#and nina is like ‘you’ve known my name for like three months??????’

[incorrectsibunaquotes]

KT and Nina randomly being college roommates is canon, I don’t care that the odds are super slim. I think it’s fate.

#and they go wayyyy too long not knowing #i feel like kt would randomly have eddie or patricia or someone visit her at school #and when she’s like ‘my roommate’s kinda weird but she’s really nice i think you’ll like her’ & then they walk in & everyone just freezes #or nina mentions going to school in england and kt is like ‘damn that’s crazy me too!’ #and then they compare notes and kt just screams ‘WAIT YOURE NINA????’ #and nina is like ‘you’ve known my name for like three months??????’ #idk there’s just so many funny ways that this could go down #the funniest is lowkey that they get along so well that they live together all four years #but no one from anubis has the chance to come visit until their graduation #and they all freak out like #‘WHY DID YOU GUYS NEVER MENTION IT???’ #and nina + kt are like #‘we didn’t know???’ #anyway canon!!! #house of anubis #nina martin #kt rush

[thebadgerclan]

Sister

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sister!reader 

Summary: No one knew that Kaz had a sister...

Idk why or how I came up with this, but I loved the idea too much not to write

Also third person just fit this one lol, I’m not the biggest fan, but let me know what you guys think

No one knew that Kaz Brekker had a sister, few people even knew about his older brother.  But he had: back when he was Kaz Rietveld, the only thing on his mind being whether he could convince Jordie to buy him a hot chocolate, there had been a third Rietveld.  Jordie, the eldest, entrusted with his father’s fortune, Kaz, the impressionable, joyful young boy, and Y/N, only a year Kaz’s junior.

When the firepox came, and Kaz succumbed to the fever, she had as well.  And when Kaz woke to find Jordie cold beneath his touch, her body had been nowhere in sight.  Was she dead, or had she somehow survived?  It was easier to assume the former, for Kaz to forge ahead alone in the world.  All three Rietveld siblings died then, but only Kaz was reborn, vengeance burning like an inferno in his heart.  For Jordie, for Y/N, he would bring Ketterdam to its knees.

Years later, Kaz would learn that she had indeed survived.  After the plague had passed, a pair of Ravkan nobles arrived in Ketterdam, offering to take in the orphans the firepox had created.  “It was a Ravkan ship that brought it,” they said.  “If our country can give these children a life, then we will take them.”  She’d been one of the first children taken, adopted by the Duke and Duchess themselves.  Y/N had been raised in Ravka: learned their language, their customs, their faith.  And when she came of age, she was presented to court, as all the children of nobility were, to make a good marriage.  

Y/N had been lucky.  She had not only made an advantageous match, but she’d found true love as well.  Her new husband doted on her night and day, granting her every wish.  And when she wished to discover whether her brothers had survived the Queen’s Lady Plague all those years ago, she discovered her husband had many connections in which to obtain that information.

It hadn’t been easy, but Y/N’s husband had found him.  Kaz wasn’t a common name, after all.  When he’d received the letter, he’d thought it a joke, but as he read on, he realized the letter contained details that no one but his sister could have known.  Kaz, it said.  If you’re reading this, then I want you to know that I’m alive.  I was adopted and taken to Ravka after the firepox passed.  If I’d have known you survived, I would have insisted they take you too.  But I had no clue where you were or if you and Jordie had made it.

I want you to know that I’m alive, that I’m safe.  Life in Ravka has been good to me; I’m married now!  Saints, I think you’d adore my husband, the two of you are exactly the same.  At least… how I remember you to be.  Please, Kaz, write back to me.  Let me know that you’re alive, that you’ve survived, that I haven’t been mourning you for no reason for 15 years.  I’m afraid I can’t disclose too much about my life in writing, but if you give a letter to a woman named Lila at the Ravkan embassy, she’ll ensure it gets to me.  I love you, brother, time has not changed that.  -Y/N.

There had been no last name affixed, no address, so naturally, Kaz’s interest was piqued.  For months, he corresponded with her through Lila, learning more about who she was,  her life in Ravka, and who she’d married.  It interested him not only because the information might be useful one day, but because Y/N was family, she was his sister.  Indeed, the information was useful, as Kaz and his Crows had been tasked with a nearly impossible job.

A Shu priest had hired Kaz to steal what she claimed was a relic of Sankt Kho, one that had been taken from the temples of Amhrat Jen decades ago.  But, as Nina so aptly pointed out, breaking into the Grand Palace’s religious archives would break at least a dozen Ravkan laws.  “We’d be arrested immediately and labeled as heretics as well as criminals.  The Apparat himself would try to oversee our executions.”

“I have a way around that,” Kaz had said, but Nina wasn’t convinced.  “Do you?  I know your tricks Kaz.  Those archives are guarded day and night, there’s one way in and one way out, no windows, no secondary escapes.  Do you think you can waltz right in and take Sankt Kho’s relic?”  “Not quite waltz, but yes.”  The Heartrender snarled.  “Short of a letter from the Queen of Ravka, there’s no possible way you can get in there alone.  Do you have that, Kaz?”

“Actually I do.”  Jesper, Inej, and Wylan looked on with disbelief.  “All Saints, you can admit defeat, you know?  We won’t judge you!”  Kaz pulled a letter from his coat and tossed it on the table.  It bore the Lantsov seal and the Queen’s signature, and Nina gaped.  “And how did you manage to get your hands on this?”  Kaz, if there’s ever anything you need, know that I will use the full extent of my powers to help you.  I couldn’t help you before, brother, so let me help you now.  Of course, if it’s blatant murder, then I’ll have to deny.  We can’t have the Queen of Ravka tied up in a homicide, now can we?  “Because,” Kaz said, hesitant to reveal this, the ace up his sleeve, his final secret.  “She’s my sister.”

#kaz brekker x reader #platonic ship #shadow and bone fanfiction #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone reader insert

[triptuckers]

Two Homes (part 1/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: nope! Pairing:  Nikolai Lantsov x reader  Summary:  you live in Ketterdam, and your life is alright. things get excited however, when you receive royal mail Warnings: none Word count:  2K A/N: first time doing a (mini) series and I am ✨ nervous ✨ but this idea has been sitting in my drafts for too long and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m planning on writing seven parts :) enjoy reading!  PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST: @godsofwriting @im-constantly-fangirling add yourself to my tag lists here 

You would always be torn between leaving Ketterdam, and staying in the city. You have a good life, it’s comfortable. Given that your father is one of the wealthiest merchants of the city, you could basically get anything you wanted. You had more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime.

But still, you weren’t happy. Your father may have a lot of kruge, he certainly didn’t have a heart of gold. All your life you’ve known him as a greedy, rude and unfair man. You’d give up all of your kruge in a blink of an eye if you could trade it for a different life. 

Your friends didn’t understand. They told you to be grateful. That many would kill to live in a mansion like you do, and to have the amounts of money your family has. But you had learned wealth doesn’t always mean happiness.

For years, you watched as your father treated people like garbage, simply because they didn’t have enough money in his eyes. He’d blackmail people, or worse. You couldn’t stand it.

Which is why you decided to join the Dregs a couple of years ago. In secret, of course. Your father doesn’t know. You took every precaution necessary to prevent him from finding out. You’d rather not find out all the things he’d be capable of. 

With the help of the Crows, you’d been stealing small bits of your father’s fortune. You either give it to the Dregs or transfer it to your own personal bank account, one your father didn’t have access to. 

To keep your identity a secret, only a few Dregs know your true identity. You use a fake name and whenever you’re at the Crow Club or the Slat, you wear your hood pulled down as low as possible, hiding your face from curious eyes. All precautions because you know all too well what gang members would do with a rich merchant’s daughter. 

You like hanging out at the Crow Club. Mostly because the Crows don’t treat you like a merchant’s daughter. They treat you like, well, Y/N. To them, you’re one of their own. And you’re glad they’re your friends. 

The Crow Club is also a place where you can relax. At home, you’re always on your toes, keeping a close eye on your father. He had the annoying habit of marching into your room unannounced. When you told him you wanted a lock on your door, he merely laughed it away. 

So, yes, you’d prefer the Crow Club full of thieves, gamblers and other criminals to the mansion you live in.

Of course, your father doesn’t know you spend most of your time at the Club. You take longer walks, you make sure you’re not followed, and conceal your face whenever you make your way to the Barrel. 

Once inside the Club, you walk to your usual table, and there’d always be someone around to join you.

Right now, you’re sitting at the table with Nina and Jesper. Enjoying a drink and a game of cards. You’re happy to be amongst your friends, laughing at their jokes and beating them at cards.

You look up when you see a familiar redhead approach your table.

‘Hi Wylan!’ you say as you enthusiastically wave at him. Wylan smiles at you as he sits down next to Jesper. Jesper raises his hand at the bartender to order another round of drinks as Wylan shrugs off his coat.

‘I’ve got something for you.’ says Wylan, while looking at you.

You raise your eyebrows in question as you finish your drink. ‘Watch out, Jesper, I might steal your boyfriend.’ you chuckle.

‘Oh, no, you won’t.’ says Jesper, reaching out and pulling Wylan's chair closer to his own, making Wylan blush.

‘He’s going to ask me out on a date, I can see it on his face.’ you say, failing to keep a straight face. 

‘What? No!’ says Wylan, looking from you to Jesper. ‘No, I’m not asking you out on a date, I’ve got a letter for you.’ 

You frown. ‘You’ve got a letter for me?’ you say. ‘Why wasn’t it just delivered to my house?’

‘I don’t know.’ says Wylan. ‘Someone stopped me in the street and told met to give it to you. They said it was urgent.’

‘How did they know you knew where to find me?’ you ask him as you take your new drink the bartender passes you.

Wylan shrugs. ‘I don’t know. She had a pretty heavy Ravkan accent, though. I tried to read the address to confirm it was yours, but I couldn't.’ he says. You notice a slight blush on his cheeks, but ignore it.

‘Is the letter from Ravka as well?’ you say.

‘I think so.’ says Wylan, finally pulling the letter out of his coat pocket. ‘I mean, it’s got a pretty distinctive seal on the back of it.’ 

Before you can ask him anything else, Jesper snatches the letter out of Wylan’s hand, looking at it. 

‘Why would a Ravkan send you a letter?’ he chuckles, flipping the envelope around in his hands. When his eyes fall on the seal, they widen. ‘Correction.’ says Jesper, while looking at you. ‘Why would a Lantsov send you a letter?’

Now your eyes widen as well. ‘What?’ you say. ‘That has to be some kind of joke.’

You lean over the table and take the envelope out of Jesper’s hands. You take another sip of your drink as you look at the seal on the back of it. Indeed, the Lantsov double eagle is on it. 

‘Nina.’ you say, turning to her next to you and handing her the envelope so she can look at it as well. ‘Do you have any idea as to why your king would send me a letter?’ 

Nina looks at the seal as well, running a finger over it. ‘I don’t know.’ she says. ‘But this looks like a legitimate seal, though. It’s on the ones I get as well. I don’t get a lot of them, but I do recognise that seal. This isn’t a fake.’

She hands it back to you and your flip it over in your hand. When you look up, you see all three of your friends looking at you. 

‘Why would he send me a letter, though?’ you wonder out loud. ‘And how does he even know I exist? Or where to find me?’

‘Well, after all, you are a merchant’s daughter.’ says Jesper.

‘Shh!’ you quickly say. ‘We’re still in the Crow Club, Jes!’

Jesper quickly apologises, looking around to see if anyone heard him. But the people around you are too caught up in their own drinks and games to have heard anything you were saying. 

‘But why would the king of Ravka keep track of Kerch merchants? He only approaches the merchant council for loans. And if he needs to contact them, he sends letters directly to the members of the council.’ you say. 

‘Well, you won’t know until you open it.’ says Nina. ‘Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t even know you.’

‘You’ve got a point.’ you say. ‘And I can’t deny I'm curious.’

Slowly, you open the envelope, pulling out a short letter. You’re well aware of all of their eyes on you as you read the message.

“Dear miss Y/F/N Y/L/N,

My name is Nikolai Lantsov (as you probably would have guessed upon seeing the wax seal on the envelope), I’ll spare the ink and not name all of my titles. Though my triumvirate would like me to. 

I am writing you to tell you I am hosting a ball, one week from now, at the Grand Palace in Os Alta, Ravka. You are hereby invited to attend said ball, at the end of which I will choose a bride.

I await your response, and I promise there will be good wine.

Yours sincerely,

King Nikolai Lantsov, of Ravka”

You read the letter over and over again, trying to get the words to sink in. Nikolai Lantsov himself wrote you an invitation. To a ball at the Grand Palace. And he’d choose a bride. Someone to be his queen.

You snort and throw the letter on the table.

‘Well, that was interesting to read.’ you say.

Jesper moves to pick up the letter, but Nina is faster. Wylan and Jesper lean in closer, and she softly reads the letter out loud. You see looks of surprise and confusion on their faces as Nina reads the letter.

When she’s done, they all look at you in confusion. You chuckle and take the letter from Nina’s hands, folding it and tucking it in your pocket. 

‘Do you think I could sell this to the highest bidder?’ you say. ‘It’s got an authentic Lantsov signature on it.’

‘Why on earth would you do that?’ says Jesper.

You look at him. ‘You don’t seriously think I’ll go?’ you say.

‘Duh!’ says Jesper. ‘Why not? Y/N, this is a king. And he’s inviting you to a ball. You could become queen!’

‘I have no intention of becoming queen.’ you say, finishing your drink. ‘Besides, I don’t want to leave Ketterdam.’

‘I bet Os Alta is a whole lot nicer than Ketterdam, though.’ says Wylan.

‘And have a servant do every little thing for me? Eat the finest food all day every month? Go to balls and war meetings? No thank you.’ you say.

‘Why do you talk about it as if it’s a bad thing?’ says Wylan.

‘Because I told you, I have no intention of going to a ball and becoming queen. If you’re asking me, I think writing that letter was a waste of ink and paper.’ you tell them. ‘Besides, if he’s smart, he’s going to marry a Fjerdan or Shu princess to establish an alliance. Even if I wanted to go, there’s no way he’d pick an ordinary Kerch merchant’s daughter to be his queen.’

‘A word of advice?’ says Nina. 

You look at her and motion for her to keep on talking. 

‘I’ve met Nikolai several times. He’s a good man. Would it really be that bad to even attend? You’re not agreeing to marrying him, you’re just going to a ball. Why not give him a chance?’ she says.

‘Because I think balls are a waste of time. And money. And simply because I don’t want to play dress up and act like a perfect daughter.’ you say, getting up and putting on your coat.

‘At least think about it?’ says Nina.

‘For your sake, I will.’ you say. ‘I’ll even pretend like I haven’t made my decision yet.’

‘It’ll be great for your reputation!’ says Jesper as you move through the crowd toward the door.

‘I’m not going to Os Alta!’ you yell at him over your shoulder. When you’re at the door, you wave goodbye at them and head outside. It’s a particular cold night, and you wrap your coat tighter around you and pull your hood further down.

Somehow the invitation feels like lead as it sits in your pocket. So Nikolai Lantsov himself invited you to the Grand Palace. Though you’re flattered, you’ve already made up your mind. 

You’re not going to Os Alta. After all, what could be waiting for you there that you couldn’t find in Ketterdam? You’ve got very good friends here, plenty of kruge, and you live in a mansion. 

Surely Os Alta couldn’t offer you more than that?

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#is this what the invitations said??? I have no idea #do I care? no. am I gonna get the book to see if there is a written invitation in there? also no I'm gonna freestyle it #I'm so excited to write this !!! #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov fanfics #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fics #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fics #two homes series

[viking-raider]

The Crimson Sun - Mature

Summary: Everything had been perfect with you and August after the Crimson Moon, until they weren’t.

Pairing: August Walker/You

Word Count: 8,257

Rating: Mature - Language, Angst, Soft!August, Trauma, PTSD, Mentions of Terrorism, Grief, Regret, Depression, Night Terrors, Smut - Fingering (F - Receiving), Oral (M - Receiving), Reconciliation

Prequel: The Crimson Moon

Inspiration: The Crimson Moon, that was an Anon ask that @littlefreya​​​ received (x)

Author’s Note: Tell me what you think!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @wardl0w, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @bellastellaluna, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @itsreigns​, @constip8merm8​, @scorpionchild81​, @mylifefallingupthestairs​, @onlyhenrys​, @luclittlepond​, @ellixthea​, @lebguardians​, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn​, @p3nny4urth0ught5​, @iloveyouyen​, @hollydaisy23​, @mcuimagination​, @psychosupernatural​, @sweetlybigdragonn​, @whitewolfandthefox​, @moviemonzy​, @the-soot-sprite​, @hell1129-blog​, @trippedmetaldetector​, @captaingothgirl1996​, @dont8mind8me8eue​, @peaky-marvel​, @desperate-and-broken21​, @monstersnmoney​, @dancingwendigo​, @redhot-mystacism​, @thereisa8ella​, @black-ninja-blade​, @oddduckthatgirl​, @rosewinx​, @henrythickcavill​, @tinabean37​, @hnryycvll​, @msblkfire84​, @romangenesius​, @emelinelovesjc​, @strangerliaa​, @lovieebby​, @pinksdaydream​, @fanfictionaddiction99​, @seb-owns-these-tatas​, @oh-for-fic-sake​, @sauvage-et-libre​, @mis-lil-red​, @angreav​, @crazyandanonymous4u​, @the-mighty-jellybean​ @henrycavell​, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​, @iam-laiya​, @worshipping-skarsgard​, @thetruthandotherstories​, @ruthoakenshield​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @theonetheycallhannah​, @nina-skyee​, @thatgirly81​, @inanna999​, @suueeeeeee​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8​, @beckster07890​, @daddys-littlewhitegirl​, @magic-and-the-macabre​, @stxphmxlls​, @radaofrivia​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @starstruckkittyangel​, @heartfelt-pen​, @stuckupstucky​, @dummiesshort​, @la-cey​, @singeramg​, @queenoftheworldisdead​, @brooklymw​, @raspberrydreamclouds​,

“August.”

You whimpered in your sleep, head thrashing on your pillow. “August.”

“Baby.”

“August!” You screamed, snapping upright.

“It's all right, baby.”

A deep and sleepy voice whispered, a heavy and sluggish arm wrapped around your waist and slid you over to a heavy body, warm from sleep and the down winter blankets, to fend off the icy cold of the bedroom and the three feet of snow outside.

“Ssshh, lay down with me.”

A second arm coaxed you over the strong and muscular body, palm cupping the back of your head as you buried your face into a warm chest, a silent and choked sob muted in your throat, snot from your nose making a mess of the hair there, the solid and real thump of a heart against your cheek. A blanket was pulled over you, creating a cocoon, against the cold and the world outside of it, as strong and broad palms rubbed and pressed firm circles, up and down your back, fingers brushing through your hair, soothing your frightened and shell shocked body into relaxing.

“I'm right here.” August whispered, coddling you tenderly. “I haven't left you, Angel.”

August had grown accustomed to your night terrors by now, they'd been happening every night for the last three months, ever since the accident in Kashmir. He would stay awake for hours after you fell asleep, caressing your cheek and hair, keeping you tucked against his body, so you could feel the touch of his skin, the warmth of his body and the beat of his heart, making sure you knew he was still there with you, by your side, alive and healthy.

He was your Guardian Angel, he always had been and he always would be.

You rubbed your cheek against his snotty chest and let out a shaky breath, shivering against his body as you laid on top of August, the only place you really felt safe, in his arms. “I'm-I'm sorr--”

“Ssshh, Angel. It's all right, I keep telling you that.” August replied, kissing the top of your head and giving you a reassuring squeeze. “I can't have you being afraid. What kind of husband would I be, hm?” He cooed at you, the soft hairs of his mustache brushing your forehead.

“If I let you be afraid?”

August entered the spacious apartment you both shared, you had moved in with August a month after dating. It was a simple and minimalist apartment, the walls were a warm gray color, the floors, glazed concrete, a curved, seventy inch and mounted tv on the wall, in front of a lazy boy, big enough for two, you and August loved cuddling on the massive recliner, while watching your shows. The rest of the apartment was similar, other than August's decked out office for his business as a CIA Agent, and his even more secret work as the Chief Apostle, John Lark.

The room with the most attention to detail, was the bedroom, with a massive and elevated bed. You had slept in August's bed one night, before he tossed the mattress he had and bought the best and top of the line mattress to replace it. You had been severely injured on one of your first operative missions, which caused two pinched nerves in your left hip and bad lower back, so after that first night you woke up stiff and in agony. August wasn't going to stand for that, he didn't care how much money he had to spend on a mattress, as long as you were comfortable, pain-free and slept well.

“Angel?” He called out.

August had never called you by your name, first, last or middle for that matter. When you first met, he addressed you as You or Girl. After you started dating, August started calling you; baby, darling and sometimes, Bug. He'd call you, Sweet Buns, if he was in a mood, but, his go to was simply, Angel. You were his Angel, his beam of light, in a world that had been nothing but darkness and pain to him since he was four years old.

“Angel.” He called out again, brows creasing.

He knew you were home, your car was in its spot, your shoes by the front door and your favorite coat was hung up. He mounted the stairs to the second floor and carefully moved down the hallway, like a panther stalking its prey. August found the bedroom door for half open, the light on, but didn't hear anything on the other side, so he slowly pushed it open with one hand, while the other reached to the gun on his hip, expecting something bad. But, the bedroom was empty as well, his paranoid and suspicious nature starting to elevate, but he kept his usual calm and cool nature pristine.

“Angel?” He said in his normal tone of voice, carefully sliding the gun from its holster and thumbing open the safety.

“Gus?” You replied, coming out of the walk-in closet, holding something in your hand.

“What do you have there, Bug?” He asked, clicking the safety back on his gun and holstering it again, relaxing, seeing you were all right.

You held out your hand and August's face went slack. “Is this?” You looked up at him, jittery.

“You weren't supposed to find that.” August sighed, taking a box from you. “Were you snooping?” He asked, giving you a sly and mischievous smirk.

“No, I was packing.” You told him, blinking at him. “Moore contacted me an hour ago, with a contract for MI6, they're sending me to do some work in Belgium.” You explained to him, seeing that alerted look in his blue eyes.

August had well hidden and cultivated abandonment issues, from his father running out on him and his abusive mother, as a child. So, every time you told him you were packing to go somewhere for work, that little plant in his belly would bloom. You smiled at him, gripping his wrist and giving it three squeezes. That little blooming plant was never spoken about. You tried talking to August about it once, and it ended up with him flying into a rage and disappearing for a week, and when he came back he was a complete mess.

So, you'd developed a reassuring tick with him, touching him three times in any way, a squeeze or a tap, even kisses, if the situation allowed it.

“How long are you going to be gone?” August asked, gripping the box in his hand.

“At least a month.” You informed him.

“Well, this isn't at all how I planned it.” He sighed, releasing it and flipping open the black suede lid. “Angel,” He smiled brightly at you, dropping to a knee. “Will you marry me?”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and you cupped his scruffy face in your hands. “August Walker, wants to get married? Who is this impostor?” You teased him.

He had told you flat out, on the first date, to never expect anything more than a boyfriend and girlfriend relationship, marriages were too messy and clingy, traceable and always fell apart.

“I know, I'm breaking my own code and rules on the matter.” He chuckled at you, turning his head to kiss one of your palms. “But, you've made me a changed man, Angel. I want to marry you, I want to keep you forever and ever.”

You felt giddy. “Yes, August. I'll marry you.” You giggled, excited at the prospect of being his wife.

The two of you married that afternoon, just the two of you, no one else in the world mattered. It was seven months after the Crimson Moon, and everything felt so good and peaceful.

It lasted like that for almost three years, three blissful years of marriage, kicking ass and taking names, for the CIA and MI6. But, both of you should have known better, having lived the lives you had, before and during undercover work.

It all started to crumble, when you got the missive at your accustomed drop off for them. Your hands shook and grew damp as you held the manila folder with the name, John Lark, type on the lip with a typewriter.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” You mumbled, stuck in a loop and shaking. “Oh fucking god.”

You couldn't bring yourself to open it.

Shoving the folder into your bag, you scrambled back home, August was away on his own mission with Ethan Hunt, somewhere in Paris. You paced the apartment, spiraling between the deepest despair, furious rage and blinding tears, screaming at the top of your lungs; luckily your neighbors were used to August making you scream, and a variety of other noises that came out of the apartment, when you were both home together.

Finally, you just melted into a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor, knowing you had no choice, but to track down your own husband.

Once you pulled yourself together, you opened the folder, still sitting on the kitchen floor. There were archive photos on the Apostles, all blurred and barred, but you quickly identified August in nearly all of them, it was a wonder how no one put two and two together already. His signature mustache was as immaculate as ever, even back then, his height and build, that made your body react despite being in severe shock and it being a photograph.

“Damn it, August.” You sighed, finally getting to the mission report.

'John Lark, radical leader of the Apostles, splinter group from Solomon Lane's now dismantled, Syndicate.' Read the start of the report. 'Lark is credited with what is called, the Manifesto.'

You flipped over the report and saw the declassified copy of the Manifesto and the first line alone made you shiver. 'There has never been peace without first a great suffering, the greater the suffering, the greater the peace.'

“What the fuck have you been up too, Gus.” You asked aloud, rubbing the side of your face and going back to the rest of the report.

'Lark and his Apostles have already released the deadly agent, Smallpox, to kick start their Manifesto for world peace. Intel has reported that John Lark would be seeking a person only known as, the white widow, in Paris, in an attempt to retrieve three Plutonium cores and fashion them into some of the strongest bombs, since the Atomic bomb, during World War II.'

Your eyes were fixed on the last line, August, your beloved husband, was trying to make bombs to destroy half of the world, all in the frightening name of peace. It felt like someone was pouring ice cold water down your back, remembering all those nights in bed, after rounds and rounds of mind blowing sex, how August always promised that he would make the world a better place for you, tenderly playing with you hair and kissing your forehead and temple, til you drifted off to sleep.

To think this was what he had been doing in those long nights holed up in his office. Making the world a better place..

“For me.” You dropped back against the door of the dishwasher and stared down at the stupidly expensive wedding ring on your finger, wondering how many people August had killed to buy it for you.

Sighing, you unclasped a gold necklace August had bought you for your last birthday and slipped your wedding onto it, before slipping it back around your neck. You always put it there, when you were about to go on a mission, for both security, if your enemy couldn't see a ring, then they wouldn't have something to leverage against you, and it still kept August close to your heart.

Going upstairs, you pulled out your carry size duffle bag and the locked case for your firearm, putting on your holster and securing your gun to your hip, checked the rest of the kit you took with you and packed it with a couple pairs of clothing. Before you headed out to hunt August down, you stopped, picked up the report on Walker and Lark, shredded it and burned it in the fire grate, covering up any traces of having the file.

“Marco, it's me.” You said, getting into your car. “I'm going on vacation, can you make sure the plane's ready for me. Thanks.” You pulled out of your parking spot, looking up at the apartment that had been home for the last five years and wondered if you would ever see it again.

“How about a nice and warm cup of tea?” August asked, nuzzling your hair and knowing it was going to be a little while before you managed to fall back to sleep.

“Okay.” You whimpered, your voice distant and detached, the nightmare playing over and over in your mind.

Nodding and kissing your hair once more, August let you slip out of his embrace and got up, making sure your little blanket cocoon stayed intact as he did, knowing that being hidden in the blankets made the world feel smaller and less heavy for you. Biting his bottom lip against the hiss of icy needles shooting up his bare feet, the fire in the grate had long since died, so the raging blizzard outside had been able to reach its claws into the rest of the house as August padded his way downstairs to the modest kitchen. He pulled your favorite cup and tea down from the cabinet, filled the kettle and set it on the gas stove burner. He stood in the kitchen, staring out the huge breakfast nook window, seeing nothing but a blanket of snow on the ground and everything else blurred by the flurry of snow, whipping around the secluded house, it made August feel like he was trapped in a snow-globe.

He hated snow-globes.

Even though he was naked and his skin rippled with chills, August didn't move from his spot to find warmth. He felt that he didn't deserve it.

“I don't deserve it.” He answered his conscious back. “Not for what I've done to her.” He whispered into the white void in front of him.

Your words from Kashmir still echoed in his skull.

“August!”

He was making his way to the helicopter, he only had fifteen minutes to get away from the village, before it was too late, when he heard your voice. At first, he thought that it was just his imagination, it had a habit of conjuring your voice when he was about to do something dangerous, his little canary.

“August, stop!”

He froze, that wasn't his imagination.

His blue eyes steadily started to grow and a tight chill gripped his heart as he slowly started to turn around, praying under his breath that he was just hearing things, projecting your voice over Hunt's. But, no. There you were, standing a yard away, your gun trained on him and an utterly crushed expression on your exhausted face, you hadn't slept well, to not at all, for the week you had been tracking him down.

You could have just called him, like you always had, when you decided to join him on a mission, but you knew August all too well and he knew you even better. The moment he heard your voice, he would know something was up.

“What are you doing here?” He snapped at you, looking up the hill behind you, seeing Hunt appear on the crest. “Fuck.” He mumbled under his breath, then held his hand out to you. “Come on, you have to come with me.”

“No, August.” You shook your head at him, blinking the blinding tears out of your eyes. “Give me the fail safe, August.” You held out your own hand.

“I can't, Angel.” He replied, shaking his head back at you and gripping the device tighter.

“Please, August. Don't do this.” You begged him, your hands starting to shake. “You don't have to do this.”

“But I do, Angel.” August let out a shaky breath. “I'm doing this for you, for us.”

“I don't want this!” You barked at him, exasperated and wounded.

“I'm going to do it anyway, come with me. It's not safe here, Angel.” He tried convincing you.

“No, August.” You shook your head at him. “I won't be able to live with this. Is it more important for you to 'bring great suffering for the greater good' than my own conscious is?”

“No, Angel. It's not.” He gulped, thickly.

“Then, give me the fail safe, August.” You motioned for it. “Stop this, if not for the greater good, but for me. There's still time to fix this!”

August looked between you and the fail safe clutched tightly in his hand, you could see him starting to relax, slowly making up his mind about giving you the fail safe to the two bombs that were armed and ready to be set to their fifteen minute detonation countdown. He took a careful step towards you, and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding since getting the mission to take August down.

“Walker!” A voice behind you screamed, sounding very pissed.

“No.” You whimpered, watching the stubborn and cold expression wash over August's face and eyes. “August, no!” You yelled at him, as he turned on his heel and started marching towards the helicopter he was going for, when you stopped him.

He got into the helicopter and it was like he didn't see you anymore, his eyes glued to someone charging up behind you. You dropped your arms to your sides, defeated, and heartbroken as you watched the helicopter fly away. The person that snapped August into his John Lark alter-ego slid to a stop beside you, looking after his helicopter as well, huffing and puffing, then looked at you.

“Who are you?”

“Ethan Hunt, I'm assuming.” You asked, a steely coldness washing over you, purely a defense mechanism against the turmoil brewing and raging inside of you.

“The same.” He answered, frowning at you.

“I'm an agent for MI6, tasked with stopping one John Lark, also known as August Walker.” You told him, your voice toneless. “And you just fucked that up, along with my life.” You hissed, turning on a dime and marching back to the helicopter you had arrived in, resolved to go after August before he could start the countdown.

'Is it more important for you to 'bring great suffering, for the greater good' than my own conscious.'

The whistle of the kettle pulled August out of his thoughts with a full body quiver of cold and guilt. He pulled the kettle off the fire and poured the steaming hot water into your prepared cup, then turned off the stove, setting the kettle on the cold back burner. He held your cup between his hands, driving out some of the cold from his chilled body; so cold now, that his cock felt like concrete. Sighing, August took the hot cup back upstairs to you, sitting your tea on the bed stand, then turned to the cold fireplace. Squatting down, August pulled out several logs from the firewood box, by the fireplace, and set about stacking them on the ashes of the previous fire, with an almost OCD-like precision. He stayed there for a minute or two, ensuring that the fire caught the oak logs, adding another log for good measure, before standing back up and sitting on the edge of the bed, where the lump of your body was in the mound of blankets.

“You can come out now, Angel.” He whispered, rubbing your leg through the blankets. “I got the fire going again, it'll be warm soon.”

Sighing, you fold back the blankets from over your head and look up at him, your eyes are dim, bloodshot, red rimmed and lashes wet with tears. It crushed August every time he saw your face, knowing he was the reason and cause of all your trauma, heartache and tears. He cupped your cheek in his hand, gently wiping away the stray tears before they could dampen your cheeks anymore than they had already.

“I'm sorry.” He muttered, for what could have easily been the trillionth time.

You frowned up at him, then cast your eyes away from him, at least you could look at him for a moment or two now and stand him touching you. For the first month after Kashmir, it was hard for you to look at him, or anything that even belonged to August, much less stand his touch or hear the sound of his voice. August took all of it, bearing his punishment, you shying away from him, the silent treatment and the long, cold nights of an empty bed, because being in the same bed, the same room, as him was just too much for you to take. You still barely uttered a word to him, going from head shakes, sighs and shoulder shrugs to single, monosyllabic words.

You hadn't even wanted to do that, you thought, sitting up in bed and reaching out for your tea.

It was the third night in a row.

That you woke up from the new reoccurring nightmare. August missed the first one you had, being downstairs, staring at the bright screen of his laptop. The second one, he just stood in the hallway outside the door of the guest room you hold yourself inside of, listening. You had woken up him, crying out his name. At first, he feared they had found you and were trying to take you, ripping blankets off his body, nearly tearing his pillow in half to grab his gun that lived under it now and raced down the hall to you. But, when his fingertips touched the door to your room, he stopped dead and cold, you were gasping for breath, like you'd been choked by a powerful hand, choking on your tears and snot, hugging yourself, nails digging into the skin of your shoulders and drawing blood, your mind's feeble attempt to prove you were awake, as you rocked yourself back and forth, back and forth.

The third one, some part of you no longer cared, you needed to be next to August, you needed the warmth of his skin against your cold skin, you needed to feel the soft waves of his breathing against your shoulder and neck as he spooned you into his real and intact body, you needed to feel the pounding of his heart against your back or cheek.

It was the only thing that chased the dream away.

The cold wind that blew against your face as you looked out the open door of your helicopter, August's own helicopter nothing, but a black dot, against the snowy peaks in front of you. You leaned forward and bumped your fist against the aircraft pilot's shoulder, a signal, to go faster. Nodding his head, the pilot picked up speed, pushing the craft as fast as it could go; which wasn't fast enough for you. You frowned, hearing the whoosh of another helicopter's blades getting close to yours. Leaning out and looking back, you saw the third helicopter in time to see someone get thrown out of it.

“What the fuck?” You snapped as it caught up with yours.

You met the determined eyes of Ethan Hunt, who stared blankly back at you. Growling, you flipped Ethan the finger and sat back.

“Ignore him.” You told the pilot over the headset. “We don't change course or directive.”

'I just hope we make it to August, first.' You thought, keeping your eyes out the front windshield of the helicopter, on the steadily growing dot of August's.

“Here.” He whispered, taking a soft throw blanket off the back of a chair in the corner and laid it over your bare shoulders, as you sat in bed, sipping your tea. “Better?” He asked, tilting his head to see your down turned face.

“Yeah.” You nodded around the rim of your cup.

“Good.” He half smiled, moving around to the other side of the bed and slipping under the covers with you, seeking the fragile warmth he knew was there.

The room was quiet, except for your careful sips of the hot and flavorful liquid; August had perfected how you liked your tea, what felt like a lifetime ago, and the crackle and pops of the fireplace, the heat of which was finally beating the snowy cold back outside the walls of the master bedroom. Your mind wandered off to the only other subject it wanted to think about, how long would you and August be in hiding, here in the cabin he had hidden in the deep, snowy woods of Siberia. It had already been three months, and August had told you it would only take four, before everything died down, thinking August was dead.

But, that wouldn't stop what the agencies must be thinking about what happened to you, in the aftermath of Kashmir.

Hunt's helicopter managed to over take yours, much to your frustration and terror.

You were forced to hopelessly watch as Hunt tried dropping some type of payload on top of August's helicopter. Luckily, August's pilot was able to make an evasive maneuver and dodged it, sending the load crashing into a lake below. You had spots in your eyes from the levels of stress and migraines you had been suffering the last week of hunting your bull-headed husband down, always just one step behind him.

It wasn't until you ran into Ilsa, that you found out that August was heading to Kashmir, India, where he and Solomon Lane, who August helped break out and let loose, were planning on pulling off their coup de grâce, that the Syndicate had failed to finish, because of Hunt, and the Apostles were trying to finish, with the help of August and his damned Manifesto.

You slammed your tight fist down on your thigh, trying to control your temper as it bubbled up inside of you. You'd never forgive August Walker for putting you through this. You had begged him to keep you out of the Apostles' way. But, you had fallen on your own sword, when you fell in love with him and you had shot yourself in the foot, when you married him. You had broken the agency code and rules, 'don't fall for your enemy', and while August as himself wasn't your enemy, August as John Lark, was your enemy.

Why hadn't you just left him, when he told you the truth behind who John Lark really was? Why hadn't you had him cuffed, then and there, and taking in, to be interrogated and stopped, just like Lane had been?

The answer always came back the same, 'I love him.'

“Idiot.” You hissed out loud, catching the attention of the pilot. “Not you.” You barked at him, rolling your eyes.

You looked up and saw how close the three helicopters had gotten together, close enough for you to see tracer rounds and bullets flying out of the open door of August's helicopter and into Hunt's. It wasn't until almost too late, that the pilots realized how close to a mountain peak the three aircrafts were.

The pilot for August tried pulling back, which only caused Ethan to ram into the back of them, then domino into yours, all three colliding. Your helicopter nose dived, crashing into the other side of the peak and crushed the whole front of it, killing your pilot on impact. Hunt's flipped end over end, then rolled, while August's rolled and skidded to a stop, perilously close to the edge of the peak. He panted as his plane settled, and worked on trying to undo his seat belt, only to hear the rolling metal of Hunt's plane, still coming down the mountain side, slamming into his and sending them over the edge, to a shelf below.

Struggling for a moment and growling, you yanked the tactical switchblade out of your boot and cut yourself free of your seat belt, landing sideways on the roof of the upside down helicopter. Digging out some of the snow blocking the only way out of the wreck, you shimmied out of it and turned, blood running down the side of your face, your whole body throbbing and screaming, blood seeping through the shirt you were wearing, but you didn't bother looking at whatever the cause was. You had to get to August, just catching his and Hunt's helicopters colliding and slipping over the edge.

The cold was a blessing after all, as you trudged as quickly as you could to the edge, numbing away all your pain, psychically and emotionally, your mind too distracted on your target and mission to consider freezing or bleeding to death. Stumbling to the edge of the peak, you looked down and let out a breath of relief seeing August crawl out of his wreckage, mostly unharmed, but you also saw Ethan doing the same. You desperately tried to think of something to do, you couldn't yell, you were too far from them to hear you and the peak was too shear for you to try and rock climb down by hand.

So, you were forced to watch August and Ethan duke it out, fighting and fumbling in a dangerous game of cat and mouse, for the fail safe attached to August. You stopped breathing several times as you watched them get to the edge of the shelf, teetering, before righting themselves and moving away again. Ethan was finally able to grab the fail safe from August, both of them out of breath from their exertion and the high altitude. You watched them talk, too far to hear whatever it was they were discussing, no doubt trying to make a case for why each of them was right for what they were trying to do for the world. Ethan shook his head and August's body tensed with a rekindled rage, charging Hunt like a bull.

“August!”

You screamed, eyes huge as Ethan dodged out of the way and August went stumbling towards the edge, trying to stop himself, before he fell.

“August!” You screamed even louder.

He teetered for a moment, before the rock beneath him crumbled and he fell, your heart and stomach plummeting with him.

You had no idea how long you were out, or how long after watching August die, that you blacked out. But, when you woke up to an incessant and annoying beating sound in your ears, your exhausted mind became aware of how much pain you were in, a moment later, and whimpered, shifting and struggling.

“Hey now.” A soft voice called to you, a strong hand gripping yours. “You're all right now. You're safe, just calm down and rest.”

“August.” You mewled, the images of him falling flashing in your mind, like an old film reel. “Oh god, August.”

The hand holding yours let go, the sound of hard soled shoes clacking against linoleum, moving away, and a door opened, before the voice whispered to someone outside the room. “She's awake and calling for him.”

You lost consciousness again, only to wake a few minutes later, a warm palm cupping your bruised cheek, making you reach out and wrap a weak hand around a thick wrist. The room was quiet for a while, the only thing you were aware of was that warm hand cupping your face and the strong pulse against your own palm.

“August.” You whined, having drifted back off to sleep and dreaming about him again.

“Ssshh.” The owner of the hand replied. “I'm right here. Don't fret, Angel.”

Your eyes snapped open and you looked up to see August standing by your bedside, a soft and tired smile on his face. He had a black eye and a split lip, but other than that, he looked perfectly fine. You frowned, wincing at you did, and shook your head, not understanding.

How was he there with you, you had watched him fall, there was no way he could have survived.

Could he?

“August?” You choked around a lump of tearful confusion.

“Yeah, Angel.” He smiled at you, gingerly sitting down beside you.

“Ho-how?” You licked your split and chapped lips. “I watched you di--”

“No, Angel. I didn't die.” He chuckled at you, then winced, pressing a hand to his ribs. “I managed to catch myself on a small ledge, not too far down from the shelf.” He explained, reaching out to pick up a paper cup with a bendy straw in it, tenderly holding it to your lips, so you could wet your throat.

“Hunt thought I was dead, and got picked up by his crew.” He went on to explain to you. “You know how much of a cautious man I am, bug. All I had to do was hold on long enough for them to leave, then I took this handy little thing out of my pocket.”

He removed a small, square device out of his pocket, it had a button on it and a blinking red light above that, it looked like a car fob.

“It's a GPS locator.” August answered your silent question. “I press it and my Apostles will show up, wherever I am.” He told you, putting it back into his pocket. “It's a lucky thing for you too. They saw you laying out in the snow as they flew over to land on the shelf. Two of them climbed up and got you, while the others pulled me up. I didn't have anything more than a busted lip, black eye and a couple of broken ribs.”

You laid there listening to him, trying to connect all the information he was giving you.

“You, on the other hand, have a pretty nasty cut on your head.” He, very gingerly, touched his fingertips to the twelve stitches along your hairline. “You have a concussion and been out for a couple of days. But, this was the injury that made me fear for you.” He said, pulling down the hospital blankets and moving your hospital gown aside, revealing a ugly gash on your side and stomach, just above your hip, closed with a line of staples.

“Part of the door handle to your helicopter got dislodged in the wreck and went through your side.” He frowned at the wound, feeling overwhelming guilt. “You lost consciousness from the blood loss, and would have bled to death, if it wasn't for all the snow you were laying in, and the boys getting to you, when they did.”

That cast your net of alarm farther than just August being alive. “Where are we?” You asked, eyes darting around the dark room.

“Somewhere safe, don't you worry about that, Angel.” August assured you, fixing your gown and blankets. “It's the home base of the Apostles, we have one of the top doctors in the world in our fold. He's the one that stitched you up.” He said, sounding incredibly grateful for it.

“What about Hunt?” You asked, not reassured at all. “The CIA, MI6, everyone else? They know you're Lark, August. When they find out...”

“Ssshh.” He hushed you, shaking his head and patting your leg. “Don't worry about any of that, Angel. Let me worry about it. You just worry about resting and healing up. I have somewhere we can go, for a few months. Then, everything will calm down, in four or five months, and we'll go from there.”

“All right?” He smiled at you, leaning in to kiss you on the lips, but you turned your head, his lips meeting your cheek; it cut August to the quick.

“I know you're upset with me, for doing what I did.”

You stared out the half shaded window in your room, taking a deep breath of the overly clean air, and nodded your head. You needed time to think and process everything, the man you loved, that you bound yourself to with an 'I do', three years before, and had broken your trust. You knew, you weren't innocent in the matter, you had known who August really was and ignored it, bottling it up and pretending it wasn't real. A part of you, deep down inside, also knew that August would one day step over that line that would force you to choose.

Would you step away from August, still loving him, but unable to live with his actions and move on? Maybe, even turn him in.

Or

Would you decide to step over that line with him? You had promised and vowed, 'for better or for worse', and you had been through both with August.

You didn't know.

You wondered, if MI6 thought you also died in the crash on the mountain. But, they would investigate the area, they had to make sure August was dead, and would be suspicious, if they didn't find his body, and would probably start drawing speculations, when they didn't find yours, or when you didn't report in afterwards; telling them that you had miraculously survived and gotten off the mountain, somehow, on your own.

It all made your head hurt and made you feel like you were being slowly dragged down to hell.

Could you feign amnesia? Stockholm Syndrome? Blackmailed or kidnapped? If you did decide to leave August, and let him pay for all the wrongs he made, in the name of 'greater peace'. You probably could, everyone knew how dominant, imposing and persuasive August could be. He had almost fooled Sloane into thinking Hunt was really Lark, not naming the countless others he had manipulated and turned for his own uses and purposes.

'Holy shit,' You suddenly thought. 'Had August been manipulating me, for his own reasons?'

You looked at Walker from the corner of your eyes, he was resting back against the headboard, his eyes closed as he lounged, probably taking a quick cat nap, you kept him up most nights with your nightmares, so he was just as tired as you were. August had also been holding secret and down low meetings with nearly every member of the Apostles and other contacts he had out in the world. You were never privy to those discussions, he didn't want to drag you any deeper into his dark world than he hadn't already.

'But, what did that matter?' You considered yourself.

True enough, you had tried to carry out your mission, to stop August from blowing up half the world for his crazy notion of peace and harmony, but you had also failed at it. You had unwittingly helped August as well, you covered his tracks, keeping his secret life and dealings to yourself, ignoring every hint and spot of evidence that could send Walker to jail for the rest of his natural life, and his afterlife for that matter. Your bosses and colleagues had several briefings and meetings about the Syndicate, Solomon Lane, the Apostles and John Lark, and even though your palms sweat through all of them, you kept your lips zipped.

You would more than likely share the same dark cell August would, in the end.

“August?” You whispered, your voice rough from such little use and screaming out in your dreams.

August startled awake, blue eyes wide and searching the room, before they rested on you, the alarm turning into shock, it was the first time you had said his name, in the last three months, that wasn't from you dreaming. He gulped and sat up beside you, arm loosely wrapped around your waist.

“What is it, Angel?” He whispered back, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Why?” You rasped, blinking at him, softly. “Why did you tell me about being Lark?” You asked him, clutching onto the little remaining heat of your tea, like a life preserver in the seamless ocean you were stranded in. “Why did you...” You paused and cleared your throat.

“Why do you love me, yet tear me apart with all of this?”

He sighed and pressed his lips to your forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. “I never meant to fall in love with you, Angel. I tried my hardest not to, please believe that.” He rested his fingertips under your chin and tipped your head to look up at him. “I never meant or wanted to drag you into this fucked up world I inhabit. I wanted to protect my sweet Angel, with everything I have.”

“But, I'm a selfish and greedy man. When I want something, I want it and nothing, no one, not even myself, can stop me from getting it. I desire you above all else.”

“Yet, you still tried blowing up the world, when I begged you not too.” You replied, bottom lip quivering, it hurt so much. “Why? Because it was Hunt?”

“Yes.” August sighed, nodded his head. “He stopped Lane from acting out his plans and I didn't want him doing the same to me. Though, he did, in the end. I can't take back leaving you there, I wanted you to come with me. But, I knew you wouldn't, not my Angel.”

“That I've started to corrupt, like the demon that I am.” He hissed into your ear, angry only at himself.

You closed your eyes and rested your temple against his forehead, tucking your almost empty cup between your legs. “Part of me hates you, for what you've done to our lives, what you tried to do to the lives of so many others.”

“I deserve that.” He whimpered, biting his lip. “And more.”

“But,” You mumbled, finger circling the rim of your cup.

“But—what, Angel?”

“All I really want.” You sniffled, tears dripping down your cheeks and August kissing them away. “Is to be with you.” You said it, so softly, it took a moment for August to be sure it's what you said.

August smiled, nuzzling your hair and face, his nose rubbing against your cheek and nose, pressing sweet and small kisses to your neck. He was shy about kissing and touching you intimately again, it had been nearly six months since the last time you both made love, the night before he left for Paris, with Hunt. He took it slow, in case you changed your mind and repulsed him, but so far, you had gently reacted to him, nudging your face against his.

Smirking, August took your cup and set it aside on your night stand and tugged the blanket off your shoulders, the heat from the roaring fire had made the room toasty, leaving you and August sweaty. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, turning into his body as his small kisses grew to open kisses, leaving love bites on your neck and throat, as he trailed down your chest, tasting your skin and the salt of your sweat. He moaned, closing his mouth around your nipple, flicking his tongue at it until it pebbled, then started biting and sucking at it, squeezing and palming the other one, so it didn't feel left out.

“August.” You panted, carding your fingers through his damp curls. “Ah, fuck.” You hissed as his fingers slipped into the waistband of your panties and started petting your neglected clit.

“You're so sensitive, Angel.” He cooed around your breast, his eyes a stormy-blue with lust. “You haven't been touching yourself, while I was away.” He teased you, giving your clit a couple of flicks of his finger, making you cry out.

“It's not the same.” You panted, your head falling back and fingers gripping his hair.

“Oh, then I definitely want that delectable pussy around my cock.” He laughed, finger teasing your entrance. “You are going to gush so hard around me, Angel. You're already a dripping mess.” He said, removing his hand from your panties and spreading his thick fingers, seeing the thick string and film of your arousal between them, sparkling in the firelight.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rumbled, sucking his soaked fingers into his mouth and moaning around them, your taste overpowering his tastebuds.

Your pupils blew out watching him suckle his fingers, eyes closed, in ecstasy. Growling, you laid back and lifted your hips, yanking your ruined panties off impatiently and tossed them to the floor. Sliding a hand up and down August's back, you coaxed him to lay down with you, moving your hand over his chest, caressing his cowboy beard, then trailed down his stomach, circled his naval, then dripped between his legs, finding his hard member, that never really softened. August slowly licked his lips and moaned, rocking his hips into your hand as you stroked his shaft, swiveling and rubbing your thumb over his purple tip, smearing pre-come all over your hand and his cock.

Letting his penis go, your hand ventured a little bit lower, cupping those egg-sized balls, squeezing and rolling them in your hand, like a pair of dice. August's body shivered in response, smirking at him, you kicked all the blankets to the floor and moved between August's legs, pushing his legs up, so his knees bent and snuggled down on your belly.

“It seems you haven't been neglecting yourself, Walker.” You told him, nipping the inside of his thick thigh.

It seemed, even though you both were in hiding, his scrotum stood out from the rest of his body at this angle, neatly man-scaped, while the rest of his body tended to be hairy.

“Rules are rules.” August panted, lifting his head to look down his torso at you.

You chuckled at him, taking a long lick over his sack and giving one of them a delicate suck. He had asked you to suck his balls not long after you both started having sex, they were exceptionally sensitive, and you had caused August to come by playing with them, more than once. But, before you agreed to do the deed, you told him you weren't putting them in your mouth, while they looked like two hairy gerbils. So, from then on, August meticulously groomed them, even when he was away from months on end, it had become a habit.

“I shave my balls more, for you, than I shave my face.” August moaned, as you swallowed one of them and teased his cock, feathering your fingertips up and down its shaft.

You laughed around his ball, the vibration made him gasp and tossed him very close to the edge, so you pulled back, edging the hell out of him. August looked down at you, a serene calm washed over both of you, a calm and peacefulness that hadn't been around for several weeks, the fear of being found loomed over the house.

“This isn't right.” August sighed, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you up to him.

“What?” You blinked back.

“You shouldn't be pleasuring me.” He told you, wrapping his arms around your waist and turning you both on your sides. “I've wronged and hurt you, I've nearly cost you your life. I cost your job, and so much more.” He spoke softly.

Taking your leg and slinging it over his own hip, so the pair of you facing each other, chests pressed together and staring into each other's eyes, August's hips slowly rubbed against you, his hand pressed flat against your lower back.

“I should be pleasing you, making up for what I've done.” He said, moving just enough to slip the head of his cock between your folds. “Let me do this for you, Angel.” He hummed, fingers brushing your hair.

“Please.” He begged, looking so vulnerable.

All you could do was nod, your throat tight around a lump, and pressed your forehead against his, clinging onto him as he rocked into you. All fear, anger and even lusty desire, were gone from you and August now, all that was left was raw emotions and the need to find each other again. You hugged your leg around August's hip and waist, pulling him closer and deeper into you, flexing your walls around his shaft. Both of you grew warm and sweaty from the heat in the room and your bodies were so close together, the slickness of your skin made it easier to thrust into you; sharing the same hot breath.

“I love you, Angel.” He whispered, cupping your neck and thrusting more steadily into you.

“I love you too, August.” You moaned back, biting your lip.

Coming in tandem felt sublime and refreshing, melting all the stress and worries out of your bodies. Even as you both fell asleep, you were still connected and wrapped around each other. You let go of your questions and worries, it would be fine, you and August would figure out how to put your lives back together some other time

And, for the first time in months, you dreamt of something other than August dying. You dreamt of you holding his hand, him smiling lovingly at you, and walking into the sun.

#The Crimson Sun *Fic* #The Crimson Sun #Viking-Raider Fics #Sequel #The Crimson Moon #The Crimson Moon *Fic* #Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #August Walker #August Walker/You #August Walker/Reader #August Walker x You #August Walker x Reader #Angst #Grief #Smut #Mature #Fluff #Soft!August #Mean!August #The Apostles #The Syndicate #Solomon Lane #Ethan Hunt

[doc-pickles]

500 FOLLOWERS?!

What the heeeeell?! I am so grateful for this and so thankful to be apart of our Jolex community, because I would not be at this number today without you guys. I’ve truly found a second home in writing these two idiots, I’ve even found some of my closest friends because of this fandom.

In honor of hitting 500, I’m going to share this little fic I wrote. I was originally planning this to be for our Halloween challenge, but it didn’t end up working for it because I literally word vomited this out in like two hours. But it’s fluffy and it’s a fix it. Thank you guys again so much!!

xoxo Nina

the worth while fight

This is a state of grace This is the worth while fight Love is a ruthless game Unless you play it good and right

Kansas City Children’s Hospital. The sign in front of Jo feels like it’s screaming at her, the neon lights a warning signal to turn around now before she ruins everything. But she can't, she’d come so far and she wasn’t going to let her nerves get the best of her.

Pushing through the doors, Jo resolutely walks to the reception desk and up to the first nurse she sees. Settling a smile on her face, she asks the question she wishes she’d never have to ask.

“Hi I’m looking for Doctor Karev. Alex Karev… Chief Alex Karev. Please,” Jo tries her best not to seem crazy or stalkerish, she knows she isn’t but her anxiety is soaring as the nurse states her down.

“Do you have an appointment?”

Jo blinks confusedly at the woman. She didn't expect that, hadn’t really got any further than walking through the doors in the scenarios that played through her head on the plane ride here.

“I, uh-,” Jo’s stuttering is interrupted by an all too familiar voice coming from behind the reception desk.

“Jennifer, can you tell Doctor Weller that he has a-,” his eyes meet hers and his voice stops, Jo’s heart beating erratically as she takes in Alex for the first time in almost a year. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept well since he left Seattle, but his eyes shine just as true as always. “Jo. What’re you doing here?”

Her impending answer is cut off by a small cry, Jo’s hands instinctively reaching into the stroller in front of her to unclip the baby and cradle her close to her chest. She can feel Alex’s eyes on her, knows that he’s staring at her, but she can’t be bothered by it as she holds her daughter in her arms.

“Can we talk? Somewhere… private,” Jo’s eyes finally float up to Alex’s face, taking in his eyes that are glued to the little girl she’d just revealed to him. “Alex? Please?”

He snaps back to reality then, telling one of the nurses in front of him to cancel everything else he has planned for the day. Alex steps closer to Jo, grabbing the stroller she’d pushed in and leading her away from the prying eyes of the hospital staff. He leads her into an empty conference room, waiting for her to enter before locking the door and drawing the blinds.

Logically she knows she should start talking, but she can’t. Jo’s standing catatonic, eyes meeting Alex’s as they both stand in silence. She can’t tell if it’s overwhelming anger or the relief of seeing each other again or the elephant in the room, but standing here with Alex does something to Jo that she can’t quite explain.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

As if wanting to join the conversation happening, the baby in Jo’s arms lets a squeal out, tiny hands clawing at her mother's shirt as the squeals turn into cries.

“Sorry I have to feed her, she’ll start screaming if I don’t,” Jo doesn’t know why she feels the need to explain this to Alex, he’s the Chief of a pediatric hospital for god’s sake, but she doesn’t know what else to say. She makes a last minute decision to grab the nursing cover from the stroller before settling into a chair, suddenly feeling the need to hide from Alex. She knows she doesn’t have to, this man was married to her, but things felt different. She settles the baby on her breast finally, sighing in relief that her cries have quieted.

“How old is she,” Alex’s voice makes Jo look back to him, his eyes searching her face desperately.

“Three and a half months,” the answer brings Alex down into the chair across from Jo, hands running over his face in exasperation. “Alex, you-”

“You could’ve called! You could’ve told me Jo! Jesus Christ, after everything we’ve been through,” Alex’s voice booms around Jo, a discontented squeal coming from the baby in her arms. Alex lowers his voice, an expression of sadness overwhelming his features. “Why didn’t you call Jo?”

“You left Alex! You left me all alone and you couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone and tell me, you wrote me a pathetic letter,” she knows tears are pooling in her eyes, but she can’t hold them back. She’s been playing this conversation over in her head for months, practicing exactly what she’d say to Alex when she saw him again. But seeing him now, sitting across from him, the words slip out of Jo’s mind. “I was waiting for you to come back home so I could tell you, but you never walked back through the door. You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to come with you. Did you ever think that might’ve been an option? That I would’ve followed you anywhere, Alex?”

The silence that envelops them is tense, Jo realizing that her words had rung true. He hadn’t thought she’d come with him, he’d thought that she’d choose her career and whatever else was in Seattle over Alex and their future. The thought nauseates her, a hand pressing against her mouth as she feels more tears drip down her cheeks.

“You didn’t think I would drop everything in my life to be with you,” Jo’s voice breaks as she stares at Alex, his head in his hands unmoving as he listens to her. “Damn it, you’re so stupid! I’m your wife Alex! That’s what we vowed to each other! I love you! Does that not mean anything to you?”

The baby at her breast unlatches and lets out a loud cry, Jo bringing her up to her shoulder and patting her back gently. The cries don’t lessen though, Jo thinks it’s because she herself is still bawling uncontrollably as she tries to calm her daughter. Alex stands and gestures for her to hand the baby to him, Jo relenting almost too easily. She’s so small in his hands, the sight of Alex holding his daughter for the first time sending Jo into another round of tears.

“It’s okay, it’s alright baby girl, I got you,” Alex’s voice is calm and sweet as he sways back and forth, his own eyes closing as he pats the baby’s back gently. “You’re okay, no need to cry.”

Through her rounds of tears, Jo realizes that she hasn’t told Alex his daughters name yet. She takes a deep breath, wipes at her cheeks, then raises her voice so that Alex can hear her, “Her name is Reese. I’m... I’m sorry I didn’t call but I couldn’t...”

Her resolve to speak ends there, instead Jo looks to Alex who’s staring at her with a look of sadness. He extends his free hand to her, pulling her out of her seat and into his embrace before she has a second to overthink anything. The comfort of being in Alex’s arms again overwhelms her, worry and fear melting away as he holds her tight against him. His other hand still has Reese clutched to his opposite shoulder and the moment feels like a long time coming for Jo.

“I’m sorry, about how I left you and what happened. I know it doesn’t mean much, but I should’ve talked to you and I’m sorry that I didn’t even think of you. And if I’d known...,” Alex pauses, his words halting as he presses a kiss into Jo’s hair. “I’m so sorry Jo. I want to make it up to you, I want to be there for you and Reese. I’ll split time between here and Seattle, I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, let me try. I don’t deserve that from you, but I want to try.”

Jo presses herself into Alex’s shoulder, giving herself a moment to relish in the comfort he’s always brought her before speaking again, “We didn’t just come to visit, Alex. I told you, I’d go anywhere for you.”

She can feel the pause his body takes as he processes her words. Alex leans back, eyes searching her own for any indication that she’s playing some cruel joke on him, “You’re moving? Here? To middle of nowhere Kansas?”

Jo wipes her cheeks once more as she nods, forehead leaving against Alex’s as a small chuckle escapes her lips, “The moving truck is two days out, I couldn’t... we couldn’t stay away from you and I know you can’t leave your other kids. We just decided to make things easier for you.”

The tears that come next aren’t from Jo, but from Alex as he presses his lips to hers. The salty taste of his tears mixes between them as Jo kisses back hungrily, the time and miles that had been between them melting as they come back together. They only break apart when a small burp sounds from the baby still resting on Alex’s shoulder.

“You... you’re beautiful just like your mommy,” Alex coos at the infant, cradling her in his arms as he takes in her features for the first time. “You’ve got my nose though, sorry about that.”

Jo never thought she’d get the scene before her. When she’d read Alex’s letter, she’d thought that she would never see him again, that their daughter would never meet her father. But despite the shit they’d been through, Jo knew at the end of the day that the one thing Alex valued over everything else was his family, the people closest to him. That’s why he’d almost gone to jail for her, why he left Seattle, why he’d stuck by her through everything. They had a long road back, but Jo knew without a doubt that her and Alex would be okay.

#jolex #alex karev #jo wilson #jo karev #greys anatomy #jo x alex #nina writes #jolex fanfic #jolex fic #fix it fic #as usual

[purplesurveys]

1087

survey by tigerfan1205

Name 5 people that are very important to you. Other than my dad, mom, and Angela, I can’t think of anyone else. Andi’s a very close friend but they’re not necessarily I’d-take-a-bullet-for-them levels yet.

Do you like eating chocolate covered cherries or strawberries? I don’t like fruits, so no. I like chocolate-covered unhealthy stuff though, hahah.

What does your 9th text say in your outbox? Ughhhh I remember this tab being in my old cellphones but I can’t quite remember if this is referring to texts I’ve sent, or my drafts. Anyway, my phone doesn’t store text drafts and I can no longer recall my 9th last sent text.

Ever had a really scary dream? Tell me about it. I’ve had loads of nightmares but my least favorites have always been the ones where someone I love is shot and they had to pass away in my arms. Out of all my scary dreams, those are the ones that send me crying in my sleep/as soon as I wake up.

Where is the coolest place you've been on vacation? Vigan was great because it really felt like visiting a 17th-century town. Singapore and Shanghai were also fun because it felt cool going to places much richer than ours and getting to interact with technologies that we will never get to have here HAHA

Would you rather have salad or french fries for a side dish? Erm, unless the salad has spicy tuna in it, fries all the way please.

Ever been to California? Did you like it? No. Idk, it’s not the first place on my list if I am to visit the US though. Places in the East Coast and the Midwest personally appeal more to me - and I’m fully aware it’s because they’re well-known for being passionate wrestling hubs.

What's your favorite thing about the town you live in? I live right smack on the boundary between the more urban sprawl of Manila and the quieter, more peaceful and quaint mountain part of my city. It’s very easy to access either depending on what I’m in the mood for.

Do you like Mexican food? What's your favorite dish to eat? It’s great, but not my top favorite cuisine. My favorite dishes would have to be fajitas and chimichangas.

Favorite kind of pizza is? Quattro formaggi all the wayyyy. You’ll never see me ordering anything else.

Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend? If so, how long have you been dating? No.

Any brothers or sisters? Do they make you mad? I have one of each. My sister will sometimes piss me off, but it dies down quick. My brother did something unforgivable to me two years ago so that’s how long I have been constantly mad at him.

Are you nosy? Eh, sometimes? For the most part I know my place though. I let people share the amount they’re willing to, and very rarely do I try to pry.

Ever been to a bar? What was it like? Sure, had my fair share of favorites too when going out was still a normal thing. For me, bars are the best if I’m with the right mix of people. If I’m in a crowd I’m not necessarily close with, it can definitely dampen the experience as I will only be feeling awkward. The people in the bar will sometimes be a factor too – I will most likely feel annoyed if I’m somewhere that’s clearly populated by high schoolers or college freshies as they can get super rambunctious and loud.

Are you old enough to drink? Yes, have been for the last 4 (almost 5) years.

What's your favorite kind of flower? I enjoy looking at peonies.

Would you rather have pasta or chicken? Right now, probs chicken - preferably chicken wings because that sounds the most fucking yummmmmm rn. We’ve been having pasta a bit too much at home so it would’t hurt to skip it for now.

Have you ever dated someone, but made them not tell anyone about it? Yeah. Gabie and I got back together in our final months of high school. We were about to graduate and it was crucial we kept our record clean so that the school won’t strip us of our diploma and prohibit us from marching (it was Catholic school, sooo homophobia and stuff). Because of that, we had to keep it secret for about a month and a half. As soon as I got home from the ceremony and my family dinner, I shared the news on social media. So I didn’t exactly make her keep it secret - it was a mutual understanding.

What's the meanest thing you have done to a friend? I honestly can’t recall a time i deliberately set out to be an ass to someone I considered a friend. The one thing I can recall was accidentally misgendering Andi when I was still getting used to their pronouns, but I didn’t do it on purpose.

Have you ever kissed anybody with the name starting with a C or R? No. Those are my initials though, ha.

Why did you and your last ex break up? She wasn’t ready, she wasn’t down for commitment, and she felt suffocated having only been in a relationship throughout her late teen and early adult years. She really made herself sound like such a victim and she made it sound like commitment is the biggest sin, and so I blamed myself a lot during the first few months of our breakup; but I’ve since made a conscious effort to turn my mindset around and convince myself that I’m not at fault. Bye gaslighters.

Have you ever had a really bad fight with a best friend? Angela and I only had petty fights and our last one was in like 5th grade. Gab and I got into heavy arguments, but only when we were in a relationship and never as friends.

Do you like spaghetti? It’s okay. I like other types of pasta better.

Which color: orange or red? Red.

Do you know any songs by Katy Perry? Do you like her music? She’s...popular lmao, so yeah I know a good number of her songs. She’s in the middle for me; some songs I really enjoy, like E.T., Dark Horse, and Thinking of You (a personal fave); and there are some that didn’t grow on me as much, like Wide Awake and that awful Christmas song she recently released.

Ever had a near death experience? I suppose. My almost-car crash is the event I always cite.

Which number: 5 or 19? 19, for no reason whatsoever.

What's your favorite song by Taylor Swift? Why is that your favorite? Wildest Dreams; it meant a lot to me on a personal level for a time; right now it’s kinda doing it again for me. From her newest album, I really like dorothea also because it’s a bit relevant to my life at the moment.

Pick one: apples or oranges? I guess oranges. I don’t like fruits but I’m more likely to take a liking to orange-flavored stuff, like juice or chewy candies.

Do you know anybody named George or Bob? I don’t think so.

What do you like better, being single or in a relationship? Why is that? I like being in a relationship; commitment comes easy to me and I love looking out for a significant other, supporting them in their dreams, and generally just having someone to focus on, build a future with, and spoil. Being single hasn’t been bad and I guess I won’t mind if I never found someone; but in the grand scheme of things it’s really nice to be able to love someone.

Are you close with your mother? Not really but our relationship isn’t as strained as it used to be.

Have you ever dated someone named Kyle? Nope.

If you still go to school, who sits next to you in your fifth period? I can’t remember the last time I had five classes in a day, lol.

Who was the last person to ring your doorbell/knock on your door? I think it was my mom, earlier this morning when she arrived back home from her daily jog.

Does anything on you itch right now? Yeah actually; the opposite elbow got itchy just now.

If the last person you kissed came to your house now, what would you say? “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

If your ex called you crying, what would it most likely be about? I have no clue, and she would never do that so I literally can’t imagine even a hypothetical reason for this. It has to be a super serious situation, likeeeeeee idk, maybe a death. *knocks on wood aggressively*

Who was the best kisser out of all the people you have kissed? I’ve only kissed one person, so can’t compare.

Name everyone you have texted today. This media guy celebrating his birthday today so I had to ask him for his details so we could send him a gift, as well as the contact person for the cake shop that we got in touch with to order said gift for the birthday celebrant.

Who was the last person you spoke to for over 5 minutes over the telephone? Maybe my grandma when she called a few months ago.

How many times have you went to the bathroom today? Around three times total, I think.

Who do you currently live with? My dad, mom, Nina, my brother, Kimi, and Cooper.

What do you like better: sour or sweet candy? Sweeeeeeet. No sour anything for me, thanks.

Have you ever been told that you have an annoying laugh? No but I hope this isn’t an actual thing people say to other people. They can think others’ laugh is annoying, but I think it’s one of those things that you can just try to get over and is unnecessary to raise lol.

#survey #surveys

[heyho-simonrussellbeale]

"I am not a particular fan of Restoration comedy,” confesses Simon Russell Beale. “I spent a few years doing Restoration comedy 30 years ago and I don’t think it’s of particular interest to people now.” 

We’re talking about the recently publicised objections made by some Rada students to the study of Restoration comedy, as part of an anti-racism plan presented in the wake of the Black Lives Matter protests this summer.

The plan, drawn up by the school’s student body, stated 17th and early 18th-century plays like Wycherley’s The Country Wife and Farquhar’s The Recruiting Officer were “very white” and featured characters who “were figureheads of the empire”.

One of the foremost actors of his generation, Beale, 59, maintains that questioning the repertoire, and the current rhetoric about white privilege, is fine: “I welcome it. It has been building for a long time. It can only be a good thing. Diversity is a good thing.”

Yes, agreed. But, hang on... What about reports of reverse racism in Hollywood, of white actors losing out on the basis of their skin colour? “I don’t know about Hollywood,” he responds. “Do I still have a place here as an actor? I think I probably do. I don’t think one thing excludes the other.”

It’s hard – truth be told – to get into a sustained debate with a man as distinguished as Beale, knighted last year, via a Zoom call. Moreover, confronting where “woke” culture is headed feels – temporarily at least – by the by. The past few months have been about survival, slog, getting open.

The last time I interviewed him, four years ago, we were face to face in bucolic Stratford-upon-Avon, where he was preparing to tackle The Tempest for the RSC.

Had we known what lay ahead we wouldn’t have believed it: the world shaken by Covid-19, the RSC and National facing the worst crises of their history, his own profession quasi annihilated.

“It was as if the job of actor had disappeared, that there was no such thing,” he says of this year’s shutdown. “Normally, if you lose one job you find another, but there was no such job, in any medium. It was extraordinary.”

He’s looking back from the vantage of rescue: he plays Scrooge (and a co-narrator) in Nicholas Hytner’s new staging of A Christmas Carol. This production is perhaps the most hotly anticipated of the many iterations of the story this year, including – by coincidence – another in which he had a hand, or voice: lending his figgy-pudding rich tones to Scrooge in a dance film version released in cinemas today.

Speaking during a break in rehearsals at the Bridge Theatre, in London, he looks relaxed, his old genial, avuncular self. “I feel I’ve come home,” he says. A restoration, then – albeit there are only three actors, with no touching, and the Damoclean threat of London being put into Tier 3 (bringing the show to a halt) looming over the run. He marvels at how he – and others – initially thought the ordeal would be over in weeks.

“I had no conception of what it meant. I thought it was a holiday,” he says. But, after returning home to Wiltshire from Broadway, where he’d been starring in The Lehman Trilogy, weeks of waiting turned into months. His anxiety grew. He was one of the millions not to receive extra government support – the so-called “excluded”. Savings and frugality have kept him going. He reckoned he could last a year. “I was anxious. I had sleepless nights because I’ve got a mortgage to pay. I had a bit of money in the bank and that has now gone.”

Had things not picked up, Beale, who has two Olivier awards to his name and has triumphed in some of the most demanding roles in the canon, would be applying for universal credit.

Swift to ensure this isn’t all about himself, he adds: “We’ve all had dark, panicked days. Everyone has their own difficulties. I’m luckier than most. There are people who are now desperate.”

Despite this, when I ask whether he’d call Rishi Sunak a Scrooge he demurs. “I can’t. I can’t see much point in being angry about something that we had no control over, which is this virus. It must be difficult to organise [a response] but it is a very strange gap in the support system.”

There’s an intense reasonableness about Beale, a lucidity and scholarly intelligence, that surrounds him like an aura, whether on stage (where it captivates) or off (where it charms). Following his (post-Cambridge) training as an actor at Guildhall School, he played show-stealing fops and wags – hence his Restoration jibes.

But in 1990 the late Terry Hands cast him as Konstantin in The Seagull at the RSC. “It was the first time anyone had said, ‘You don’t have to be grotesque and funny on stage, just use what you’ve got’.”

Often since then – whether in comedy (Benedick in Much Ado, Sir Harcourt Courtly in London Assurance), tragedy (Hamlet, Lear), or combinations of the two (Stalin in Collaborators, Uncle Vanya) – he has exuded an air of being himself. Which isn’t to say that he hasn’t shape-shifted, or “acted”, but that he presents the character like a mirror into which he peers, inspecting its truth, glancing inward, creating a sense of the role – and human nature itself – as a shared work in progress.

He once described acting as “three-dimensional literary criticism”. He holds by that, and his reading of the role of Scrooge resists the stereotype of the miser as “grisly, grating. I can’t help softening him in my head. We’d call him depressed now.”

What’s more, he doesn’t want “Bah! Humbug!” to “sound like a catchphrase”. More important, he believes, is the response of Fred, Scrooge’s nephew, to this rejection of Christmas and Fred’s insistence that there are many things in life which, although not profitable, make you happy; a message, Beale says, that can also be applied to culture in general.

“Theatres aren’t different from pubs or football matches – they’re all what makes life worth living,” he says. “It’s an argument we’ve avoided in the arts because it doesn’t persuade the Government. You have to use an economic rationale. But now people are saying: we need it back, for our mental health, for our souls.”

Assuming the country’s cultural life does return next year, Beale hopes to be playing Bach in a new play by Nina Raine and see the Covid-postponed Bridge project of Ibsen’s John Gabriel Borkman (again directed by Hytner) come to fruition. He is also starring in two forthcoming films: Benediction, about the war poet Siegfried Sassoon, and Operation Mincemeat, an adaptation of a book of the same name by Ben Macintyre.

But live theatre is where his heart lies. There’s seemingly no plan to stream A Christmas Carol. And he approves.

“It’ll be a live performance in front of living, breathing people. We might have to do it outside, using megaphones. But we can’t wait for the perfect conditions. We must will British theatre back into existence.”

A Christmas Carol runs until Jan 6 at the Bridge, London SE1. Tickets: 0333 320 0051; bridgetheatre.co.uk

#Simon Russell Beale #a christmas carol #stage #bridge theatre #interview #telegraph #2020

[tiffdawg]

50 Questions Tag

thank you for the tag @leo-moon !! this was really fun ☺️

1.) What color is your hairbrush?

teal but it’s basically defunct since quarantine.

2.) Name a food you never eat

i’m a big foodie but i’m also vegan so no animal products for me.

3.) Are you usually too warm or too cold?

I’m basically cold blooded so too cold.

4.) What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

taking a shower.

5.) What’s your favorite candy bar?

unreal pb cups (aka vegan resee’s).

6.) Have you ever been to a professional sports game?

all kinds. but the only sport i really enjoy watching is baseball.

7.) What’s the last thing you said out loud?

just me cooing nonsense at my dog about how cute she is. typical.

8.) What’s your favorite ice cream?

@ home: so delicious chocolate cookies n cream or the coconut milk chocolate ice cream from trader joe’s!

@ an ice cream shop in the real world: van leeuwen’s chocolate cookie dough crunch.

9.) What was the last thing you had to drink?

$5 chardonnay.

10.) Do you like your wallet?

yessss it’s a really cute bifold with black and white galaxies on it bc i am a space nerd. i’ve had it for at least 7 years now.

11.) What’s the last thing you ate?

lentil soup.

12.) Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

i haven’t been shopping for clothes in... months. i’m not leaving the house anytime soon so don’t need to lol.

13.) What’s the last sporting event you watched?

there are reruns of old baseball games on constant loop in my house.

14.) What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

movie theater butter — fun fact: the butter at theaters like regal and amc is actually vegan! which makes me so happy bc popcorn is my favorite snack.

15.) Who’s the last person you sent a text to?

my bff.

16.) Ever go camping?

no. end of discussion.

17.) Do you take vitamins?

no like multivitamins but i take iron bc i’ve been anemic basically sense birth.

18.) Do you go to church every Sunday?

no. never.

19.) Do you have a tan?

no. i don’t spend enough time outside. yikes.

20.) Do you prefer Chinese or pizza?

hmmm damn, idk... pizza?

21.) Do you drink soda through a straw?

i very rarely drink soda but i don’t think i usually use a straw.

22.) What color socks do you usually wear?

white, black, grey.

23.) Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

i’m from socal... it’s generally expected that if there’s no traffic ya gotta enjoy it. 😅 65 means 78 baby!

24.) What terrifies you?

besides the world ending? a general and persistent fear of not being good enough for others.

25.) Look to your left, what to you see?

a pile of laundry that’s been sitting there for a week. double yikes.

26.) What chore do you hate the most?

d u s t i n g. 🤬

27.) What do you think when you hear an Australian accent?

le hemsworth bros.

28.) What’s your favorite soda?

diet ginger ale.

29.) Do you go in fast food or in the drive through?

tbh i don’t eat a lot of fast food. if it’s something like that quick service then go in.

30.) What’s your favorite number?

4!

31.) Who’s the last person you talked to?

my dog. and before that my mom.

32.) Favorite cut of beef?

umm? none.

33.) Last song you listened to?

nina cried power by hozier ft. mavis staples.

34.) Last book you read?

dreaming in cuban by cristina garcía.

35.) Can you say the alphabet backwards?

why would i want to? next question.

36.) Favorite day of the week?

friday.

37.) How do you like your coffee?

if i drink a cup of coffee i won’t sleep and i’ll have anxiety for three days. 😂 catch me with a nice cup of earl grey or green tea only.

38.) Favorite pair of shoes?

i always have three shoes in rotation despite owning many more than that — black boots, black nikes, black sandals. and i’m good.

39.) Time you normally wake up?

usually around 9 if i’m lucky.

40.) Sunrise or sunsets?

sunset.

41.) How many blankets on your bed?

none. just a bedsheet and a light comforter so i don’t get heatstroke in my sleep.

42.) Describe your kitchen plates?

white... round... that’s it?

43.) Describe your kitchen at the moment?

well it’s my mom’s kitchen atm so it’s very clean and looks like a mom kitchen.

44.) Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink?

wine: something dry like chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, or merlot.

beer: something like an ipa.

liquor: whiskey and ginger ale.

45.) Do you play cards?

no. no. no.

46.) What color is your car?

a very bright, shiny blue.

47.) Can you change a tire?

nope. and let’s hope i don’t have to.

48.) Your favorite state, province, country, etc.?

well, i’ve been fortunate enough to visit a lot of beautiful places in the world. i love california with whole heart and nothing will ever change that. i also adore england, northern ireland, and ireland — hence my geographical research focus as a little historian in training! not only do i love to study those places but i’m always ridiculously happy when i’m there.

49.) Favorite job you’ve had?

i worked as a researcher in a national archive for a bit. i basically got to dig through boxes and boxes of documents for months and then write whatever i felt like based on what i found with very little supervision. ideal work environment for me!

50.) How did you get your biggest scar?

you can’t see it bc it’s on my head but when I was in second grade my brother threw a palm-sized, plastic hit clips boombox (if you remember those you’re a real 90s kid jfc) and i had to get a couple of stitches. I can still feel it tho. tbh we should’ve known my brother was going to become a pitcher then...

no pressure tags! @b0n-chann @auty-ren @unstoppableforcce @poesdxmerons @cryptkeepersoul @damndamer0n 💕

#tag game #thanks for tagging me leo!

[saiilorstars]

It Had To Be You

Ch.8:  Focus // [Story Masterlist]

Pairings: Barry Allen x Original Female Character

Summary: Barry tries to move on after Belén suddenly left the city, but in doing so he begins to harbor resentment towards her. 

Pronunciation of OC’s name: Bell-en. The last syllable has an emphasis so it’s not pronounced like ‘Helen’ would be.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

In the following morning after going against 'Captain Cold', Barry thought a good (and hopefully civilized) talk with Belén was in order. Since she had no more classes, he assumed she would either be at home or at her job. Calling would've been pointless since she hadn't answered any of his calls the previous night so guessing was all he had to go by.

He was knocking incessantly on Belén's front door - he was hoping her father wasn't there so he wouldn't have to awkwardly explain the reason behind his pounds on the door. After five minutes of knocking, he gave up. Giving it one quick scope with his speed he finally concluded that no one was home.

That left CC Pictures.

"Hi, Barry," Linda greeted him from her desk when he walked in.

"Linda," Barry headed for her desk while taking a look at the current employees rushing about. He assumed after the tumbling train and cold gun incident, the news was buzzing with new articles. "I need to talk to Belén. Can you call her?"

Linda's face scrunched in confusion. "Barry, I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"Belén called in last night - she's left the city."

Barry's eyebrows raised, equally confused as the reporter. "She...she...she what?"

Linda rose from her chair, lightly tapping her knuckles on her desk. "I was hoping to bump into you or one of her other friends so that someone could explain this. She called in last night and said she was going to be taking a break. She understood her job here could be lost but she seemed very determined to leave."

"Did...did she give you any sort of reasoning?" Barry asked, the wave of guilt not wasting time in hitting. "Or, where she went to?"

"Nothing just that she needed a break," Linda shrugged, clearly doubtful that it was the truth. "I told her her job was safe. But, between you and I, if she's gone for a long time I won't be able to help her later on. You think you can pass on the message?"

Even though he had no idea where Belén could've possibly gone, he still nodded his head. "Yeah…"

"Barry?" Linda called when Barry was already halfway back to the doors. "Do you know why Belén would just pick up and leave?"

"Uh…"

"I mean, I know she's gone through a lot of stuff lately but if she wanted to do something like this she would've done it a long time ago…"

Barry swallowed hard and forced himself to shake his head. "N-no...not at all…"

Linda seemed to trust him but looked no less disappointed. With a polite smile, they bid goodbye and Barry rushed to go find the missing (possible) metahuman.

~ 0 ~

2 Months Later.

"Felicity, I'm here, but are you sure this is the place?"

"Positive, Belén. There's been tons of break-ins into this jewelry store by that gumbo woman."

"Plasticine, you meant Plasticine."

"Eugh, that's still a creepy name."

Belén rolled her eyes and came to a stop in front of the jewelry store that barely had any customers inside. It seemed like a perfectly normal jewelry store yet she has discovered - thanks to the wonderful techy powers of Felicity Smoak - that this was a preferred robbing spot for the metahuman known as Plasticine.

"Belén," came Oliver Queen's voice through her earpiece, "Remember what I told you to do."

"Yes, yes," Belén's eyes - which were hidden behind tendrils of vines forming a nice mask with small Azaleas decorating its corners - quickly glanced down at her hands. She flexed them over and over as she saw spots of green trying to make its way across her skin. No, she told herself. That needed to go away. "I learn fast, remember?" she answered in a perfectly normal voice, nothing that would ever indicate what she was trying to desperately hide.

"Two months is hardly fast."

"Shut up," Belén commanded and she was sure Felicity had done something from the other line to make it so.

As Belén's eyes re-opened, this time more focused on her task. Her ombre-blonde hair, which had been picked up into a high pony-tail, were being overun by thin roots with green vines that contained several small azaleas throughout its course. It was just enough to cover her blonde tips (in case any civilian identified it and configured back to her).

Her dark green leather jacket, whose green shade faded midway to turn into a hot pink just like her pants, was zipped closed as she burst into the store.

"Customers," her perfectly modulated voice (thanks to Felicity's addition to the earpiece) made everyone in the building stop, "get out."

See, the good thing about Central City now was that when some crazed leather bound person ordered those three words people listened in a snap. When customers had ran out, Belén sealed the door by wrapping her vines all over them.

"Freeze!" came the predicted security guard behind her.

"Belén," Oliver's voice warned the young woman before she made her move.

"I know," Belén rolled her eyes and thrust a hand back to the guard. A thick green vine had shot out from her palm and swiftly snatched the gun from the officer, breaking it two before letting it drop to the floor. "I don't mean to hurt anyone," she addressed the rest of the people in the room, "I need to talk to a certain employee: Alizae Fraye."

The woman in question squeaked in terror and instantly had Belén turning in her direction. Belén felt a little guilty since she already knew the woman thanks to her sister. She hoped neither would ever found out about this.

"I don't want to hurt you," Belén clarified. "I'm only here to ask questions."

The woman, a brunette, gave a light nod but it didn't mean she wasn't terrified.

"Belén, there's about two minutes before the police get there," Felicity called from the earpiece.

"Get in, and get out," added Oliver.

"A woman in purple, shoots some sort of purple gumbo, she comes here to steal every month or so. Correct?"

Alizae nodded.

"But she never hurts anyone does she?"

Alizae shook her head.

"And whenever she comes in, she always come straight for you. Why?"

Alizae shrugged. "I…don't know…" she croaked.

Belén looked around the room, the people paralyzed with fear of what she would do next. "There has to be a connection here," her voice hardened intentionally. "A woman with powers comes in here every month - always on the same day and time - and she takes a couple priceless jewelry then makes a clean getaway."

"She knows what she's coming for," the guard that had tried to shoot her was now helping, apparently.

That was a good thing, Belén smiled.

"It's like she knows where everything is," Belén acknowledged his help with a light nod.

"From the moment she got here," a third employee spoke up, a male, "she knew where everything was. Like...like…"

"She had already visited the store before," Belén finished for him. "See, I can understand that. She's clever, she scopes out her place before robbing it. What I can't understand is why she always comes to you," she pointed a pink nailed polished finger at Alizae. "Why you?"

"I swear to you I don't know," Alizae whimpered.

"And she doesn't hurt anyone either," Belén continued on. "This is like a normal day at the grocery store for her. But see, here's another thing: she's big and bad with her powers so she can do far better than measly jewelry here - no offense," she quickly added, "Why settle for this?"

"She says she doesn't like doing it," Alizae dared to reveal. "I can see it too - in her eyes - that she does it with hesitancy."

"Useful," Belén thought and looked up at the cameras. With both her hands she shot out vines and smashed them to pieces. "Sorry," she honestly said to the others, "I didn't steal nor hurt anyone but I still don't want trouble. This was interesting, thank you all."

With a wide smile, she let her vines enclose themselves around her body and in a snap, they fled the building.

~ 0 ~

"I should be leaving," Belén walked alongside Nina, the latter in regular clothes. The dark, lonesome street allowed for an uninterrupted conversation between the two.

"If you truly believed that then we wouldn't have left our suitcases back at my place," Nina smirked.

"Yeah, but...I don't know, I'm nervous," Belén bit on one of her nails.

"Course you are - you've changed."

"Thanks, Nina," Belén rolled her eyes. "I feel better, and I'm going to be better. It's just seeing them all…"

The two women trailed off at the sound of a police sirens. They exchanged concerned looks before running towards the scene. It appeared there had been an explosion of some sort. The consequences were grave but what really took it home was the man hanging onto a loose window scaffold.

"Help! Help!" the man frantically cried from the top.

"That's gotta be at least forty feet high," Nina raised her eyebrows.

Belén stepped fowards, turning her palms upwards. "Hmm…"

"Bells, don't," Nina warned when she saw the idea forming into Belén's mind.

"Why not? This is why I left in the first place. Besides, it's not the first saving I'd be doing."

"Yeah, but do this, and you could get caught by that someone you say you're not ready to bump into."

"That man is going to die and I'm not gonna let it happen because of silly nervousness." Belén made her declaration with the utmost honesty. Without hearing Nina's next response, she rushed off to go help the poor man that was literally hanging from a tearing rope.

She tilted her head and cracked her neck, simultaneously stretching her hands. Nina was right, the man was up at least forty levels and she hadn't quite stretched her powers that far. She needed to be extra careful. She cast another look at her hands and saw the same greeness trying to make its presence. I said no. She balled them up and backtracked a little before thrusting her right hand forwards and released one of her thick vines. It stuck to the wall like a suckers and she did the same with her other hand, landing the second vine rope-like mass. Using them like anchors, she brought herself up. Ignoring the fact she was oh-so-many-feet high, she got onto the falling scaffold, using one of her vines to keep it to a regular position.

"It'll be alright," she assured the awed and terrified man. "It's gonna feel weird, but I'll get you down," she promised.

Multiple vines extended from her body and wrapped around the man's body. Belén admitted there was the adrenaline she grew to love from doing stuff like this. It was rather wonderful knowing you could have peoples' lives in your hands - or in this case vines - and that you could keep them protected when no one else could.

Those were her thoughts as she watched her vines lower the man down the building. She gently let him down to the ground.

And then she got a crazy idea she knew Nina would scold her about later. She let herself drop headfirst and laughed as she put her hands together. They created an extra thick vine that helped her land with a front handspring move.

It would've been a perfect ending if there hadn't been a watcher nearby.

"Wo-oah…" she sucked in a breath at the sight of her good friend Iris West standing across.

Iris looked wonderstruck of all she saw - and with great reason!

Belén's first instinct was to look down. Her mask would only cover her so much, and she was no where near ready to try her...other side. But, her hair tips were covered with stringlets of roots and flowers till it covered up her identifiable blonde tips.

Iris thought for sure she had squeaked then. Yes, she was sure.

She made a step towards Belén but in the next second vines had entangled themselves around Belén and taken her away from the scene.

~ 0 ~

In Jitters, Barry sat alone at a table waiting for Iris to come over with his ordered coffee. It was a particularly casual day, waiting for STAR Labs to come up with an identity for the person who mysteriously bombed an elite storage room the previous night. This case, however, was more interesting than any other case: the army had come to take it over. Just like that, they swept up the case with all its compartments and took off.

But, Barry managed to snag the most important part of the evidence and got it to STAR Labs right away for analyzation.

"Oh my God," Iris' voice made him snap out of his thoughts. She was coming over with her pot of coffee, but her eyes were stuck past him to the doors. "Barry, look."

He followed her gaze and glanced back to see Nina Clarke coming. On any other occasion, the appearance would've been normal…

2 Months ago:

"Hey," Barry greeted Caitlin as he walked in, the bio-engineer anxiously looking up at him.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

"Not good," Barry leaned against the side of the desk. "Get this, Nina took an absence of leave-" he did air quotation marks, "-from the hospital this morning. I checked her apartment and she wasn't there anymore."

"That's highly suspicious," Caitlin made a face.

"Very," Barry agreed. "Belén leaves last night, and then today one of her friends does the same? And with no specific reason?"

"You think she's where Belén is?"

"Of course. But question is, where?"

At that moment, Cisco strode into the room, and he looked nowhere pleased.

"How'd it go with you?" Barry asked him, though by the big sigh Cisco gave he could tell it wasn't going to get better.

"I talked to Bells' dad and he said he had no idea Belén was going to do this," Cisco plopped down in one of the desk chairs.

"Did you believe him?" Caitlin arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he was looking worried too," Cisco shrugged. "But he knows where she is now-" and just as Barry opened his mouth he added, "-and he said Bells told him not to say anything. She wanted a 'break'."

"Looks like Belén doesn't want to be found," Caitlin concluded with the obvious facts. She leaned back on her chair, sadly smiling at her two friends. "I think we need to respect her decision."

"But that's just it!" Barry exclaimed suddenly, startling the two. "It was a stupid, rash decision! She left the city because of me! Because I...I lied."

The pang his heart gave was a painful one.

"Do you think Bells is back too?" Iris quietly whispered to Barry as the two watched Nina go up to the counter to order.

Out of everyone, Iris was the most concerned of Belén's friends. She really had no idea what possessed Belén to get up and leave the way she had. No one seemed to know where Belén had run off to, nor her reasons. Even her graduation party had been cancelled because of her sudden departure. Her father had picked up her certificate from the office the day before the graduation ceremony took place. As far as Iris knew, Linda had hired some newly graduated student to cover Belén's position in the meantime the woman was gone.

Overall, Iris was confused and she just missed her friend.

"We should talk to her," Iris resolved and glanced at Barry for his opinion. He was mildly glaring at the nurse and while Iris could understand (in some way) his annoyance with the abrupt leave, she hit him in the arm. "It's not her fault Bells left! Don't you dare ruin this," she warned with a finger before going to greet Nina.

Nina wasn't surprised to find the younger woman taking her order. She politely smiled. "Hello, Iris."

"Nina, it's been a long time," Iris mustered her gracefulness and patience for this conversation.

"Has it?" Nina chuckled.

"Only been two months but...who's counting?" Iris chuckled alongside but it was easily fake as Nina's. "Can I get your order?"

"Espresso, please."

Iris nodded and dotted it on the register. "So...are you back in the city for good now?"

"Oh yeah, definitely," Nina answered, reaching for her wallet inside her bag. "I had to take care of some personal stuff."

"Did that 'personal stuff' also require Belén?"

Nina didn't seem fazed by the question as she handed Iris a ten dollar bill. Her smile was gone but her voice was still polite. "Actually, it was personal matters for each of us."

Iris accepted the bill and worked with the register. "Was it resolved?"

"Hm, yes, in a way, it was."

"And is she okay?"

"In what fits, Iris, yes. She's finally accepted her brother's death but how well can a sibling be when they accept that their twin is dead and with no recovered body to mourn?"

Iris had held out Nina's change and was left to think about the question with a decent amount of guilt. She had never thought about Belén leaving for her brother. Truthfully, at one point, Iris believed Belén was just doing this on purpose. How was she supposed to know this was about Rayan?

"Is she back now?" she whispered. "Is she back in the city?"

Nina took her change and put it back into her wallet. "I'll wait over there," she pointed to a lonesome table near the doors then left.

Iris glumly went to prepare the espresso. It was then that Barry got up to take his opportunity.

"Hello Barry," Nina greeted without so much of a glance from her phone screen. "How's it going?"

"Are you serious?" the hard tone in his voice made her chuckle.

"Oh, don't tell me you're mad. Out of everyone you are the least person with the right to be mad."

"I don't think it's funny when a friend disappears and has all of us going crazy wondering what happened."

Nina finally raised her eyes to the metahuman, and her sarcasm was no longer with her. "She's fine, Barry. She left because she thought it was the right thing to do for her. It has nothing to do with what fell out between you two."

While it did relieve Barry somewhat it wasn't enough. He took a seat across her, earnestly speaking. "Where is she? Where did she go?"

Nina just smiled at him. "You'll see her again, don't worry."

"That's not what I'm asking," Barry snapped. "Where the hell did she go?"

"She won't be the same, though," Nina warned, acting as if Barry hadn't said anything yet.

"That's not what-"

"She's a bit scared though of how you'll react - how everyone will react…"

"Nina!" Barry had slammed a hand on the table, not loud enough to cause a distraction but enough to make the doctor flinch on her spot. "I have spent the last two months going crazy wondering where it is she could've gone to. I get it, I messed up, and she's mad. But the least she can do is give us a call to let us know she's fine."

Nina bit her lip, looking reluctant of her next words. "The thing with her brother, it's part of the reason why she left. I love her, I really do, but I'm afraid what's gonna happen now that...that she's…"

"Now that she's…?" Barry motioned her to keep going.

"Here's your espresso," Iris chirped and set down the coffee cup on the table. She looked between Nina and Barry, getting strange vibes from them. "Um...am I interrupting?"

"No," Nina picked up her espresso and got up. "It was nice seeing you guys. I have to get to my shift. Bye."

"Well that was strange," Iris sighed and looked over to Barry. "Did she tell you anything about Bells?"

Barry was left in an even fouler mood than before. "No," he answered shortly and also got up.

"Do you think if we-"

"I have to go Iris," was his last statement before promptly (and what Iris deemed as rudely) leaving as well.

He had only made it halfway down the street when his phone vibrated. As soon as he answered it, Cisco quickly told him of the last known address (which in reality was an emergency contact) of their new metahuman in the city. As it turned out, Bette Sans Souci had a an address not too far. Getting in the suit, he sped to go find her.

He came into an alleyway where a tall ginger woman had been running from a staircase. She yelped when he came to a stop right in front of her. Immediately, she backtracked but Barry wasn't gonna let her go.

"Bette Sans Souci? I need you to come with me!"

"Don't touch me!" the woman nearly pleaded but Barry grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her forwards.

Her hand landed on his suit's emblem and she blinked with terror as it began shifting into a bright purple. "Get whatever you're wearing off of you. Hurry!"

Barry wasn't one to listen to strangers so quick but just for once he would make an exception. He sped away from her and got the suit off just mere seconds before it exploded into nothing!

Back at STAR Labs, Cisco was trying to get through to Barry while Caitlin assured him everything was fine on the other side.

"Barry? Can you hear me? Barry?"

"There must be a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he's not answering."

And then Barry sped in, going for the spare clothes in one of the side rooms.

"Barry?" Caitlin eyed him curiously as he came back out with pants he surely did not have before and pulling down a gray shirt over himself. "Uh…?"

"Don't ask," Barry mumbled, still not over what happened.

Cisco's eyes roamed the entire room for his crimson suit. "I'm gonna ask. Where's my suit?"

"It's... Gone."

Cisco straightened in his chair, his brow furrowing."What do you mean, it's gone? What did you do with my suit?"

"It blew up, dude. I managed to get out of it before it went, "kaboom."

"My suit went "kaboom"?"

Barry ignored Cisco's processing and walked over to the desk. "Fun fact about Bette Sans Souci. She's not carrying bombs. She touched the emblem on the suit and turned it into a bomb. She's a meta-human."

Dr. Wells came into the main room having heard the revelation. "With the ability to cause spontaneous combustion upon tactile contact."

Cisco was scowling by then. "She blew up my suit."

Caitlin rolled her eyes at him. "You have, like, three more."

"Okay, I have two. And I loved that one!"

"All right, what else do we know about her?" Barry asked from the two, now a little more impatient to find her.

Cisco leaned towards one of the computers and began looking up the recent information they had downloaded on the metahuman. "Oh, I don't know. She's pure evil. We're gonna find this girl and send her butt into the pipeline. No one blows my tech to smithereens and gets away with it…" his irritated tone vanished upon seeing a picture of the mysterious Bette, "Unless she looks like that."

"I don't think she meant to hurt me," Barry admitted to them.

"Well, her being a meta-human explains General Eiling's interest in her," Wells remarked.

At that moment, Joe came in and didn't look too surprised of what he'd heard so far. "And why he stole the case from us. He didn't want anyone to know what she could do. So... Human bomb. Must be Tuesday in Central City."

"Yes, and General Eiling's not one to give up a potential asset without a fight."

"We have to find her before he does."

"Barry?" Joe asked once the others got to work. "Can I see you for a second?" Barry nodded and followed him out into the corridor. "We've got a problem with Iris. She saw a metahuman - upclose at a police scene."

"I wasn't there, it wasn't me," Barry's hands shot up in immediate innocence.

"I know it wasn't you - it was a woman, least that's what Iris says."

"Well, maybe it was this one," Barry gestured to the room but Joe shook his head.

"This one bombs, the one that Iris saw apparently shoots plants or something."

Barry stiffened, not that Joe noticed. He was too preoccupied with his daughter at the moment.

"She's writing a blog now-"

"I already talked to her about that," Barry reminded, though his thoughts were beginning to roam from the conversation.

"Talk to her again. And be more convincing."

"Okay," Barry nodded and was about to go back inside when he caught Joe's sharp look. "Oh! You mean, right now?"

"Yes, I do," Joe motioned him to get a move on.

"Alright," Barry hurriedly left.

~ 0 ~

Sticking to his word, Barry was back at Jitters and desperately trying to get Iris to sway from her sudden passion.

"You've got to stop writing about these people - they don't exist."

Iris scoffed and turned to him, lowering the tray she was carrying. "I saw one of them, alright? They do too exist. I went to that crime scene thinking just maybe I would get a glimpse of the Streak but instead I saw this woman who singlehandedly saved a man from plummeting to his death. She wore this green and pink outfit…"

While Barry was listening attentively to her description of this new metahuman (that clearly was not Bette) he played it off with disbelief. "I mean, Iris, come on. You were drinking last night at the bar," he reminded her of their previous night out with their friends.

"I was not drunk, and I know what I saw," Iris said with a hint of annoyance. "It was amazing. I watched her dive from a window scaffold and landed perfectly on her feet and she only used these vines," she turned over one of her palms for gesture. "They just shot out from her hands! And body! It was incredible, Barry!"

All the details began ringing a red alert in Barry's mind.

It was just oddly familiar.

"I want to have people know that there are these extraordinary people out there saving us. What is wrong with you?" Iris stopped to give Barry an accusing look. "This is important to me. Why can't you be more supportive?"

"I'm just... you haven't even put your name on it. How serious can you be about an anonymous blog?"

Iris had enough of all the useless questionnaires and comments on something she was really interested in. "Okay, you know what? Our entire lives, you couldn't scream loud enough that the impossible existed. And now it's actually happening in Central City. I have proof of it, and you don't want to know about it? That doesn't make sense, Barry. So when you're ready to tell me what this whole routine is really about, then we can talk."

In other occasions, her being mad at him would've been bigger but all Barry could think of was the last time he had heard of a metahuman with vines.

Well, he wasn't going to sit there and watch her laugh at him like that.

~ 0 ~

"I'm looking through them, Felicity," Belén was in Nina's apartment, sitting at the kitchen table with a laptop in front of her. She was talking to the blonde techie over the cellphone while looking at a previous robbery of the jewelry store she visited last night. "I just don't understand what exactly I'm looking for this time. Oliver's already had me scour through them for clues till I broke down and you know it."

"Well, here's the one I wanted you to look at," Felicity said and soon Belén got the ping of an e-mail alert. She opened it up to find a video, security footage, of the Stagg building.

"Felicity, what am I looking at exactly?" Belén asked in confusion as she watched the video. It had a viewpoint from a nearby building by Stagg's, and as the seconds went by Belén saw the woman in purple standing at the rooftop of a building that would be just across Stagg's.

"These are a couple of videos I montaged," Felicity began to explain. "See, this one was when there was the incident with Simon Stagg and the tons of clones."

"Okay…"

"Now this is the night where Barry fought said metahuman, and do you see what's happening in the meantime of this fight?"

"Nothing," Belén shrugged. "She's just...watching."

"Exactly - she's watching. And do you know what else I've picked up on?"

"No, but please tell."

"There's other security video feed of her just 'happening' to be around when there's a metahuman or robbery going on. It's not always but there's a good 80% she will be there."

"She's got no life, then," Belén joked to herself.

It was short lived as a strong wind blew everything save the computer off the table.

"Belén? Is something wrong?" Felicity's voice barely made a noise in the already silent apartment. "Belén…?"

Barry had entered in a completely abrupt and rude way into the apartment, but he currently did not care. Belén ended her call with one click of a finger and put the phone down.

"Barry…?" She rose from her chair, unsure of how to even talk to him anymore.

Barry was in the same predicament, unsure how to address the woman across him. There was a turmoil of emotions washing over him and he didn't know which one was the one he felt the most.

"How did you...how did you know to find me here?" Belén discreetly closed the laptop beside her.

"I saw Nina earlier today," Barry said quietly. He was staring hard at her, studying her appearance for anything that would tell him (or give him a clue) as to where it was she had gone off to.

Belén nervously bit her lip, her feet locked on the spot she was in. "No one knows I'm here, though. My Dad...he doesn't know yet. Can you please not tell him anything?"

Barry surprised her by lightly laughing. "I'm sorry, after everything you're asking me a favor?"

There was the seeping anger Belén had been expecting.

"I know I don't deserve anything but it's important," she whispered.

"You don't get to ask favors from me anymore."

"I know-"

"No you don't!" Barry snapped. "You left, Belén! You left without saying a word to any of us! One call," he pointed at her, "One measly call to let us know you were fine would've been enough. It didn't even have to be to me!"

"I told my father to tell you all," Belén meekly reminded.

"Getting a message isn't the same thing!" Barry's voice kept rising and rising, and he knew it was completely out of his character to do so but looking at her and seeing she was fine made it all the more angering when he remembered how guilty he'd been (and still was) for causing her to leave. "I thought we were friends-"

"So did I," Belén finally made a comeback. "I thought we were friends but then I came to the shocking surprise he'd been laughing at me behind my back by pretending to be some super hero helping me."

"And you thought the best way to get back at me was to flee the city?"

"My choice in leaving was not about you!"

"Yeah, right. Admit it Belén, you wanted to hurt me like I hurt you."

Now it was Belén growing angry, and unlike Barry she had less control of her feelings. She could feel that other side trying to creep its way to the surface. "Stop it! I left for other reasons that didn't include some silly revenge!"

"Are you sure about that?" Barry challenged her, taking a couple steps towards her. Her teary eyes were not going to get him to back down, not this time. "What I did was wrong, I admit that and I take my

responsibility for it. But what you did, hurt not only me, it hurt everyone else. You left us, and you made me feel like it was because of ME me. Do you know what feels like?"

"It wasn't like that," Belén persisted, but her voice was faltering.

Barry shook his head. "And then you come back as a metahuman - because don't you dare lie to me and say you aren't - and let Iris see you."

Belén's eyes shot up to him, surprised he'd figured it out and that he knew of the incident with Iris. "You looked at the results…"

"No, I promised you I wouldn't so I didn't. Iris told me about it, and it doesn't take a genius to figure it out if you were at the scene of your kidnapper's vacation home. You have powers and you've been using them!"

"And I suppose you're gonna fault me again because I didn't tell you?" Belén arched an eyebrow. "Because remember, when I met you I was under the belief you were just Iris' best friend who worked as a forensics."

"But now that you know, and that you're in this world, you need to know that Iris cannot know anything about us."

"What-"

"Joe doesn't want her to know and we have to respect that. But if she keeps writing about this, about you and me and anyone else, she's going to get hurt!"

"But I didn't plan on seeing her, honest! Like I said, no one knows I'm back!"

"I'm just giving you one warning, Belén. This was it."

Belén confusingly watched him head for the door. "So that's just it? You're not going to talk to me anymore?"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Barry glanced back, reminding her of her requests. "You said if I talked to you again I would be punched."

"I was angry with you, Barry! I could've said a lot of things I clearly didn't mean!"

"Now I'm mad at you, and I think I know I mean it when I say don't talk to me."

Belén stifled a sob as she made to come after him. "B-Barry!"

But he was already gone.

Through her feelings, she felt that same feeling start at her hands. Gasping she looked at her hands and was horrified to see that emerald green beginning to fully cover her skin this time.

"No! No! No! No!" she dashed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut with lock. She put herself in front of the mirror to see parts of her face also sporting some blotches of green. "Go away! Go away!" she shouted at it and screwed her eyes shut, hands firmly gripping the edges of the sink.

"Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away," she repeated like a chant.

~ 0 ~

"And you said that to her? All of that?" Caitlin was gaping towards Barry after hearing the incident between him and the newly arrived Belén.

"Not cool, dude, not cool," Cisco said distractedly while recording Bette's numbers onto the computer.

They had finally met with Bette, under some bad circumstances, and took her back to STAR Labs to get a clearer understanding of her abilities. But due to General Eiling still after her, they were forced to take her into the training area a bit quicker than planned so that Dr. Wells could deal with the man.

"Barry, I don't think that was the best way to greet her," Caitlin gently said, understanding where Barry's anger was coming from.

"I couldn't help it!" Barry exclaimed and paced back and forth beside the table of computers and other objects for Bette's exams. "I was so mad that she came back like nothing!"

"Well, did you expect her to be begging for forgiveness?" Cisco asked, still appearing to be annoyed with him.

"No, Cisco, but I did expect some sort of explanation."

"So did you let her talk? Because you have a tendency not to when you're mad at someone."

"You know, it sounds like you're taking her side, Cisco," Barry suspiciously said, crossing his arms.

"I'm not," Cisco clarified before anything else was said. "It's just...I don't think what needed to be said was said. I wanna talk to Bells and find out why she left."

"Good luck," Barry scoffed and walked off to go see how Bette was doing.

"That went well," Caitlin remarked and eyed a boomerang Cisco had apparently brought for the tests. Bette was supposed to throw the objects to the sky for them to explode but clearly Cisco forgot about that small detail.

"I can't believe he shouted a her," Cisco muttered.

"Look, on some level, it is understandable. We can't blame Barry after these two months. He felt guilty, and he still does. What Belén did was wrong. What did she expect was going to happy?"

~ 0 ~

"What did you expect was going to happen, hm?" Nina stood in front of the couch where Belén was sitting.

The ombre-blonde was sitting cross-legged, currently sniffing as tears fell from her eyes.

"You left abruptly and you didn't even bother giving your friends a call. It's a natural response to be angry."

"I know I deserved it, but it doesn't mean it didn't hurt," Belén meekly argued.

Of course she had expected for Barry and the others to be angry with her decision and the way she executed it. She wasn't expecting some sort of big welcome back nor immediate friendship. Those were the first warnings Felicity, and then others of Starling City told her, but she was firm on her decision.

She still was.

"It doesn't help to cry, Belén," Nina sighed and walked into the kitchen.

"There's nothing more I can do," Belén finally looked up. "I messed up and these are the consequences that I have to endure."

"By crying?" Nina rolled her eyes and plopped down at the table, re-opening the laptop Belén had forgone a while ago.

"Well, I'm sorry but not everyone can be rigid like the great Nina Clarke is," Belén rolled her eyes but the statement seemed to only amuse Nina.

"I'm only saying instead of sitting on my couch and sobbing for your woes, go out there and do something about it."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, but I would start by returning your life to normal. Right now, you're stressed and your mind is clouded with Rayan's case."

"That's because he's my only priority right now. I'm not gonna get distracted."

Nina shook her head and raised her eyes from the computer screen for a moment. "Being what we are - metahumans - is already weird and distancing. Don't add unnecessary negatives to it."

Belén leaned back on the cushion, still pouting. Nina went back to the computer and for a while there was no more conversation. It wasn't until Nina gasped in what sounded like horror that Belén forewent her sad thoughts.

"Nins, what is it?"

"Your friend Iris really wants to die," Nina was blinking wide-eyed at the screen. Belén got up and rushed to go see what was Iris had done now.

"Oh my God," Belén said with a mixture of horror and weariness.

Iris had posted a new article for her blog...with her name written on it this time.

"She just doesn't get the memo," Nina scrolled through the newest post.

"Barry told me Iris posted a new thing about me, but I didn't really think about what would happen."

"This can't keep going. One of these days someone will make the connection she knows 'the Streak' and now you."

"It's my fault," Belén walked away from the table, running her hands through her now messy hair. "And you know, no matter what happens I don't want Iris getting hurt when she's the least one who deserves it."

"So what are you planning on doing?" Nina asked, genuinely curious.

"Exactly what Barry did to me when I most needed it," Belén turned around with a wide smile.

"Oh, no…"

~ 0 ~

Later that night, Iris was busy cleaning up inside Jitters so that she could properly close down and leave. There was a light knock on the door followed by a bell chime.

"Sorry, we're closed," Iris called without looking up from the dishes she was collecting.

"I was hoping you would make an exception."

Iris nearly let the cups in her hands fall after seeing several tendrils of vines passing through the doors. The tendrils swirled up from the floor into the shape of a figure until it became the familiar woman in green Iris had seen. "Oh, my God, it's you!"

Belén stood there in her 'vigilante' outfit, with the flower mask around her eyes. Her hair was covered in the strings of roots that hid her blonde tips.

"You remember from one night?" Belén mused, her modulated voice coming as not a surprise for Iris.

"Actually," Iris beamed and put down her glasses to go retrieve her bag behind the counter. "I knew you were familiar from somewhere and I couldn't just let it go!"

'Course you couldn't," Belén hid her smile by looking to the side.

Iris had pulled out her computer and set it on the counter. "There have been reportings of a mysterious new addition to the Arrow's team…" she turned the computer over to Belén's direction, "...it's you. Isn't it?"

Belén took no steps towards her. Instead, she extended a hand and with a vine sprouting from her palm she brought the computer over to her. She looked intently onto the screen where several news pictures had caught her in low resolution pictures.

"It's so you," Iris concluded on her own after taking a moment to really study the woman.

"Yes," Belén saw no point in denying what was so clear on picture. Slowly, she returned the laptop to the counter. "You looked me up?"

"Of course," Iris said as it were obvious. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you don't know me, no one knows me."

"I know. Right now, it's all about the Streak. But…" Iris came around the counter with a wide smile, "...girls need the recognition too, right? I saw you save that man last night, and I've been going through some of Star City's news online. You're a hero, just like the Streak. What have you been doing over at Star City though? Or, why did you decide to come here now?"

Belén sucked in a breath. "Can we speak somewhere else? Like, the rooftop?"

Iris nodded her head, forgetting her duties and motioning to the staircase leading up to the roof. Belén just smiled and motioned her go first. Iris did so and was halfway up when she realized the woman had never followed. She ran up the remainder of stairs and came to the surprise of finding Belén already waiting for her.

"How did you…?" Iris laughed, looking around for a clue as to how she was beaten. "How did you do that? You're fast too?"

Belén sat on the ledge of the building, leaning forwards over her knees. "It's much more fun using my vines to climb buildings. I'm no Streak but I do set my own speed records when I turn vine-ish…"

Iris figured and laughed again.

Belén remained serious and stood up. "I need you to stop writing about me, about any of us with powers. The Streak agrees."

"You know each other?" Iris brightened up, and Belén inwardly smacked herself on the face. Apparently, that was all that Iris had heard from her statement. "Are you like...like some superhero duo now? Or-"

"Iris," Belén raised a hand to cut in, "please just listen. It's not safe for you to keep writing about us."

"But there are a lot of people who need someone like you guys right now. To know that you're out there."

"Maybe not," Belén countered. "This writing stuff, isn't it becoming a problem for you and your family? I would assume they would be concerned for your safety. And I have to be honest, putting your name on this newest article wasn't your smartest idea."

"You read my article?" Iris gasped.

Again, she only heard the last of Belén's words.

"You are a fantastic writer and I have no doubt that you will go on to do amazing things in journalism...but just not with these articles."

"Why are you so keen on me letting it go? Don't you want people to know about you? To know about the Streak?"

"Personally, I haven't the faintest idea why you decided to post something about me," Belén put a hand over her chest.

"Because you're just as amazing," Iris shrugged, coming to take a step towards her. "You climb buildings with vines! Not to mention, you actually turn into vines! You are amazing!"

Belén bitterly laughed, and though it was dark Iris could clearly see the woman's green eyes glossy.

"What's the matter?" she gently asked. "You don't believe it?"

Belén looked at her friend with a sad smile. "You don't know me, Iris West. I am not grand, I am not deserving of any articles written for me. You want a hero, you go to the Streak. Me? I'm not a good person."

"Yes, you are," Iris was quick to interject, the soft smile across her lips nearly making Belén believe it. "Why wouldn't you believe it?"

"A good person doesn't hurt their friends nor family - that is exactly what I've done," Belén bit her lip, hating herself for talking about this...but her lips wouldn't stop opening. "I did a bad thing a while back. I was mad at a friend and I made a decision that same day that I knew would hurt him back." Belén then lowly laughed when she made the realization. "I guess, in a way, I wanted him to hurt like he made me hurt. But my decision didn't just hurt him, it hurt a lot more people...and I don't know how to fix it."

Iris wished nothing more than to go over and hug this mysterious woman who in reality seemed a lot more vulnerable than what the media portrayed. It was just a reminder that heroes were still human. "That doesn't make you a bad person," Iris gently declared. "Everyone makes mistakes, but what matters is how you intend on fixing them. This doesn't stop you from being a hero in my eyes."

"I'm not a hero, Iris," Belén reiterated.

Iris smirked, tilting her head in that way that told Belén it was already set in stone. "Too late. I just need a name to call you. Do you have one?"

"No," Belén chuckled and sniffed. "Because, as I said, I'm not a hero. I'm not doing this for glory or recognition."

"So why do you?"

"For someone very important in my life," Belén thought to her elder twin brother.

"Yeah?" Iris stepped forwards again. "Well then hear my side. I have this friend, and he had something terrible happen to him when he was a kid. His whole life, he's been telling stories about this impossible thing. And people laughed at him. And shrinks analyzed him. And he's been searching for an explanation ever since. But now, suddenly, it's like he's lost his faith. But you and the Streak... you two are proof that he wasn't crazy. Help me save my friend."

Belén could've burst into more sobs if she didn't have more control of herself. "He is a very lucky guy, you know."

"Believe me, he's not," Iris confided in a dramatic whisper. "He's overly clumsy and everything happens to him whenever it comes to dropping something, crashing into someone, or even just making friends. But this thing that happened to him as a kid, I can help him with that. This is why I'm doing my blog, please help me."

Belén raised a turned palm and slowly created a small, pink flower. But it was a specific flower, one that Iris saw a couple times.

"Is that an Azalea?" she pointed.

"Mhm. It's the source of my powers, apparently," Belén had a vine take the flower to Iris. "The thing about these flowers, they're adorable and they're beautiful...but they are also known for their deadly side."

Iris took the fragile flower into her hands and looked at Belén, confused.

"What I'm intending on doing others may call a suicide mission. I don't want you getting caught in the crossfire because of an article you wrote. Keep the flower, change your blog. Goodbye."

"But-" Iris called to the woman in vain as she dropped from the ledge again. She looked at her new flower and walked back into the building.

~ 0 ~

"Maritza's been slacking," Angie put a laptop in front of Rayan Palayta. "There's a new metahuman in town as reported by Iris West. Doesn't your sister know that girl?"

Rayan snatched the laptop to his lap and read the article Iris had written. "This one's different. She's helping the Streak. See, this is what I knew would happen if we let that speedster keep doing his thing."

Angie got up from the couch, looking suddenly determined. "Let me take care of her. I've been dying to finally debut out in the streets."

Rayan gave her a questionable scoff. "You? Are you serious?"

Angie nodded. "Well, she's not going to want to help you take down Wells and STAR Labs, might as well get her out of the way."

"Fine, but you'll eliminate her without a mistake," Rayan warned.

"Watch me," Angie smirked, more than ready to go out.

~ 0 ~

Belén wasn't sure who'd she find in STAR Labs that early noon she walked in. She didn't exactly know what she was going to tell anyone, much less how to even greet them. But she figured she had to start somewhere.

"Hello?" she peered inside the cortex room, only to find a ginger woman inside.

Bette glanced back and immediately took a defensive stance against her. Belén came out from the side with her hands raised.

"I'm a good one, promise," she said, but Bette still didn't look very convinced.

"Belén," Dr. Wells' voice startled the ombre-blonde from behind and made her spin around to meet the man.

"Dr. Wells," Belén put a hand over her chest, "Sorry, you just…"

"It's nice to see you back," he remarked as he wheeled further inside the room, giving Bette a reassuring nod everything was fine.

"Um, yeah," Belén sighed and turned in their direction. "I think you're probably the only one who can say that about me."

"Nonsense, I'm sure Cisco would be delighted to see you're back. He's in the experiment room if you're looking for him."

"Yeah, actually, I was," Belén glanced towards Bette. "Um, hi. I don't think we've met yet."

"Bette," the ginger said, but she didn't seem quite interested in making conversation. It worked just fine for Belén as she was more interested in seeing her friends.

"Belén," Wells called just as she crossed the doorway, "I know you must be having trouble adjusting to your abilities but please to take in consideration that STAR Labs is always here to help you."

Belén softly smiled at the kind words. "Thank you, Dr. Wells. I may just take your words to heart."

"We'll see what we can do," Wells reassured her and she went on just slightly happier than before. How could she know that he actually could care less whether her abilities developed or not? The only reason he extended the offer was for appearances and because of who she would end up being in the future.

Not to mention the losses she would end up suffering.

~ 0 ~

Cisco was focused hard on some sort of device in his work room when he heard a knock on the door behind.

"Can I come in?" Belén's voice startled him enough to drop what he was holding. She nervously smiled his way as he turned on his chair.

"Belén!"

Belén was relieved when Cisco rushed to meet her with a tight hug. There had to be someone who would be happy to see her right?

"Cisco, it's so good to see you," she pulled away and chuckled. "I missed you."

"Maybe next time you shouldn't leave!" Cisco playfully replied with and led her to a chair next to his.

"You're mad too," Belén sighed and sat down.

"I'm not mad, I'm just...so confused. Why'd you do it? Barry thinks it's because he didn't tell you about...you know…"

"Look, my decision may have taken that as part of the motive but it was also to learn to control myself, to learn how to fight." Belén lightly smiled and put a hand on the table. She let the tips of her nails release thin, small vines that soon rushed to cover up a book nearby. "Two months ago, I could barely do this."

"Barry was right, you were a metahuman," Cisco gawked. "Why did you keep it a secret? We could've helped you."

"Like I told Barry earlier, for me you guys were all just regular people. How could I go up to any of you say 'Oh, by the way guys, I seemed to have developed plant powers'. That's not exactly something easy to say. The only reason Nina knows is because she covered for me at the hospital."

"And she's the he only one that knows…?"

"Yes," Belén eyed him with plead, "And I beg you not to tell anyone out of this building. My dad still thinks I'm at Starling City with my friend Laurel and my mom - as of yesterday night - thinks I'm back with my dad."

"Neither knows where your are then?"

"Not even my sister. And they can't know.'

"But why?"

"Because I have to do something that isn't safe and I don't want any of them getting hurt."

"But...if you're doing this then you're gonna get hurt...and none of us want that."

Belén sighed, giving him a sad look in return. "I don't think 'everyone' can be spoken for."

Cisco immediately understood and reached for her hand, giving a warm pat. "Hey, look, Barry's going to cool down. But no matter what he's said he wouldn't want you getting hurt."

"I want to believe that," Belén whispered, her eyes drifting to the side as she uncharacteristically became quiet.

It was then that Caitlin happened to walk in, and Belén found herself in another round of questions and explanations. She didn't care, though, she was just relieved that Caitlin hadn't expressed any hostility against her (though she knew she very well deserved it). They spoke briefly about her powers, seeing

Belén wasn't very willing to release specific information about that side just yet. Their conversation steered more towards what she was doing in Starling City for the two past months, but even those were given short sentence answers.

They moved back to the main room, where Cisco came to the disappointing news that Bette had decided to leave.

"That's funny," Belén remarked by the side of Cisco's chair, the latter silently pouting for his loss, "She didn't mention anything about leaving when I bumped into her earlier."

"She wasn't doing well," Dr. Wells briefly explained. "Bette's metahuman abilities weren't exactly the best."

"How do you mean?"

"To make it short, Bette is literally a bomb," Caitlin made a face. "Anything she touches goes boom in about five seconds."

"Wow," Belén raised her eyebrows, "That can't be easy. Even with humans?" she asked for a clarification.

"Aha…"

"Ouch," Belén comfortingly placed a hand over Cisco's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Cisco. I'm sure-"

"Don't use the 'there's other fish in the sea' line on me," he playfully warned her, making her chuckle.

Her laughter was cut short when Barry walked into the room. She locked eyes with him and so she straightened up, meekly bidding goodbye. "I should get going…"

"Stay," Caitlin was the one to say, briefly glancing at Barry in a warning manner. She was not going to stand for a childish act from neither side.

"Where's Bette?" Barry decided to focus on anything else that wasn't Belén.

"She left," Cisco answered glumly.

"What do you mean? Where did she go?"

"She didn't say," Dr. Wells gave him the same answer he'd given to the others earlier.

"Well, where the hell could she be? We have to find her, she can't be on her own." Barry walked over to the desk, intending on starting a search for her. Cisco jumped on the opportunity to see the woman again and quickly went to do it himself.

"I got back on the military feed. Looks like they've gone to the waterfront to rendezvous with Bette."

"She's turning herself in," Caitlin realized and quickly looked at the others, all silently agreeing that was most certainly not going to happen.

"She's with the military?" Belén gaped, her eyes widening. "Barry, you can't go in alone. That's too dangerous."

Barry ignored her in favor of retrieving his suit. It had been left out in plain sight now that Belén knew the secret. Iris never came to the building as they had noticed long ago.

"Barry!" she cut him once he returned in the suit. "For God's sake, you're angry with me fine, but that doesn't mean I don't want to help you."

They had a mini-staredown that neither seemed keen on backing down from. Barry was silently wondering where Belén acquired this new sense of boldness she most certainly didn't own two months ago. He left the thought when he remembered Bette was going to get herself into trouble. Without saying a word, he sped out of the room.

Belén bitterly laughed as she spun towards the doors. "He's not getting rid of me that easily."

"What are you planning…?" Cisco recognized that idea expression that was currently taking over her face.

"I learned a new trick while I was gone," Belén gave him a sideways smirk. "Can you give me the location please?"

~ 0 ~

Under certain influence, Bette had planned a fake surrender with General Eiling by the waterfront of the city. But of course, the older man didn't believe it. That was why he was trying to be smart by pitching her an idea he thought she couldn't pass up.

"All over the world, people are plotting to destroy our country. To end our lives. Brave American soldiers are gonna die in that fight, but they don't have to. Because of you, we could have victory."

"All I've ever wanted was to make the world a safer place. And it will be when you're not in it." Bette chucked towards him and the rest of the soldiers small, purple glowing spheres that soon exploded and cause mayhem.

While most soldiers were unconscious, Eiling remained half awake. Bette walked towards him with one hand extended. She would blow him into smithereens. Barry arrived and blocked her way.

"What are you doing here?" Bette gasped at the sight of him.

"Being a soldier doesn't mean you're a murderer. Don't become one now."

In the midst of their distraction, Eiling had raised a gun from his spot on the ground and fired. Bette did a spin and fell to the ground with a bullet lodged in the middle of her chest.

Barry panicked and pulled off his mask as he got down beside her. "I'm sorry. I didn't see him."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I'm glad you stopped me," Bette flashed a light smile.

"I'm gonna get you back to S.T.A.R. Labs."

Bette shook her head, feeling her strength fading fast. "Barry, Dr. Wells. He... he…" but her eyes closed before she could finish the sentence.

"Barry, watch out!"

Barry glanced over his shoulder in time to see her shoot a couple of thick vines that pinned Eiling to his spot.

"What are you doing here?" Barry hissed, though he still eyed the leather outfit on her. He remembered it vaguely from an old news report Iris once showed him in the past. "You were at Starling City," he whispered his realization. However, the brightening purple glow beside Barry grabbed both their attention.

"She's going to blow up," Belén rushed forwards.

"Guys, we have a problem," Barry spoke with the earpiece.

"Is Bette okay?" came Cisco's anxious voice seconds later.

"No. Eiling killed her. She's glowing. She's gonna detonate."

Caitlin gasped. "Oh, my God, a mass that size, the explosion, it would be... Devastating. Barry, you have to get her away from the city.

"But there's no time…"

Belén glanced towards the waterfront and suddenly shifted to Barry. "Random question...but can you run on water? You know, like they do in the movies?"

At first, Barry was intending on scolding her for asking such a ridiculous question at a time like this...but then he understood. "How fast do I need to go to run on water?" he quickly asked of the STAR Labs employees.

Cisco began making the calculations. "Assuming your weight... 450 pounds of force per step for vertical suspension. Accounting for fluid drag…"

"Approximately 650 miles an hour…" Dr. Wells figured out just before and spoke up.

"You have to outrun the blast or you'll die too," Caitlin warned.

Barry nodded and pulled his mask over his face again. He looked at Belén for a minute, this time not needing to voice his instruction. She got up and took several steps back.

"Stay mad with me if you must, but...good luck," she told him meekly from her spot.

For a minute, Barry's anger faltered. He shook his head then and picked up Bette, finding there was no time to waste. He sped off towards the waterfront, unable to hear Belén's small laugh as she watched him leave.

Her happiness didn't last long when she was shoved to the ground by something behind her. The moment she raised her head she saw blonde streaks of hair.

"Well, this city just doesn't stop with its freaky heroes," the new woman spoke up.

"We're called metahumans," Belén growled and jumped to her feet. "And let me guess, you work with Plasticine too?"

"I don't work for her," the blonde corrected. Belén desperately tried to get some good clues on this woman's identity, but much like Belén and Barry, her face was covered with a pixelated, half-mask. Her attire was a mixture of bright colors but the gold seemed to be her thing. Still, Belén didn't think too much. She thrust her hand forwards and shot a round of thorns in the woman's way. She was careful to have them miss any of the unconscious soldiers nearby.

While some of them did graze the blonde woman, it didn't cause much pain. "Ha! You're not fighting Plasticine now, sweetheart. I'm Pixel!" She literally disintegrated and reappeared behind Belén to give her a good roundhouse kick.

Belén went down to the ground, groaning. They were momentarily struck with a semi-earthquake which turned out to be the reverberation of Bette's explosion from the water. Pixel saw the Streak making way back to them, while simultaneously trying to evade the large wave behind him.

"Better get on with it!" she smirked but Belén shot back with a vine, slamming her down to the ground.

Belén didn't give her a chance to fight back and punched the woman out cold with another vine, least that's what she thought. Pixel, holding back her groans, reached for something in her back.

"Don't get near her!" Barry's sharp, irritated shout made Belén flinch and freeze on her spot. "She's dangerous."

"This isn't Plasticine!" Belén turned to him. "This is someone new! Don't you see? They're gaining numbers! And I have to know what it's got to do with my brother! I'll-"

A second gunshot rang in the air.

Belén gasped before falling over.

Barry acted fast and sped towards her, catching her mere inches from the ground. Her mask has dissolved into nothing, giving a clear view of her face.

"Oh my God…" Pixel muttered from her spot on the ground, her hand still holding the gun.

Normally, Barry would've fought off the man until he had answers but Belén's current condition required immediate attention. Without saying a word, he sped out of the place.

~ 0 ~

The first thing Belén was aware of when she became mildly conscious was the sharp pain on her lower back. She registered the fact she was on a bed of some sort. So, when she opened her eyes and saw she was in the STAR Labs room, it came as no surprise.

"O-ow…" she groaned and turned her head to the side, hoping that whatever hurt just stopped.

"You can't heal fast, can you?"

"Hmm?"

Barry was leaning against the threshold, his arms crossed. Belén could only look at him for so long before remembering all of that day.

"My genes didn't change like yours did," she replied quietly, her eyes drifting to a metal, wheeled table against a wall on her left. "Though my body does seem act more like a mushy ground for light injuries, more severe ones will affect me like normal."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Um...there was Pixel, and then...I punched her...then you came, and...there was a funny noise in the air…"

"You were shot," Barry reminded, slowly leaning off the hinge.

"Hmm," Belén mused with a crooked smile. "I suppose this was all planned by Plasticine. It only makes sense."

"Why would they want you dead?" Barry asked the pressing question.

"It's kind of obvious, Barry. They're bad guys, it's what they do."

"Don't insult my intelligence," Barry shook his head. "Funny thing, I was going over Iris' blog and it just so happens she posted something new about a certain metahuman...that arrived from Starling City."

"Can we not do-"

"You left Central City with Felicity, didn't you?"

And there was the ringing question Belén had dreaded of the moment she returned.

"Yes, yes I did," she whispered.

"All this time I have felt completely awful about our argument that day. I understand it was difficult for you to forgive me for keeping all this-" he gestured to the lab "-a secret from you. I get it. But you did not have the right to turn the tables on me." By this time, he had begun to pace and Belén's eyes struggled to follow him throughout the room. "Because I don't care what you say, you were trying to get payback. But to put yourself in danger by actually going with the Arrow - and don't deny that's where you went because the news reports say otherwise - was completely ridiculous! I know the Arrow, I know what he does, and what he does is not what you should be learning!"

"You're right," Belén finally inputted a word, "about almost everything."

"Well…" Barry made a face at her, intending on staying mad but the way her glossy green eyes were looking at him made it more difficult. He exhaled dramatically and walked over to a chair, bringing it beside her.

"I did leave to get payback, and for that I'm sorry," Belén sighed. "But that wasn't my main reason. I realized that I didn't have control over myself, emotionally and physically."

"You're a metahuman, we could've helped you."

"No, you couldn't have. You would go incredibly easy on me and who would win there? Caitlin would go all 'mom' on me whenever I got a scratch. Cisco...well, Cisco would be the worst of them all. I love him but he's an overprotective friend. The only one that would perhaps help me for real would be Dr. Wells. Going with Felicity seemed like the only logical thing to do. It wasn't easy to convince Oliver - er, the Arrow - to help me, but Felicity stepped in and then my friend Laurel. When he agreed he saw me as nothing more than a student. There was no easy win, no light training. That is what I needed."

"And in the meantime not even a call ever crossed your mind? We were worried sick over you, Belén. Having your father tell us you were fine wasn't what we were looking for."

"I'm sorry…"

"You should be," Barry said firmly, but this time Belén noticed there was a lighter tone in his voice.

"I''m sorry I made you feel bad for two months. You have every right to be mad with me," Belén sighed in resignation.

"I was mad...and then someone shot you. I lost someone I barely started considering a friend, I don't really want to lose someone I've known longer."

"I wouldn't like to lose a friend like you either…"

There was a minute of silence afterwards.

"How about we move forwards, then?" Barry asked, giving her a light smile. "Maybe we can get back to where we were before all this happened."

Belén chuckled, and for a moment Barry couldn't tell if it was a genuine laugh or if it was an after effect of the anesthesia Nina put on her earlier. "Barry, I think that's quite impossible. You now run faster than the speed of light, and I'm part plant. I don't think we can ever get back to where we were."

"Sorry, Belén…"

"You know…you can start calling me Bells again if you'd like. My friends usually do that…"

Barry laughed and nodded his head. "Bells. That does feel nice to say again."

Belén smiled for a moment before feeling another jab of pain on her back. "Oh, that hurts."

"Oh, don't try to move much!" Barry quickly instructed. "The others should be back and Cait will help you with your things."

"Guess it's a good thing no one knows I'm back," Belén forced herself to sit up a little.

"Cisco told me about your little idea and your suicide mission. I don't agree with your strategies."

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't ask."

"Belén, you're doing this for Rayan, aren't you?"

The way Belén remained silent told Barry all he wanted to know.

"I thought you gave up on that…"

"Because I couldn't defend myself nor my family," Belén shook her head. "But now that I can, I am going to keep looking for my brother. Plasticine sending Pixel after me is proof enough that there's something going on concerning my brother. I have to find him, whether he's alive or...dead," she gulped at the idea, "But I have to find him so that I can finally put this all to rest."

"You want to find him?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you're not gonna stop at anything?"

"Nope."

"Fine, then STAR Labs is also going to help you."

"What?"

Barry stood up from his chair, looking like there was nothing else to discuss. "Now that you know who I am, and that you do have powers, we can work together - side by side - and find your brother."

"B-Barry, I can't...I can't ask you to do that," Belén said, the idea making he stomach churn.

"It's a good thing I wasn't asking, then," Barry flashed her a smirk.

"But...but you...you can't...n-not…" Belén was left sputtering as Barry turned to leave. "I don't want you helping me!"

"It's too late for that!"

Belén tried getting out of the bed but her back still hurt far too much for any movements like that. She was forced back to her bed. "Barry Allen, you get back here right now!"

Barry listened to her her shouting as he made his way out of the room, wearing a very widened smirk across his lips.

Just one small payback wouldn't hurt anyone.

#noblecrescentedit #barry allen x oc #oc: Belén Palayta #oc: Belen Palayta #the flash #the flash fanfic #barry allen x original female character #Barry Allen #Caitlin Snow #Cisco Ramon #Linda Park #Iris West #It Had To be You

[artificialqueens]

malamente part 6 (branjie) - evan

Lovely art by @youre-a-kite!! The talent!! I am so grateful for this!

AN: Well. It’s been a month since part 5, and I’ve been slowly chipping away at this chapter until it finally came together. I’m really happy with it, though, and I hope it’s worth the wait ;) all my love to @artificialmeggie for betaing, and to my darling avengers.

–

Brooke’s not sure when she grabbed Vanessa’s hand. Maybe it was to still her fingers drumming against the table as she spoke, so cautious and slow. Whenever it was, now Brooke’s slowly tracing the tendons with her thumb, trying to fill a silence that’s already too heavy with apprehension.

“So. That’s me.” Vanessa’s cards are on the table. She bites her lip.

“So it’s…” Brooke doesn’t have the words yet. She hesitates, hoping Vanessa might jump in with an answer. She doesn’t, and maybe she’s just as hungry for a concise word as Brooke is. “It’s magic?” Brooke manages finally.

“I guess. I don’t really know if there’s rules or names or shit like that. There’s things I can do that other people can’t, and I don’t know much other than that. I’m winging it, mostly.”

Brooke is processing, and she knows her face shows it.

“You’re freaked out,” Vanessa says.

“No, I’m not—”

“Bitch, I knocked your best friend unconscious, you can be freaked out.”

“Okay, fine, I’m a little… I’m getting used to it.” Freaked out means skittish. Freaked out means running away. Brooke is neither. It’s nothing weirder than anything else that’s happened in the past 24 hours, and this answer almost feels like a comfort, a touchpoint, however foreign it is.

Vanessa rolls her eyes, clicks her tongue. “I don’t tell most people. Or anyone, really.” The corner of Vanessa’s mouth turns up just a little, almost imperceptibly. “But we’re really in this together now, there’s a damn body in your garden, so you better catch up quick.”

Brooke can’t help but smile.

“What does it feel like?” Brooke asks.

“It feels like…” Vanessa’s hand has been still in Brooke’s ever since she grabbed it, but now she squeezes back, and runs a finger slowly up and down the inside of Brooke’s palm as she thinks. “I don’t know, it’s like I’m holding something that isn’t actually there, but it is. And it’s not like a solid thing, so I gotta be careful? If that makes sense?”

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes.” Vanessa lifts her free hand and brushes a blonde curl from where it’s fallen over Brooke’s eye. She touches lightly on the spot where Brooke’s bruise should be, and something throws itself together in Brooke’s chest. Something pops into place, a joint in a socket, the last puzzle piece.

“Not the little stuff,” Vanessa continues, and her touch tingles like menthol. “Not like this. The bigger stuff, the scary shit, like with Nina… that doesn’t feel so good.”

Vanessa looks at her long and warm and she’s so overwhelmingly there. But before Brooke can step over her last rational thought and topple right over into her, there’s a voice from the hallway.

“I’ll say.”

It’s Nina. She’s got her shoulders squared, wearing the same stern, solid expression she typically reserved for terse interactions with Jason or talking back to her daughter’s soccer coach after a rough game. And Brooke could almost be scared of her if she wasn’t clutching the pillow Brooke had placed under her head to her chest like it’s a life raft.

“I hate to interrupt. But would one of you kindly explain why I just woke up in the back seat of my own car?”

“Nina.” Brooke stands cautiously. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands.

Nina doesn’t get angry. It’s a rare sight, one Brooke hardly knows how to handle. She’s a quiet kind of furious, all distant and shut down and unreadable. As long as Brooke has known her, she’s only seen Nina this upset when her husband forgot to pick up Millie from tennis the one day he was responsible for her. Nina fumed for a week before she finally came around.

(From Nina, Brooke will accept forgiveness on any timeline.)

Brooke makes Nina an omelette and tells her everything. She’s not creative enough to edit what they did into something prettier, but moreover Brooke knows Nina deserves better than that. She gets the whole truth: the figs, the scotch, the knife, the trash bags, all of it. The only thing she edits out is that kiss in the guest room, mostly for her own sake, though she’s pretty sure Nina already knows. Nina always just knows.

Brooke is surprised as Nina’s face melts into sympathy. Nina nods along, covers her mouth, drums her fingers across her lower lip as she listens.

She doesn’t deserve Nina, has never deserved Nina, but the woman is walking proof that sometimes the universe is kind.

Vanessa decides that they’ll all be better off with a little more juice, so she mixes up some mimosas. And weirdly, it helps Brooke root herself in reality because it’s so casual, just any other brunch she would have with either Nina or Vanessa in her kitchen. Because everything that happened is normal now. It has to be.

“So, we didn’t really mean to involve you, but things just kept getting messier and then… Well, you were freaking out and we had to stop that.” Brooke tries to gloss it, because she knows it’s Vanessa’s story to tell, and she probably couldn’t explain it if she tried. Fortunately, she jumps in.

“I’m kind of a witch, it’s complicated, but I think you might have suffocated or stroked out if I hadn’t knocked you out.” Vanessa chews on her lip. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

Nina shakes her head, somehow immediately understanding. “No, no. It’s all still blurry but… I think you saved me. Thank you.”  

Vanessa meets Nina’s deeply sincere eyes with a small, reserved smile. Brooke can tell Nina makes Vanessa nervous, and she’s not quite sure why, but it seems like Vanessa has started treating the moment of stability they’ve wandered into as if it’s fragile like glass.

Brooke wishes she could be as careful as Vanessa. She wishes she knew how to hold back details that might put Nina in more danger than she’s already in, because knowing too much could be just as disastrous as having actual blood on her hands. But the story spills out of Brooke and Nina doesn’t stop her, for better or worse.

“So you’ve been out for two hours. And now we’re here.”

Nina is thinking so loudly that Brooke can almost hear it. Vanessa’s got her arms wrapped around her own body like she knows there are consequences for being too vulnerable (and she’s been so vulnerable, Brooke knows, has been there) and Brooke fights the urge to walk over there and replace them with her own.

“All right,” Nina says finally.

“All right?”

“That all makes sense.”

Vanessa chuckles, a clipped and doubtful sound. “No, it doesn’t.”

“I mean, it’s horrifying, sure, but…” Nina twirls the stem of her mimosa glass in between her fingers and looks directly at Vanessa. “I understand. If I had been in your situation, I could have done the same thing.”

Vanessa looks uneasy and certainly speechless. Nina continues.

“Horrifying things happen every day. Sometimes it’s senseless, but really that’s rare. I think the closer you look, the more people have reasons for the things they do. What you did, both of you, wasn’t senseless. So I understand.”

It has never been more evident to Brooke that Nina knows her better than Brooke knows herself. Nina can sort through the pieces of her world like they’re a sensible map and not a collection of discontinuous fragments that feel sharp in her chest. Maybe it’s a talent, maybe it’s kindness, maybe it’s love.

Nina takes Vanessa’s hand, probably just because it’s close, and holds it. Vanessa gives her a tight-lipped smile, one that Nina is probably perceptive enough to recognize is composed of a cocktail of fear and gratitude and deep-seated doubt.

Brooke sits in it, lets it settle, lets two disparate parts of the hurricane of her life solidify and become achingly real.

After a minute Vanessa escapes to the bathroom, wringing her hair through her hands, and Nina turns to look at Brooke with an expression that’s too familiar: I know you’re pretty broken and I wish I had an assembly manual, only she never needs to really say it. There’s something different, though, maybe just a little bit of hope.

“I’m going to buy you a new car,” Brooke says. “A Mercedes, a Ferrari, whatever you want.”

“You can’t buy my loyalty, Brooke. This is all authentic.” Nina stacks her plate on Vanessa’s, piles their silverware on top. “But yes, a Mercedes might be nice.”

Brooke comes up behind the bar stool that Nina is seated on, wraps her arms around Nina’s shoulders, and buries her forehead against her neck. Nina has held her countless times when she needed to get away from Jason, when she needed some kind of respite or reminder that maybe this wasn’t the way that things were supposed to be. This time, as she squeezes tight around Nina’s shoulders, it’s for both of them. She’s clinging to Nina like a life raft and working to keep her intact all the same.

“Is she going to be all right?” Nina asks, and then quickly shakes her head. “That’s a ridiculous question, considering the circumstances, but you know what I mean.”

“She’s pretty strong,” Brooke says, something unidentifiable twisting in her throat.

“I like her.” Nina touches Brooke’s forearm lightly.

“You do?”

“She’s a real person. And maybe I only have evidence contrary to this, but I think she might be good for you.”

Brooke laughs and smiles into Nina’s shirt. Because yeah, maybe.

When Vanessa marches back in, she’s got her hair tied up in a ponytail (with one of Brooke’s scrunchies, but she’ll process that later) and a face so serious that Brooke almost doesn’t realize the redness around her eyes.

“I’ve got a plan. And it’s not a great plan, but I’ve got a plan, and I think it’s about time we leap back into action.”

–

Vanessa takes a Tide stick to Nina’s dress before Brooke calls her a car.

It’s been about three years since Nina’s been in a stage production. Most recently, she played Miss Hannigan in that community theater production of Annie, and she brought in freshly baked cookies for the kids playing the orphans every night just to remind them it was all an act. She promised a lot of them she’d come back for a different show in the next season, but it never materialized. The symphony fundraising picked up dramatically, and Millie started taking tennis lessons over an hour away, so Nina took a more-than-brief hiatus from the stage. She hated it. Hates it, still.

All this to say, Nina’s ready to put on a show.

She smears her makeup, breaks one of her heels against the sidewalk, and marches into the police station.

(She digs up real tears for it. She cries for Brooke, who seems to have broken, but is reassembling the pieces of herself into something fragmented but new and promising. She cries for Vanessa, who she barely knows but seems to carry more trauma and passion than is humanly possible in her small body. She cries for herself, taps into the confusion and disorientation of this whole day that she tried to push down in front of Brooke so she could hear her out. She cries because loving your friends is complicated and doesn’t make sense, but she’d never consider for a second doing anything else. Maybe it’s steering a bit away from the character she’s trying to play. But that character is crying because her family could have been in danger, and honestly, it’s the same thing.)

Not only is Nina an actress, but she is also incredibly perceptive. She knows how to read the energy of an audience and give them what they want. These cops are too easy. They’re buying every second of it, taking detailed notes, handing her tissue after tissue which she graciously uses.

A carjacking. A young, white man, dark curly hair, shorter than her. A Best Buy employee name tag that said “Victor.” Vanessa even showed her pictures of him on her phone so Nina would really know what she was talking about.

The officers take notes. They nod sympathetically. She hands them her business card in case they have any further questions, and makes sure it’s the one with her husband’s company on it, the one with gold lettering that smells like juniper. They give her a ride back home, and as she catches her reflection in the rear view mirror, she tries not to look too self-satisfied.

In the end, Brooke doesn’t really need to buy her a new car. It’s covered by her husband’s auto plan. But perhaps she pockets the insurance money without him knowing, perhaps she lets Brooke buy her a car and feel like she’s paying her back in increments, and perhaps she books a solo spa retreat for a weekend in March.

And if it means that for a couple of days she gets to pick up the kids from school in Jon’s Porsche convertible that hasn’t been driven in years, so be it. Nina’s not complaining.

–

Once Nina is gone, Brooke walks out into the street in front of her house to double check that no one can see the car from the street. She’s fortunate. The shrubs are high enough that even when the gate opens, Nina’s car is completely hidden.

It’s not the best strategy, but it’ll have to do for now. If she had been able to think more clearly, maybe Brooke would have had the mind to put the body in the driver’s seat, throw the car in neutral, and push it off a cliff outside of town. That would have been dramatic, and exciting, and probably would have made her feel more like a real murderer.

This way is probably better, though. This way is quiet.

Jason’s sister got his hideous yellow Tesla in the will (and thank god) which means they could even roll it up into the garage, cover it with a tarp, and forget about it, and still have plenty of space for Brooke’s car–

Her car, which is still parked next to Vanessa’s apartment. Okay.

Just as it felt like the day was about to stop spinning, there’s another loose end. She wonders if this will ever stop, or if it’s just going to be all about playing catch up with this chaos from now on. She breathes and heads back in.

“I have to go get my car,” Brooke says to Vanessa, who is scrubbing dishes in the kitchen. Brooke searches through the detritus on the counter for her car keys. “Do you want to come with me?”

Vanessa’s hands still; the glass is clear of suds but the water is still running. Brooke reaches over her to shut off the tap.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and the room is too quiet.

“No, you’re right, I should probably go back.“

That isn’t what Brooke meant, and it’s definitely not what she wants. As they sort through the wreckage of the day, the real world seems to be catching up to them little by little. The real world, the normal world, which doesn’t revolve around them together at its center.

(Brooke is maybe starting to forget the contours of a world like that. It gets a little fuzzier every time Vanessa’s fingers brush her temple and she tells her – no, shows her – that everything is going to be okay.)

“No, no, stay here. You can, um…” Brooke fishes for a reason for her to stay behind that is relatively sensible, comes up a bit short. “You can burn the clothes. Or scrub the blood out of the driveway.”

“Glamorous.” Vanessa smiles like she’s trying to hold it back, and Brooke knows they’re on the same page. Vanessa’s hand is in hers and she’s not quite sure how it got there but she gives it a tight squeeze, only letting it slip with the knowledge that she’ll get to hold it again soon.

Brooke shows her how to work the fireplace in the backyard, fumbles with it a little as she and Jason never really hosted the outdoor cookouts she had dreamed of when they first bought the house.

She calls herself a car and says goodbye to Vanessa. It’s the first time they’ll be apart since the world hopped off the rails and started careening into god knows where. Brooke knows it shouldn’t feel scary, but it does. She’s not sure whether she should touch Vanessa, hug her, kiss her; the air hangs heavy with that unanswered question, another loose end.

Vanessa cuts the tension. “Go on. Maybe I’ll roast some smores while you’re gone.” She reaches out, touches Brooke’s elbow lightly, sends a shock that reverberates down to her fingertips.

“Hey!” She knows what that is now, knows it’s intentional, and she holds her hand over the spot as if to keep the magic from escaping.

“What?” Vanessa feigns innocence, a bit of a laugh behind her eyes. Brooke’s heart jumps, and she feels approximately sixteen.

She leaves with a smile and a little bit more stardust.

As she climbs into the waiting car, she thinks about Vanessa alone in her home, roasting marshmallows in her backyard, potentially burning the place down. It wouldn’t matter. She’d buy a new house, one without so many dark memories and a little bit more sunlight and no bodies in the backyard. She could move with Vanessa to the other side of the country, where they could start over, maybe.

And shit, that’s too fast. She shouldn’t think that way, but if her heart has brakes, she doesn’t know where to find them and nothing is out of the question now. She’s speeding full force into an open mess of possibility, equal parts horrifying and promising, one hundred percent unpredictable.

Weirdly, she wouldn’t trade it.

The driver is listening to Don’t Stop by Fleetwood Mac. It’s a little on the nose, sure, but she asks him to turn it up anyway.

–

Vanessa’s place in the daylight is jarringly charming. She lives on a residential street; there are people pushing babies in strollers and walking golden retrievers and there’s light filtering in through the gaps in the leaves on the trees. She’d only ever been around to drop Vanessa off at night, when the dread of going back overpowered any other perception of the neighborhood.

They left the door unlocked. For a second she worries, but nothing is missing, at least none of the things Vanessa had thrown into bags and left in a pile by the door. She scoops them over her shoulder, a little bit awkward, but manageable to maneuver down the stairs.

The kitchen still smells like lavender. She doesn’t linger.

Brooke leaves so quickly that she almost bulldozes over the caramel-haired woman who is waiting just outside the screen door.

“You’re not Vanessa,” the woman observes.

This is probably a cop. That’s what the nerves clawing in her chest are telling her. This is an impeccably disguised plainclothes officer dressed in athleisure with a cigarette dangling from her fingers. Brooke’s made it this far, though, and not even a nightmare scenario panic fantasy is going to stop her now. She sets her shoulders, imperceptibly clenches her jaw.

“No, I’m not,” she answers simply.

“Okay, so are you just stealing her things?”

“No. She told me to come get them for her. That’s my car right there.”

“That car was parked here overnight.” The woman narrows her eyes, waits.

Brooke’s stomach lurches, and something feels very wrong. “Mmhm,” is all she gives her.

“Oh my god, you’re so serious! I’m just messing with you.” The woman’s face softens, and Brooke doesn’t believe her for a second. It’s a convincing nosy neighbor routine, Brooke will give her that. “I just came over because I saw you from across the alley, and I liked your shirt. Where did you get it?"

It’s a vertical pink stripe button down that’s still wrinkly from where she picked it off of her floor after stripping off yet another bloody tee for Vanessa to burn.

“Um.” Brooke twists the sleeve between her fingers. “It’s J. Crew.”

“Okay. Well, when her body turns up at least I’ll know how to describe you. Tall blonde J. Crew model, got it.”

Brooke feels like she might puke but she smiles through the bile in her throat. “That’s funny.”

“I’m kidding! Seriously, though, tell her to text me. I’m Scarlet. I get worried about her. You probably know—”

“Yeah,” Brooke interrupts because it’s all she can handle. “I’ll tell her you were here.” She tries to say that last bit like it’s a threat, but she’s not sure it lands. Scarlet’s more than a little hard to read.

“Here, lemme help you.” She takes a duffel bag out of Brooke’s hand before she can protest, and Brooke has to follow her down the stairs.

Scarlet waves at her as she drives away. Brooke feels an ache settle into the back of her neck that pulses with her quickening heart.

–

Alone in the car, Brooke has a good spiral. Ultimately, it’s mappable, even if it feels like an explosion of morbid confetti as she’s experiencing it.

A.   That was a cop. Her name isn’t Scarlet, but Brooke will say that name to Vanessa and Vanessa will look back at her blankly because she’s never heard of any Scarlet who lives on the other side of the alley. Scarlet will have her license plate number, and a SWAT team will shortly break through the door.

B.    That wasn’t a cop. That was a neighbor who, like all of Vanessa’s neighbors, are going to notice that things are off. There will be gossip. There will be speculation. And someone (Scarlet) is bound to joke about the right things to the wrong people.

C.    That was a mirage, another ghost of her guilt, and Brooke is slowly leaving the human world of science and logic for a land with no rules, no guide rails, no compasses.

Brooke has made it to Scenario C by the time she’s pulled into her driveway. She’s got no solid refutations other than “there’s no such thing as ghosts,” but even that seems to be a questionable idea now. She can feel her own heartbeat as it reverberates against the pain in her neck, an unnerving reminder of the way it starts to race out of her own control when she overthinks.

Vanessa isn’t sitting at the breakfast bar, isn’t lounging on the couch, and it looks like the fireplace outside is still untouched. Her stomach twists with worry, but then she hears music coming from down the hall and a creak in the floorboards. If it’s a ghost, it’s a festive one.

It’s not, though. Brooke peeks in through the crack in the door to her room to see Vanessa shimmying, singing along loud and confident and endearingly off key as she arranges a stack of clothes on the end of Brooke’s bed. It’s a few shirts, Brooke’s favorite pair of jeans that once had a bloody handprint on them, clean and dry and folded neatly. Vanessa’s folding her own pants right now, the ones she had been wearing last night, setting them gently in a stack on top of Brooke’s.

Vanessa may not have been able to get her fireplace to work, but she’s sure figured out how to connect to the speaker system. She’s playing some song in Spanish, which Brooke doesn’t understand, but it’s all upbeat and full of attitude: esto está encendío, na na na na. And Vanessa just looks right. Happy.

Brooke can still feel her own heartbeat. Different, though.

The song shifts and Vanessa whips around in time with the music, catching Brooke’s eye. She doesn’t even try to hide the smile that lights up her face when she realizes Brooke is back.

“What? You never seen anyone folding laundry before?” Vanessa doesn’t miss a beat, jumps right back in to swaying.

“When I do it, I usually don’t have a soundtrack,” Brooke laughs.

“You gotta have a soundtrack. Always. It’s something my mama used to always do to cheer me up.”

Then Brooke notices. Vanessa is wearing her poutine shirt. It’s big on her, and it does look horribly dorky but also so adorable and endearing that for a second the throbbing pain in her neck stops, maybe because her heart skipped a beat.

“You…” Brooke starts, but she doesn’t have the words. Vanessa is wearing her clothes, in her bedroom, playing music on her speakers.

She rolls her eyes with a smile. “I know I said I was going to burn it. But then these little guys kept looking up at me with their dumb googly eyes and I couldn’t do it. And I remembered you’re rich and you have shit like stain remover, so I saved what I could.”

“You wanted to burn it so badly!”

“Fuck you.” She beams and plays with the hem of the shirt. “It came out of the dryer all warm. And it’s cozy.”

(Brooke wants a home. That’s it, that’s the word she’s been searching for. A home isn’t a building with furniture and fully stocked spice racks, it isn’t a husband and two projected children, it isn’t even a garden and a sunny kitchen. Those things are just pieces that are supposed to go together, that get forced together way too often. But that doesn’t make a home. A home is the right pieces assembled in the right place at the right time. For the right reasons.)

There’s a moment where Brooke thinks about saying something she shouldn’t, but thankfully Vanessa jumps in.

“You looked all shook up when you came in here. Did something happen?”

The pain in her neck reminds her it’s still there. “Do you know someone named Scarlet?”

“Oh, that bitch. What did she say to you?”

Thank god, Brooke wants to whisper. Scarlet’s just a person. A strange person, but just a person.

“Nothing, really,” Brooke answers, “I think I’m just getting paranoid.”

“Yeah, she’s across the street a lot, she doesn’t even live there, but that’s not the point. She’s nobody bad.”

“Good, that’s good.” Brooke wants to kick herself for letting her mind run away from her like that, but she knows that edge of worry isn’t going away anytime soon. She winces a bit as she rubs at the back of her neck, trying to get the pain to simmer down.

“What’s wrong?”

“My neck, but it’s nothing—”

“C’mere. Sit.” Vanessa clicks her tongue disapprovingly, and pulls Brooke to the edge of the bed. She sits down, feels Vanessa cross her legs against her back, and she can’t help but lean into it just a little.

Vanessa brushes Brooke’s hair off the back of her neck, and Brooke isn’t sure if she’s using any magic or if this is just what Vanessa does to her now, but she’s never been more eager to be touched.

Vanessa presses her fingers into the tense tendons along Brooke’s neck, down and into her shoulders, finding and working on the thickened knots that have formed.

“Baby, I know you can afford massages, this is rough.”

When she was a dancer, Brooke had to force the tension out of her shoulders by any means necessary. Sometimes it was the slow route, learning to breathe and expand, but more often than not it was a hard tennis ball between her shoulder and a wall, or a friend’s elbow digging sharply into a knot in her back. This, though. This is ethereal, and she feels her shoulders start to drop, her neck start to loosen, just a little.

Vanessa hums, and she stops kneading, her thumbs coming to rest over the last vertebra of Brooke’s neck before it breaks into her shoulders. “Found it,” Vanessa murmurs.

She doesn’t press in, keeps her fingers light and barely ghosting over Brooke’s skin. And then she feels it, what must be the magic. It’s like a sparkler under her skin, a somehow soft and unobtrusive firework that dazzles away the pain and pushes it out like a draining funnel through Vanessa’s fingers on Brooke’s spine. The knots break apart, and she feels her body lengthen, loosen, settle.

“Oh.” Brooke can’t help it. She feels her own voice ring low in her chest as she breathes out. Her head drops forward instinctively. “That’s…” Brooke can barely speak, doesn’t know why she’s trying. “Holy shit, that feels incredible.”

She hears Vanessa chuckle lightly. “I can’t get it all. I don’t know, there’s something weird about it, but… does that feel better?”

“So much better.” The sparklers start to burn out and it doesn’t matter if it’s not all gone, the pain, the tension, whatever. Brooke rolls her neck a little, reveling in how it feels more open and aligned than any yoga class has ever made her feel.

Brooke’s ready to turn around, maybe lean into Vanessa’s side because she’s feeling loose and bold, but she hesitates. Vanessa’s hand is still on her shoulder, her thumb brushing over the thin edge of her shirt collar, dipping under just barely.

And then—oh.

She feels Vanessa’s breath warm on her neck, and the soft press of lips against her skin.

It’s so unexpected, but she doesn’t tense up. If she was relaxed before, now she liquifies. She can’t help the way her breath hitches, can’t help the way she stretches her neck to give Vanessa more room, can’t help the soft, high hum of her own voice as Vanessa’s lips pull against her sensitive skin. She works her way slowly from the corner of Brooke’s jaw to the flat of her collarbone. Brooke feels the slightest nip of teeth and she might be cracking open. She might be breaking into innumerable pieces but that has never felt more correct.

“Vanessa,” Brooke breathes, trying to sound as level and composed as she can.

But all of a sudden Vanessa isn’t touching her anymore, and a distance of a few inches feels like a mile. “Right, you’re right, too much, sorry.”

Brooke turns around immediately, grabs Vanessa’s wrists because they’re the first things she can find. “No, hey,” Brooke starts, but doesn’t know where to go. Vanessa’s eyes are locked on her, scared again, and it’s the last thing she ever wants to see.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Vanessa is frozen in place, her voice coming with just a small percentage of her normal energy. “I can’t read your mind.”

Brooke isn’t sure what she’s thinking, if she’s thinking at all. This morning, last night, she couldn’t have even thought to articulate what she was feeling. There were too many other loose ends to prioritize this, whatever was happening with them. But now with the body in the ground and Nina on her way home safe and Vanessa real and warm and concerned in front of her, there’s no more delaying.

She searches for the right words, can’t find them. She’s too blissed and transformed to worry about that, though. She loosens her grip on Vanessa in surrender. “Why did you kiss me? Last night, right now, why?”

Vanessa lets out the breath she’s been holding. “I think you know.”

“I don’t want to be wrong.”

“It wasn’t some panicked crazy murder kiss, if that’s what you’re asking.” Vanessa twists her hands out of Brooke’s grasp so that she’s holding one of her hands, tracing the whorls of her knuckles. “I meant it. I wanted it. I’ve wanted it for a while. And I’m real fucking scared you don’t.”

Brooke is in a million shining pieces and about fifteen of them are still rational and functioning at this point. They’re no match for the desire that comes bubbling up through the wide-open cracks and spills out of her mouth.

“I want you,” Brooke says, unencumbered, unafraid, any semblance of evolutionary defenses obliterated. “I don’t think I’m supposed to, but fuck supposed, I want you, I want this, I want—”

Brooke isn’t sure who leans in first; it happens too fast. Maybe it’s both of them. Maybe it doesn’t matter. But what matters so intensely is the fire and the meaning and the purpose when their lips meet this time, the way Vanessa’s tongue curls like a flame against her own, the way Vanessa’s breath stutters when Brooke pulls her lip between her teeth.

Vanessa falls back onto the bed, kicks the pile of neatly folded clothes into a lump on the floor. Brooke laughs as Vanessa pulls her down on top of her, hand fisting tight in her shirt and pulling apart a few of the buttons. Their teeth clack and it’s messy but it’s right. Brooke uses one arm to hold herself steady while the other gets lost in Vanessa’s curls, finally, finally, finally echoing like a drum beat in the back of her mind.

(One good thing. At least there’s one good thing. That thought’s softer, more distant, but certainly there. It’s an important one.)

Vanessa’s hands settle on her hips, link through her belt loops, and Brooke laces her legs in between Vanessa’s. And yes, okay, fuck, she hasn’t felt this kind of need in years, the way she’s desperate for some kind of pressure. She pins Vanessa’s hips down with one hand, grinds against her.

“Touch me,” Vanessa breathes into her neck like she knows it’s exactly what Brooke needs to hear. “Touch me please.”

Brooke’s hand drifts from Vanessa’s hip bone to between her legs. It’s already overwhelming, how warm she feels, even through her jeans. Vanessa rolls her body into Brooke’s touch, whines soft and pretty and exactly her, and Brooke is undoing her jeans, pushing them down somehow confident and sure.

“Wait,” Vanessa breathes, and Brooke freezes with her hand hovering excruciatingly close to Vanessa’s panties. “Wanna try something.”

Before Brooke can ask what she means, she starts to feel tingles over her hand, some feather-light force pushing it lower. She would think that Vanessa was guiding her with her own hand, but Brooke can feel them both bracketing her head, fingernails scratching into her scalp.

“Are you… Is this…?” Brooke can’t articulate it. Vanessa can manipulate bodies, she knows that, but she hadn’t even conceived—

“Mhm.” Vanessa smiles soft, her face flushed.

And Brooke surrenders, lets the invisible force guide her hand because she trusts it to take her where she wants to go, trusts Vanessa with her body, her heart, her life even. It’s intense, but that doesn’t feel so terrifying as before. The glimmering force moves her hand up and under Vanessa’s panties, and slowly (too slowly) lower.

When she draws her fingers through the slick wetness, that’s all Brooke. When she presses a finger in slow and sure, that’s all Brooke. When Vanessa throws her head back and whispers, “yes, god, oh baby,” that’s all Brooke.

It’s a bad angle. Vanessa’s jeans are still mostly on and they’re too tight, but it’s worth the wrist pain and it’s worth the sweat to see Vanessa looking up at her with eyes that are mostly pupils. Brooke curls her finger up and Vanessa makes a sound that shouldn’t be possible, shouldn’t be human, and Brooke keeps pushing her for more, more, more.

It happens too fast, but most lightning strikes do. Three short gasps and Vanessa is coming, squeezing tight around her and biting into her collarbone. Vanessa’s breath is low and heavy as she sinks down into the comforter, an echo of thunder off the walls of Brooke’s bedroom.

“Wow,” Vanessa finally says between breaths.

“Yeah.” Brooke pulls her hand back and Vanessa’s hip shakes from oversensitivity. “Are you good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m…” Vanessa shakes her head dreamily. “I’m really good.”

Her breathing isn’t slowing, and Brooke smiles a little. “Do you want a glass of water?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Brooke stands on legs that she shouldn’t trust, somehow makes it to the bathroom. As she fills the glass she considers herself in the mirror, almost unrecognizably disheveled. She pulls back the top of her collar, sees the red imprint of teeth in the shape of a half moon, and presses her fingers into it to try and recreate the sensation.

When she comes back, Vanessa has crawled up to the head of the bed, snuggled up under the comforter. Brooke hands her the glass of water and settles in beside her as she sips slowly.

“Still wanna touch you,” she says lazily. “Wanna make you feel good.“

“We’ve got time.” And damn, that fact feels nice. “Doesn’t have to be now.”

Vanessa nods, clearly sleepy, and hands the glass back to Brooke, who sets it on the bedside table. She settles into Brooke’s side.

“Stay here,” Brooke says softly into Vanessa’s hair as she slots her head against Brooke’s collarbone.

“You bet I’m staying, I couldn’t move if I tried.”

“No, I mean, stay here. Stay with me, for however long you need.”

A second passes, and Brooke wishes she could see Vanessa’s face. “You shouldn’t offer that.”

“I want you here. You said we’re in this together. I don’t think we should be apart.”

Brooke should be terrified. Those words shouldn’t feel sensical, but she can’t dream of an alternative. They’ve dug themselves into a hole, another painfully ironic turn of phrase, but this feels too right, too promising to ignore.

“Okay,” Vanessa says, barely a whisper, as she presses a soft kiss to the underside of Brooke’s jaw. “I’ll stay.”

–

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Scarlet sits topless in her girlfriend’s bed and lights a cigarette.

“Ashtray, bitch!” Yvie shouts as soon as she looks up from where she’s scrolling on her phone. She passes Scarlet a red ceramic plate from her bedside table; Scarlet is unperturbed. “I swear, one of these days you’re gonna light this bed on fire.

Scarlet grins smugly. “You’re implying that I haven’t already?”

Yvie rolls her eyes and looks back down at her phone.

“I’m trying to talk to you!” Scarlet gestures weakly in her direction. “I’m trying to tell you about my day.”

“And I’m listening. Vanessa’s sleeping with an older blonde woman. I thought we already knew that.”

“There’s something weird going on, though. She was all jumpy. And she was carrying a bunch of Vanessa’s stuff."

Yvie still doesn’t look up. “This might be a radical idea for you, but some people actually want to move in with their girlfriends.”

Scarlet gets quiet, pouts her lips around her cigarette as she takes a drag. “You’re being mean.”

“I’m sorry.” Yvie’s got a tendency to dig her heels in, but she knows better than to do that around Scarlet. She puts her phone down, stuffs it all the way under the pillow, and her voice gets sincere. “That was too much. Work is so soul-sucking lately, I’ve been out of it.”

“I thought you liked mysteries. Don’t you wanna solve this one?”

“I’d give anything for a good goddamn story. If I have to write one more fluff piece about a baby animal at the zoo I’m jumping straight into the enclosure.” Yvie traces listless lines across Scarlet’s bare arm, and Scarlet giggles and drops her head. “But I don’t think they’d bite at this one. I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’d read it! Secret Romance Rocks Local Neighborhood, Shatters Sad Man’s Heart. That’s a great headline.”

“If I was writing for a 1950s gossip column, maybe.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” Scarlet dabs out her cigarette in the ashtray, tries to feign disinterest.

Yvie cocks an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?”

She pushes Scarlet back down into the mattress, and she quickly changes her mind.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #branjie #light scyvie #hurt/comfort #smut #magical realism #malamente #evan #tw domestic violence #tw murder #concrit welcome #lesbian au #s11

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Percy Jackson OC Masterlist

Name: Amelia Sawyer

Story: Underestimated

Godly Parent: Hermes

Face claim:  Sadie Sink

Summary: tbd

Name: Ashley Wilson

Story: Chaos Killed The Dinosaurs

Godly Parent: Eris

Face claim:  Madison Mclaughlin

Love interest: Percy Jackson

Summary:  Ashley Wilson had always known that she was unusual, even for a demigod.  Claimed by Eris at seven years of age, everyone had always held her at arms’ length.  Everyone, that is, until Percy Jackson.  Having made her first friend in five years, Ashley is determined not to lose him; even if that means going to the underworld to save his mom - and the world. She’s a daughter of chaos, and it’s about time people see what that really means.

Name: Atalanta Jackson

Story: The End Of The Sea

Godly Parent: Neptune

Face claim:  Zoey Deutch

Love interest: Jason Grace

Summary:  Atalanta Jackson didn’t remember her life before Camp Jupiter, before being claimed as Amphitrite’s hero.  It’s always been she and Jason Grace, the Fifth Cohort, and their “special training” with Hera and Amphitrite.  Everything is fine, everything is good, even, until Jason disappears and, six months later, a boy who shares her name, father, and eyes shows up at the border, and Atalanta knows everything is about to fall apart.

Name: Avery Thomas

Story: The Saviour Of The Broken (The Beaten, And The Damned)

Godly Parent: Hecate

Face claim:  Emily Rudd

Summary: tbd

Name: Blake Morris

Story: Die For Me

Godly Parent: Hermes

Face claim:  Dylan Sprayberry

Love Interest: Jasper Gabriel

Summary: tbd

Name: Calliope

Story: Memories Don’t Die

Godly Parent: Hecate

Face claim:  Danielle Campbell

Summary: tbd

Name: Cassandra Aelius

Story: (You’ll Believe) God Is A Woman

Godly Parent: Apollo

Face claim:  Kathryn Newton

Love interest: Jason Grace & Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano

Summary:  You want to know what’s really fucked up?  When you’re a daughter of Apollo and the actual reincarnation of a woman he cursed for refusing to fuck him.  Cassandra Aelius, or as she used to be known, Cassandra of Troy, doesn’t remember everything about her past life, but she gets flashes of it.  And like her past self, no one believes in her visions or her powers.  But she does.  And if the only two people who even humour her warnings are Jason Grace and Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano, well, at least they’re in charge.  And if she has to handle all of this herself, well, so be it.  It’s been thousands of years, but Cassandra will never let herself be ignored again.

Name: Ciara Mare

Story: Princepes Maris

Series: Primordial Daughters

Godly Parent: Oceanus

Face claim:  Auli'i Cravalho

Love interest: Percy Jackson

Summary: tbd

Name: Crystal Solace

Story: Walking on Sunshine

Godly Parent: Apollo

Face claim:  Annasophia Robb

Summary:  Referred to by her twin as an “actual ray of sunshine,” Crystal Solace was everything you might expect of a daughter of Apollo.  Sweet, bubbly, and welcoming, everyone wants to be friends with her - until they find out that she has an inhuman ability to tell when she’s being lied to.  When every friend you’ve ever had casts you aside as a freak, it would be easy to grow resentful, but Crys lives up to her nickname.  There’s a war coming, and even no one outside of her cabin wants her around, Crys is still ready to fight for her family - whether they like it or not.

Name: Davina Gerwin

Story: Love In The Time Of Monsters

Godly Parent: Eros

Face claim:  Madelaine Petsch

Summary: tbd

Name: Delia

Story: Total Eclipse Of The Heart

Godly Parent: Redacted

Face claim:  Candice King

Summary: tbd

Name: Esmerelda Wilde

Story: Legacy of the Father

Godly Parent: Hermes

Face claim:  Sky Katz

Love interest: Clarisse La Rue

Summary:  Children of Hermes were never taken seriously.  People only ever saw them as pickpockets and pranksters, in a cabin that was barely even their own.  And Esmerelda Wilde absolutely hated it.  He was also the protector of travellers, the god of trade, eloquence, orators, wit, literature, poets, and athletics.  There was a lot more to her, to all of her siblings, than just petty theft and dumb jokes, not that anyone cared.  But she cared, and with a war on the horizon, she’d be damned if she let anyone underestimate the Hermes cabin again.

Name: Helena Jackson

Story: A Thousand Ships

Series: A Thousand Ships: Or The Trojan War In Half The Time

AO3 | FFNet | Wattpad

Godly Parent: Poseidon

Face claim:  India Eisley

Summary:  Helena Jackson’s life is fine, really.  Sure, she hates her boarding school right in the city, her mom is married to an abusive asshole, her dad is some flake, and she and her twin brother are for some reason not allowed to ever go to the same school, but really, it’s fine.  And then Percy gets expelled, again, his best friend turns out to be a goat, their mom gets kidnapped, and her flake of a dad is actually a god.  Oh, right, and apparently they’re now the lead suspects in the case of Zeus’ bruised ego.  But still, her life is fine, really.

Name: Jasper Gabriel

Story: Die For Me

Godly Parent: Hades

Face claim:  Danielle Rose Russell & Millie Bobby Brown

Love Interest: Blake Morris

Summary: tbd

Name: Lila

Story: The Truth About The Moon

Godly Parent: Redacted

Face claim:  Olivia Holt

Summary: tbd

Name: May Tierra Anderson

Story: Terra Heredis

Series: Primordial Daughters

Godly Parent: Terra

Face claim:  Vanessa Morgan

Love interest: Jason Grace

Summary: tbd

Name: Melody Weiss

Story: A Song Of Forgetting

Godly Parent: Apollo, Granddaughter of Athena

Face claim:  Sabrina Carpenter

Summary: tbd

Name: Nina Callie Turner

Story: My Head Is Bloody (But Unbowed)

Godly Parent: Bellona

Face Claim: Lana Condor

Love Interest: Percy Jackson & Jason Grace

Summary:  My name is Nina Turner.  I was kidnapped.  I will get off Ogygia.  Callie--Nina Turner has repeated this mantra to herself every day for nine years, ever since Calypso had taken her from her home.  As Nina would soon learn, every century the vengeful titan would steal a young demigod to raise as her “maid” -  slave, if you asked Nina - as a small revenge against the gods who kept her on her island.  Nina just happened to be the latest.  For nine years she’d only been called Callie, as was every other kidnapped girl, she’d been told about how evil the gods were, and she’d been treated worse than dirt.  And then, just when she’s started to give up hope, a boy with jet black hair and the most gorgeous green eyes crash lands in her personal hell.

Name: Penelope Grace

Story: Where The Sky Meets The Sea

Godly Parent: Poseidon

Face claim:  Kaya Scodelario

Summary: When Poseidon’s second demigod child - a girl by the name of Penelope Grace - was born, he panicked.  Breaking the oath once was bad enough, but twice?  Zeus would destroy her.  And so, Amphitrite convinces the girl’s mother to let her take her stepdaughter, and a three year old Penelope is brought to Poseidon’s kingdom.  The next nine years are a blur of training; learning to fight with Triton, politics with Amphitrite, and mastering her powers with Poseidon.  And then Zeus’ master bolt is stolen, and Poseidon’s other demigod child is attacked by Alekto, and Penelope is sent away from her Atlantian home to a camp in New York city with only two instructions.  Don’t let anyone know where you’re from, and keep Percy Jackson alive at all costs.

Name: Skyler Caelestis

Story: Caelum

Godly Parent: Uranus

Face claim:  Kiernan Shipka

Summary: tbd

Name: Stella Beauregard

Story: Sad, Beautiful, Tragic

Godly Parent: Aphrodite

Face claim:  Chloe Grace Moretz

Summary:  Love is bullshit. An uncommon opinion for a daughter of Aphrodite, but Stella Beauregard knew it to be a fact. Her mom had supposedly loved her dad—enough to have two children with him three years apart, but she still left both times. Her dad had loved her mom, enough to welcome her back after she’d left him a broken shell, only for her to leave him again. And her sister? Her sister had loved Charles Beckendorf. So much so that she sacrificed herself almost immediately after his death. Yes, Love was bullshit, and Stella was going to break the cycle of heartbreak that seemed to haunt her family. What better way to do that than join the Hunters of Artemis—than to be the first daughter of Aphrodite to ever do so?

Name: Summer Sol

Story: Cross My Heart And Hope To Die

Godly Parent: Apollo

Face claim:  Lily James

Love interest: Luke Castellan

Summary: Summer Sol. Daughter of Apollo.  21 years old.  California girl.  Luke Castellan’s girlfriend.  Summer had always considered these to be her defining traits, and so had everyone else at Camp Half Blood.  She’s perfectly happy with that, until her boyfriend betrays the entire camp, and their parents, and suddenly everyone is looking at her like she’s about to betray them too.  She won’t, she’s loyal, she swears it: cross her heart and hope to die.

Name: Sybil

Story: Holy Ground

Godly Parent: Redacted

Face claim:  Ginny Gardner

Summary: tbd

Name: Thea Carol

Story: The Mirror Of Your Dreams

Godly Parent: Athena, legacy of Apollo (Roman)

Face claim:  Malina Weissman, Lea Michele

Summary: tbd

Name: Victoria Blofis

Story: Victory’s Contagious

Godly Parent: Nike

Face claim:  Meg Donnelly

Love interest: Jason Grace

Summary:  Victoria Blofis didn’t consider herself particularly ambitious, especially for a daughter of Nike.  She wanted to cheer for the Goode High Sharks, she wanted to maintain her 4.0 GPA, and she wanted to not die every time that she went back to Camp Half Blood.  But during the Christmas of her freshman year, her childhood best friend is kidnapped.  Sure, Victoria and Annabeth hadn’t been as close over the past couple of years, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t still go to the ends of the earth to save her.  Or, in this case, it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t still partner up with Percy Jackson to break out of camp and join a quest that they weren’t chosen for.  As luck would have it, she and Percy make a great team, and even better friends.  And then she finds out.  Her dad’s new girlfriend?  None other than Percy Jackson’s mother.

Name: Viola Di Angelo

Story: Come Hell Or High Water

Godly Parent: Hades

Face claim:  Anya Taylor Joy

Love interest: Percy Jackson

Summary:  It was practically unheard of for a god to have two children with the same mortal, let alone three.  But Hades has always been the odd one out, and had done exactly that.  First there was Viola, then Bianca, then Nico.  And then came Zeus, the River Lethe, over seventy years at the Lotus Hotel, Westover Hall, and finally, finally, along came Percy Jackson.  He brought with him answers to two lifetimes of questions, and he offered her a home.  But then her sister abandons them for a goddess’ girl gang, and Percy is gone, and Viola has a thousand more overwhelming questions.  And then he comes back, without Bianca, and Viola can no longer pretend that everything is going to be okay.

Name: Xena Gale

Story: Perfect Storm

Godly Parent: Zeus

Face claim:  Madison Davenport

Summary: tbd

#randomestfandoms construction #masterlist #percy jackson oc

[medea10]

My Review of The Promised Neverland

#anime review #the promised neverland #yakusoku no neverland #isabella #emma #ray #norman #phil #sister krone

[mentalmimosa]

they’ll miss us

Prompt: it’s been a week and you’ve already managed to gather a cult. Prompt from this generator.

My mind would not settle in one direction this AM, so forgive this two-for-one shot.

Take 1

“It’s been a week,” Loki said drily, “and I see you’ve already managed to gather a cult.”

Thor looked up from his coffee, wide-eyed, his fingers caught in the faded pages of a newspaper. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? Of course you don’t. You can be so purposefully blind sometimes, Thor.” Loki slipped into the chair opposite his brother. “Half the place is making eyes at you at the moment. The young woman behind the counter is considering proposing marriage. That gaggle of boys over by the window has become a fugue of jealous awe. And the dapper-looking lady at the bar has taken a half-dozen pictures of you with her phone. And you’ve noticed none of it, have you?”

Thor colored, the skin beneath his beard running pink. “I’ve been engaged in my own business.”

“So no, then.”

“What difference does it make?” Thor said. “People will look where they like. I’m not trying to attract their attention.”

Loki picked up his brother’s mug and took a long, rather disappointing sip. “It’s not their attention I’m worried about. It’s your Avenger friends. I thought we’d agreed it was preferable to avoid them, at least until our people were settled in.”

“Hmmm. Yes.” Thor looked a bit sheepish. “I’d supposed that we were far enough away from their purview. I’d forgotten how obsessed Midgardians are about instant news and photos and such.”

“Social media, darling. It’s called social media.”

Thor handed him a floppy, affectionate smile.“You knew what I meant.” It was out of place here, that smile, in this faded, sleepy cafe at four o’clock in the afternoon in the middle of someplace called South Dakota. The fall sunshine outside already beginning its slow surrender to the gray, tugging with it the first breath of winter, and yet, despite his better judgement, said smile made Loki’s fool heart skip a beat.

He set down the now-empty mug and let his fingers find Thor’s on the table. Dry, they were, like the many leaves that littered the sidewalk, but warm, too, solid and firm.

“Will you walk me home, kind sir?” Loki said.

“If you like.” A squeeze. “I’ll even check for monsters under your bed, if that would help.”

“If you like. I do rather prefer them in my bed than below them.”

Take 2

The first weeks on Midgard are not quite what Loki expects--mainly because no one seems to notice (or care) that they’re there.

Part of it, certainly, is that Thor shows no interest in teaming up with his Avenger friends again. He makes a point, when they are close enough to Earth, of crowding their people on to three smaller ships--the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria, Loki dubs them, though no one else finds this amusing--and leaving the bulk of the New Asgard behind, manned by Heimdal and a skeleton crew.

“If all goes well,” Loki hears Thor tell the All-Seer, “we’ll return for you soon.”

Heimdal, of course, being Heimdal, smiles his imperious, nothing ever surprises me smile, and says: “Yes, my king. You will.”

Thor leads them to someplace called Western Canada, a land of trees and rocks and rugged hills. There are humans about, not too far away, but most of their early days are spent in peaceful exile with only more interesting Midgardian creatures like wolves and mountain lions and great, horned birds about. It is, though Loki is loathe to admit it, incredibly peaceful, almost idyllic.

His brother disappears here and there--off to negotiate with the Earthers, Loki guesses--but Thor’s always home for supper, for the big, raucous meals organized by those among the Aesir who have ached all these long months in space to be able to cook again. He sits at Loki’s side most nights--though sometimes Korg snags him and plants him between a rock and sharp place, i.e., Miek’s right hand--and sometimes lies with him, too, curled in the same tent beneath the vast, pockmarked canopy they’ve come to know so well since they let Hela destroy the only home either of them has ever known.

Notably, however, though they rest side-by-side, Thor and Loki in those first weeks of landfall do not touch, not as they did aboard the New Asgard, an old pleasure gratefully rediscovered and happily found. The need hasn’t left Loki, nor his brother, he’s fairly sure, but the new king seems reluctant to indulge with their people so close, with nothing but the wind between their tent and those whom together they saved.

There is a prudishness in Thor, the great beautiful brute, that Loki finds both infuriating and incredibly charming; an easy button, sometimes, to push. But there comes a time on Earth, soon, when even Thor’s propriety cannot hold back what he needs.

At first it’s a kiss or two, here and there. In the shadows of the evening’s great fire, or on the edge of a cold, silver stream. In the clutch of two trees, or beneath the sharp eyes of the stars.

And then one morning, Thor cruelly drags Loki from sleep and makes him join a hunting party.

Loki hates hunting, always has, and in his not-quite-awake haze, he’s horrified to think that Thor might have forgotten this, a fact that so painfully defined their earliest days. Odin had never taken Loki’s objections to heart, ever, had always bundled him shouting onto a horse behind his brother’s back and slapped a blade into his hand, or a reed-thin, diamond-sharp staff.

“You will go with this party,” Odin would say in his deepest voice, the most threatening, the voice that could bring the furies of Asgard to bear, “and you will slay a creature of the forest yourself, Loki, with your own two hands, and you will not return to here until you have done so, until you can prove to me you can wield more than a woman’s tricks. Do you understand me?”

And Loki, tears in his eyes that he could not let fall, would nod his head and clutch his weapon and fight the strange, awful urge to plunge it into his father’s own heart.

“Good. Do as I have asked and you’ll be rewarded, my son. Do not”--the All-Father let his his words hang in the air like a storm front, ominous--“and there will be punishment for your failings, yes?”

“Yes,” Loki would say. “Yes, Father.”

Before him, hands closed around the horse’s reins, he would feels Thor trembling, anger wound up tight in his back, threatening to break out, to break free, to make the terrible situation much, much worse. So he would squeeze Thor’s waist with his free hand, a childish kind of reassurance, and lean his head between his brother’s shoulders: shut up .

At last, Odin would be satisfied with his threats and slap the horse’s rear and off they’d set on the heels of the main hunting party, women and men of their father’s court charged with this glorious purpose: murder in the name of a king.

On Earth, then, life upon lifetimes later, Loki’s startled when Thor volunteers them both to join some of these same women and men in a hunt built on need, not ceremony; now, what must be appeased is the people’s hunger, not their king’s desire for an ancient sort of glory. They have no horses now, only their feet; no golden lances or glorious elf-forged blades, only the everyday weapons close at hand when the battle for Asgard began, and yet the animals of the Earth--the stags and the hares--prove little match.

It sickens Loki, the prospect of so much death. No matter how hungry his people may be.

So it angers him, Thor’s insistence that he comes along, up and until the moment when his brother grabs his wrist and drags him behind a beast of a tree, its trunk twice as broad at Loki’s body. Loki opens his mouth to snarl, the morning’s frustration caught up in a snit, but Thor steps into him, silences him, with his quick, eager beast of a mouth.

It’s not until their tongues touch, until Thor’s hand tears at Loki’s hem and finds the chill damp of his back, that Loki’s mind catches up to his body, that his hands fly up to catch the sheep-shorn of Thor’s hair, that his thighs spread and allow Thor’s own to wedge between them.

His brother has stiffened already, the great anxious heat of his cock twitching against Loki’s hip, and oh, he must have been planning this all morning, since they rose before the sun; scoping out each section of forest and testing each tree against his desires, against the image he’d formed in his mind of Loki pinned beneath him, the others in their party clueless, their eyes fixed pointedly up ahead.

There are a hundred things Loki might say, little taunts he might throw at Thor; when he’s in his cups of need like this, when he’s big and ready and rutting, Thor likes to be talked to, like to have Loki’s mouth curl around all the wicked things that he wants, the many ways in which he wishes Thor would take him apart. Truth be told, in moments like this, Loki likes to hear his own voice, too.

But it’s been too long, too many days without what had become an everyday pleasure: hands upon skin; kisses traded, exchanged; trousers opened and any secrets between them tugged out full into the light. Loki cannot contain himself enough to speak, much less to be clever, and in the end, he relies solely on sound, on the turn of his nails, on a kind of wordless begging that has Thor roaring in his ear as his fist finds Loki’s cock and pulls out each and every bottled-up drop.

He comes embarrassingly fast, does Loki, with leaves in his hair and bark biting his boots, so fast that he feels boneless, beautifully crushed, a bystander to his brother’s rush towards climax. Thor’s mouth never leaves his and Loki never lets go of him, fingers still stretched in his hair, others twined with Thor’s over that great, lovely dick and Thor is not so careful with himself, not so kind; when he comes, he keeps jerking himself with the same fervor, the same absolute ocean of need, and as Loki clings to him, wishes for some goddamn privacy and a bed, Thor comes again, spunk seeping into Loki’s shirt, his cock, in warm, oozing shocks.

“We can’t stay like this forever,” Loki murmurs finally, when his brother’s spend has gone chilly, when even he is trembling in the cold. “They’ll come looking.”

Thor raises his head, the patch over his eyes gently catching Loki’s temple. “I don’t care.”

“You do. Obviously, you do.” Loki traces the lines of Thor’s back. “Otherwise, you’d have taken me in a tent like a proper oaf instead of manhandling me out in the open like this.”

Thor chuckles, tucks the sound into Loki’s neck. “Is that what I’ve done? Manhandled you?”

“No, my darling. You’ve ignored me.”

That earns him a soft, wounded sound and a kiss, sweet and searching. “Have I, kanin? I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t called me that in years.”

“I know.”

“There was a time when you’d call me nothing else.”

“There was a time when you earned it. You did nothing but run; away from me, from Odin. Even from mother.”

Loki kisses Thor again. It’s easier than saying I don’t want to talk about it. Easier than explaining why. And Thor, bless him, has always been easily distracted by Loki’s mouth.

“They’ll miss us,” he repeats, giving his brother a shove. “Pull up your trousers, my king.”

#thorki #post-ragnarok #life on earth

[doc-pickles]

i won’t hesitate (for you) chapter eight

Jo is happy, at least she feels like she is. When someone from her past shows up, will her and her daughter’s world ever go back to normal? Or will things change for good?

Hey friends... So it's been over a month.... I bet you guys thought this story was done... Honestly for a moment I did too and I was super bummed because I love this story so much. But stepping away from my writing and focusing on myself did the trick and I am now happy to report that I have the WHOLE ENTIRE rest of Hesitate planned out and I'm slowly (very slowly) chipping away at writing to make those plans a reality. Thanks to all of you for being so patient and for wanting me to continue this project!! You're the beeeeeest!! xoxo Nina

-

“Jo… Jo come back to bed, baby. Alarm doesn’t go off for ten minutes.”

Izzie stared down Alex’s still sleeping figure, watching him for a moment before continuing to walk around the room and get ready for the day. Every morning for the past week, Alex would always call out for Jo when Izzie got out of bed for work. She didn’t think he knew, but the words annoyed her more and more everyday.

“Babe, come back,” Alex groaned, rolling on to his stomach and reaching out for the side of the bed that Izzie had just left. “Jo… Jo…”

“I’m not Jo, Alex,” Izzie exclaimed in frustration, prompting Alex to fly up in bed and look from the empty side of the bed to Izzie. “I am not Jo! And I never will be and if that’s a problem for you, then you can run back to Seattle!”

“Izzie no… I’m sorry I,” Alex ran a hand through his hair and let out a groan. “I wanna stay here for the kids but I… I don’t think you and I are going to work out this time.”

“Why would it ever? You’re just the same pathetic man I left ten years ago,” Izzie threw a pillow towards Alex as she walked out of the bedroom. “I can’t believe you, Alex. Actually I can! You’re still not good enough for me.”

-

Deep breaths. In, out, in, out. Good, you can do this. Today will be a breeze.

Jo had found out about her pregnancy a month ago and every day since then had consisted of her trying to keep her breakfast down. Some days were better than others, but today might be the worst. She’d had to break out her elastic banded scrubs this morning because her regular scrubs wouldn’t pull up over her hips. The elastic was much more comfortable, but the thought of her body changing again had sent Jo into a fit of tears on the bathroom floor which resulted in her throwing up for almost 20 minutes.

“Karev! I’ve got an abdominal obstruction and I think we’re gonna need an emergency colostomy surgery,” Owen sidled up to Jo as the two walked into the ER, the older man sending Jo a grin. “But that’s up to you of course. Good luck!”

Jo grabbed the chart outside Trauma Room 2, entering the room with a forced smile. Her stomach had been flipping back and forth since she woke up this morning and she’d thrown up twice before she came into work. Apparently her baby was not happy to be residing in her uterus.

“Hi Mr. Little, I'm Doctor Karev and I’m gonna check you out real quick and we’ll see where to go from there,” Jo tried to put on a happy face as her stomach churned unpleasantly. She grabbed her stethoscope and began her routine check. “You said you’ve been having stomach pain, how long has that been going on for?”

“About three days,” the older man let out a groan as Jo began to palpate his abdomen. “Oh that’s not a pleasant feeling. A little softer dear or…”

Jo looked up as her patient fell silent, watching in abject horror as the man leaned forward and vomited across his lap. Moving as quickly as she could, Jo leapt back but was greeted with blowback across her chest and arms.

“Oh god,” Jo’s stomach flipped a final time before she turned to her left and emptied her stomach onto the floor of the ER. Jo felt as if the whole room was staring her down as she stood next to a pile of her own vomit. It was as if those dreams of going to school naked had come alive, a feeling of horror washing over Jo as she processed what had just happened.

“What the hell is happening,” Owen rushed over, looking from Jo to her patient, who was staring at her in shock. “Mr. Little, I’ll get you another doctor right away. And someone to help you clean up. Karev, follow me.”

Turning to follow Owen, Jo paused as the scent of vomit overwhelmed her senses once again. Stepping around Owen, Jo leaned over the closest trash bin and emptied her stomach again, a strangled cry leaving her as the acid burned her throat.

“You can go home,” Owen was standing behind Jo now, a gentle hand resting on her back as she stayed bent over. “We’ll survive without you. Go home, Jo.”

A heavy sigh left Jo as she nodded to Owen, standing up and heading upstairs for the attendings lounge. She hadn’t even been out of the house for an hour and she felt like the whole day was going down the drain.

Pressing a hand against the growing swell of her stomach, Jo silently begged the little life resting there to just calm down for the rest of the day. Her almost 12 week bump was harder to camouflage, but Jo knew that the closer she came to her second trimester the less her morning sickness would be an issue. She let out a heavy sigh, head popping up as the empty elevator chimed, signaling that it had arrived at its destination and was kicking Jo off into reality.

“I’m looking for Doctor Karev, it’s not a hard question to answer!”

Jo groaned as she turned a corner, not wanting to deal with anyone else today. Her job came first though, so she walked to the nurses station and put on a brave face.

“I’m Doctor Karev, what’s the issue,” Jo looked from the nurse to the woman standing in front of her, feeling as if she’d just been punched in the gut. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Jo had never met Izzie Stevens, but the woman was unmistakable.  Her painted lips turned down at the sight of Jo standing in front of her, obviously disappointed that she wasn’t Alex. The perfectly curled blonde hair and full face of makeup didn’t sit well with Jo, realizing with a flash of anger exactly why the woman was there.

“I’m not here for you, I’m here for Alex,” Izzie came around to stand a few feet in front of Jo, arms crossed as she stared her down. “Why don’t you tell me where your ex husband is and we can all get along.”

“Oh I am not starting with you today, you need to take your pathetic ass back to Kansas,” Jo took a step forward, arms crossing to mirror Izzie’s stance. She knew she was attracting attention, she could see Levi frantically grasping for his pager out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You know as well as I do that Alex doesn’t want to see you. You fucked him over and he’s moved on. And I know damn well he’s not going to want to talk to you.”

Izzie stared at Jo for a moment, her lips finally turning into a smile as she began to laugh at her. Jo could feel her blood boiling, her heart rate pounding loudly in her ears as she clenched her fists in an attempt to keep herself planted in her spot.

“Oh please, I’m sure that bratty kid of yours isn’t even his either, stop putting on this picture perfect princess show,” Izzie chuckled, narrowing her eyes as she saw Jo’s face redden. “Oh did I hit a nerve? Serves you right you-”

“You’re a sorry excuse for a mom if you think putting your kids through what you did was the right thing,” Jo’s voice rose and she took a final step towards Izzie, her face inches from the older woman’s. She shouldn’t retaliate, but Izzie had gotten under Jo’s skin and she wasn’t going to let her get the last word.

“And you’re a shitty person on top of that for what you dragged Alex through. So you can talk about your stupid children of the corn and you can even talk about how much you fucked over Alex, but you do not get to talk about MY daughter. If I hear her name in your mouth again, so help me I will drag you back to Kansas by your hair myself you self absorbed home wrecking psycho.”

That set Izzie off, her hands coming up for Jo just as Alex ran up and pulled her away from the blonde. Jo, for what it was worth, was thankful that he’d come when he did because she wasn’t entirely sure that she could have kept her hands to herself.

“Jesus Christ! Don't you dare lay a hand on her Izzie,” Alex’s voice bellowed through the halls as he stared down his ex. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

“Well I came to check on you, but it seems that your washed up ex here has you fooled once again. Are you even sure this one is yours? Or maybe she trapped you on purpose this time,” Izzie sneered, eyes roaming down to Jo’s stomach. The dark blue scrubs were pulled tight against her abdomen as Alex held her, making it clear as day that she was pregnant. “You’re lucky you’re pregnant, I would ha-”

“You’re lucky I’m pregnant,” Jo yelled back, Alex tightening his grip on her as she tried to break away from him. “You’d be out cold right now if I wasn’t you stupid bitch!”

“I don’t want you here Iz, and I really don’t appreciate you yelling at Jo like that,” Jo could feel the anger radiating off of Alex as he set Izzie straight. She could tell that Alex’s firm grip on her arms wasn’t just to her benefit, but his too as he held back his barely restrained rage. “Might I remind you that you’re the one that spent three years lying to my face about the paternity of your kids.”

“Now what the hell is happening in my hospital,” all three doctors turned as Miranda Bailey walked up to the scene, Meredith trailing behind her with a sour look on her face. “Izzie Stevens, I know damn well you’re not standing here right now screaming and threatening to physically attack a doctor of this hospital, and a pregnant one at that.”

“Doctor Bailey, I-”

“That’s enough from you,” Bailey fixed Izzie with a glare, eyes narrowing threateningly as she looked upon the doctor she’d once known so well. “You’re going to turn around and walk out of here and you are not to set foot in Grey Sloan again unless they bring you in a damn ambulance or so help me I will have the police here faster than you can say ‘LVAD wire’. Are we clear?” Watching the situation in front of her play out, Jo could feel the familiar pull of anxiety coursing through her. She’d been able to keep it at bay since Alex had come back home, but the ocean of worry and fear began to crest in her stomach again. Her heart began to beat unsteadily as she brought her hand to cover Alex’s on her arm, her feet feeling more unsteady the longer she dwelled on what just happened.

“Jo? You okay?”

Jo’s eyes snapped up to Meredith, who was looking at her quizzically. She could feel Alex tensing behind her, his grip on her tightening as he looked her over. She could feel herself begin to sweat and her forehead heating up as she leaned her weight against Alex.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, I’m just a little anxious,” Jo knew as soon as the words came out that Alex would understand what she meant. The nerves in her body were shot and she was pretty sure she’d pass out if she attempted to move out of Alex’s arms. She lowered her voice as she squeezed Alex’s hand, “I just really need to get out of here. Please.”

Alex nodded to Meredith before he began to lead Jo away from the tense hallway, his arms never leaving their place around her shoulders as they headed for the attendings lounge. Her breathing was ragged by the time she sat on the couch in the lounge, Alex’s hand running over her back as sobs began to well up from within her.

“You don’t believe her right? You don’t think I lied to you about Harper or this baby do you,” Jo tried to keep herself composed as she looked up at Alex, but the sad expression on his face made her begin to cry even more. “I swear I wouldn’t do that to you Alex, please don’t believe her.”

“Jo don’t listen to a word that comes out of her mouth. I know you’d never lie to me like that,” Alex wrapped his arm around Jo, bringing her into his side as she continued to cry. “I know you’re not trying to trap me, I know you. You’re a brilliant surgeon, an excellent mother and a fantastic wife, so don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Jo felt the wave of anxiety crash inside of her finally, Alex’s words doing little to ease her thoughts as she continued to sob loudly. She held a hand to her chest as her mind began to reel from the words that had been thrown at her.

“I can’t… I can’t breathe,” Jo choked out between sobs, gasping loudly as she tried in vain to calm herself down. “I’m so sorry… Alex I’m sorry.”

“Babe, look at me, come on Jo,” Alex held his fingers under Jo’s chin and waited for her to look up and meet his eyes. “Breathe with me, in and out. You’re not doing yourself or the baby any good by freaking out. Deep breaths, there you go.”

Jo’s breathing evened out as she followed Alex’s instructions, moving a hand down to cradle her stomach as she closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. When she was satisfied, she leaned her head against Alex’s forehead and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry it’s just… I wasn’t expecting that today. Or ever,” Jo let a low chuckle out, eyes fluttering open to meet Alex’s. “And I might’ve thrown up on the ER floor earlier but that’s not important.”

“Yeah you smell like fish guts,” Alex joked as he pressed a kiss to Jo’s hair. “Let’s go get Harper and go home. We can put on a movie and relax, okay?”

“That sounds like the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

+

“She picked the movie, I had no say in it,” Jo walked out of the bathroom and looked from Alex to Harper with a smirk. “Come on Jo, you know I can’t say no to her.”

“I know you can’t, you’re a big softie.”

Jo settled into Alex's left side, his hand coming around her to settle his hand against the curve of her stomach as Harper cuddled deeper into his right side. She’d showered and changed while Alex and Harper had set up in the living room to watch Moana upon Harper’s insistence. After their unsettling morning, neither of them wanted to be anywhere else.

“I’m sorry about what happened, if I had even the slightest idea that she would come here I would have told you Jo, believe me,” Alex’s tone was hushed as he kept his eyes on Harper. “That part of my life is over, I’m going to file a protective order for all three of us tomorrow.”

“Alex, I-”

“No, I can’t keep going to work worrying about you two every second of the day,” Alex finally turned his gaze back to Jo, eyes scanning her worriedly. “I… when I went back to Kansas to settle everything Izzie pulled some crazy stuff. Things I didn’t think she was capable of and things I don’t want you or Harper or this little one to be subjected to. So please, let me do this so I can feel like I’m doing something to help.”

Burrowing her head into Alex’s chest, Jo nodded and used one hand to run through Harper’s curls. The little girl meant more to her than anything, along with her sibling still growing in Jo’s womb. Her and Alex could agree on that much, so she would let him do what he felt was needed to protect them.

“Daddy quiet,” Harper poked at Alex and then pointed back to the television. “Watch movie.”

Jo felt Alex’s chest rumble as he laughed at Harper, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years as she enjoyed the quiet evening with her daughter and her… well Alex was definitely something. She wasn’t eager to label things, afraid it would disrupt the sense of peace they’d fallen into, but she had a good feeling about their relationship this time around.

“Mm I found another house for us to look at this weekend, it’s close to the hospital and it has a big backyard,” Jo looked up to Alex, who’s eyes were already on her. “I think we should put an offer in on this one. Trust me.” “I do, I’d trust you with my life,” a knock sounded at the door, Alex prying himself away from both girls who had no problems voicing their displeasure with him. “Sorry girls, I gotta get the pizza and I know neither of you were going to stand up and get it.”

“Just gives me an excuse to cuddle with Harps here,” Jo pulled Harper into her lap, the little girl giggling as her mom wrapped her up in her arms.

Jo and Harper sat in silence for a minute, intently watching the movie playing out. When Alex didn’t return, Jo turned around to see what he was up to, only to find him still standing by the door.

“Alex?”

“She’s taking me to court,” Alex muttered, holding up a small stack of papers. “Izzie served me and she’s taking me to court for child support.”

#jolex #greys anatomy #greys anatomy fanfic #jo karev #jo wilson #alex karev #hesitate #nina writes #jolex fic #jolex fanfic #jo x alex

[cass-trash]

Relieved

Castiel x Reader

A/N: I’ve been having major writers block so I apologise if this isn’t as good as my other works and if you asked to be added to one of my tags I haven’t, please let me know. 

Request: Could u do a soulmate AU where reader can see Cas's wings and gabe flips when she tells him but she won't tell Cas 'coz she's super shy? And then fluff and teasing? Plz

Read on AO3

Warnings: fluffy Gabe and Cas

Word count: 1580

There were very few things that weren’t written down in some type of lore book and, judging by the way you almost pulled all of the libraries down in the past five states you’ve visited, this thing just so happened to be one of the few that you just couldn’t find out it. Thankfully, you might know somebody who might just be able to tell you the answer. “Gabriel?” you spoke aloud, waiting for the archangel to pop out of nowhere like usual. 

“It’s a little dark out for you to be praying, isn’t it?” You twisted your head around and made eye contact with his golden eyes. Gabriel made himself welcomed to the couch cushion beside you and plonked a lollipop in his mouth as he grimaced at the three lore books sitting on your lap. “You should be out partying, not doing homework.”

“Somebody’s gotta do it.” you answered, shifting your eyes back down to the text where your finger had been resting on in order to remember your position. “That’s not what I called you for anyways.”

He stole one of the books and read aloud the bold text written at the top of the page, “Angel’s and their purpose,” he cast you a look before he continued reading silently, his face twisting with cringe. 

“Look – I didn’t tell you to go reading it, did I?” you growled, snatching the book back and shoving them off to the side. 

“If you wanted to know about angel’s why not just ask one and save yourself from this crap.”

“It’s not that easy, Gabriel.”

“Come on, Y/n, why not?” he twisted the lollipop stick between his teeth as he waited for your answer.

You sighed, “I don’t even know where to begin. No lore books are telling me what I want.”

Gabriel ran a hand through his golden hair and looked at you seriously, anxious to get something out of you. “I can’t help you if you don’t use your words.”

“Yes, you can. You can literally just read my mind.”

“You know I don’t do that to you.”

“Okay, fine. I can see Cas’ wings and I just don’t know what to do. It’s obviously not normal, otherwise Sam, Dean and everybody else would see them. And it’s only Cas’. Not yours. Not his brothers and sisters.” You fell silent from your babbling and turned towards Gabriel, furrowing your eyebrows at the sight of his agape mouth and wide eyes. 

He bit down on the lollipop and chewed it before saying anything, his silence telling you he wasn’t quite sure what to say either. “You’re telling me that you can see little Cassie’s wings? You’ve always been able to see them?”

“Well, yeah. I never said anything about them before because, well, what was I supposed to say? Besides, he’s an angel. I thought it was normal for a whole month until I noticed nobody other than me could see them.”

“It’s, um, not exactly normal, but it’s happened once or twice before. Humans aren’t supposed to be able to perceive angel wings like you – it’s incredibly rare.” You had never seen Gabriel so serious about something before. You had always known him as the goofy trickster. This is a whole different side to the angel. “You need to talk to Castiel about this.”

“Absolutely not.” you disagreed. “It’ll freak him out. It’s already made you flip.”

“Y/n, this is... I can’t begin to describe it. You have to talk to Cas about this, I’m sure he won’t freak out.” He hesitated. “Maybe a little bit, but it’s only because it’s just not heard about often.”

This was beginning to drive you insane. You called Gabriel here to get answers, but now it’s becoming some type of adventure. “Gabriel, come on, just tell me.”

“I can’t, it’s not my place.”

“Well I can’t talk to Cas about this. I’ve been hiding this for the past eleven and a half months, I can’t just come out and say, ‘Hey, Cas, so I forgot to tell you but I can kinda see your wings. Don’t worry though, they’re real pretty.’“

“Just call him down here and tell him, don’t think about it too much. He’ll be relieved to hear it.”

Relieved? “What do you mean-” Gabriel no longer sat beside you. Instead, two lollipops laid on the cushion in his place. You shook your head. Cas would be relieved? Would could that possibly mean?

You took a large breath before quietly whispering his name towards the ceiling, squeezing your eyes shut nervously. Cas’ wings rustled as he landed inside of your motel room, the faintest sound of his trench coat billowing from the wind filled the room before he cleared his voice. “Y/n?”

“Hiya, Cas.” you looked into his blue eyes and smiled softly. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” he answered as he began wandering around the motel room, observing the paintings hung on the wall. Having his back towards you gave you a perfect view of his wings. They looked cramped and sore. He probably hadn’t stretched them out in a while, and how could he? He was always stuck in a motel or the impala. “I sensed a longing from you, though I can’t place which one.”

A longing? That’s not what you called him for at all. “I need to, um, tell you something.” Cas returned his attention to you and sat beside you. You looked down at the back of your hand where one of his feathers were brushing against – it was almost ticklish. You had never touched one of his feathers, not with your fingers at least. There had been times where you were in such a confined space that you were pressed against Cas’ back, and as badly as you wanted to feel his feathers, having your face smothered with them to the point where you could barely breath wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.

Cas’ must’ve caught your eye because he, too, looked down at your hand, wondering what you were looking at, but only saw his feather. As well as not seeing angel wings, humans couldn’t feel them, and this was the only way Cas could touch you without seeming weird or making you uncomfortable. He looked back up at you, but you were following the movement of his feather. “You can see them.” he said quietly, shocked.

You flinched back and retracted your hand. “I’m sorry I never told you. I-I didn’t know it wasn’t normal and then it was too late. I was nervous of your reaction. I’m sorry. I should’ve...”

Castiel smiled softly and wrapped his wing around your shoulders, easily silencing you with surprise. The fluffy feathers rubbing against your bare arms felt better than any blanket you had ever owned – it was a feeling you were sure you’d never get sick of. “You don’t need to apologise.” he said, understanding. “I don’t think you know what this means.”

You leaned into his side slightly, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks. “I don’t.”

“On very rare occasions when a human is capable of seeing a singular angel’s wings, they are from then on pronounced as their soulmate.” he said slowly for you to be able to take it in.

“I have a- You’re my soulmate?” Castiel’s eyes looked like they were glowing as he looked down at you with a large grin. You had never thought of yourself of a person to have a soulmate, especially not an angel. 

With your heart beating faster than you could count, you lifted your head and pressed your lips against Castiel’s. He melted into the contact immediately, his hand slipping from his thigh to your waist as his body slowly inched closer to you until you were lying on your back with him hovering over you. Your hand slipped through his trench coat and laid flat against his shirt as you pushed him closer to you, while your other hand ran down his wing. 

Is this what Gabriel meant when he’d be relieved?

Castiel reluctantly pulled away from you and laid on the couch, somehow managing to fit on it alongside you. He turned to face you and smiled brightly. You couldn’t recall the last time you saw him smile like that. “I am very relieved,” he stated, “I’ve felt a pull towards you since I met you. There aren’t many stories of angels and humans becoming soulmates so I wasn’t exactly sure why I felt the need to be around you. The thought of us being soulmates was in the back of my head, but I never got my hopes up. They aren’t very common.”

The smile on your face quickly faded with nerves. Castiel was your soulmate. You weren’t prepared for all of this. “I’m glad you’re my soulmate, I’ve always thought you were interesting and...” you shook your head, “I’m just not ready to rush into everything, Cas. I get that soulmates are supposed to be with each other, but I’m not-” He hushed you with a quick kiss to your lips.

“I understand.” he said. “We can take as slow as needed.”

You grinned and buried your face in his chest, staying as close to him as possible while the brothers were out. If they saw you doing all of this ‘gooey crap’ you’d be teased for the next month. You couldn’t wait until you returned to the bunker to be alone with the angel. Your angel. 

Castiel tags:

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#castiel #castiel x reader #cas x reader #soulmate au #castiel x soulmate!reader #soulmate!reader #supernatural #supernatural soulmate #supernatural family #spn family #spn x reader #spn x you #spn x y/n #supernatural x you #supernatural x y/n #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic

[the-night-writer1]

Midnight 'Fun'

( this story goes to the abridged shadatie universe and involves Sonic ocs and grim subjects)

It had been a bad night for DK as she stood in front of the bunker. Was this kid worth her time? He'd been kidnapped 5 times this month and she had to shorten possible clients just to save his ass. The hedgehog sighed rubbing her temples, the teen was costing her money and he's a bit off his walker. However he wasn't her only stop tonight, when she was done with twister she had to confront a group of assholes selling guns on her terf and get AT to pay the three months back tax on Angelic. So might as well have some fun splitting a few heads before doing the hard stuff.

DK took a deep breath throwing her hands out into a gun holding position before materializing two mock A hand pistols fully loaded in her hands. This was her preferred way of handling hostage situations after what with baby girl, blowing their brains out seemed much better than paying a ransom. DK stood still moving her right arm to line up a shot at the door and fired. The shot breaking the lock instantly as she walked over to the now unlocked door. These losers didn't even have a strong lock usually she'd need at least two good shots before the door open. DK smiled as she opened the door, to see three different doors in the bunker. She closed her eyes and started searching the building with her telepathic eagle eyes. She didn't have to move a muscle while scouting out the bunker. The first door lead to a room of loot that held little interest other than a gun or two DK had made. The second door lead to a kitchen that only had food wrappers and a key. While in the the third door held her target. The teen was bound and gaged while his kidnappers where discussing how a woman named Nina would pay for the kid. DK opened her eyes and groaned whoever this 'Nina' was she certainly didn't care about how she got Twister. It pissed DK off to no end, she stood in front of the final door and kicked it down instantly shooting one of the idiots square in the face with out hesitation. The youngest grabbed a gun and pointed it at twister while the other two grabbed their guns and stood up to look at her.

"here's how things are going to go, you jerks are going to let the kid go with out a fight and possibly live or your going to end up like your dead buddy got it. I don't have time for this shit" DK said in her trademark commanding tone as the thugs looked to each other.

"Where's the money we were promised?"the young one said in a rude tone.

"well let me see " DK said pointing her left arm at the thug,"probably at the end of this barrel"

"wait don't shoot Tommy we were just doing this to get some extra cash, we'll lower the price to 50 bucks just don't"the older thug wasn't able to finish his sentence when her watch started ticking .

"sorry times up I got other things to do " DK said in a uncaring tone as she killed both the other thugs and pulled out a card handing it to the young one as he dropped his gun, "looking for some new dealers call me if you're interested"

She picked up twister and carried him to the car, throwing the teen in the back seat as the man in the front rolled down the window.

"take him to Katie I'm late for discussing the missing payments with AT baby cakes"She said softly kissing the driver's cheek. He nodded and kissed her nose before driving off. DK yawned pulling out a small device and typed the client's full name into it before being teleported in front of a bar. DK rolled her eyes as she walked in seeing the person she came to talk to at a table eating fries. AT wasn't an alcoholic but he had a bad binge eating problem, specially when it came to fries. DK could see he'd eaten a few servings before she got there and he'd even ordered her a burger. That wasn't a good sign he was nervous and rightly so being 3 months late on payment for the service they provided for his little sister. They were training her to a much calmer little girl and for the price of 300 a month. DK slowly walked over to the table with out a word pulling out the chair and sitting down.

"so mind explaining why you haven't played the past three months AT" DK said softly as AT swallowed a mouthful of fries. DK waited for his answer as he slid the burger over to her. DK picked up the burger and took a bite as the other hedgehog steadied himself.

"I ... I had put 900 down on some medical bills and I've been short with money because of that" AT said in shy tone as DK took another bite from the burger.

"Wind has been stealing your money to buy shit again hasn't he?"DK said in a bitter tone ," and he doesn't know about the deal we made last time you were late on payments does"

"I didn't tell him"AT said sheepishly rubbing his shoulder,"but he wanted to get stuff for DT's apartment"

"ah.... well since your like family to me AT I'll let you off with a warning and I'm raising the payment to 355 for the next 6 months so I can get back what we lost from you skipping payments"DK said as she took another bite of burger and mumbled,"but you miss any of those payments I'm bringing the paperwork"

"DK please I-" At attempted to say before DK cut him off.

"Would ya rather I just have you sign them now AT ? Angelic has been living under my roof for 6 years and if I have to take care of her without payment she might as well be my daughter and having her be my kid is a lot better than what I do to other people who don't PAY AT"

"she's my baby sister I can't just-"

"abandon her in the arms of people you've known for years? Listen I don't make you pay for what I do for DT and if I did you couldn't afford it but we both know he can't be in a normal care center. However I wasn't the one who sent him away AT, away to be taken care of by strangers. With angelic you know who we are and that we will cherish just as much as you do."

"I know but.... I can't lose angelic like we did DT" AT said grabbing some fries and shoving them in his mouth as DK finished her burger. It was silent for a moment as they sat there in silence.

"He's been taken off some of the heavier meds and I was able to convince Katie to have Eva be his roommate so he's not alone in the apartment" DK said softly as her tone shifted in to a more expressive but quiet tone.

"Has he broken down lately? I haven't been able to visit" AT asked in a concerned but soft tone, he locked eyes with DK as he waited for an answer.

"he has ah been doing okay but you can really tell when his meds wear off" DK said looking away from him for a moment ," he had one of his episodes the other night though. He called me at 3 in the morning sobbing so me and Black have been talking about moving closer to him so he doesn't have to wait for an hour when he needs it"

"Oh... I'll talk to my brothers about visiting more often. It's probably been hard for him to not know how we're doing." At said the hurt clear in his voice ," thank you for coming to our rescue DK I don't think we would have been able to help him without your connections"

"He's family plus you and him saved me back in the day so it's the least I can do"DK said rubbing her temples as AT dug into his bag . He pulled out a pill bottle handing it to her,"what's this?"

"The pain killers Shane uses for his migraines their pretty heavy and he only takes half a pill but I thought they could help with at least your small headaches. I know you take a lot pain killers because of what happened when he messed with your brain to give you your telekinetic abilities and these are the strongest painkillers I know of so I got you some" AT said softly as he stacked the empty tray on top of the other Fry trays he'd eaten through. DK smiled softly reading the hand made label she was pretty sure Storm had made. She remembered the year she spent living with the brothers and how they helped her recover. If she didn't need the money from Angelic's payments for things like Eva and DT's medicine she wouldn't force them to pay. But that was life being cruel and she knew far to well of it's cruelty.

"thanks I got get going turf to reclaim and all but don't forget the anniversary is coming up and I'm going to need at least you and wind to come help hide stuff" DK said as she got up and waved goodbye walking out. She opened the pill bottle popping one in her mouth as her husband drove up and rolled down the window.

"Katie said thank you and that you shouldn't kill people in front of him"he said as she walked over to the window," what's with the missing payments baby doll"

"He was covering for Wind's ass again so I increased the amount for the next few months and I had no other options they had a 14 year old working for them. Did you deal with the guys while I was talking with AT. You got some blood on ya"

"I will tell you when we get home baby. Get in I got you a cup"The panda said before DK got in .

"how many people did you bash my big deadly teddy bear?"DK said grabbing the cup from the holder as black drove towards their home.

"whole gang. It was about 8 people" black said flatly as if it were nothing.

"you could of saved some ass kicking for me you big lug I wanted to have some fun tonight" DK said jokingly as she drunk from the cup.

(twister , AT and DT belong to @bunnyrose )

#shadatie abridged #sonic ocs