter · 4 years

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Okay, but…

… Inspired by a fanart I saw on pixiv (yes, I have a pixiv bc of Zero-One now, what is the world coming to, I can’t even draw…) :

What if instead of just staying in her originally appearance, Azu had turned into Jin to talk to Horobi?

#Kamen Rider Zero-One #Kamen Rider Zero One #my precious evil stoic scorpion dad #I guess she was filling different roles for both of them #Aruto she just had to egg him on Horobi had to be TOLD things #he had to be told what he was feeling and what to do w/ it I literally think he would have just sat there #and cried forever if she hadn't shown up #he couldn't make the leap to revenge on his own he was THAT unused to emotions he was THAY wrecked #anyway #I mean I guess it was to save time #I have another saltier explanation but this isn't a salt post #but…#it would have wrecked him #whereas Aruto was very clear she wasn't Izu and very vocal about it #I'd totally see Horobi willingly accepting the ruse bc that just hurts less #friend said it well: fake Jin is better than no Jin #bc I really think in the end he just wanted to go back he wanted Jin to understand and he wanted them to be a family #when he lost Jin he lost everything I could totally see him being willing to do anything to make the pain go away #Binary Retro Rider

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missnovelistic · 2 years

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The One With A Kid

Author: @missnovelistic

Words: 6.7K

Warnings: Angst

AN: I know some people hate the whole “having a kid” trope, but I am absolutely a sucker for it. This has been stuck in my head forever, I may turn this into a mini series if I’m still feeling inspired.

Requests are: Open

Summary: Nearly 4 years ago, Y/N broke off contact with the entire pack. When her father passes and she’s forced to come back to Beacon Hills, she’s ambushed by the pack, forcing the secret she’d been hiding to come to light.

Beacon Hills was filled with the cold breeze Northern California winters were famous for.

Clouds hung low to the ground, having been overcast for the past several days. Snow was on the horizon, but for now the weather was miserable to be outside for.

Fitting, for one of the town members had passed away after a long battle of cancer.

His daughter's arrival back in town had acted as a beacon for Scott's old pack to come and support her through the funeral-despite not having seen her for the past several years.

And when they'd all (minus Stiles-who’d been unable to get there in time) shown up as a surprise on the morning of the funeral-

They were just as surprised as she was to see them.

Scott and Stiles jogged to the familiar blue jeep Stiles now left at his Dad's house, having deemed the multiple days long road trip too dangerous for his baby.

“Who are the flowers for?” Scott asked as he and Stiles climbed in, the near overwhelming floral scent suffocating him.

“What flowers?” Stiles questioned in falsetto tone, looking anywhere but the backseat of his own car.

Scott tilted his head in annoyance, the white lilies in the back were the classic post funeral “I’m sorry for your loss” flower- a perfect bouquet to give to an estranged ex-girlfriend in town for her fathers funeral.

Four years after high school and Stiles was just as predictable. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see Y/N.” Scott deadpanned, thinking back on the last time he'd seen her just after high school.

The rest of the pack had left the diner- spending the first night of their last summer vacation feasting on pancakes and burgers in the only diner open past 10 pm. Stiles had offered Y/N a ride home but she had declined, insisting she was just waiting on an order for her dad before leaving. Scott had gotten into his own car to head to Kira's house, but realized he'd left his keys in the booth. He'd waved at Stiles as he pulled out of the parking lot, watching Stiles nearly curb his jeep. Scott chuckled as he pulled open the all glass door, spotting the back of Y/N's head still sat in the booth.

A slow song he didn't recognize was playing over the speakers- one that Y/N had probably requested on the jukebox when she had thrown a few dollars in it earlier. He could feel her thick, melancholy feeling in the air, his own mood being pulled down the instant he'd stepped in.

When he'd left just a few moments ago, it hadn't felt like this. They had all been laughing and blowing the paper straw wrappers at each other, and Y/N and Stiles had been wrapped up in each other. He took a few steps closer, calling her name gently to let her know he was back. Y/N didn't share her emotions easily, he was pretty sure even Stiles cried more than she did.

But she didn't bother even turning over her shoulder to throw a quip at him. He took the last few steps to the opposite side of the booth, his keys almost pressed into the crack against the wall.

Ignoring them, he slid into the cracked leather seat, her face nearly hidden by her hair. "Hey, Y/N…." Her eyes slid up to him, and he could see the tears she hadn't bothered wiping.

"Hey, Scott." She replied, looking back down at the table. Empty plates and dirty napkins still littered the surface, the waitress not having come to clean it just yet.

"What's going on?" He reached a hand out over the table, clearing a path to rest his arm on while he set a large hand on top of both of hers.

She took in a deep breath, shaking her head and biting her lip. He knew she wouldn't offer up why she was upset without more prompting. Sometimes he felt like where she lacked in words, Stiles would read her mind and supply them. If he had stuck around instead of rushing home for curfew (his dad had caught Y/N and Stiles making out in the kitchen when she wasn't supposed to be over)- Stiles could have told Scott what she was upset about so they could make it better.

Instead, Scott would have to guess. "Did the waitress get your order wrong?" He asked earnestly. Y/N burst into laughter, breaking the shell of downcast air around her.

"No, Scott." She laughed, finally bringing her hands to her face to wipe at her cheeks.

"I know how you are about your food- I do recall you punching me when I took a fry one time." She laughed again and shook her head, relaxing back into herself. "Is it that everything is going to change?" He tried again, catching her eyes this time as she froze before nodding and looking back down.

He pulled his hand back to his own lap, his trademarked "I feel for you" smile across his face.

"Im just not… ready, you know?" Scott bobbed his head in agreement, leaning his elbows on the greasy table to get closer.

"I don't think any of us are." She laughed again and wiped under her eyes before looking to the ceiling. "But it's a part of growing up, we just have to change with the times." Y/N gave him a small smile. "You and Stiles are going to the East Coast, and you'll get to see him every weekend until you can live off campus together." Scott reminded her. "I'll come visit every holiday and you can tell me all about how annoying he is to handle by yourself." Y/N's gaze dropped back to the table, her smile having faded again. "Or, if it's Stiles that you don't want to see-Lydia will be just down the road from you at MIT and you can complain to her." Y/N brought her gaze back up to Scott, her fingers twiddling in front of her anxiously. "You're going to be a great writer, Y/N. Just don't write an autobiography about everything, I genuinely think Derek will hunt you down." Y/N gave a small chuckle, sliding her body towards the edge of the leather booth.

"Thank you, Scott." He stood up at the same time as her and wrapped her in a tight hug. "But I'm totally writing about Beacon Hills and I will not be sharing the profits with any of you." Scott scoffed and mussed up her hair, pulling back to see an almost full smile on her face.

"I will be suing you."

Stiles didn't deem giving an answer, only putting the car in gear to reverse haphazardly out of Scott’s mom’s driveway. Scott dropped his head in his hands, knowing he couldn’t convince Stiles to not do this, without giving up why he shouldn’t see her before calling.

“Scott, my first girlfriends dad just died- I should at least go pay my condolences.” Stiles reasoned. This little side quest explained why Stiles was more dressed up than Scott had been for their trip to the diner in Beacon Hills, it had been nearly six months since the last time he and Stiles had hung out in person, they were planning a huge lunch to catch up, although the secret Y/N had revealed weighed heavily on him.

“Have you even talked to her since she left?” Scott was not ready to deal with the consequences of the coming bomb that was going to drop on him if he couldn’t derail him. “And didn’t she cheat on you right before we left for college?” He didn’t want to bring it up, honestly, but he was hoping that putting the little seed into Stiles’ mind might be enough to deter him from taking the next left- which, of course, it didnt.

Scott had only been in town since Monday. Lydia had called Saturday afternoon to let him know of Y’N’s dad passing. He’d caught the next flight home and shown up for the funeral the following day. He’d seen Malia, Kira, Lydia, Isaac and even Mr. Argent. And after seeing Y/N, he understood why she’d gone radio silent after high school.

Attached to Y/N by her hand was a little three year old girl with the same inquisitive brown eyes Scott had looked into for the better part of his life. She hadn’t quite understood why the funeral was so sad, and her mother had allowed her to run around giving people the white roses to toss into the grave with a cheesy smile on her face, and Scott reasoned she must not quite understand she wouldn’t see her Grandpa again. Y/N remained tight lipped throughout and avoided the eyes of her old friends, but the rest of the pack put the pieces together- after Lydia revealed the truth for them.

Stiles had tried to make it in time for the funeral as soon as he heard from Scott, but he’d been unable to get away from work and onto an early enough flight to make it. Now, it felt as though Scott was hiding something from his best friend, although he couldn’t just tell him- It really was not his place. And he did not want to be a witness when it did happen.

“No, and I still refuse to believe it.” Stiles insisted, taking the next right just a bit too quickly. "Y/N lied that weekend, I know it."

The closer they got to Y’N’s old house, the more anxiety Scott could feel building, and he wasn't sure he could tell between his own and Stiles'.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, buddy.” He tried again, one hand flying to the oh shit handle as Stiles took another turn just a bit too fast. “And maybe ease up a bit on the gas, yeah? She doesn’t need another funeral to go to.” Stiles nodded and flailed his right arm out in a yeah, yeah motion, but let his foot off the gas. “How- how do you even know she’s at her dad’s house?” He tried, hoping that he could maybe stall enough to call Lydia or Y/N and warn them.

“Lydia mentioned she would be helping her clear it out today.” He provided, flashing a grin at Scott. “And I really do want to see her, finally talk to her about everything.” Scott swallowed, they were less than a few minutes away, not nearly enough time to even text Lydia a warning. “She blocked me on everything after we broke up, you know.” Scott nodded, having heard plenty about it after the break up. She had blocked Scott on social media as well, probably knowing that Stiles would try and use Scott’s profiles to stalk her. And now that he had seen the reason for it, he understood. Years ago, he had been hurt that after everything the entire group went through, she could drop them all so easily. Now, he only wished she had trusted them to support her instead of disappearing.

“I know, Stiles.” Scott replied forlornly, the old 2 story brick home coming into view. Scott and Stiles had spent many days and nights at Y’N’s home as her dad was usually away on business trips, making it the perfect pack hang out. Now, the paint was fading from the outside, the grass was yellowed and missing in patches, and weeds filled the once pristine flower bed.

Neither boy said anything as they rolled to a stop just before the driveway. Y’N’s car was parked closest to the garage, with Lydia’s familiar green bug just behind it. Stiles didn’t make a move to get out of the car. His fingers were turning white from gripping the steering wheel as he stared at the front door.

Scott didn't know if he wasn't moving from nerves, anxiety, fear- the list could go on. “It’s not too late to just keep driving, Stiles. You should really call her before you just storm in.” Scott tried one more time, not having unbuckled his own seat belt in the meager chance that Stiles would change his mind.

He could see the memories swimming in Stiles’ eyes, reliving his and Y’N’s relationship.

“No, we’re already here. I just want to let her know that I’m here if she-you know. Needs someone to talk to.” Stiles finally unbuckled his seat belt, not taking his eyes off the front door of the house in case he missed her walking outside to greet them. Only after Stiles had grabbed the flowers from the back and slammed his door shut did Scott groan and rub his hands down his face. This was bad. This was going to be bad. This was going to be astronomically-causing-emotional-damage and-give-everyone-something-to-talk-to-a-therapist-about level bad.

Scott was broken from his moment of panic by a knock at his window- Stiles wanting him to move faster so he didn’t have to approach the door by himself.

Begrudgingly, he pulled free of the seatbelt and opened the blue jeep’s door, practically slamming it in an effort to warn Y/N to their approach. But, as they walked past the overgrown shrubs, he realized there was music playing loud enough to muffle the rumble of the jeep on their approach.

Also apparently loud enough to drown out their knocking. Scott took it as an opportunity to attempt to pull Stiles back towards the jeep, but Stiles shrugged him off and instead twisted the door knob to let himself in.

Scott’s body fell slack as he followed Stiles, grumbling under his breath while they made a familiar path through the entryway and towards the living room and kitchen, where the soft pop song was playing from the speakers.

“I don’t know, we could do pizza from Vino’s or maybe order some chinese in?” Stiles turned to smirk at Scott with an I-told-you-so as he recognized Lydia’s voice.

Scott shrugged and the pair rounded the corner, the living room coming into full view.

“I don’t think Char has tried chinese… Pizza is easy?” Y/N replied. Her soft voice sounded like music to his ears. It was the first time he’d heard her in person (not counting the goofy videos they'd made high school-which Stiles could still recite word for word) in what must have been 4 years. And god, she seemed to have only grown more beautiful since the last time he’d seen her. Her hair, although tied back in a braid, was much longer than she’d ever had it in high school. And even with her back turned to Stiles, he could see the confidence she held herself with.

“Y/N?” Stiles called out, the flowers nearly falling from his hand as she turned over her shoulder in question. He hadn’t meant to say her name, really, it was more like his body's involuntary response to seeing her.

—

Y/N and Lydia were standing at the living room table, having dragged several boxes out of the attic to go through and trash or keep stuff she hadn’t seen in years. Currently, they were going through Christmas ornaments and deciding what to do for dinner tonight.

Lydia had been her closest friend since high school. Lydia had only waited 6 months after high school ended before she tracked Y/N down to her grandparents house- a mere “9 hour drive” from Lydia’s college. And when Y/N -at nearly 9 months pregnant- opened the door expecting to see her food delivery and instead been greeted with her old best friend, she’d collapsed into tears and confessed to Lydia everything that had happened and made her swear to secrecy.

And so Lydia remained her closest friend, dropping in on holidays and spoiling Y/N’s daughter with gifts.

“I don’t know, we could do pizza from Vino’s or maybe order some chinese in?” Lydia suggested, holding up a box of plain red ornaments for Y/N to shake her head at. Lydia tossed them into the huge trash box.

“I don’t think Char has tried Chinese yet… Pizza is easy?” Y/N responded absent mindedly, digging through the box she’d been sifting through. Her mother had been a Christmas fanatic and stored at least six boxes of ornaments and Christmas decorations in the attic. While the first two boxes were nostalgic, she had grown tired of looking at similar ornaments and was currently hunting through them for the star her family had put on the Christmas tree every year since she could remember, up until her mom had passed away her Sophomore year of high school.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice had called from the entryway. Her head shot up to Lydia first, who was staring at the hallway with wide eyes, before looking over her shoulder at the familiar voice.

Stiles stood at the arched entrance, a bouquet of flowers practically brushing the floor from his hands.

He was wearing a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans with what looked like work boots. His hair had grown out and was almost to the point where it was shaggy, and he had a bit of a dark shadow growing around his mouth. The breath seemed to leave her at the sight of him. How many times had she dreamed of seeing him again? She cursed herself for just tying her hair in a braid this morning and not putting any makeup on before Lydia had showed up with pancakes for Y/N and Charlotte, and a bowl of fruit for herself.

The worn t-shirt of hers hung off her figure, and she was almost sure the leggings she was wearing had a hole in them from trying to move furniture earlier.

“Stiles. . .” She finally answered, the dusty ornaments now forgotten in the box. “What are you doing here?” She asked, her eyes glancing to the staircase. Char was upstairs in Y’N’s old room, having been put down for a nap less than an hour ago.

“I- I heard about your dad. . . I tried to make it for the funeral but couldn't catch a flight in time.” Stiles answered. Scott nudged him forward into the room and Stiles shot him a glare before holding up the flowers. “I got you flowers. I’m sorry for your loss.” He held them out, but his feet stayed glued to the carpet. He was worried that if he tried moving, he would trip over his own feet and make a complete fool of himself.

Y/N took the cue and moved from behind the couch, brushing her dusty hands off on the t-shirt and stepping towards Stiles to accept the white flowers from him. “Thank you.” She gave him a tight lipped smile as she brought them to her chest, giving them a quick smell before turning her eyes to Scott, who had been hiding behind Stiles.

“Scott…” Y/N started in a warning tone.

He held his hands up and backed into the wall- “I didn’t know we were coming until we were already on the way.” He pleaded, not willing to face the wrath of Y/N.

She raised an eyebrow at him but relented, raising the flowers in one hand to motion towards the kitchen so she could put them in water.

Her heart was beating fast- so fast that Scott was worried she might have a heart attack. Stiles’ was beating fast as well, and he could smell the anxiety rolling off of him in waves. Lydia's face was frozen in surprise. She remembered telling Stiles she was helping Y/N out but hadn't known he was even coming to town- she would have warned him against coming.

Stiles finally seemed to come back to earth, trailing after Y/N and leaving Lydia and Scott alone in the living room.

He wanted to duck out, Lydia was already glaring at Scott and silently stomping towards him with a finger raised. “Why on earth did you let him come here!” She accused, the hand she’d raised smacking him harmlessly in his shoulder.

“Ow, Lydia! Stop it- You know just as well as I do when Stiles sets his mind to something there's no changing it!” He whispered, looking around the ground for the secret child of his best friend. “Where is she?”

Lydia nodded towards the stairs, crossing her arms at him and changing her glare to the kitchen. “She’s taking a nap upstairs.” They stood in silence for a moment as their eyes turned towards the open kitchen, where Stiles was leaned up against the bar counter while Y/N was on the opposite side filling a vase with water. “What are they talking about?” Lydia asked, her human hearing no match with the music still playing from the speakers.

“Stiles is telling her he has a girlfriend and a great job and is doing absolutely great.”

Lydia’s hand flew to her mouth to chew on her nails. She didn’t want to be present if Y/N decided to tell Stiles about Charlotte- it would be bad enough that Scott knew about her for a few days and hadn’t told him- but Lydia had known since almost the beginning. Stiles would never forgive her for hiding this secret from him- even though it was not her place to tell him.

She'd thought about it everytime she left Y/N and Charlotte, always deciding it was best to let Y/N handle it how she saw fit.

—-

“I uh… I have a girlfriend back in Virginia.” Stiles casually mentioned, crossing his arms on the bar counter he had eaten many meals at. He didn't know what his aim was, really. He wanted her to be jealous, but he also wanted her to think she was available- just in case.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder at him as she had bent down to reach under the counter for a vase. “That’s nice, what’s her name?” She questioned just as casually as Stiles, hiding her disappointment. Although, he had grown up a lot in the last four years- he had outgrown the boyish charm she had fallen in love with and into a handsome 22 year old.

“Hannah.” He replied, pulling his phone out to show her a picture. They’d really only been dating a few months, she was nice enough. He didnt see it going much further than it was right now, but he wanted to rub it in Y/N's face just a little bit. Y/N forced herself to look at the picture of Stiles and the tall brunette girl smiling at the camera.

“She’s cute.” She responded, going back to the flowers to distractedly start arranging them. “How’d you guys meet?”

Stiles was caught off guard by how uninterested Y/N was. He had expected her to throw herself at him and beg for forgiveness when she saw how much older and more mature he looked.

“Uh, just through work. She was working on the same case that I was.”

Y/N was still lost in thought, and Stiles' anxiety was giving him word vomit. “Yeah, work is great. I just got a promotion, and I have my own office- and we just got this really cool case in that I think might be supernatural again-”

Y/N hummed a response, her mind drifting to Charlotte upstairs. It had maybe been an hour, she didn’t usually take long naps. What was her plan? Should she usher Stiles and Scott out and continue hiding her existence?

When her father had died she'd known her private life was coming to an end.

She’d known as soon as she’d shown up to the funeral with Charlotte in tow, the pack and the rest of her old Beacon Hills family there to support her-minus Stiles, by some act of luck.

And that had to be a sign, right? That he hadn’t been at her dad’s funeral? I mean, maybe she could just get through the next few minutes and get rid of them and finish in Beacon Hills and never come back. She had a home and new friends in Virginia, she didn’t need to confuse Charlotte.

Not to mention, if Stiles did find out, what would he do? Uproot his life and move to North Carolina to live with them? The whole reason Y/N left Beacon Hills was so that he could have the life of his dreams, he didn’t need Y/N or a child holding him back. Because that was exactly what a child would have done at 18.

It had only been a few weeks before graduation that she’d found out she was pregnant. Knowing Stiles, he would have given up everything he’d earned to get some minimum wage job and marry Y/N to raise a kid because it was the right thing to do.

“I.. I saw your piece in the New York Journal.” Her head perked up at that, not having expected Stiles to have followed her career after everything she’d put him through. “It was great… Brilliant actually.” He muttered, twiddling his thumbs and looking away.

Y/N smiled- not the carefree smile he had loved in high school, but a tight, trying not show her emotions kind of smile. “Thank you.” She responded, setting the vase of flowers on the counter. She nodded towards the flowers, wiping her hands off on a paper towel. “For those too. They’re beautiful.”

Stiles couldn’t hold his grin back this time, and her own smile widened a fraction as they made actual close-distance eye contact.

Waves of guilt crashed into her. Here she was, pretending that she was doing such a great thing, hiding a whole, wonderful, beautiful tiny human being from Stiles- for what? She turned away from him quickly, tears building in her eyes.

Scott and Lydia made an excuse to leave the building tension, Lydia bossing Scott to carry the huge box of trash they’d been creating out to the garage, giving Stiles and Y/N privacy. Y/N would consider it the worst moment, but Stiles would call it the perfect moment. He had seen the crack in the armor she wore now, a tiny glimpse of herself showing.

“So uh… Scott told me you’re living in North Carolina now?” In his mind, he was thinking how that’s less than a 2 hour drive from Richmond, easily driveable on the weekends. How had he gone so long living so close to Y/N and been so clueless.

Y/N used the paper towel she’d dried her hands with the wipe the countertop clean, spotting a sippy cup in the sink and praying that Stiles couldn’t see it from where he sat. “Yeah- my grandparents lived there. It was just a safe place to get away to after... Everything… Here.” She didn’t turn around, instead opting to wipe the rest of the opposite counter from Stiles down.

“Y/N…” Stiles crooned, hoping she would turn and look him in the eyes again. He didn’t think he could take another breath without seeing her looking at him again. She sighed and turned around, the fake smile on her face once again as she leaned against the sink with her arma crossed. He could see tears brimming in her eyes, and he felt helpless.

Why was she the one that had lied and cheated on him, and then just completely disappeared off the face of the planet- but she was still the one that needed comforting? He didn’t care, honestly. He wanted to put it all behind them. It was like he’d gone so long without thinking about how much he needed her, that now that she was in front of him again he didn’t want to let her leave his sight again. He had to fix what was between them. He moved faster than she could stop him, walking around the bar to the kitchen, not giving her a chance to say anything before he was wrapping his arms around her.

Y/N couldn’t breathe when he stepped into her personal space and pulled her into his chest. She didn't allow herself to process what was going on before wrapping her own arms as tight as she could around him, her head burying into his neck as silent tears slid down her cheeks.

He crooned it’s okay’s to her, pressing his lips against her hair and savoring how she felt against him. She was so warm, and familiar, and he realized that she used a different shampoo now. He didn’t even know that he remembered her shampoo until he breathed in deeply and it was a citrus scent instead of the florals he had associated with her.

She was practically shaking in his arms, and he was blown away by how strong his feelings to protect her still were. He would do anything she asked of him, honestly. “Stiles-” Y/N murmured.

He responded by running his hand down the side of her hair, smoothing the braid back in an effort to comfort her. She pulled back far enough to look at him. Her eyes were rimmed red, and she wiped frantically to dry her face.

He didn’t say anything, but kept his arms loosely wrapped around her waist, silently begging her not to leave the close proximity. “Stiles-” She began again, one of her hands resting on his shoulder and stepping back so that his arms fell to his side.

“Mama?” A tiny voice asked, and Y/N whipped away from Stiles and towards the entrance in the kitchen.

Stiles suddenly felt as though he was watching the scene from the outside- just an observer of the events unfolding. Y/N was suddenly on her knees against the tiles, and the smallest little girl Stiles had ever seen was standing in front of her. Stiles didn’t consciously take a step towards them, it felt like he floated closer to look at the little girl.

She had light brown hair mussed up on the side from sleep, rosy cheeks with the same button nose and pouty lips as Y/N. Her eyes, although one was closed with the back of her chubby hand rubbing against it, were a familiar light brown that Stiles recognized as his own. The little girl turned her attention to Stiles, the hand dropping from her eye to bunch up the night dress she was wearing, characters from the Little Mermaid patterned over it.

Stiles wasn’t breathing as the girl surveyed him, and he stared back at her. “Mama, can I have some juice?” She turned her eyes back to Y/N, her bottom lip pouting out.

Y/N nodded fervently, practically bouncing back up from the floor and avoiding looking at Stiles as she moved to the fridge.

The little girl stepped closer to Stiles, her eyes scrunching together in the same way that Y/N used to when she was working on a problem. He took the cue and bent down to her level, resting his elbows on his knees and sticking a hand out to her in greeting.

“Hey there, I’m Stiles!” He greeted as quietly as he could, worried that she would burst into tears if he spoke too loudly. He was practically shaking, his mind was flitting through thoughts faster than he could even process them.

The little girl said nothing while her eyes still scrutinized him, but she put one little hand on top of Stiles’s, curling her fingers slowly around his index finger in a mock handshake.

Y/N came back to the two of them to hold a pink sippy cup full of juice down to her. The girl uncurled her fingers from Stiles and took the sippy cup, holding her other hand out. Y/N took the hint and lifted the girl to her hip, turning back to Stiles but still avoiding his eyes.

Honestly, that told him everything.

“Her name is Charlotte.” Y/N supplied, brushing the hair out of the girls face. She pressed her head into Y/N’s shoulder, the sippy cup against her lips though she didn't drink from it. Y/N could deny it, she knew. She could tell him she’d gotten pregnant by the guy she’d made up and told Stiles she’d cheated on him with. She could tell him she’d gotten pregnant after high school.

But she couldn’t lie to him.

“How old are you?” Stiles asked, scooting a bit closer to the girl.

“Stiles!” Y/N hissed, panic setting in. He had every right to ask, she knew, but the words came out and she reacted too fast, fear creeping in.

“My birthday is in November!” Charlotte grinned at him widely, her shyness dissipating as she enunciated her words carefully. “I’m gonna be four, wanna come to my birthday party? Mama says we can go to the zoo.” Y/N rushed out of the kitchen, her heart beating so hard she was sure it was going to pop out. He knows, he knows, he knows.

“Heeeey, sweetie!” Lydia crooned, stepping into Y/N’s field of vision and holding out her arms towards Charlotte. “Wanna go get changed real quick? You can try on the dress I got you!”

Char nodded and held her hands out towards Lydia, the sippy cup hanging from her mouth. Y/N didn’t even want to let her go, but she numbly loosened her grip enough for Lydia to gently ease her away and nod towards the stairs.

Y/N collapsed on the couch with her head in her hands, focusing on just breathing. She couldn’t even look up at Stiles, she thought she was going to puke.

Scott observed from the door to the garage, desperately trying to blend into the wall.

What was he supposed to do? Slink up the stairs after Lydia? Open the door and walk back into the garage? He could feel their emotions flooding the room almost enough to send him into a panic.

Stiles finally stormed out of the kitchen, his hands slamming onto the coffee table in front of Y/N. “What the fuck, Y/N?” He hit his hands against the coffee table again before they withdrew and he fell onto the floor with his back against the legs of the couch, burying his face in his hands. “Oh God, I think I’m going to puke.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, but she raised her eyes to his face, her hands moving to grip the edge of the coffee table to try and pull herself to a more stable sitting position. “You do not get to be mad!” She hissed.

“Oh the hell I don’t! What the actual fuck? What is this?” He moved to his knees, leaning over the coffee table. She didn’t answer in time and Stiles rapid fired his next question. “Is she mine?”

Y/N leaned back, drawing in a breath. “No.” She answered calmly, fighting back her own urge to puke again.

“You’re lying to me!” Stiles cried out, throwing his hands in the air and looking around the room.

“I am not!” She whisper yelled back at him.

“Not lying my ass- Scott! Is she lying?”

Scott threw his hands up, wishing more than ever he could be invisible. “I don’t- Don’t drag me into this!” He took this as his opportunity to move to the front door, where he could at least hide im the entryway.

“Y/N, what did you- why did you…” He tried, but words were failing him.

“I don’t know, Stiles.” She tried, but immediately shook her head and dragged her hands to her hair, messing it up as she tried to run her fingers through it. “I- Fuck.” She stood up and then sat back down, her hands pressing hard into her eyes.

Stiles just stared at her, at a complete loss of words.

It was quiet for a moment, just hushed voices of Lydia and Charlotte upstairs, the music that had been playing quietened down. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Stiles’ shoulders dropped and his mouth stayed open, “I want you to tell me that you didn’t do what I think you did, Y/N. Because that would make you the shittiest person-”

“Shittiest person?” She protested, leaning forward and pointing at Stiles threateningly. “I did this for you- So that you could have the life you wanted. So don’t say that I’m shitty for saving-”

“What do you mean the life I wanted?” Stiles took the opportunity to stand up, pointing his own finger down at Y/N, who seemed to have lost her anger the minute that Stiles stood up. “You didn’t give me a choice! You disappeared and didn’t try and contact me- and believe me, I tried contacting you!” He spun away from her, anger rising once again. His eyes flew over everything- the half empty boxes, the vase of lilies on the counter, the juice Y/N had left near the fridge. “FUCK!” He yelled out, smacking his hands into his thighs before collapsing almost to the ground with his head between his knees.

For years, he had dreamed of Y/N and the life they could have had. And yes, kids were a part of the plan down the line. He had already picked out their engagement ring in high school, he’d known from their first date that she was the one for him.

And then senior year rolled around, and the first half had been like something in a dream, Y/N and him sneaking off to make out and have sex, and they’d used condoms every time- he didn’t know when it could have happened. But then the last few months of school, Y/N started growing distant, he’d assumed she was anxious about finishing high school and moving to the East coast like they planned. The week after graduation she’d told Stiles she cheated on him and she didn’t love him anymore.

She’d blocked him on everything and changed her number before the night was even over.

This, though…. This was worse. She’d taken his dream life and stolen it-twisting it into the sharpest knife he couldn't have imagined- not even having given him the choice of if he wanted to be a part of it or not.

“I can’t even…” Stiles started, raising his head away from the ground and staring at the wall. “I can’t even look at you.” He mumbled before standing up and storming out. Y/N didn’t try to stop him, just watched him go.

This had gone so, so much worse than she had ever thought.

Scott finally left his spot from the door when Stiles rushed past without making eye contact. He trudged back to the living room, where Y/N was half bent over on the couch, her head in her hands. He set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, not knowing what to say. She looked up at him with tears already spilling over her eyes.

It suddenly made sense the last time he’d seen her- the night after graduation. She’d been crying as hard as he’d seen her cry just after her mom died, and he’d just mistaken it for being sad about graduating. But she must have already known she was pregnant and what she had been planning on doing. He wanted to hate her, but he understood.

“It was good to see you, Y/N.” She nodded and bit her lip, pulling away from him to sob into her hands.

He walked towards the front door, looking back one more time at Y/N curling in on herself before he opened the door to follow Stiles, who was now actually puking behind the jeep-he could hear him caught between heaving and heavy breathing from the door.

He could also hear Lydia and Charlotte upstairs- Charlotte was asking Lydia why her mom was so sad with Scott and Stiles there. Lydia was struggling for an answer, but Scott tuned it out as strode to comfort the one he felt had been suffered the most from this secret.

Part 2

#stiles imagine #stiles pov #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x oc

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sweetcherrypie1967 · 3 years

Text

In the Name of Love

To everyone around them, what was about to happen had been a complete surprise and not to mention unexpected. But, everyone else didn't know about the secret the two shared. The months of sneaking around Hogwarts just to avoid being seen together, the stolen kisses, the insults they didn't mean, and the fear of what they felt. For if it became public, they'd surely be killed..or worse.

You see, to everyone else, that two despised one another just as they seemingly had for years before now. Even their closest friends didn't have a clue about what they were hiding.

But soon, everyone would know.

The students and staff of Hogwarts gathered around in the courtyard while the Death Eaters were on the other side. Something odd caught most of their eyes though, it was Hagrid. Hagrid, in the midst of the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, not only that but he was carrying someone.

"Who is it that Hagrid is carrying?" Hermione Granger's panicked voice was heard.

"Who is Hagrid carrying?!" Hermione said louder and in more panic than before.

She got no answer, until..

"Harry Potter is dead," the voice of Voldemort rang out. His voice alone was enough to cause someone's skin to crawl, but for him to say that their Chosen One, their friend, was dead?

No!" Ginny Weasley exclaimed as she tried to rush to the body of the boy she loved.

But her father, Arthur Weasley, held her back as she sobbed uncontrollably as he knew that now wasn't the time to grieve.

They were all still in danger.

Hermione knew this, that's why the only reaction she had was hot, burning tears were running down her face. Harry Potter is practically her brother but he wouldn't want her to put herself or others in danger due to her emotions.

"Harry Potter is dead!" he repeated to the students and staff with grief filled expressions. There were earsplitting screams from those who were close to The Chosen One. Even Draco Malfoy was greatly affected by the loss. Not that he had liked the boy much, but he knew what it meant for him and the rest of the Wizarding World.

"Harry Potter is dead!" He repeated once more but to those on his side of the courtyard, and they laughed.

Draco Malfoy had at this point, not paid much attention to anything else. Lost in the realization that the Light had lost and all was doomed, even he who was on the side who won had still lost. For he had a secret that, once revealed, would make him no different to the ones who had been on the other side the entire time.

He was in love with a muggleborn.

It wasn't until he had heard his father beckoning him across the courtyard that he was snapped back into reality.

"Draco!" His father said gesturing for him to come by his side.

The blond boy hesitated, he could stay. He could be among all the other he would eventually die with, he could stay here and get it over with sooner and not have to live without his love. Then again, what about his family? What would happen to them? Weren't they the ones he had done all of this for, weren't they the ones who got him into all of this in the first place?

"Draco!" His father persisted.

Draco was torn, his family or his beliefs. He I surely took a step forward when a small hand caught his and his grey eyes locked with brown ones.

"Don't do it Draco," Hermione Granger begged him, "stay with us, stay with me."

He paused holding his love's fragile hands tight in his own. Seeing the fear in her eyes, he had made his final decision. He stood tall and more confident in himself then he had been in a long time.

Draco would stay. He would stay for her.

He gave her hand a squeeze and small smile to reassure her of his decision, she smiled tearfully and engulfed him in a hug to which he returned. "Anything for you," he whispered in her ear.

"Thank you," she whispered back before breaking the hug but still held his hand firmly.

"The Malfoy boy has become a filthy blood traitor!" Some Death Eater Draco didn't know called out angrily.

"What is this?" Voldemort called after seeing the exchange, "surely you have raised him better than this, Lucius?"

"Yes, my Lord, we did," Lucius said without emotion.

"It appears you hadn't done a well enough job at it. So few remaining pure families and with even less heirs to carry on their legacy," Voldemort mused, "the mudbloods have ruined so many good family names, Potter's pet has snuck in and now soiled the Malfoy's name."

"Hermione didn't 'soil' the Malfoy name, I did," Draco spoke up, "it was me who fell in love with her and it is me who will gladly choose her over your worthless cause."

"Love," he said in disgust, "what a foolish choice, I thought you were smarter than that. You should be ashamed."

"Just because you've never had it doesn't mean it's foolish," Draco argued, "and I'm not ashamed, I'm doing all this in the name of love. I'm done hiding from it."

"What a disappointment, I had such hopes for this one," Voldemort said sounding hardly disappointed or even surprised, "I'll give you one more chance, young Malfoy. Join me and you family and live a life like you deserve or you can die here and now right after Potter's whore."

"Don't call her that," Draco growled now seething with anger, "my mind is made up, I'd rather be under the cruciatus than live whatever life you would have planned."

"The cruciatus? I do think that can be arranged," Voldemort said casually right before pointing his wand at the boy.

"Cruc-"

Draco closed his eyes in anticipation for the pain he was about to experience, it wouldn't be his first experience with the curse, but it never came. He looked up just in time to see Neville Longbottom cut the head off of Voldemort's snake, Nagini. Voldemort roared at the sight knowing what it meant even when Draco didn't quite understand.

Moments later the fighting resumed, though now Draco Malfoy was known to be fighting on the other side. They had ran back into Hogwarts, if only for their last time. He and Hermione were fighting the death eaters side by side when they heard Hagrid.

"Harry! Where's Harry?" He cried.

While Hermione instantly looked to where his body had been mere seconds before only to find it gone, Draco cast a spell to prevent her from being injured due to her badly timed distraction.

Everything was happening so fast that, before they knew it, everything suddenly stopped when one voice was heard throughout the Great Hall.

"Protego!" Harry Potter shouted.

Everyone watched as Harry and Voldemort dueled for the final time.

And just like that, Voldemort was dead.

Draco had been helping to heal the wounded, he couldn't help but be angry at himself for previously causing a few of them before changing his side but at least he was making it right. He had actually found that he sort of liked helping people like this. Perhaps it was from the exhilaration of it all finally being over, he could finally have the life he wanted. It was after finishing with a sixth year Ravenclaw he didn't recognize that his Mother approached him.

She had gathered him into a hug, which was quite unusual for her especially in a public place, and he recuperated it. "My baby boy," Narcissa kept repeating. When the embrace ended she looked at him with glassy eyes, "I'm so proud to call you my son. You stood for what you believed in and even found love," she told him.

"Mother-" Draco began, truly moved by her words, when she interrupted.

"Speaking of which, I want you to have this," Narcissa told him taking out a small black box, "I'm sure you know what this is and if you care for her as much as you've displayed today, then I'm sure you won't waste any time in using it."

Now Draco was walking with Hermione down the halls of Hogwarts nervously fiddling with the box in his pocket.

"What is it you wanted to talk about? There's no one around anymore I'm sure," Hermione said.

"So impatient," he joked.

"Well while I do love it being just the two of us, there is a lot going on right now," she said in a similar tone.

"I know, I know you'd rather be with your friends than me," he said not unkindly.

She lightly pushed him, "you know that's not true."

"You're right," Draco said trying to stall.

"Plus the anticipation is killing me," Hermione told him.

"In that case maybe I'll wait until later to tell you," Draco teased.

"No! Please just tell me now," she begged and he chuckled.

He got down on one knee.

"I love you more than life itself as I've shown you today and I want to spend the rest of my existence with you. Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?" Draco said pulling out the black box to reveal a beautiful golden ring with both red and green gems in it.

The next words will change both of their lives forever.

"Of course I will!"

#harry potter #dramione #dhr #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hermione granger #dhr fanfiction #battle of hogwarts #one shots

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mochikeiji · 4 years

Text

Sunshine

↠ Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Akaashi Keiji

↠ Warning: TimeSkip AU! Slight angst, fluff! Weathering with You AU

↬ Word Count: 1,851

↣ a/n: I just love Weathering with You. The prompt fits so perfectly I just had too ヽ( ´¬`)ノ even hearing the ost in my head while writing this.

Summary: Akaashi has lived his life raising the sun as he prays. But that came to a stop when Bokuto finds out the consequences. Afraid to lose him, afraid of him to disappear without having to feel what happiness is, he wants him to live his life to the fullest.

⇢ Day 8: Weather/Rain, Magic @bokuakaweek2020

✎﹏

Not many have fallen inlove with the gloomy skies that cried heavy down pours of rain. Not many appreciated the satisfying sight of the droplets patter from their window or hydrate the plants. People would see the rain as some sort of hindrance due to the natural disasters it has caused. Those such as flooding, cancelations of plans or the weird feeling of getting sad from it.

Japan at this year has been experiencing all of these emotions. The rain poured everyday endlessly. In some parts it has, but after a few minutes of hours it'll pour once more. The children were stuck inside their homes, whining sometimes for not being allowed to go out and play as they used to. Adults are always getting irritated when travelling to work. Not a day is completed without having one part of their body soaked from the rain when coming back home.

When has it been the last time they've experienced the warm sun and bright blue skies? When was the last time they have woken up to hear the birds chirping rathet than another round of padding droplets on their windows and rooftops?

If they'd predicted the weather to be in bad shape, people would've appreciated waking up a little early to show some love for the shining sun rather than wishing it hadn't risen.

For Bokuto, he didn't care about any of these calamities. He didn't pay attention to the murmurs and curses about the weather from the people he had passed by the streets, nor the fact that he sometimes gets soaked from the rain or even having his usual volleyball practice get cancelled.

All he cared about with all his heart was the man who had been destined to be his lover.

Also the man who was in full control of controlling the all powerful, bright sun and stopping the rain as he pleases whenever he would pray.

His sunshine boy.

"Keiji, I told you to stop looking over the request anymore."

Snapping his gaze away from the phone screen, Bokuto had snatched it away and places it on top of the coffee table. Taking a seat next to Akaashi and took a sip of the warm hot chocolate he had made for both of them.

"But they were getting mad for not granting their request, Kou.."

Bokuto sees the way his eyes looked down sadly behind his lens. His lips quivering as if he was afraid of something. Guilty of something.

He had no rights to be feeling guilty though. It wasn't his power to control the rain. It wasn't his fault Japan was in this situation for many years. He never asked to be the one speck of hope to bring back the sun even though it meant for a few hours.

It wasn't his or Bokuto's fault they wanted to be selfish.

Akaashi's gift had a risky price to pay. Due to people now knowing his gift, he was often called for so many request to bring the sun out. His request per day would reach 10-20. It was tiring, but this was the only job he had to provide himself. But sadly, to over working himself to the bone, his body began to get transparent. He had been so caught up with his job as the Sunshine Boy he had forgotten he was cursed to disappear to an unknown place if he overused his gift.

And Bokuto didn't want to lose him.

The day Akaashi had revealed his upper body to him, Bokuto's heart shattered. He was the one who had given him the idea of being in this position in the first place. He shouldered the blame on him, for almost unknowingly letting his lover slowly drift away and disappear from him.

But not anymore.

He begged Akaashi to never do it again. Never overuse his power. Allow himself to take a break and just find another job or let him handle all the finance since he was a successful player. But Akaashi didn't like depending all his life on someone, he wanted to be useful. Worthy. Even though Bokuto woukd remind him all the time that he has been more than enough to him, the people from their abandoned website would always call him out and spread hate for his sudden disappearance.

It was a good thing no one knew of his identity. Otherwise he would be hunt down and they'd have to move to places as if they were criminals.

"Keiji," placing his mug down at the table, he moves to his side closer to Akaashi, taking his hand away from his lap and holding it, "Would you be sad if I was the only person who loves you?"

Akaashi never had anyone that loved him so much other than his late mother. Like him, she was born with this gift. His father though, had left the both of them when he knew about their gifts. Angry of why they didn't do something of Japan's situation and cursing his mother for being a selfish woman, leaving her to fulfill her duty until her dying breath and disappearing without a sense of peace.

His words and the people's demands had gone through his head and haunted him. He believed that this was why he was born different. Why he was born with this so called, "gift". He was born to serve other's and grant their request to summon the sun. Nothing more, nothing less. Fulfill his duty to the bitter end.

And Bokuto had proved him othwise.

"From now on, live for yourself, Keiji. You can't give everyone what they want and not leave something for you."

Those were the words he remembered the day he had shown his transparent torso. The words that had made his eyes shed tears and his whole world change.

"I am beyond already happy and blessed to have you as my lover, Kou. And you loving me makes me question why I deserve someone like you," he places his palm on his cheek, stroking it lovingly as he stares back into his golden eyes, "Of course I am happy that the person I love so much loves me as well. Even if he is the only one."

"Then this," glancing at the phine from the table with Akaashi's eyes following his. Returning back to their locked gaze, "They don't matter. Nothing matters but that, Keiji."

His eyes spoke a lot about his deep sadness and guilt. Bokuto pushes his hand away gently and pulls him onto his chest, letting Akaashi sit in between his legs and place his chin on his shoulder.

"Keiji, I don't want to wake up one day and see you gone from my sight."

Listening intensely as he feels his hair being weaved by his fingers, he allows his body to relax on Bokuto's hold and let's him continue.

"Not because you can make the sun appear. I don't care about those, I only care about you. I don't want you to disappear just to have your entire life serving people for their wants and not living yours."

Suddenly, his shoulder began to form a wet patch from the owl haired male, "I don't want to wake up alone again, Keiji..I don't want to lose the only person I've ever loved and didn't have enough time with him."

Like Akaashi, Bokuto had struggled with his own past. Always getting left behind for pursuing too much ambition. His parents not being able to provide him with the love and support he has envied from so many people. He had sought out on his own trying to find a reason for his living. Why he manages to maintain being a famous volleyball player even though he had no one tovbe proud of not only his talent, but his entire being.

Bokuto's body trembles and Akaashi started to feel himself get emotional and squeezed his arms around his torso. Bokuto sniffles a little before pushing himself off of his shoulder to look him in the eye once more.

"Keiji, to me I believe you are a Sunshine Boy. Not because you can raise the sun, but because you brighten the skies from my gloomy life ever since I've met you."

Eyes widened a little from his words, Bokuto removes his mist filled glasses and leans his forehead to his. Sighing out the emotion that had bubbled up in his chest.

"I believe you had more purpose in life than being like this. Maybe," placing both of his warm palms on Akaashi's cold face, wanting him to open his tear filled eyes.

"Maybe you were meant to live the life your mother wished she had."

A life that didn't pulled him down because of his gift. The life that didn't involve the people's complaints and demands. The life that only his happiness mattered.

"We've made a promise together back then."

Akaashi looks down at his hand, his ring finger occupied with a shining ring that fit perfectly and made his hand look more beautiful than they ever were. The one Bokuto had given the night of his confession.

"That we'd be together forever. That nothing else mattered than for us to find our happiness together."

Akaashi lets his tears fall from his eyes, allowing Bokuto to wipe them away quickly. He gives his lips a lingering kiss. Pouring out the emotions more than the rain outside their apartment.

"The hell with everyone in this world. I want you more than any blue sky. You're the real sun that brightens up my world, Akaashi. I knew what I was getting into the moment I fell inlove with you, there's no way in hell I'm throwing all of this away."

Sobs can be heard from the room, but the strong sense of devotion and love was there. Akaashi lets himself grow vulnerable, murmuring "I love you's" and "Thank you's", squeezing Bokuto as if his life depended on it. Afraid of what his mind could've done if Bokuto hadn't said those words to him immediately.

They both know that this weather wouldn't stop. But they also knew that the people's complaints about everything would never stop.

The hell with everything, they thought.

If being selfish meant letting an innocent life as Akaashi live longer and having the weather stay as it is, then so be it. Nothing is more precious than another ones life.

Nothing mattered to the two lovers as long as they had each other.

The weather can stay crazy, but that's how the entire world is, right?

You needed one thing that is sane in all this madness.

And to Bokuto?

That was Akaashi.

"Koutarou."

"Hm?"

Pushing himself off of his chest, Akaashi wipes his nose with his sleeve before speaking, "Don't you want to see the sun?" his words lacing with worry with his mind racing with thoughts.

Bokuto only smiles at him. Knowing already what he was going to answer, pinching his cheek in the process and grinning,

"I already am seeing the sun, Keiji. And its worth keeping bright more than anything."

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fanwarriorfictions · 5 years

Text

One-

A Stranger Things 2 Fanfic

Chapter Seven: The Lost Sister

-Hawkins, Indiana, 1971-

The four-year-old, red-haired girl sat in the cold metal chair, a glass of water sat on the table in front of her. Across the table, a man sat in a similar metal chair. He leans on the table, his arms crossed as he watches the girl.

"Can you show us what you can do, One," he asks the girl.

The girl glances at the man, "yes, Papa."

Her eyes trained on the glass, on the water inside of it. She had already shown that she could control and even produce fire, especially when upset, but the man sat before her had a theory, and if he was right, then this girl could very well be the strongest weapon this world had ever seen.

The girl's eyes narrow in concentration, the water ripples in answer. Her hands clenched into tiny fists, trying harder and harder to do what the man asked her, she knew what would happen if she didn't.

Back then, when Phina had been the first experiment, Hawkins Lab was a lot crueler. They didn't see her as the child she was but the weapon they were trying to make her. Her very first memory of that place was probably the worst one.

-1970-

She had exploded in a fiery temper tantrum that every three-year-old has. The only problem was, she wasn't just any three-year-old. She was a toddler with the ability to control fire. So when she exploded in rage, she actually exploded, sending out a wave of fire in all directions, scorching the room she was kept in. The men and women who did experiments on her had expected this, that she would explode like this when angered, so they had made precautions.

Men in fireproof suits had stormed her room, scaring the poor girl so much that her fire winked out on the spot, but they didn't stop. They grabbed her, ignoring her screaming pleas for help.

"Papa! Papa," she screamed, struggling in their grip, "Papa help! Papa!"

He didn't come to save her. He watched as they threw her into a metal container. He watched as they shut her in that dark room. Her fear ignited her fire again, trying to melt the metal, anything to get out of there. Then they turned on the machine, a vacuum that sucked the air from the chamber.

They were suffocating her, suffocating her fire. She gasps for any air she can, her fire winking out at the lack of oxygen to fuel it, or her to sustain it. She fell to her knees, her lungs screaming for air. Through a small window, she saw him, standing there, watching her struggle for air, no hint of remorse. They didn't open the door until she had passed out.

After that, Phina had done everything they had asked. She pushed herself past the physical limits of her frail body, all so she wouldn't have to go back to that metal chamber. She did everything she could, but it was never enough for them, never enough for him. That was the first time she had gone to the chamber, but not the last.

She wasn't the only one though, no, when she was there, there had been another girl, Two, a small girl that was a year younger than Phina. She didn't last long.

-1972-

The screaming hurt her ears. Usually, it was her own screaming that she heard, but this time, it was her sister's. Two had done something bad, and Papa wasn't happy with her. One had tried to plead with Papa, tell him that it was all her fault, but he would not listen. Two was going to the chamber for the first time, One had gone many times but Two had never. Papa was making her watch as he usually made Two watch.

Two struggles in the bad men's arms, her arms swinging wildly as she screamed for help.

"Sissy," she screams, "help."

Tears streamed down One's cheeks, there was nothing she could do to help Two. If she tried, One would face the same punishment, or an even worse one. The men throw the small blonde girl into the chamber, her screams becoming muffled as the door shuts. One wants to turn away, Papa won't let her. He holds tight to her arm, forcing her to stay still.

With a nod from him, the machine is turned on. Two screams and screams. She didn't know. One had learned to conserve her breath, Two didn't know, she didn't know.

They didn't turn it off soon enough, didn't open the door soon enough. When they pulled her limp body out of the chamber One already knew that her sister was gone, lost, never to return. Her already pale skin was worse, tinted blue. The usual red in her cheeks was gone. Her pale blue eyes stared at One, piercing her soul yet not seeing.

One's knees go weak, no longer able to support her weight. Just five and she had already seen more than most adults have in their entire lives. Her sister, Two, just four-years-old, was gone, taken by the monsters that had owned her life from the moment she was born. Her sister lost forever. Lost, lost, lost. Gone. She was gone.

Fire, water, earth, they had come to her one after the one, but air, the last element, it had not. It had not worked. The scientists had tried, putting her through test after test, even dropping her off a ledge to see if she could use the air to catch her. It never worked, and they put her in the chamber to punish her each time. Papa was starting to believe that she would never be able to control air, that she had only been gifted with the three elements. Maybe they were right, maybe she hadn't been gifted air at first, maybe she never would have gotten it. If not for them, she probably wouldn't have.

The men and women in the room begin to gasp as she had done so many times before. They claw at their throats as the air is taken out of their bodies, as the air around them becomes thinner and thinner. The thing they had used to punish her now became their punishment.

Next to her, Papa's grip loosens as he falls to his knees, gasping for air that would not come. He watched her in horror and amazement. His hand falls from her and she stumbles away from them, the monsters that tormented her.

Her tears still stream down her face, the image of her sister's cold eyes staring at her. Behind her, she hears the monsters coughing, air coming back into their lungs, the farther she got away from them, the less her powers worked. She runs faster, her tiny legs moving as fast as they could. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she had to run fast. She found a set of stairs and ran up them, setting the door behind her on fire in hopes of slowing down whoever they send to capture her.

She searches three floors, suffocating anyone she comes across as she goes before she finds a door that leads outside. The air outside is freezing, seeping through the thin material of her blue dress. Snow is falling, not that she would know what it was. Her bare feet turn red and go numb as she runs. She reaches a fence, with her tiny fists, she grabs the metal and melts it. She crawls through the hole, bolting away from the searching lights. She runs and runs and runs until her legs can no longer support her.

One trips, rolling down a large, steep hill. Cuts and scratches appear all over her body as she rolls down. At the bottom waits a large rock, one that her head hits. If she was any other kid, she would have screamed and cried, but she had been conditioned not to. So she just stumbled to her feet, fighting the blurriness in her vision as she tried to run again. She trips, falling onto her stomach. The blur turns to black dancing across her vision. When she tries to push herself up again, her arms give out. Snow covers her body as she slowly loses consciousness.

-1391 words- IMPORTANT A/N AT THE END

Whew, a completely OC chapter? That was rough. I had been pining over what I was going to do for this episode for a while now and this was just a kind of spur of the moment ordeal. I thought it was about time I gave you so more glimpses into Phina's past and I hope you caught onto the whole, "The Lost Sister" play I did. Next chapter will be back to normal but I really hoped you enjoyed this one! So I just finished writing the last chapter of this story right before posting this chapter, I love the way it ends and I hope you all are ready for the last two episodes because they are a whirl to get through, Chapter Eight having five parts and Chapter Nine having SEVEN parts. Get ready for this!

-Morgan

#steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #strangerthingsfanfic #strangerthings #slow burn #one #romance

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igotshinee21 · 5 years

Text

Dear Jonghyun,

A year. That's what it's been. I still can't believe it. You have everyone around the world missing you and crying and praying that you're ok. It seems like just yesterday I was 5 sitting in front of the TV in my grandmother's house watching SHINee's debut stage. All I could focus on was you. It took my grandmother having to pull the Korean news channel up on her computer for me to go eat breakfast and get ready for the day.

I couldn't stop watching you. I knew you were singing for your Noona but I. I felt like you were singing for me. You were smiling but looked so focused on the dance that you just radiated 'LOOK AT ME IM THE BLING!' and I just remember asking my grandma who you were and she reads the Hangul going across tbe screen and says 'Kim Jonghyun' and that's when I fell in love.

That whole day I went through Kindergarten class singing Replay and all the kids around me called me names cause they spoke English they didn't understand who you were or how powerful you were. You made a 5 year old have standards for guys that I shouldn't have had.

I went home that day still humming it and went inside. I went on the computer and just searched you and then I saw you. The next few years went by. I fell more in love with you by the day. But after you debuted and became my center the worse took place.

My step dad the person who I was to go to for comfort and feel protected by began to abuse me. Every night I would lay in bed crying and wondering why a now 6 year old had to go through this. I started sobbing and the only thing that calmed me down was you. The smile that your face brought and the twinkle your eyes shown. I laid in bed everynight thinking of you begging you to come get me from the life I was living.

The abuse got worse. I was 7 with depression and having to steal my mom's makeup to cover up bruises. That's when I started having panic attacks and hyperventilating. The one night I couldn't breathe and had to go to the hospital but the doctor asked me if I had a way to calm down and I said yes. Music. And more specifically SHINee, you. He played like 3 of your songs and watched as I went from on the brink of passing out to dancing to replay.

He told me that it was because of you I was breathing and hadn't died of oxygen lack. So I left happy. But the abuse didn't let up. If anything it got worse. He used you guys against me, told me I was getting punished cause you guys saw me as a disappointment. But I knew it was a lie. You guys brought a smile to my face every time I thought of you. But when I turned 10, that's when I turned to you for the late nights in the bathroom. When the only relief was self harm. After a while of sitting there you talked me into putting the blade down and cleaning up and that I could make it cause your voice gave me hope it gave me a safe place. Weeks later I was in the same spot though. Except this time I wanted to end my life. I sat there crying and didn't move. No one was home. But my iPod started playing randomly and the first thing I hear is you. Your voice came through the headphones clear as day. I fell asleep on the bathroom floor feeling like I was gonna be okay because I felt like you weren't gonna let anything happen to me. But of course he had other plans. He took most of my innocence and told me if I told a soul I'd get in so much trouble. So I kept my mouth shut. Now 2014 comes and I'm turning 11. I'm in the 6th grade and it's November. Thanksgiving time. next week and a half is hell for me. my grandma dies and you know who helps me cope??? You.. you let me cry myself to sleep thinking I was gonna be okay.

YOU WERE MY HOPE

YOU WERE MY SAVIOR

YOU WERE THE ONE WHO SAVED ME

But of course let's rewind some of 2014. You became 'Blue Night's radio host and every day it never failed I'd listen. Even though I didnt understand much your voice got me through the everyday life.

Now 2015. By this time I had tried ending my life a total of 4 times. I self harmed more than what I wish I did and I became so wrapped up with my pain and the fear of people seeing me weak I was diagnosed with Smiling depression. The same thing you had. But you held me through all the pain and suffering. My mom leaves my step dad. And actually right now in 2018 shes in the process of divorcing him.

We move down south from New York to Georgia (USA). I was afraid of people making fun of me that I barley listened to kpop. I was so absorbed with not getting put an outcast I almost lost you. But you still were there. The nights I cried. The nights I have like tonight where i just hurt and don't know how to fix it.

2016 rolls around and I lose it! You release you're she is album on my birthday and I felt like the luckiest girl ever. I called my grandma and told her how you wrote she is for me. And yes at the age 13 i swore we were soul mates. I had ever since I was 5 so why stop?

And then 2017... I lost sight of you. I barley kept in touch with what SHINee and you were doing. I knew you stopped hosting. And y'all dropped a Japanese song (GET THE TREASURE IS A BOP! But so is every SHINee song) i was so focused with school and sports I lost sight of you. Then I moved to where I am now. And face more shit. I was sexually harrased the first 3 months I moved here, I stared self harming again and pulled all nigher just so I wouldn't have nightmares. Then December 18th comes. I wake up to my friend blowing up my emails and feed with the news. I was lost deviated shocked numb. I couldnt feel anything. You were my everything. My rock. The reason I kept fighting. And I couldn't help you from the thing you helped me from.

I didn't do anything for the next two weeks. I was of course numb. I did the bareminimun. I barley ate. I didn't sleep. Then I cried non stop in my room. I couldn't let everyone know I was hurting. My family didn't even think there was something wrong with me cause I hid the pain so well. I mean I became so good at looking okay people just assumed I had the best of everything.

January 1st came and I didnt want to do this. I didn't want anymore tomorrows. But as I sat in my room crying over you I heard it. The same thing I heard every time I cried like that. You told me id be okay and that you'd always be there. Then for some reason I couldn't stop wanting to see you. Every SHINee video I watched. Every video of you I watched.

I haven't read your letter or watched the funeral. I refuse. I guess I'm afraid it'll make it like official official that you're gone and that I have no choice but to say goodbye. But I don't wanna say goodbye you became my reason for fighting. The reason I rolled out of bed. The hope that life was gonna get better

I wish I could have helped you. I'm so sorry. I just hope you're okay and happy and not hurting.

You did well bling bling. I'll post more later today. It's just gonna be my favorite moments of you. You and SHINee. Always and forever.

I hope the words I could never say reach you. 'THANK YOU'

(just some people on insta paying tribute)

#you did well #youngjae #miss you #jonghyun #we love you forever jonghyun #kim jonghyun #i love you #cant believe its been a year..#you are the moon to my forever crashing waves #thank you

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beautifulbows924 · 6 years

Text

Signed Death Warrant

Kylo Ren X Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I know I suck I haven't gotten out requests or ships in a while. I'm trying I swear! I'll to get some out soon, but before that happens I thought up this angsty fic for all of you:)💕(Oh and the Tony Fanfiction won the poll, so I’m going to be writing that one first)🖤

Warnings: Anxiety, NON CON, DEPRESSED READER, and Fluffy Kylo/Matt (Is that really a warning though?).

Kylo hadn't even thought about going undercover. He actually had shot down the idea instantly.

Until, you completely shut him out.

He couldn't even get two words out of you without you walking away or telling him it was nothing.

He knew something was up with you, you were never that distant from him. At first he assumed the worst, that you were cheating on him, but when he saw you crying in your shared room he knew it couldn't have been that.

Up to a certain point he had tried to talk to you about million times, but you had kept on shutting him out.

He could feel your distress from halfway across the ship, you were both just linked like that. He just couldn't pinpoint what was going on to make you that way. And as hard as he might, you just wouldn't confide in him.

So he decided he would put on the stupid orange get up and see how long he could get away with it before someone noticed. More importantly before you noticed. You were a very observant person, most things didn't get the best of you.

However, he was hoping that in your current state of distress you wouldn't be able to see through his obvious facade.

Immediately when he walked into the dining hall he noticed you, slouched over, and seeming to be very upset.

He walked to you slowly afraid to scare you.

"Hi, I'm Matt", He said holding out his hand for you to shake.

You wiped away tears from your eyes he hadn't previously noticed, and shook his hand loosely still wet with tears, "I'm Y/N It's nice to meet you."

"Y/N!", Kylo heard someone yell to you you.

He watched as your eyes widened in fear and you let go of his hand, shaking a bit.

He turned to see who it was, an officer no doubt. He thought he remembered the officer's name was Burns, something like that.

All he really wanted to know was what had made you so scared, it made him angry and he had to pinch himself to keep his emotions in check.

You tried to calm yourself from shaking anymore when officer Burns came over.

"Break time is over Y/N, Follow me", He said, then looked over at Kylo and said,"and you get to your station immediately."

Kylo frowned when you turned the corner and he couldn't keep track of you anymore.

He was seething, but he sat down and waited for your return.

1 Week Earlier:

————————————————————————

You were to be delivering news to General Hux of a battle that was supposed to take place within the next 2 days or so.

But when a officer with a higher ranking stopped you and asked you to come look at a malfunctioning camera in the West hall, you thought nothing of it.

Well that is until he forcefully shoved you into a supply closet.

He all, but ripped your pants off, touching you where only your knight should. You tried to scream, but he told you that he would have you discharged if you attempted such again.

Silent tears rolled down your cheeks as he used you.

Afterwards you felt so- so guilty. You couldn't even look your boyfriend in the eyes. It was all your fault and if he found out he would leave you.

This continued for about 3 days before you tried to tell General Hux.

“General, could I speak with you?”, You asked him.

“Yes, but may I inquire into what matter could be important enough to pull me from my duties?”

“This is not a conversation for the public.”

“If it has anything to do with your Emo barbie please leave me out of it, I see enough of him already”, He said with an annoyed tone.

“It doesn’t”, You said through gritted teeth.

You waited for him off to the side until he finally led you to his office.

You told him of what happened with Burns, but he said that you would need more than a he said, she said, accusation to prove his guilt.

You wished he would have believed you, because the next time you saw Burns he knew you had tried to tell on him and he let you have it.

He even gave you a black eye, but thankfully you were able to cover it well enough with makeup to where Kylo didn't notice.

You felt bad that you hadn't told Kylo and you really wanted to, but ever since Hux shut you down you believed that he wouldn't believe you either.

You cried in your shared bedroom almost everyday wishing for something to happen. Praying that you wouldn’t have to see Burns ever again.

But you didn't want Kylo to leave you, and that's exactly what he would do if he found out.

So, you gave him the cold shoulder, shutting him out of your life, shutting everything out of your life.

Present Day:

————————————————————————

Burns led you to your least favorite place in the whole ship.

And started his terrible assault on your body.

You wished for Kylo to come and save you, but you knew that your black cloaked night was off fighting the resistance. He had told you goodbye yesterday letting you know he would be gone for a couple of days.

You didn't care about where he was, you still tried to reach out to him. 'Kylo Help', You thought as loud as you could.

Kylo was still in the dining hall waiting your return when he heard, 'Kylo Help' in his mind. He instantly recognized the voice as yours and rushed to try to find you.

He walked down the hallways looking for you, trying to search for you through the force.

He tossed the wig and his glasses to the side, and pulled his lightsaber from his boot.

He still couldn't find you.

He hit the wall angrily, putting a crack in it.

But that's when he heard a faint scream coming from down the hall, and what sounded like a "Shut Up."

He walked to a supply closet and felt your force through the door.

He swung the door open and what he saw will forever be scarred into his brain.

You were crying, eyes closed, a blooded lip and a black eye gracing your normally intact features.

Burns had his hands all over you.

‘Well now he won’t have hands’, Kylo thought.

“You just signed your death warrant Burns”, Kylo roared, glaring at him harshly and throwing him against a wall a couple times.

You looked up and saw Kylo, wearing an orange jumpsuit, less his mask.

You were suprized to say the least.

Burns dropped to the ground instantly after Kylo let his hold on him go, as if to grovel, but instead had both of his hands chopped off by Kylo’s now ignited lightsaber.

Burns screamed out in pain, causing a couple storm troopers to make their way over.

“Take him to the torture chamber”, Kylo said unwaveringly.

The man screamed and kicked as they dragged him down the hallway.

As soon as he was gone, Kylo was at your side.

He looked at you with a large amount sadness shown in his big brown eyes.

You sighed a heavy sigh and looked down, not wanting to meet his heavy gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?.”

“Yes”, You said.

“Don’t be this is my fault if I had been here and was paying more attention to you-“.

“No, but I should have told you.”

“You weren’t able to, I understand that.”

“Just know that nothing will make me leave you, Okay?”, He said a softness gracing his frequently harsh features.

“Ok”, You whispered.

“I’ll always protect you”, He said wrapping his arms around you, and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I wish I would have told you and not Hux- I just thought that since he was the next highest officer, that he would do something about it”.

“I’m going to kill him”, Kylo muttered.

Let’s just say the ginger never heard the end of it, now having Kylo as his permanent torturer.

And speaking of torture you never heard of officer Burns ever again.

————————————————————————

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