A Safe Space

by ConstantlyPurpLexed

Summary:

Sophia is fine. Totally, totally fine. So being a hero has lost all its luster, and she's being ground under the media machine? Thats fine. She cant deal with it. Her family life is a shattered wreck that her mom is desperately trying to hold together with hope and delusion? sure, no problem! She feels completely adrift, with no clue what to do with her life? Hell yeah, she's okay with that.

Taylor Hebert is really fucking hot now?

Somehow, she can't deal with that one.

Well, its not like anything could come of that, could it?

--

A Worm College-age AU. Fluff, angst, smut, and lots and lots of bdsm. Be prepared.

Chapter 1

October 17th, 2016

 

Sophia had a bit of a problem.

 

Well, that was a lie. She had far more than one problem, but one in particular was standing out more than the others these days. You’d think she would have bigger issues; she was a black woman in fucking Brockton Bay , clearly she should have more pressing concerns. Her patrol hours were being docked again after yet another PR snafu; Stephen was returning home from a business trip and she was struggling to find reasons to stay out of the house for the ‘family dinner,’ she was pretty certain her best friend was actually insane and it might be her fault. All pretty concerning and important things to focus on, but there was one thing that was currently higher up on her list of ‘shit I need to worry about.’

 

A hand waved in front of her face. She blinked, refocusing, shaking herself out of a reverie that she absolutely was not going to think too hard about right now.

“Soph? Earth to Sophiaaaaa, hello?” Emma drawled, snapping her fingers. Sophia huffed, slapping the hand away and ignoring her friends giggles as she sat back down, having to lean over the table to get her attention. “Do I want to know why you’ve spaced out again?”

Madison huffed a laugh, grinning around a cup of water. “I can hazard a guess.” Sophia shot her a glare, pointing with a fork lightly stained with alfredo sauce.

“Not one word out of the fuckin’ peanut gallery, Clements. You’re just the damn same as me, don’t go throwing stones or I will bulldoze your glass house,” Sophia hissed. She wasn’t flushing. She wasn’t . 

 

“Mhm. Just the same, which is why she’s been able to talk with me but you haven’t looked away from that table in the corner for like five minutes now.. Do I want to check and see who it is this time?” Emma asked dryly, between bites of her tiny little salad.

“Shut,” she hissed back, trying to shove the heat away from her face and failing. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you guys, seriously.”

Across the hall, someone moved, and she flicked her eyes unbidden. A senior, some girl she didn’t even know the fuckin’ name of, some useless nobody, stretched back in her chair.

 

Her shirt rode up, revealing a faint strip of pale skin, just a few inches between the top of her high-waisted jeans and crop top. Firm, with bare hints of definition poking through, a twinkling red belly button piercing just barely visible under the shirt. Sophia traced the line of muscle with her eyes, and the heat escaped, flushing her cheeks red.

 

“Annnnd we lost her again,” Emma said with a sigh, turning to look over her shoulder casually. After a moments search, she caught the target of Sophia’s attention, and turned back with a grimace. “Bad luck on that one. Mariah Tyrel, I think she’s a senior? Straight as an arrow and her brother is, y’know. White and proud.”

Sophia grumbled, staring back at her plate. “I know, I saw her being nasty with fucking Brian Encombe last week. Wasn’t planning to fucking chat her up or anything. Just... looking.”

Emma sighed fondly, tapping her hand, before returning to her meal. When Sophia had come out to her friend a few years ago, she had honestly been hoping her affections would have been returned, but for naught. Emma ticked a lot of her boxes but was sadly firmly in the ‘ally’ column. Madison had taken the news better, and even been willing to try a date or two, but... well. They were a bit too alike to really go anywhere.

 

These days, Sophia’s homosexuality was still frustratingly theoretical. Brockton was not a good place to openly search for partners, especially not if you had made the critical mistake of being born with any skin tone other than fucking paper-mache. Stupid fucking city.

 

She lived in a city where one of the strongest organizations would literally kill her and her family if they walked down the wrong alley. The PRT was tightening her collar day by day, and she was chafing at the lead, every day wishing to break her parole and just fuckin’ vanish.

 

And... Stephen was back. Or would be, in a week. Her mom wanted her to come by for a ‘family dinner’ and was refusing to take no for and answer.

But other than all that, she was fine! Things were okay. She had enough problems already, she didn’t fucking need any more at this point.

 

That shirt rode up again, and despite their conversation, despite the probable Empire ties and the girl being both taken and straight, Sophia glanced over and blushed again.

 

All those issues, and still, she had a bigger problem.

Sophia Hess was a bit of a useless lesbian.

 

“So!” Emma said quickly, tapping the table. She refocused, putting Mariah the ‘Almost-certainly-a-Nazi’s’ abs out of her field of view. “I don’t know if you noticed, but Taylor got another piercing last week.”

Madison groaned softly, and Sophia had to agree, even if she wouldn’t voice it. It had been almost seven fucking years, by this point, and Emma still hadn’t gotten over this... obsession with the other girl. Honestly, Sophia was half-convinced she was actually gay and just in denial, with the amount of attention the redhead focused on her.

 

Five and a half fucking years of pranks and whatever, and the girl hadn’t so much as twitched. They had graduated and moved into adulthood, and Emma just wouldn’t fucking let it go. Honestly, Sophia was of the opinion that Taylor had earned her fucking reprieve at this point, especially after that right-cross Emma had taken at the end of Sophomore year of high school. She had taken all the shit they had given her, and hadn’t so much as twitched.

 

Then again, ever since that fucking locker, it was a bit hard to raise the bar any higher. She honestly felt a little bad about that one, but it had turned out for the best in the end. Taylor had come back and started pushing against them, and Sophia figured that was that. No more pranks, now that they had gotten Emma’s goal of ‘proving’ the girl was strong enough.

 

But, her friend apparently wasn’t done. She still insisted on needling the girl, pressing her, doing her best to get a reaction from her. They had pulled back a lot on the physical stuff, and most of the girls in the school had stopped bugging the taller girl once she started being willing to fight back. Once they graduated, all of the sane people had drifted away, leaving behind childish things like pranks where they belonged. Emma hadn’t gotten the memo, even after she said something to really piss her off back in April of ‘11, and Taylor had responded with a punch that knocked the girl clean unconscious. Most people had gotten the memo at that point, that Taylor wasn’t in the mood to be fucked with.

 

Sophia had paid her back for hitting Emma, of course - she wasn’t going to take that shit lying down. But Hebert had gotten her thumps back in, shoving back when Sophia pushed her, lashing out when she was cornered in lonely staircases, cursing them out when they insulted her. Sophia was content to let it lie, at this point; Hebert had shown a spine, finally, and that had been the goal all along, right? She was content with the occasional glare across the hall or joke at the cafeteria table, but they had better things to worry about, didn’t they?

Apparently not, if Emma had anything to say about it.

“What did she get?” Sophia heard herself asking, idly picking at her shitty pasta. “Don’t think her ears will hold much more at this point, honestly.”

Madison had clearly checked out of the conversation at this point, rolling her eyes and eyeing her phone one-handed, ignoring them. Sophia would have followed suit if she wasn’t the slightest bit curious. 

 

Taylor’s self image had clearly changed, now that she wasn't taking much shit from anyone. She started wearing her hair in different styles, usually just braids and shit, and had gotten a fair amount of piercings done. Honestly, it wasn’t a bad look for the taller girl; the punk aesthetic worked for her. Industrials in both ears, a row of helixes down the sides, a labret on her lower lip. Shame that she still only wore baggy sweatshirts and sweatpants - she probably had killer legs.

 

Not that Sophia cared, or was interested in fucking Hebert. Of course not. The piercings were just, y’know, distracting. And gross. Who the hell put that much metal in their body in a city with Kaiser in it? Idiots, thats who.

 

“...who’s dating Jeremy, who works at this little tattoo place down on Sixth and Crescent? Turns out, Taylor’s a regular there,” Emma was saying, Sophia blinked, shaking her head as she turned back to her friend.

She should probably ask for clarification, or just ask Emma to repeat herself. Honestly, her friends encyclopedic network of gossip was both terrifying and annoying; Emma spent like half of her day talking to worthless nobodies about shity no one wanted to hear. Sophia opened her mouth, fulling intending to ask Emma to cut to the chase. What came out instead was “Wait, Hebert has tats?”

 

Madison slowly raised a hand to her face, sighing. Emma blinked, confused, narrowing her eyes. “Sophia...” her voice said warningly.

“It’s just a fucking question, Ems, chill. Probably some loser shit like butterflies and rainbows with the word ‘believe’ spelt wrong on her ankle. Basic bitch white girl shit,” she replied, not at all defensively. It was a fair question! She went to a tattoo place, it had to be, like, relevant or something.

 

“Useless,” Madison mumbled, staring down at her phone. Sophia glared at her.

 

“I know your fucking PHO handle, bitch. Don’t get uppity at me.”

Madison finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “And I know yours , too. That threat would hold more weight if you didn’t keep liking all my stories .”

 

Sophia flushed, about to retort, but they were cut off by the bell ringing. Emma sighed forlornly, rolling her eyes. “We’ll talk more after class? I’ve got public speaking with Professor Moors at four, but I’m free after that.”

She hummed in response, watching with a faint pang of longing as Mariah stood, smooching fucking Brian The Nazi. Sophia sighed, gathering up her tray and moving to the edges of the school.

 

Get your head in the game, Sophia. You’ve got better shit to do.

 

---

 

Being part of the Protectorate rather than the Wards was startlingly different. She was still a ‘probational member,’ whatever the fuck they meant by that, but the rules and regulations were so much tighter even without the extra shit Piggy added on because of her past mistakes.

 

The rules hadn’t changed much, but the punishments had suddenly gotten much worse. Instead of console duty or being benched, now she was threatened with infractions, pay cuts, and write-ups. Piggot dangled the threat of being transferred away over her head, and Sophia knew it wasn’t an idle joke - Clockblocker had fucked up one too many times and now was a proud member of the Los Angeles Protectorate, his name having been changed to fucking Stopwatch.

There was no more playing around. Sophia had to be on her best fucking behavior, had to play nice and talk and be a team player, or that leash would be tugged a little tighter. Honestly, she had half a mind to fucking ditch and become an independant at this point, if she didn’t know that without the protection of the large organization the E88 would gut her in a heartbeat.

Walk the line, smile to the crowds, talk like this, act like that. Being a sarcastic teen was fine, but being a sassy adult was a no no, don’t you know women need to be prim and fucking proper? You’re a woman now, not a girl , act like it. It was bullshit of the highest order, but the Protectorate fucking owned Shadow Stalker and wasn’t afraid to prove it. Sophia had ‘freedom,’ sure, but Shadow Stalker danced to their fucking tune.

 

It fucking sucked. Every day in that damn building was a nightmare, rules and regulations and eyes watching her, coaching lessons, sensitivity training, meetings with the PR team, and being yelled at over and over and fucking over again by the Director. Be a good little soldier like we trained you to be, or we’re ripping you away from your home and sending you somewhere else.

 

Fuck that. Brockton Bay was a shitheap, but it was her shitheap.

It was starting to drive her fucking insane. She needed to hit something but her patrols were docked and if she got caught taking another unsanctioned trip into Empire territory she was going to be on a plane headed west before she could say ‘valley girl.’

 

Los Angeles, really. Fuckin’ Piggot.

 

Thus, her current situation: wandering down the streets of Brockton Bay at fucking two in the morning. She didn’t have classes until noon tomorrow, so she could stay up a bit late and suffer. It wasn’t like she was going to be getting any sleep, wound as tight as she was right now. So, she had stuffed together a gym bag, googled ‘late night fitness near me,’ and wandered wherever the phone took her.

 

Wandering the streets at this time of night was asking for a beating or to get your belongings donated forcibly. In most places, at least. Sophia’s neck of the woods wasn’t that bad, honestly; it was a major step up from her Moms old apartment. The area was considered one of the ‘better’ parts of the city, despite how far away from the Boardwalk and all the ‘important’ areas, and that was for a pretty clear reason.

 

Sophia grimaced as she walked by an alleyway, between two brick buildings. High up on the wall, far out of reach without equipment, a large black spider had been painted, a cut-out silhouette on a neon background of yellows and greens. It looked like a black widow, but on its back was a bright red dagger pointed down, instead of an hourglass. The artist had clearly put a lot of detail into the work, closer to a mural than just a normal gang tag; there were clouds of black smoke hanging from the sides like mist, with various shapes peering through them. Large purple eyes, crowns, a grinning demon mask and jaws of hounds, all drawn in minimalist style.

 

Under the mural were words, proudly proclaiming exactly which part of the city she was in.

 

“Welcome to the Underside,” Sophia read quietly, grimacing.

 

Yeah. The PRT had offered to subsidize her rent if needed, when she told them she was moving out of her moms right after she turned eighteen. Some upscale apartment by the Boardwalk, with a sea view and doubtless a crowd of troopers in civvy clothes, who weren't there just to spy on her but certainly wouldn’t mind reporting if Sophia got a bit too rowdy in her off time.

 

Fuck that. She was a native, born and raised. The Hess family had lived in fucking Teeth territory up until the gang was kicked out, and hadn’t budged a fucking inch. She hadn’t felt like leaving; this was home, to her, and abandoning it to live in some ivory tower felt like giving up.

 

She didn’t ever give up.

 

This part of the city was historically in a state of constant turmoil, with a few minor gangs staking claims here and there over the years, no one holding on to it for too long. About five years back, the people of the day were called the Merchants, some two-bit gang of drug dealers who had ‘claimed’ the territory no one else could be bothered to hold.

And then they had been kicked out, with fucking vengeance, and the Undersiders had moved in. Up until then, they had been small time crooks, a gang of thieves that were regarded as impossible to catch and a pain in the ass to fight.

Skitter changed that. The Undersiders had a new boss, and she set up some fucking rules real quick.

Turns out, the city gets a lot safer when fucking up means you might drown in bugs at a moments notice. Skitters range was fucking insane; the woman’s ability to see and hear across a massive distance was without a doubt her scariest ability. No conversation was secret, no happening went unwatched. The PRT had her as a Master 8 with a couple strong subratings, and she had some scary fucking team mates to back her up.

 

Merchant territory became the Underside, and no one was looking to challenge it any time soon. Well, no one had been, until the Teeth had come crawling back these last few months, slowly filtering their way through the cracks and setting up shop.

 

Sophia looked up as her phone beeped, declaring that she was at her destination. She looked around warily, but other than the traditional broken streetlight and decent size apartment buildings, nothing much stood out. Across from her, a large building loomed; clearly a former warehouse of some sort. A sign on the front read ‘LABORNE FITNESS’ with smaller script reading ‘Always Open’ underneath. The front of the building had been refurbished, the metal doors replaced with glass windows, peering into the interior, where a few people working out on equipment could be seen. 

 

She hummed, appreciatively, and made her way to the large double doors.

 

A soft bell chimed as she entered, and she breathed in, already feeling relaxed. Off to the side, a young woman sat behind the counter, yawning as she tapped on her phone. As Sophia entered, she looked up and waved halfheartedly. 

 

“Welcome to Labornes,” the woman - girl? She couldn't be any older than eighteen- said, setting her phone down. “Name’s Aisha. You’re new, I take it.”

 

“Yeah. Just... looking for a day pass, maybe. Has this place... always been here?” Sophia said, looking around.

The entrance area and hallways looked spotless, far better than she expected for something this deep into the docks area. Hardwood flooring and recently-painted walls, with various posters about events happening in the area. Off to her side, she could see an empty basketball court, with the lights on but no one inside. On the other side, a door peered into... was that a swimming pool?

 

“Yes and no. My dad owned this place until a few years ago, when my brother took it over. Refurbished the place, really sank some TLC into it, the dork. Used to just be an old folks boxing ring, that sort of lame shit,” the girl said, shrugging as she spoke. “We’re pretty popular now.”

“Yeah... I can see why,” Sophia said, slightly confused. This was, like, professional rich people levels of a fitness area, not some no-name street in the middle of low-income housing. “I’d like a day pass, if possible?”

“Sure. Twelve bucks for twenty four hours. Basket balls are free to borrow but we need a ten dollar deposit incase you decide you want to wander off with it. Pool is only open six to ten, we’re still looking for a night lifeguard so if you know one tell ‘em where we are,” Aisha rattled off, clearly having said this all before. “Membership is fifty a month, and if you decide you want to get it today we’ll subtract the day pass from that. Cafeteria is out back, open all twenty four if needed, and we also do some afterschool programs and shit but I doubt you care. All good?”

 

“Yeah, seems fair. Honestly pretty cheap for... this,” Sophia said, looking around. “How the hell do you afford keeping this place open for fifty a month?”

“Operating costs are surprisingly low, or so Brian tells me. And donations. We runs some pretty solid community programs here. Free meals for kids, self defense courses, childcare during the weekdays.”

“Damn,” Sophia muttered, shaking her head. “Where the hell was this place when I was a kid, huh?”

“Ha! I feel ya. Brian - my brother, if you somehow missed that - has a big ol’ bleeding heart. Wanted to make a difference. We take care of our own, down here in the Underside.”

Sophia paused, frowning slightly as she looked at the other girl. Aisha just smiled lightly, passing her a plastic key card reading ‘DAYPASS’ with marker on it stating the current time. “Have a good workout.”

Sophia had the feeling she was going to.

 

---

 

Sweat ran down her back, as her feet pounded on the treadmill. She had the damn thing at a solid incline, working through a steady jog. A TV in front of her ran some muted reruns of BBU basketball games from the day before; Brockton Sharks versus the Ridgeway Lions. Sophia already knew the outcome - the Sharks had their asses handed to them, as usual - but she could still root for the home team even if they sucked.

She missed track. It had mostly been a cover story for her Wards activities, sure; a way for her to say she had plans or ditch the occasional class without raising suspicion, but that didn't make it any less enjoyable at the time. Running soothed her, and being on the team hadn’t been that bad, honestly. She didn’t need to like the other girls to compete with them, and winning in the occasional track meet was pretty fucking satisfying.

 

BBU had a track team, but she couldn’t really join that, not with the mountain of extra work that came with being a Protectorate hero. Fuck, she missed being able to let loose and just run. The Rig had a gym, but she wasn’t going to spend any more of her time there if she could help it. Every second she spent in that place was another second under someone else’s thumb.

 

Her mind felt wonderfully numb, just focusing on the thud of her feet on the treadmill and the burning in her lungs, the exertion of a solid workout and the practice motions of her body. The rest of the gym was mostly empty; one guy was running laps around the running track, and there was an elderly woman steadily pounding away on a stationary bike while doing a fucking crossword, unphased as anything.

 

So it was quiet. Peaceful. Honestly, pretty fucking enjoyable. No one had even so much as glanced at her, beyond a small nod from the man and a quick smile from the woman. She could feel the stress leeching away from her, as she worked up a sweat. Sophia was considering that membership pretty damn hard right now; she could see herself becoming a regular pretty quick, if this was what she expected.

 

That was, of course, when she walked in. Sophia didn’t see her at first, eyes locked on the screen in front of her as the Sharks fucked up yet another easy layup. The treadmill began to slow, leading into a cool down period before ramping up again, and she sighed as the game went to a commercial break. She was mid-sip of water when she looked around and spotted her.

 

Sophia would admit she had a bit of a type. A few things that would draw her attention like nothing else; a few key points that would leave her staring longer than was usually acceptable. Long hair, muscles, and height; and this woman checked those boxes with a big red fucking X.

She had to be almost six feet tall, and half of that was leg. The woman was mid-stretch when Sophia saw her, one leg pulled up as she flexed her quads, a black running shoe pressed into the firm curve of her backside. Sophia froze mid-drink, staring as toned flesh flexed across the way. The woman’s hair hung down between her shoulders in a single dark braid, and as she watched, the woman quickly wound it up into a coil on the top of her head, securing it with the ease of something complicated done so routinely it looked simple.

 

And then the girl did some toe touches, and Sophia had to look away before she fell off the fucking treadmill.

The next box was muscles, something Sophia saw when the woman began doing some warmups, after her stretching was done. She was wearing a simple black sports bra and a pair of short black spandex shorts, nothing fancy at all. But there was still so much color on her. The woman had what looked like excellently done tattoos running up and down her body; splashes of color up and down her legs, a large image across her back, collections down her arms. And when she started moving, the tattoos writhed .

She wasn’t a bodybuilder by any stretch of the imagination, but she was toned to an expert degree. The woman was doing some crunches, facing away from Sophia, and the cape couldn’t help but stare as those fucking back muscles flexed. Thighs almost the size of her head moved like liquid as she did squats; biceps strained against taut, smooth skin as she transitioned from pushups to a plank that the woman held for a frankly disturbingly long time.

 

And that ass. Mh.

 

Sophia stumbled as the treadmill began picking up speed, not at all paying attention to what she was doing. She shook her head taking a quick gulp of her water, then squeezing the bottle to spray down her face some. Bad Sophia. No. Stop ogling the hot lady, you can’t get yourself kicked out of the gym so soon. She set her jaw and leaned into it, pushing the treadmill up a few levels to give her something else to focus on.

 

It worked, thankfully, stealing away her focus as she settled back in, counting breaths. She was midway into the fourth quarter of the game, the Sharks losing spectacularly at fifty to ninety six, before a rhythmic pounding noise drew her attention. Sophia couldn't help but glance over.

 

The man who had been running laps had left, but the older lady was still trucking along at her insane pace, crossword still in hand and not a single silver hair out of place.

Sophia’s new eye candy, however, was laying into a punching bag like it owed her money. The woman’s hands were wrapped as she pounded away at a large freestanding bag, moving in slow circles around the bag and ducking, backstepping, or leaning every few punches. It was a steady staccato beat, as she drove blow after blow into the bag, the bag swaying with each hit.

 

The cape went to take a drink and ended up spilling the whole fucking bottle over her face, because she couldn’t take her eyes off of the other woman.

 

“I am so fucking hopeless,” she mumbled, looking down at her soaked shirt and puddle of water on the treadmill, and sighed as she stopped it, cleaning up her mess with an extra towel or two, then spraying down the handles. She jogged a few laps around the running track, keeping an eye on the raven-haired woman, who was still going at the bag without so much as a pause. Fuck, she had stamina to spare.

 

Nope. No. Do not think about the theoretical staying power of random hot women, Sophia, that’s bad. Regardless of how defined her abs are or how tight those shorts look on her ass.

I’m going to get myself fucking thrown out of this gym , she thought, despairing at her own inability to look away as she jogged, trying to cool down but failing miserably. Eventually, she gave in, wandering over to the woman as she stepped away from the bag, toweling off her face.  Sophia came to a stop behind her, pausing for a moment, trying to drag her eyes away from a drop of sweat running down her back, trailing over a giant eastern-style dragon that was coiled around a startlingly well done gray wolf. The dragon was staring out at her, jaws alight with flame. Sophia would have worried about ABB affiliations if the girl was A) asian or B) the ABB even existed anymore. Thankfully, a killer tattoo could just be a killer tattoo.

“Hey! Would you mind, uh -” think of a fucking reason, damnit, and don’t you dare say something stupid -”spotting me a few reps?” Yeah, that was a perfectly reasonable request. Ask the musclebound babe to stand over you while you lie down, abs at eye level as you do a few lifts, or stare at your ass as you do squats. Sure. That could have absolutely zero consequences.

The woman hummed, not startled as Sophia spoke. The shorter girl swallowed, as she turned, revealing a set abs that matched the rest of her, practically carved from marble. A fucking piercing hung from her belly button, a black spider dangling from a silver chain, a dark gem in its back. She swallowed, then slowly dragged her gaze up, meeting the eyes of the woman for the first time since she came into the room.

 

Taylor Hebert stared back at her, a look of vague displeasure on her face.

 

Fuck.

 

“Hess,” the taller woman said, voice slightly strained from her workout, her tone acidic. “What a surprise.”

“H-Hebert,” Sophia stuttered out, then grimaced as the other woman raised an eyebrow, eyes cold. “Nice to, uh, see you. Didn’t know you came here.”

“Hm. Wish I could say the same,” Taylor said, clearly bitter. Sophia winced, looking away. “Enjoying your workout?”

“Yes. Er, yeah, I missed running, it was nice to find a place open this late honestly. Just kinda pent up, you know?” Sophia babbled, still not looking up at the taller woman. Taylor just hummed, crossing her arms right under her sports bra. Sophia’s eyes traced the tattoos there; a monster of some sort, silhouetted in a cloud of green mist; a tiger, prowling angrily forwards on her bicep; a japanese-style samurai in a grinning red mask.

 

Quit your rambling and just fucking end the conversation, damnit! “So, uh. Do you come here often?”

Ah, great. Foot, meet mouth. Might as well drop a ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’ in there at this point. She was sorely tempted to go shadow and just sink into the fucking floor at this point; anything to escape this fucking disaster of a conversation. When did Taylor fucking Hebert get this hot ?

 

The lights from the gym glinted off of the girls piercings, framing her narrow face as she frowned. Sophia couldn’t help but trace them, not for the first time; a row of four rings down the shell of each ear, metal industrial bars across the tops, simple studs at the earlobes. A stud on the left side of her nose, and that damn loop through the middle of her lower lip. It caught the light as Taylors lips pursed, and Sophia was struck with the sudden desire to find out what it felt like against her own lips.

 

I am so fucked .

 

“Yes, actually. I’m friends with the owner, and I run some of the free self defense courses,” Taylor said, stepping back and grabbing her own water bottle, turning her back on Sophia as she bent to grab it. Sophia couldn’t help it when her eyes locked onto her backside, black shorts straining, the barest hints of curves peeking out from under the fabric.

 

Since when had Hebert been this... everything?! Fuck, it could have been for years; the girl still wore concealing clothing to school most of the time, hiding her figure. Not that she needed to - the woman looked, well, fantastic. Those long legs shifted, tattoos blending into each other; what looked like a spear sunk halfway into a mire, with a red banner dangling from it; a lion, mouth opened wide to roar; another dragon, this one with silver metallic scales and of a more western style.

Sophia wanted to see them all. Trace them with her fingers, grab them with hungry hands and taste them. See what they meant and find where they went, wandering up her legs and to her sides.

 

“Self defense, huh? I saw you giving that bag hell earlier. Look like you know what you’re doing,” she heard herself say. That wasn’t ending the conversation at all! 

 

“Mh. I feel like everyone should know how to throw a good punch, kids especially. Not really safe these days, especially now that the Teeth are moving back in. Its good to know how to defend yourself, against wide variety of people. Empire, Teeth, pushy bastards... bullies,” Taylor trailed off, still locking Sophia down with that cold stare.

 

Right. That.

“Yeah, you. Uh. Have a hell of a right hook, Emma says.”

 

Taylor huffed, rolling her eyes, finally freeing Sophia from those piercing brown eyes. “Didn’t seem to stop her. She just can’t help herself from slinging shit, even after all this time. I still get shitty messages from random emails, you know? And someone put my fucking number on a stall in the boys locker room. Had to change my fucking number after that. It’s just tiring, honestly.”

“I can’t say I get it either. Emma’s - I don’t know. Anyways. Nice to -” No. Don’t say nice to see you. Just say goodbye and fucking leave before she remembers that you made her life a living hell and returns the favor!

Her brain had an excellent fucking plan. Just say ‘well, have a nice one’ and leave. Get the fuck out of here before you fuck it up anymore. A perfectly good thing to say, to end the conversation like she should have two minutes ago and save her a mountain of shame.

 

Her brain had an excellent idea. Unfortunately, her mouth had one of its own. Running off of six hours of sleep in the last forty eight, a mountain of stress, and a pile of embarrassment-filled attraction, her voice comes out with:

 

“Nice abs.”

 

Taylor froze, mid drink of water, and slowly turned to stare down at Sophia again. She feels heat rush to her face, and looks away, screaming internally. Taylor doesn’t respond - because how the fuck do you respond to that?! - and after a moment, Sophia looks up, sure that she’s going to see disgust or amusement or be mocked for her clearly sleep-deprived brain.

 

Instead, Taylor stares down at her, expression blank, clearly processing. She tilts her head to the side, and then slowly drags her gaze down Sophia’s body. The shorter girl flushes even harder, squirming slightly as she rocks on her heels, wanting to flee but still feeling pinned by the sheer fucking focus in that gaze. Slowly, ever so slowly, she eyes her from head to toe, then crawls her eyes up Sophia’s frame, before locking back onto her face.

 

Heat pools in her abdomen, knees suddenly weak, as Taylor raises an eyebrow. And fucking smirks .

 

“Thanks. So. You were looking for a spotter? Or were you just looking for an excuse?”

 

The door to the fitness room clacks closed, and Sophia looks over her shoulder, to see that the older woman has finished her own workout. That, or she decided that discretion was the better part of valor and dipped the moment Sophia got her foot up to the shins in her mouth.

 

She turns back to find Taylor much closer than she had been a moment before, just a few steps away. Sophia takes a step back, startled, but freezes as Taylor speaks up.

 

“Don’t,” the tall woman says, and Sophia fucking stills. Her heart pounds against her ribs like its trying to fucking escape without her, as she stood there, one leg braced behind her. Hebert moved forward slowly, expression lightly amused. She didn’t walk so much as prowl , closing those few feet of distance slowly, until she stood barely a foot away, looming over Sophia. “Not unless you’re done with your workout, that is?”

 

Sophia blinked, then shuddered at the implication in those words. “Uh-”

 

“Are you done?” Taylor asked, that damn fucking smirk still on her face. “Because I’m not.”

 

“What?” Sophia asked, throat suddenly dry. She stared upwards, pulse racing, breath heavy, but mind suddenly blank.

The black haired woman hummed, her smirk widening into a grin, as she stepped forward again, a foot of distance becoming inches. Sophia swallowed, her hands flexing by her side as she just fucking stands there like an idiot, completely unmoving aside from the frantic staccato of her heart.

 

It feels like a fucking nightmare, the kind she never wants to leave. This woman is undoubtedly dangerous, completely in control, incredibly attractive, and also Taylor Hebert . Sophia can’t combine those two facts; can’t overlap them in a way that makes the picture any clearer rather than just more confusing. Sophia notices a singe strand of hair with detached fascination; a small black curl, framing the side of the taller womans face, clinging with perspiration. She wants to wrap her fingers in that curl, use it like a lasso to pull the taller woman down to her level, feel it between her knuckles and on her skin.

 

She opens her mouth, intending to say something witty, something smart, something that would turn the tables and put this interaction the way it should be. She’s the strong one here; Taylor may have stood up for herself and learned to push back, but she’s never gone on the offensive. Never proven that she could stand up and show them that she wasn’t just a pain to deal with, but a threat. Maybe Emma would have backed down if Taylor had come out of the gates swinging, not just avenging.

Sophia’s the strong one. She’s suppose to be in control, damnit. Supposed to be the one who takes the lead and starts the interaction and - 

 

Taylor reaches out a hand, slowly. Raises it towards her face, pale fingers tipped with black polish, nails trimmed blunt and shining in the light of the gym. The hand gently grips her chin, two fingers and a thumb not so much grasping as directing. Sophia lets her head be tilted upwards, being forced to stare up into those brown eyes. Taylor’s grin is gone, replaced with an eerily blank expression, a look that could be cold and indifferent if not for the fact that her eyes have blown wide, pupils drinking in every drop of sweat on Sophia’s body, irises barely a thin rim around that hungry black stare.

 

That damn fucking ring on her lip shines, black metal bisecting those thin lips, pressed together. Sophia watches with fascination as the tip of her tongue pokes through those lips, wetting them. A drop of sweat drips down the side of Hebert's thin neck, and she has the sudden urge to lean forward and lick it off.

 

Fuck.

 

And then -

 

Taylor turns and walks away, without so much as a word.

 

Sophia stumbles forward, suddenly unsteady on feet that had been holding her up, inching her towards Hebert as the girl tilted her head up. She blinks, confused, as Taylor swiftly turns and leaves the room, those long legs carrying her away.

 

“Hebert?” she finds herself calling, that - whatever the hell she was feeling sinking, being suddenly replaced by anger-tinged disbelief, as she watches the tall woman stride - run away, towards the door and then around the corner. Taylor still has that blank, empty expression on her face, as she walks by the glass windows, and then vanishes into the corridor.

 

She feels compelled to run after her for a moment. Shout, or something, but what the hell does she say? ‘Fucking pussy, get back here and’ - what? Honestly, she’s pretty fucking pissed that Hebert just - ran like that, without saying a damn word. Sophia looks back, and sure as shit, Hebert just ditched her stuff and left. Her water bottle still sat next to the punching bag, her towel is on the floor, and her gym bag sits off to the side, leaning against the wall where she did her warm ups.

 

“Fucking hell,” Sophia cursed, stomping her foot with a squeak as her running shoes hit the rubber mat. Whatever. It was just some temporary insanity. Just a bit of idiocy. Hebert got hot, sure, but that doesn’t make her any more of a loser. Regardless of how that look in her eyes made the shorter woman feel, regardless of that coiled heat in her abdomen - fuck.

 

Once a weakling, always a weakling. Yeah. That was fine. Nothing would have happened anyways, and even if something did, it’s not like Sophia would have wanted it. Just some bluster. Not like she’d ever fuck a loser like Hebert, of course not.

 

She buys a membership pass to Labornes anyways. It’s just good business.

Sophia gets the feeling she’s going to be spending a lot of time around here, for no particular reason.

 

---

Chapter 2: Two

October 18th, 2016

 

Class the next day was, unsurprisingly, really fucking hard to get through without being distracted. To absolutely no one’s shock, Sophia had trouble getting to sleep that night; memories of brown eyes and black hair and muscled limbs spotted with ink running through her mind. School was still plenty hard even without the lack of sleep; because the universe seemed to be conspiring to put Hebert within her field of view. BBU had three buildings on main campus, and a fourth a few blocks down the road; and somehow fucking Taylor Hebert ended up walking by Sophia three times in the span of one afternoon on her way to all of them.

 

If she didn’t know any better, Sophia would have thought Hebert was fucking following her, but the taller woman never seemed to notice her as she went to her classes. It felt like Sophia’s eyes were magnetized; they would seek out and find Hebert, regardless of how far away she was, lock on and trace her form before she even knew who she was looking at. 

 

Sophia spotted her in the early morning, halfway across the campus cafe, bent over a book with that long hair pulled back, several strands escaping and dangling in front of her glasses, and choked on a bite of bagel. By the time a laughing Madison had been reassured that Sophia was not in fact dying, Hebert had picked up her stuff and left.

 

She turned to laugh at something a friend said on the walk to her two o’clock sociology class; and there she was, sitting on a bench at the park, talking animatedly with another girl, pencil waving, notebook on her lap. She was still wearing those damn baggy clothes, but Sophia swore she could see hints of definition as her arms curled and her legs uncrossed and re-crossed, leaning back against the wooden seat.

 

And then sitting in said class, as Sophia looked out the window for just a damn second in between taking notes. Stretching her back in the stiff wooden chair and tilting her head to the side, only to see a hint of black hair and the glint of light on glass, as Hebert walked away from campus and towards the parking lot, bag slung over one shoulder and two books tucked under her arm. Hebert walked slowly, unhurriedly, black sweatpants and a maroon BBU sweatshirt barely visible as she wandered out of sight. Sophia blinked and returned back to class to discover that the whiteboard had been erased while she was distracted, and cursed out the professor under her breath, thoroughly lost.

 

Fucking hell, this was going to be a consistent thing, wasn’t it? Sophia groaned, chasing away images of colorful skin and taught muscle with variables and the gentle press of ink to paper.

Hebert had gotten the right idea; this was a terrible fucking thing to focus on. Just drop it and move on, pretend nothing had ever happened. Clearly the other woman hadn’t bothered to spare a thought about Sophia all day; she should just return the favor, and stop thinking about heavily muscled thighs and black piercings that caught the light, ignore that phantom sensation of a hand grabbing her chin and two deep brown eyes locked onto her own -

 

She clenched her legs together, holding back another groan, and shifted in her seat.

 

I have a serious problem.

 

Just ignore it. Hopefully, it would go away. Hebert hadn't noticed her all day; she really just needed to return the favor.

---

 

Some parts of moving from the Wards to the Protectorate sucked. Having her parole extended had been a real fucking kick in the ass; Piggot had apparently been saving up all her infractions and evidence of solo patrols for one final push at the end of her tenure as a Ward, right when she was supposed to finally take over from fucking Dean, the goody-two shoes. The captaincy went to Missy instead, which she couldn’t really begrudge. Yeah, it fucking sucked to have that swiped away from her, but the shortstack was a better leader than fucking Gallant .

‘Did you attend therapy, Sophia?’ ‘I think you should spend time with the rest of us, Sophia.’ ‘Is everything okay at home, Sophia?’ ‘You can talk to me if you have problems, Sophia.’ It was like having another fucking Mom on the team, except her mom knew when to shut the fuck up when a problem couldn’t be fixed. Fucking asshole, always pushing her. Like she needed his help, of all fucking people.

 

The PR events sucked so much more now, too. She had an image she needed to play towards, not just one she would be mildly reprimanded for if she didn’t uphold. Wards could be standoffish and acidic; but real heroes had to shit dreams and piss freedom, or suffer the consequences. She had to smile and keep an even tone of voice whenever anyone could hear, couldn’t swear without infractions, and had to answer all of the dumb fucking questions about her personal life. Worst part of it all was that her ratings were actually high enough that the PRTeam was sending her to coaches and shit, playing up the angles. As the newest ‘barely legal’ member of the team they were making her lean into the fucking love life questions. ‘Shadow Stalker, are you seeing anyone?’ ‘Oh, I couldn’t comment on that.’ ‘Mh, just waiting for a special someone.’ ‘Who knows? Maybe some day!’

 

And she had to lean into it with the right fucking tone or it was another fucking hour of ‘optional’ public speaking training if she said the wrong thing, another fucking hour of costume redesign if her body language was ‘too hostile,’ another fucking hour of sensitivity training if she got caught on camera muttering under her breath or glaring at the idiot who asked the question. As if they didn’t all know that dumbfuck reporters were going to slam some shitty headline on a waste of tree magazine being sold for a buck fifty at the checkout register. ‘Shadow Stalker’s Romance? Love Triangle with Gallant, Glory Girl’s Got a Grudge!’

 

So yeah. It fucking sucked, and some day soon she was going to fucking explode on someone. Probably end up caught on camera cussing out the next fucker who asked her what she liked in a man, and end up shipped to fucking Milwakee or some other worthless, end of the road city to spend the rest of her days.

 

But. It wasn’t all bad.

 

The motor hummed under between her thighs, rumbling as she leaned into a turn, cutting a corner around a skyscraper, grinning under her mask at the shadow reflected in the glass. She dodged around a parked car, cutting onto the sidewalk, and then revved the engine as it zipped between two buildings, feeling the momentum tug at her gut as she nearly went sideways, skidding between another two cars. It wasn’t as reckless as it seemed; the bike had a fuckton of cameras, sensors, and the like. Also, it flew, so the odds of these idiots actually getting run over was lower than they deserved.

 

Piggot was a stone cold bitch on the best of days, but sometimes it worked in Sophia’s favor. Back when the Undersiders had finally kicked the Merchants out, Squealer had been picked up and turned into another charity case. Not that Sophia could had much space to complain; she knew she was walking that thin line of borrowed time. Squealer was a pity case anyways.

 

Sophia knew addiction, and it wasn’t easy to dismiss the story they had finally pulled out of the Tinker when they had her in the cells. Sure, it was a fuckin’ sob story, but the evidence they had uncovered along with testimony from the unpowered Merchants... it wasn’t a pretty picture. Two years of min-security prison with time to tinker on approved projects, and now Squealer was a proud member of the Seattle Protectorate under the name of ‘Jumpstart.’ 

 

The Director, bless her overworked heart, had fought the rest of the PRT tooth and nail after Squealer had been admitted to the ‘Rehabilitation’ program, managing to come out of it with two new Wards and Jumpstart’s tinker support on six projects for the Protectorate ENE, and Sophia had come out of it with a bike that fucking flew .

 

She hit another corner at speed, her hoverbike - the fucking Shadowcycle , thanks for that shit PRTeam - handling with ease, bobbing about a foot above the ground. Her grin widened, as she kicked it into maximum gear, aiming straight for a ten-story apartment she had been eyeing for a while. Good view, lots of people around; the sort of shit she was supposed to consider when out for drives. Had to make sure people could get pictures of her sitting on her ass and doing nothing. God forbid she take this bike out of the city center and actually go somewhere that needed help -

 

A grimace replaced her smile, as her good mood flickered and died. Right. As fun as it was to drive, this was a fucking flag waving event, not and actual patrol. She sighed, then flicked the antigrav on and went shadow.

 

The bike looked similar to a racing bike, purple and black in coloration, with smooth lines and a long, shallow seat that she leaned over, and rests on the side she tucked her feet into. It was fucking awesome, she wouldn’t lie; and pretty low on actual tinkertech. The engine had been replaced with some sort of feedback-loop-fucker-whatsit that Chris had designed, and the ‘revving’ noise was canned and played with a fucking speaker, because god forbid she not be showy about literally everything. The wheels had been replaced with two glowing ring-things that let it hover a few feet off the ground; the rest of it was a mundane Yamaha racing bike, painted to match her new look.

 

It could hover, it could hit two hundred on a straightaway, it could handle like a fucking dream, and she couldn’t do anything with it other than drive slightly above the speed limit and spin some circles around residential districts.

 

Her good mood didn’t even return when she approached the building at speed, and the bike kicked up on its own; suddenly moving skywards, as if the apartment had become the road she was driving over. Sophia went shadow, canceling her weight on the cycle, clinging to it as a cloud of black smoke. Normally, Sophia would love this part, but it all just felt... fake. Empty.

 

The Protectorate was working hard to ensure that it looked like they had any say about what was going on in the city, making sure everyone knew they were around without actually doing much of anything. It was killing her by pieces, driving her insane to know she was becoming yet another bit of merchandise to be sold. No longer a hero; just another action figure.

She cut the engine as she hit the top of the building, the hoverbike transitioning from vertical to horizontal in less than a second. She left her shadow-state, the bike dipping as her weight pressed onto it, and turned it into a drifting stop, dirt and a few bits of trash blowing away as the fans kicked up debris. It settled down a few inches from the ground, bobbing slightly as she stepped off of it, then wandered over to the roof to sit down.

 

Even the way she fucking sat was PR mandated. She had a few specific poses to strike up, to make sure people got ‘the best look’ at her as she stared out over the city. One leg bent up, another dangling over the edge, leaning forward with arms at her sides. ‘Look like a raven ready to fly away,’ one of the fucking goons had told her, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.

 

Sophia felt more like a vulture, honestly, staring hungrily at someone else’s kill. 

 

Officially, the Protectorate was reshuffling, allowing the Wards to filter into the roster and letting the established heroes be spread out where they were needed. Assault and Battery had been transferred about a year ago, the married couple taking off to Miami; Dauntless had been swapped over to New York in exchange for a younger woman, a Brute named Nuance who was barely three years older than Sophia.

Gallant, Aegis, Sophia and soon to be Chris were rising up to fill the gaps. A story of growth and change and all that happy bullshit to convince people to sign their children up for the fucking Wards where they would dance to all the good fucking tunes.

 

Unofficially... the Protectorate was pulling back, away from the city. Brockton was an odd mix off too dangerous and safe; the Villains of the city were incredibly hard to tangle with, but had settled into a stable middle ground where not much fucking happened. Sure, the Empire flared up here and there - no one was particularly happy to live in Nazi-town, New Hampshire - but the Protectorate rarely needed to be the hammer to pound down that nail.

 

No, the city had a fucking solution for that, one they couldn’t do anything about. Brockton had settled into an easy peace, not because the Heroes had fixed anything, but because fucking Skitter lived here, and no one liked the idea of drowning in bugs if they fucked up.

 

Sophia hunched over the edge of the building, staring down at the streets below. Aside from the kick-ass bike, solo patrols were probably the only thing worth sticking in the Protectorate for. That, and not getting gutted by a Nazi the moment she didn’t have the fucking government backing her.

 

This city fucking sucked.

 

She sighed under her mask, foot tapping against the brick of the building below her. How long had it been? Six minutes, maybe, of sitting here and bitching internally instead of doing anything? She wasn’t made for this, to be a fucking show pony, trotted out for show. Fuck, she almost wished she could get transferred, if that meant she could start actually doing things, instead of -

 

A bang sounded, distant, at least five or six blocks away. She perked up, focusing. Car backfire? No, it had been too loud, but it was also too deep of a noise to be a gunshot, not unless someone was unloading some serious artillery. Shadow Stalker tensed, standing up, waiting.

 

The bang came again, louder this time, followed by two more in quick succession, and then a sudden, rapid staccato of gunfire, easily recognisable. She quickly tapped her fingers against the side of her mask, heart thumping.

“Console, this is Shadow Stalker. I’ve got audio confirmation of a gunfight of some kind, moving in on approach. Location is Ninth and Grange, unsure of cape involvement. Advise?”  she called, quickly stepping over to her bike and straddling it, kicking the engine into action, feeling the machine bob under her as it rose a few feet off the ground.

 

The response came quickly; whatever unnamed PRT goon manning the console tonight was on their toes. “Shadow Stalker, area named is well within unclaimed territory. Suspected Teeth involvement. If you see the Butcher, disengage; otherwise, happy hunting. I’m routing Aegis and Gallant to you, but ETA is ten minutes.”

 

“Acknowledged,” Sophia said, grinning wide under her mask. She gunned the throttle, then kicked the bike forward, speeding up rapidly. She drove straight towards the edge - and then off.

 

Fuck yeah.

 

The bike tilted nose-down, moving at the exact same speed it had been before, ignoring the pull of gravity as it sped up under its own power. She knelt down, her black cape catching the wind behind her as she raced down ten stories and flew to the ground. Right as she was about to hit it, she went shadow, and the bike pulled nose up in a fraction of a second, righting itself out without losing momentum in the slightest.

Finally. Lets go make a fucking difference.

 

---

 

“FUCK,” Sophia shouted to herself, perched on a roof above the fighting.

Below her, two dozen figures fought, if you could call it that. The cause for the fight was rather easy to find: a small co-op was burning, a fire set deep within the store burning, tongues of flame spitting outwards as if trying to lick the building across the street. 

 

“Shadow Stalker, come in. Do you have visual on the incident? ETA on backup is eight minutes, do I need to re-route, over.”

 

Sophia snarled at the buzzy voice in her ear, loud and insistent. Fucking PRT goons and their chatter. “Confirm, Console. Appears to be an arson attempt; explosions heard previously were likely incendiaries of some sort. I can confirm Teeth involvement, but no signs of any capes; just unpowered gangers. Also...”

 

She took a deep breath, then looked away from the burning shopfront, eyeing the people on the street. Roughly a third of them were up and moving, and they were wearing familiar colors. It wasn’t so neat as to be a uniform, but the signature black and yellow of the Undersiders unpowered members was hard to miss. They all wore heavy jackets, and she knew from experience that if she managed to put one down she would find spider silk mesh shirts under their likely already armored jackets.

 

Skitter gave her folks the best shit, seriously. They didn’t appear to have any fatalities; one of them was on the ground, a leg wound being hastily bandaged. Not that it would stick for long; part of the benefits of having a world-renown healer working on your team.

 

The rest of the figures on the ground were not as lucky. Sophia counted fourteen Teeth members, distinguishable by their red and gray outfits, bits of bone across their body, and the fact that they were currently covered in mounds of bugs.

 

Wasps, spiders, flies, cockroaches, bees. She couldn't see the makeup of the swarm, but she knew from hard-learned experience exactly what would be crawling all over those men. Biting, clawing, stinging, scratching; it wasn’t a good time for most anyone involved. She could still feel the press of scraping legs on her exposed skin, feel the thousands of tiny bites as she writhed, unable to go Shadow because of a taser strike. All the heroes in the city knew what it was like, at this point.

 

Two of the Teeth members were still and unmoving; they were the only ones not currently covered in bugs, their bodies motionless and splayed out in pools of blood. Sophia hissed air between her lips, grimacing, and finished her call in.

 

“...Undersiders are also spotted on sight. About eight of the standard members, and one cape minimum. Skitter.”

 

There was a pause, on the other side, as Console took in that. “Confirm, Shadow Stalker. Hostilities ongoing?”

 

“No, looks like its about over. Looks pretty cut-and-dry, honestly; this deep into the Undersi- into Undersiders territory? Looks like the Teeth came to fuck around, and Skitter gave them the find out,” she finished, cutting herself off as she almost used the term for the area that locals called it. The PRT hated it whenever someone used the term ‘The Underside’ for the area that the Villain group controlled, even if they couldn’t actually contest it.

 

“That about sums it up, yes,” a voice straight from her nightmares called from right the fuck behind her . Sophia couldn’t help it; she went shadow, diving to the ground and spinning, solidifying and coming to a stop with her arm raised, crossbow pointed at the speaker.

 

She shuddered as she saw it.

 

Picture the shadow of a man cast by a campfire, weak and indistinct on a distant wall. Soften the edges, make it androgynous, impossible to make out any features from. Have it stand entirely still, unmoving, but make its skin ripple and sway slightly. And then fill the damn thing with bugs.

 

Skitters ‘bug clones’ were a mainstay of her armory; a passible silhouette of the cape herself, if you saw it from a distance or it was obscured by Grue’s fog, or you were in the middle of a fight and desperately trying to find the woman herself. Tens of thousands of insects crawled over one another, never staying still but also never exceeding the boundaries of a human body, contained into one tight mass as if held in a glass cage. It was entirely featureless, save for two over-large eyes taking the place of Skitters signature yellow lenses, made up of fireflies.

 

Those eyes stared out at her, watching her. Judging her. Sophia swallowed, well aware that if there was a clone here, there was no place she go that Skitter wouldn’t have a swarm waiting for her.

 

“Skitter,” she said slowly, standing from her crouch and speaking loudly so the earpiece would catch her voice. “Troubles in paradise?”

 

The clone shifted, bugs flying and crawling as it raised an arm, moving until it looked like it had a hand on its hip. “Just laying down the law. We told the Teeth that this area was under our protection now; they felt the need to test it. I don’t suppose your band of merry men would be willing to collect the trash for us, hm? If you’re not too busy watching us do your job for you, that is.”

 

Sophia rankled, part of her wanting to lash out and curse out the villain for starting this mess; cuss her out for being evil and causing this. Two people were probably dead down there on the street, and it was Skitters men that killed them. But it wasn’t that cut and dry, not where the Undersiders were involved. Honestly, Sophia respected them more than the PRT these days; at least they were fucking doing something.

 

“Two dead, looks like. Did they get the Kaiser treatment, or were they personal?” she said, unable to completely back off when pressed.

“You know we don’t shoot first. They opened fire on us; my people merely returned the favor. The rest are fine, if a little...” the clone trailed off, as a mans piercing wail came from down below, distant but clearly terrified. “Shaken,” she finished, that voice of hissing bugs and flapping wings ringing in Sophia’s ears.

 

The clone took a step towards the ledge, circling a step closer to Sophia, and she mirrored it, keeping her distance. 

 

Console rang in her ears. “If you can keep her occupied, Aegis and Gallant are two minutes out. Armsmaster is available to redirect if needed, maybe twelve minutes out now. Your call.”

 

She breathed in sharply, then shook her head. Not worth it, with those time gaps. Whispering softly, she tilted her head to the side. “No way, Console. Let it slide this time. Send a few trooper vans for pickup but tell the capes to steer clear. Skitter spotted me already, no need to turn this into a fight.”

 

“I’m happy to hear that, ” came from the clone, and Sophia grimaced, knowing that Skitter had heard every word. Probably had been listening in from the moment she arrived.

It was fucking hard to deal with a cape who could hear everything said within a three or four block radius. The Protectorate wasn’t really sure what her range was, only that it was fucking massive and coupled with a power that they didn’t have many capes capable of countering.

 

There was a reason Skitter was one of two capes that PRT ENE had listed as strictly ‘do not engage if possible.’ That, and the fact that the Undersiders were very much the least of all the evils in the city.

 

“Yeah, well. I think we’d both know how that song and dance goes by now,” Sophia said, shrugging nonchalantly and trying to project an air of disinterest, rather than the tense panic that was currently crawling under her skin.

 

The clone took another step, and another, and Sophia mimicked it, keeping the distance. It came to a stop between her and the edge of the roof, blocking her view of the street. Each step was less of a walking motion than the clone reforming; a pool of bugs crawled on the floor, and with each step, the leg moving fell into the ground, and a new lower leg reformed, taking the place of the cast-offs.

 

It was eerie, unsettling, and terrifying to watch; but so was every damn thing to do with the bug-controlling cape. “I suppose we do. I have to wonder if the Protectorate has any plans in place to deal with the Teeth at any point? I’m getting rather tired of dealing with them. Dentistry isn’t exactly my forte.”

 

Shadow Stalker huffed, rolling her eyes under her mask. Skitter and her stupid fucking puns. “Can’t disclose that, sorry.”

“Mh, I didn’t think so. You’re still all cowering in fear because of a Cape that isn’t even in the city yet. Unsurprising, but still disappointing.”

 

“The Butcher -”

 

“Isn’t here. It’s been six weeks since their men started moving in, robbing stores, starting fights. I know you’re all very scared of Butcher XV coming in and ruining your perfect streak of being useless, but maybe you could do something about the gangers, if you please? It’s getting on my NERVES.”

The cape finished with a furious hiss, swarm exploding outwards. Sophia flinched, stepping back as the clone dissolved, bugs flaring out and the polite fiction of a human form vanishing. Suddenly, it was just a wide cloud of bugs, hissing, buzzing, swirling ten feet above her. The firefly eyes peered out at her for a few moments longer, and then just as quickly as it had started, the wall of bugs vanished.

 

The eyes were the last thing to leave, as the bugs all swept away, like liquid rolling off the roof and down the gutters. They stared out at her, locking her in place, before the fireflies flew away one by one and left the air suddenly clear of any flying bodies. Sophia quickly stepped to the ledge, peering down at the street below.

No Undersiders remained on the street. The fire had been put out, white foam coating the edges of the broken glass, as thin trails of gray smoke petered out. The Teeth members on the ground were still prone, but the bugs had been replaced with zip-ties on their hands as they lay face-first on the asphalt. The two vans that the Undersiders had been crouching behind were gone, the noise of their movement covered by the roar of the swarm. Skitter was like that; always a step or two ahead of you, never doing anything if it didn’t have two or three ulterior motives.

Terrifying woman.

 

“Console, situation resolved. Undersiders are done, it seems. No sign of any members, powered or unpowered. I’ll watch the downed goons until pickup arrives, then finish out my patrol,” she said quietly, before sitting on the edge of the roof, suddenly exhausted. It would be a few minutes, but she didn’t mind.

 

She could use some time to rest, either way. Skitter had left her too weak to stand.

Chapter 3: Three

Notes:

Taylor stirs the pot.

Being Sophia is suffering.

October 19th, 2016

 

 

 

 

The coffee shop the three of them frequented was a small little thing, tucked in a quiet corner by the campus, between a bookstore and a chinese restaurant. Lots of students frequented it, wandering in and out for their little addictions of caffeine. Sophia found the place pretty cozy, honestly, and the barista was usually a sassy gay man who gave her shit about her fruity orders and bitched about the Sharks with her. Screw him, she liked her coffee sweet, who cared if it didn’t ‘match her attitude?’ She had honestly tried the whole ‘I only drink my coffee black’ thing back in high school, the idiot she was back then.

 

Madison sat across from her in the booth, phone in hand, and Emma jabbered on in between sips of coffee. Sophia held her own paper cup in her hands, zoned out and staring out the window. They had a gap between classes every other day, and they had all agreed to take this break together, to catch up. Well, Emma had decided that was the plan, and the two of them had been dragged along for it. Same as always.

 

“And I fucking swear, that asshole in my political science class will not stop sitting next to me. He’s gearing up to ask me out again, I fucking know it, and I’m getting pretty tired of telling him it was just a one night thing, y’know?”

 

She hummed, not really listening as Emma spoke, chattering on about her courses as per usual. Her friend always had something to talk about, gossip-queen as she was, but that had always been the case as long as Sophia had known her. Emma had decided to stick to her skills, when it came time to decide what to do for college; the redhead was working her way towards a major in business, with a focus on marketing and sales. She had always been a social butterfly. Madison had an aptitude for writing and was working towards a journalism degree, to no one’s surprise. Sophia shuddered to think of what magazine she’d be working for.

 

Sophia  herself was two years into a degree on ‘undecided’ at this point, still struggling to pick anything relevant. The college degree had been paid for by the PRT, and her mother had convinced her to go for it; no sense in wasting that kind of benefit package. Her mom still thought of this hero business as a temporary gig, something she would grow out of. She had better hopes for her daughter than ‘wasting your sleep running around and punching bad guys.’

 

It was mostly Sophia humoring her, at this point. It was hard to say no to her mom, not after... everything. The woman had been through enough already, and despite her failings, did try to help Sophia and her siblings as best as she could. Adulthood and distance had shown Sophia that much, proven that her mother was just another person trying her fucking best.

 

But Sophia knew that her degree would just sit pretty and unused once it was complete. She needed this life, needed the fight and the hunt, needed to be out there, making a difference. Her mom still imagined a little house with a picket fence, a husband and a dog. The American dream for her little girl, wrapped up all nice and fucking pretty; the future she had never gotten, lived out by her daughter.

That idea was terrifying, to Sophia. Locked down in a little house, two kids and a mortgage, soccer on the weekends? Her mom had been trying for that little life since the moment Terry was born, and Sophia personally had no plans at all to be involved in it. She knew where her life was heading, fighting the good fight until one day she couldn’t any more. Sophia was going to be a hero until it killed her.

 

Strangely, that thought didn’t make her as satisfied as it used to.

 

“...so he stands up in front of the whole class, right? And goes to make his speech, but all that comes out is - oh shit, look who just walked in,” Emma said, cutting herself off mid-sentence. Sophia blinked back to awareness, hands still wrapped around her cooling paper cup, and Madison set her phone on the table. Sophia tilted in her seat, peering behind her to see who had walked in, and immediately regretted it.

 

Fucking Hebert was in line, paperback book in her hand, glasses dangling low on her nose as she idly turned a page. Sophia swallowed, grimacing to herself. The tall woman was wearing leggings today - the first time she had seen her wear anything other than baggy pants or loose-fit jeans. The black fabric clung to her legs like it had been poured on, clinging to her firm ass and outlining her calves. Her hair was free today, cascading down her back and pinned up around the ears, keeping it out of her face.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit -

 

“Uhg, I can’t belive she’s here. And wearing that? What a skank, seriously,” Emma bitched quietly, already finding things to needle and poke at. She just couldn’t fucking help herself, when it came to Hebert - nevermind that Emma herself was wearing leggings today, and had never had a problem with anyone wearing them before.

Sophia ignored the hypocrisy and turned back to her cup, trying to stop that familiar thumping heartbeat that always came with the sight of Hebert these days. She just couldn’t shake the sight of the woman staring down at her, her hand on her chin, sweaty from exercise. She had been to Laborne’s another three times since then, but hadn’t caught sight of Hebert regardless of what time she showed up. Aisha was starting to remember her by name, chatting with her at the front desk when she came in.

 

“Hey, Taylor! In early today, what gives?” the barista called. Sophia blinked, turning in her seat again. Hebert smiled at the man, book tucked under her arm as she fished in her purse.

“Decided I wasn’t in the mood for my Anthropology II course today. Up late last night, probably going to sit in the back and try to stay awake. The usual, thanks Gus.”

 

Emma groaned, voice tight with frustration. “Oh, of course she’s friends with him too. Uhg. Gus is too friendly for his own good, honestly. Do you think we should tell him about her?” 

 

Sophia meant to say something along the lines of ‘Gus is friendly to everyone, it’s how he gets tips.’ Maybe something witty, like ‘nah, I think he’s noticed the smell by now-’ the sort of thing that would make Emma chuckle. Part of her was even tempted to just say ‘can we drop the fucking Hebert bullshit for a day, please?’ and hope Emma would get the hint that this was supposed to be over , her friend had lost and Hebert wasn’t something they needed to worry about anymore.

 

What came out instead was “She has nice legs.”

 

The table went silent behind her. Sophia took a deep breath, feeling red rush to her face, realizing exactly which combination of words had left her mouth in which order.

FUCK

 

Slowly, she turned back around to the table, not looking up and resumed gripping her coffee cup. She tapped her feet under the table, clearing her throat and eyeing the suddenly fascinating wood grain of the table, shooing away an errant fly that had settled next to her hand.

 

“No.”

 

The word was soft but stern. Sophia slowly looked up, meeting the disbelieving eyes of Emma and the viciously grinning face of Madison. Emma shook her head slowly, repeating herself. “No. Bad Sophia.”

 

“What? It’s just. Y’know. Impartial commentary. Objectively speaking, of course. I wouldn’t want to get near her, but, well, its noticeable. Back me up, Mads,” she rambled, watching as Emmas soul left her body.

Madison, the traitor, did not back her up. She began to laugh instead, not a sly giggle or a chuckle, but a full blown belly laugh, clutching at the table as she bent inwards on herself, shrill and horse-like. Emma continued to look at Sophia as if she had just personally killed her dog or said her shoes were out of season or something.

 

“For the love of god, Sophia. I know I told you to move on from Mariah, but holy fuck , no.”

“It’s just a little crush! It’ll go away-”

 

“ Just a crush ? ” Emma hissed, and Sophia clammed up, grimacing under her flaming cheeks. “That’s Hebert! You remember her, right? Loser of the school, not a single friend, couldn’t so much as eat lunch without crying herself to sleep? The one who decked me across the face for no reason? That Hebert?”

Sophia groaned, shooting a helpless look at Madison, who was still chuckling. Emma and her obsession with the taller girl, seriously. “That was high school, Ems, seriously. Just let it die. Look, its not like I’m gonna date her. She’s-” out of my league “-not my type. It was just a comment. Calm down before she notices, okay?”

“Too late for that,” Madison said between breaths, taking a fortifying sip of her iced tea, before smirking again and wiggling her eyebrows. “She’s coming this way.”

Sure enough, when Sophia checked over her shoulder, Taylor was walking towards them. She was looking at the tables, as if searching for an open spot, but had passed by several empty tables already. Sophia was half-convinced she was looking for a booth to sit in, until those brown eyes locked onto hers.

 

Hebert smiled wide, pinning Sophia with that gaze again.

 

“Oh my god,” Madison whispered breathlessly. Emma was stone-silent as Taylor approached, steps assured and languid, knowing that Sophia wasn’t going to do anything but sit there and wait.

 

Taylor stopped next to the table, ceramic mug in hand, book under one arm. She idly turned her head to the side, meeting the horrified gaze of Emma and the heavily amused stare of Madison, before turning back to Sophia and smiling again. “Hey Sophia,” she said, voice cheerful. No, not cheerful - sly. Wicked. Slow, low, and sinful.

 

Fuck off. Don’t talk to me. Why are you here. “H-Hey, Heb- uh, Taylor.”

 

SHIT

 

“Sorry I had to run out the other night. Wasn’t really fair of me to leave you hanging like that, but I had a good time!” the tall woman said, setting down her cup of tea on the table in front of them. She hummed, rifling through her purse and pulling out a pen. The Trio watched with mixed emotions as she set down her receipt, and quickly wrote out a string of ten digits, before clicking the pen closed.

Sophia stared down at the phone number, heart pounding away again, then licked her lips as she looked up.

 

Hebert smirked, gaze sultry. Her tongue peeked out of her mouth, lightly touching the ring in her lower lip, drawing Sophia’s eyes to the lucky piece of metal. “Here’s my number if you ever want a repeat, hm? I feel like I left when it was just getting started,” she said, as she picked up her mug of tea. She nodded once at them all, then walked away with a wave. “Text me!” she called over her shoulder, before walking across the cafe, settling down in a booth and opening her book without a care in the world.

 

Sophia watched her walk away the entire time, the heat on her cheeks only matched by the heat pooling in her abdomen. She turned back to the table, meeting the eyes of Emma. Madison, on the other hand, was already tapping away at her phone, tongue sticking out in concentration as she looked from the slip of paper and back, sniping away Taylor’s number.

 

“You didn’t,” Emma whispered.

“It - we didn’t - No. Clothes on. We were in the gym, and I saw her but didn’t see her , just - went to say hi to the attractive girl and uh, y’know, it was here. We didn’t - well, almost, but not - she just made it sound like -” Sophia stuttered. No, they didn’t fuck, like Tay- like Hebert had implied. But they almost did? But she wanted to? But she was really, really tempted?

“Oh. My. God. I cannot believe you right now,” Emma continued, voice haunted. She stared down at the paper, eyes wide, face pale. Sophia shifted in her seat, uncomfortable, then quickly lunged for the paper and grabbed it. Emma yelped and tried to snag it from her hands, but Sophia had already stuffed it in her pockets and stood, slinging her book back over her shoulder and standing, grabbing her coffee.

“Gotta go nice lunch talk to you later bye -” she babbled, turning from the table and fleeing.

“Sophia! SOPHIA! You come right the hell back here this instant or so help me god, don’t you dare run away from me -” Emma shouted, but she was undeterred, running - power walking towards the door. Sophia glared a dance back, looking to the booth where Taylor was sitting. 

 

The dark-haired girl sat unbothered in her booth, sipping from her mug as she read her book. Sophia swallowed, tracing the lines of her hair as it poured over her shoulders, watching the glossy curls with longing.

 

As if she could feel the stare, Taylor slowly tilted her head to the side, staring at Sophia out of the corner of her eye. The taller woman smirked lightly, winking, then turned back to her book.

 

Sophia ran.

 

---

 

 

“Still no news about the new Butcher?” Piggot asked, frowning down at her tablet. “That’s six weeks and counting. We assumed XV would be on their way soon, but this is starting to get unnerving.”

 

Sophia wiggled in her chair, grimacing to herself and restraining the urge to lean on the table. You would think that the Protectorate and PRT briefings and plans for the week would be interesting to listen to; and honestly, for the first half hour or so they were. But honestly, after so long of listening to the people in charge whine about how powerless they were to do anything, you stopped thinking about countermeasures and matchups and started trying to just not fall asleep.

 

Also, she may still be running on four hours of sleep a night, so that might have something to do with it.

 

In her pocket, her personal phone buzzed. Her mom was still riding her ass about that visit in four days, as if she could fucking forget. Fuck, she wasn’t looking forward to that. Another awkward fucking dinner where she pretended everything was fine, dodging needling mentions about work and boys and school and rehab and -

 

“...Stalker? Hess?” she tuned back in to Armsmaster, looking down the table at her. 

 

She blinked, shaking her head and hoping she hadn’t missed much. “Sorry. What was the question?”

 

Piggot clicked her tongue at the head of the table, and Sophia refrained from glaring at her. Masks weren’t allowed at the briefing table for some stupid reason. Probably because Assault had been to smart for the rest of them and started sleeping during briefings, or something.

 

It was odd, how much she missed the affable man. When he had been here, he was a bit of a pain in the ass; Clockblocker aged up, always joking even when it really wasn’t the time for it. Now, she found that meetings were too quiet and stale, just a bunch of quiet voices all talking in the same damn circles.

“How is your Shadowcycle handling?” Armsmaster asked, voice cool. “Any need for maintenance? I think we’ve gotten to the point where we no longer suspect intentional sabotage from Jumpstarts work, so we can start finalizing designs for the rest of our projects. Personally, I was thinking that an aircraft could help our branch out significantly - we’re remarkably low on fliers these days.”

The fucking Shadowcycle, god fucking damnit. Sophia frowned, as the rest of them began to debate points and ideas for new vehicles. ‘Gotten to the point where we no longer suspect intentional sabotage...’ did that mean they did expect it for a while? Wait - was that why Sophia was the only one to get her own bike?

 

Had she just been the guinea pig for them, to make sure that if Squealer’s shit exploded it would have hurt anyone fucking important?! Fuck, she had been so excited to get that bike, thinking it was the next step in her own story - ‘Here’s our new great cape and her cool shit, pay attention to her!’ But it was just, what? A test run, so the important capes could get the good vehicles?

 

Something bubbled up in her chest, a mixture of anger and hurt that clawed at her, trying to break out. She considered it. Thought about bringing it up and asking if that was actually the case, as it had sounded.

The old Sophia would have. She would have spit and kicked and done her best to be seen as not just another faceless cape. Hell, she wouldn’t even be here - old Sophia would have refused to come and snuck out, going out on the streets to do something instead of discussing Gallant’s mecha-horse thing or whatever the fuck was next on the agenda.

But... new Sophia was here for a reason, wasn’t she?

She bit back a sigh, swallowed her bile, and closed her eyes for a moment. Rage had gotten her into enough problems, at this point.

 

Old Sophia was an idealist idiot. New Sophia was the one who had to deal with the fallout. The one who had been denied the Wards captaincy, had been threatened with being transferred away from everything she had ever known and everyone she had ever cared about. The one who had been caught in the first place, forced into the Wards because she went just a step too far, a time too many.

New Sophia was just here to pick up the pieces.

 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Sophia tensed, then forced herself to relax as she noticed it was her PRT issue phone, not her old one. She flipped it out, grateful to have something to focus on other than a room full of men in tights arguing over who got the coolest car.

 

Next week’s schedule had come out. She flicked through it casually, eyeing her assigned patrols and routes. Scheduling around school was a bit of a pain, and she often ended up with less sleep than she should actually be getting. Six-hour gaps between patrols and class was a bit annoying, but it was fine. Not like she was going to be sleeping regardless.

 

Sophia went to put her phone away, then paused, pulling it back out. Wait. Hadn’t they finished her newest PR campaign? With the new costume and the bike and the interviews? What... She tapped on the release, reading through the docket of things to look through, and began to frown. By the time she was done, she was glaring at her phone, clenching it hard in her fist.

 

Gallant’s head turned slowly, looking at her from down the table. She shot him a half-hearted glare, watching as he examined her without actually looking at her, browsing her emotions like he had the fucking rights to judge her. He met her eyes and gave her a quick smile, tilting his head to the side like she was going to wander over and explain why her emotions went from ‘bitchy’ to ‘livid.’

 

She bottled up this anger too, setting it down and waiting with it. As the Protectorate debated plans on vehicles, as their stance on the Teeth and Undersiders conflicts remained the same (let them be and forget that people live in this city), as Armsmaster released dockets on new capes in the area to be read later. She held it in her phone with a clenched fist, waiting until the moment where Piggot asked if anyone had any concerns.

 

“I had a question about my schedule this week,” she ground out, doing her best not to clench her teeth. The director raised an eyebrow, motioning for her to continue, and Sophia did her best to not feel patronized. She failed, of course, because Piggot was a patronizing ass who viewed Sophia as either a soldier to command or a child to belittle.

“I was under the impression that my new, ah, campaign had finished this last week, with that interview for Bayside Daily . In fact, I’m pretty sure I was told it was over, directly, and that when it was done I would be seeing expanded patrol routes. I’m just wondering why, if that’s the case, I have twelve hours of events next week related to another press tour?”

 

The responses she got to this were mixed. Armsmaster frowned, as if mildly displeased by this but not enough to do anything. Gallant shot her a sympathetic look, the asshole, and Aegis rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable as always when anyone questioned the director. Everyone else gave her looks of either blank disinterest, mild judgment, or pity.

Fuck them all, honestly. Ditching this organization sounded more and more appealing every day. If she could afford that, she would.

 

Piggot just shrugged, nonplussed by the question. “Yes, your previous, ah, ‘character arc’ is concluded, and you would be back to normal patrols by Friday. Unfortunately for you, our press team has decided to push the momentum a bit more. Apparently your approval numbers are skyrocketing and they want to ride that wave a while longer.”

“Probably from legions of single men eating up that stupid love life interview,” she muttered, hands fisting under the table. 

 

“Whatever the cause, they asked for another week, and I green lit it. Will that be a problem, Hess?” the fat bitch said, staring calmly across the table.

 

Yes, it’s a fucking problem you fat cow, I’m so sick and tired of being the new meat on display, bad enough you already cut half the armor off my fucking costume -

 

In her pocket, her phone buzzed. Not the PRT one, which was still clutched in her fist; her personal one, tucked into her pocket.

 

She bit it back again, clutching her pride in her teeth instead of letting it run free.

New Sophia was better than this.

 

“As long as it doesn’t happen again next week,” she said, sighing and sitting back, eating her pride instead of another infraction on her record. 

 

“We’ll see what the numbers say, Shadow Stalker. Trust me when I say I’d prefer you on the street too,” Piggot replied, empty platitudes dripping from her tongue.

Gallant turned back to her, that same expression on his face. Pity, concern, all that fucking jazz. She looked at him for a moment, trying to muster up the anger to glare at him, but it’s already slipping through her fingers, leaving her cold and empty.

 

His simpering smile slowly fades away as he stares at her, before he too turns away, called back by a comment about community outreach programs he’s supposed to be a part of.

The phone buzzes again.

She just wants to go home and sleep.

 

---

 

 

The door to her apartment creaks open slowly; a simple studio on the fourth floor, clean and empty. A kitchen table with three chairs, only one of which has ever been moved. A fridge with nothing in it but beer and a few boxes of leftover takeout. The only thing on the counters that didn’t come with the apartment is a coffee machine, this mornings stale dregs sitting in the bottom of a cold pot.

 

A couch, a television, a table to kick her feet on. None of which is her own; the apartment came pre-furnished, of all things. The bathroom is nearly empty, appliances laid out clinically and unhurriedly.

 

She could pack everything she owns into her ten-by-eight bedroom. Everything Sophia Hess is could fit in the back of a pickup truck; everything Shadow Stalker is fits on a dozens desks at the PRT headquarters and a single locker.

 

Ten square feet of self isn’t really that much to work with.

 

The bed groans as she flops onto it, sighing to herself and staring at the pitted ceiling. Her phone buzzes again , and she nearly tosses it across the room at the sight of ‘your father’ writ large across the screen, as if mom can say it enough times for it to become true.

 

Maybe once upon a time. But he used up all his second chances on himself instead of them, and he’ll only ever just be Stephen to her now.

 

She should do some homework, honestly. The college gave her some leeway for her ‘extracurricular activities,’ so she could always just hand shit in late, but that ate at her. Knowing she was relying on the Protectorate for yet another fucking part of her life, unable to cut it on her own -

 

But getting up just wasn’t appealing, so she laid on the bed for an hour, watching the sunlight slowly fade from behind the curtains, winter eating up the hours already. Sighing, she resigned herself to yet another night of laying in bed and scrolling PHO on her phone, unable to work up the will to do anything else. 

 

Sophia sat up, getting undressed and ready for bed. Half of her was considering doing the unthinkable and getting a full nights rest, but she knew that would just end up with her chasing thoughts in her head until midnight instead. At least on the phone, she’d have something to focus on other than family dinner.

 

Her phone flopped onto the messy bed, as she dug into her pockets, checking them for anything important before she tossed her clothes at the dirty pile. Something crinkled in her hand, and she paused, then flushed as she remembered what it was.

 

A receipt to that coffee shop, with ten numbers on the back.

 

She bit her lip, considering. Well - she was going to be on her phone anyways. Might as well? It’s not like Taylor would actually respond tonight, if ever. The girl was probably busy as hell, working her way through homework or another book or at the gym or some shit.

Don’t think about that - fuck, she was thinking about it, of course.

 

“Am I really doing this?” she asked the empty room. She’d already gotten enough shit from Emma already, only managing to placate the girl by claiming that Taylor was specifically hitting on her to be a tease and not actually looking for anything. The redhead had stopped talking to her a few hours ago, probably too fed up with Sophia’s crus- sudden interest in Hebert to deal with right now. Or banging that guy from her Pol-sci class again.

 

Of course she was doing this. Was that even a question? Fuck, this was going to crash and burn, but at least Sophia would be in control of that for once in her fucking life.

 

She tapped in the number on her phone, sent a quick hello, and then flopped back, groaning. God, she was such an idiot. It was just a prank. Taylor turning the tables. Not like it meant anything, she should honestly just block the number and -

 

The phone buzzed.

 

Oh, fuck.

 

 

Well, how else could she reply to that?

Sophia bit her lip, shuddering with the force of her nervous breath.

Bad idea. Just say no and call her a loser. Block the fucking number. This is Hebert, remember, Emma will never talk to you again if you do this. Be smart for once.

 

Half an hour later, she was standing in front of a two-story house with a white picket fence. She stood on the sidewalk, nervously looking at the closed blinds as the street lamps turned on, the sun finally vanishing over the horizon.

 

The door creaked open, and Sophia turned, locking eyes with Taylor.

The tall woman smirked, then stepped back, holding the door open. Sophia took a deep breath, then walked up the uneven pathway, ignoring the slight rolling of the bricks under her feet. As she reached the door, a hand slowly moved out, and she stilled, panting on the third step of the staircase.

 

Sophia could barely think as Taylor reached out and grabbed her chin again, tilting her head up. Black hair shimmered behind her, as she tilted her head, lip curling to reveal white teeth behind the start red lipstick. Sophia shuddered, trying not to think about how she was still technically on the street, how anyone could see her standing here, how Taylor could choose at this moment to say ‘not good enough’ and close the door, leaving her outside with nothing but a pounding heart and shame.

 

None of those things happened. Taylor smiled sharply, the hunger in that grin turning Sophia’s rapid heartbeat into a drumline.

“Will you walk into my parlor?” Hebert asked, voice coy.

 

She did.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Notes:

5k words of smut ahead, you've been warned. There is a mild choking scene towards the end. If you don't like that sort of thing, I'm sorry, but this probably isn't the fic for you.

The door closed behind her with a solid-sounding thud, and Taylor slowly flicked the locks closed. Sophia cleared her throat nervously, eyeing the walls of the house curiously. 

 

It was a nice house. Clearly well-lived in but also well cleaned; a half-dozen jackets hung from a coat rack along the wall, a few pairs of shoes on a small shelf by the door. Sophia kicked off her own sneakers without needing to be asked, habit at this point.

There were a few pictures on the walls; little Hebert and her parents, probably. Sophia wasn’t exactly eager to run off and look. A quick look to her right revealed a living room with two walls of bookshelves and a few cozy chairs; a quick look to the left revealed a modern-seeming dining room with the lights off.

And then her cursory examination was suddenly cut off, as a hand placed itself on her shoulder. Sophia swore she could feel the heat from it, even with her jacket on. She swallowed, then allowed herself to be turned around.

 

Taylor stared down at her, and Sophia took the time to examine the outfit the tall girl was wearing. A simple green tank-top clung to her chest, long, colorful arms bare. Her lower half had a simple green and yellow wrap-style skirt with sheer fabric, knotted over one hip and one leg up to the thigh peaking through. Sophia locked onto that thigh, staring at the solid curve of it, the disparity between pale skin and dark inks. At the bottom of the leg sat a pair of heels, silver in coloration.

 

A gentle tap at her chin, and she looked up instantly. Taylor chuckled, a surprisingly light and delicate sound, at the expression on Sophia’s face. It must of have been a sight to see; Sophia felt like she could out-shine the lighthouses on the edge of the Bay, her face was so hot.

 

“Mind if I take your jacket?” Taylor asked, reaching out towards Sophia’s chest. She nodded rapidly, face flushing again at the laughter that received. Hebert grabbed the lapels of her jacket, then slowly walked in a circle around Sophia, peeling the layer off of her. Sophia shudders at the sound of those heels click-click-clicking away, stepping around her. The jacket, a simple grey zip-hoodie, comes off and leaves her suddenly shivering, goosebumps pebbling her skin. She had decided to wear a simple purple spaghetti-strap top over the jeans she had worn all day.

 

Underneath it, she was braless, and she could tell by the way Taylor’s eyes flickered down to her chest that the woman had noticed. Taylor hummed, then slowly dragged those damn eyes up from her chest to her face. “How daring,” she said blandly, then turned to hang the jacket from the coat rack.

 

Fuck. This was happening, wasn’t it?

It fucking better be , came the unbidden response.

 

“Before we go any further, I have to warn you, there is someone else in the house. She’s a friend of mine and won’t actually be seeing you; is that going to be a problem? The bedroom is soundproofed, she wont hear a thing,” Taylor said, surprising Sophia.

 

She paused, confused. “Someone else is here?”

“Just a coworker, she was already planning to stay over for the night. Your arrival was a bit unexpected, so I apologize if this crosses a line.”

“N-no. That’s fine. I don’t mind -” Sophia begins, then freezes, blush returning with force. She had just almost said ‘I don’t mind if she listens’ but cut herself short. Taylor seemed to hear the unspoken words, however, smirking down at her and resting on hand on her shoulder, rubbing along the lines of her shirt strap.

“Mh, I bet you wouldn’t. Upstairs and to the right. I just need to check in on her before we go in.”

 

Sophia nodded, taking her first step towards the staircase and shivering as Taylor let her hand trail across her back, nails scratching lightly across her neck, and down the remaining exposed skin of her spine. She had to stop on the first step and steady herself, legs already shaking.

 

Those heels clicked up on the stairs behind her, and Sophia got the distinct impression that Taylor was staring at her ass as they walked up. She didn’t look behind to check, too nervous to stop in case the woman decided to go from looking to touching . 

 

She reached the top of the stairs, noting three doors and a small walkway over next to the staircase, where a recessed alcove sat, a desk with a closed laptop tucked into the corner.

 

This house did seem cozy, as her first impression belied. She just didn’t really have the time to examine it, because as soon as she reached the top of the stares, two rough hands grabbed her by the hips and quickly spinning her around. A gasp escaped from her throat, surprising because she was convinced she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Taylor towered over her, hands gripping the loops of her jeans, tugging on the hem of her pants until they pressed into the bones of her hip.

 

Brown eyes locked onto her, as that damn fucking lip ring shined under the staircase lights, tempting her as always. Sophia let loose a breathy whimper as Taylor’s hands went from just tugging to gripping , slender fingers fanning out over her hips and roughly tugging her towards the taller woman.

Sophia gasped at the sudden motion, hands coming up to press against Taylor’s stomach, bracing herself as the space between them vanished. She swallowed at the firmness under her hands, slowly stroking her hand down the fabric of the green top, feeling the lack of give under her fingers.

 

Unbidden, she licked her lips, eyes wide, drinking in the details. The strands of hair hung over her brow, caging Sophia in. The gloss of her lips, parted slightly, warm puffs of air tickling Sophia’s lashes. The slow grind of hands on her hip as the woman shifted, nails sliding across denim, until those hands migrated from her hips to the curve of her ass. Taylor grinned down at her as she squeezed firmly, lifting Sophia up with the force of her grip, the darker girl rising on her tip-toes involuntarily. “Fuck,” escaped her lungs, breathy and suddenly, as Taylor’s lips hovered just inches from her own, drinking in her sighs.

 

“That is the plan,” Taylor murmured, lips so, so close. Sophia twisted on her toes, trying desperately to close that last inch, finally see what that fucking piercing felt like against her tongue.

 

Instead, Taylor hummed, slowly moving out of the way. Sophia couldn’t help the whine that escaped her lips, as one hand left her backside and slowly dragged its way up her spine, nails leaving behind a trail of raised skin on their way up her back, her neck, and then slowly digging their way into her hair, resting on her scalp.

 

Teasingly, Taylor leaned forward, laughing softly as Sophia tried to meet her midway. Just as she was finally about to, the hand in her hair tugged , yanking her back to the ground, rocking back on her heels. Sophia groaned at the sensation, breath coming out hard and hot as Taylor stepped back.

“Stay there,” the woman whispered, smirking as she turned and walked to the end of the hall. Sophia slowly raised a hand up to her chest, feeling the rapid thump-thump-thump of her heart, begging to know exactly what the fuck was killing her this time.

Hebert left the door open as she walked in. “And how are we doing in here?” the girl asked, to no reply. Sophia paused, as Taylor chuckled harshly, voice cruel. “Ah, you can’t answer me, can you? Here, let me fix that.”

There was another pause, and then the sound of something wet sliding across skin. Sophia flushed as a gasping breath came from the room, higher pitched than Taylor’s voice and much less restrained. The gasp was followed by a moan, long and drawn out, then the sound of a hand hitting skin. Sophia felt heat pooling between her legs, and she had to lean back against the wall to keep upright.

 

“Pleeeeasse,” the unfamiliar voice called, high and needy. “Please please please -”

 

“Shhh. I have something to tell you, pretty girl. Will you listen to me?”

“Ye-esss,” came the reply, soon followed by another smack, then a whimpering groan.

Oh. ‘She’s staying over for the night’ suddenly took on a very different connotation. Sophia’s head hit the wall as she forced a knuckle into her mouth, thinking about what exactly was going on in that room, and what exactly had been stopping the mystery girl from speaking.

“Yes what, pretty girl?”

“Yes Ma’am. I’ll listen.”

Yes Ma’am - suddenly burst into Sophia’s head, and she had the thought that she would be saying that very soon, if she was lucky.

 

“I brought company,” Taylor said loudly. There was a brief pause, before the mystery girl groaned loudly, realizing what that meant. “Oh, she’s not in the room right now, but she’s listening to you as we speak.” More breathy sighs and whimpering came from the other room, before they were suddenly silenced by a quick wet noise, and replaced with a muffled, distant groan.

 

Taylor emerged from the room down the hall with a smirk on her face, heels tapping towards Sophia with an assured gait. Sophia stepped to the side as she opened the door and walked in, shooting one last glance down the hall to the open door.

 

Right. Okay. So Taylor wasn’t just into flirting with girls and showing them a good time; she was the sort to invite someone over to fuck while another sat down the hall, tied up. That was fine. Good, actually. Great, even.

 

I am so fucked and I’m not sure I care , Sophia thought quickly, as a hand pressed onto her lower back, guiding her into the new room softly but with inexorable force.

The room - the master bedroom, probably - was simply furnished. A purple carpet and soft blue walls, a wardrobe along one wall, television in the corner. Two smaller doors were on the side, one leading to a bathroom and other probably a walk-in closet. Sophia judged the rooms dimensions by habit, observing everything in one clean look before planning an exit route. 

 

Not that she wanted to escape, at this point. Taylor had her, and she knew it.

 

“So,” Taylor said, voice startling in the tense silence that had followed their entrance. Sophia looked at the bed, a massive monstrosity that took up most of the room, with dark sheets and a soft purple quilt over top. “Seeing as this is the first time, I’m going to explain some rules and ask you what sort of thing you’re looking for.”

Sophia huffed, faking bravado. “I’m looking to get fucked, Hebert. It’s not rocket science.” The look Taylor gave her was both smoldering and reprimanding, as the woman lithely sat on the bed, crossing her legs with the exposed thigh on top. 

 

“‘Just getting fucked’ is how people get hurt, and I’m not in the business of hurting people. You want a good time? That means a safe time to me. Trust me when I say, that I am going to fuck you, Hess,” the girl said, voice dripping with emotion as she cursed. Sophia stood in place, pinned once again by those eyes as Taylor laid down the law. “I am going to leave you unable to remember your own name, collapsed on this bed with my fingers in that cunt of yours, screaming into a pillow soaked with your own sweat. And you’re going to go home, and lay in bed, and touch yourself while thinking about how much you want it to happen again. Understood?”

 

“Y-yes, shit,” Sophia said, voice cracking. “Understood.”

 

Taylor hummed, then patted the bed next to her. Sophia quickly rushed over, sitting down but leaving a few feet of space between them.

“First rule, one I doubt you’ll have a problem with. Whenever I ask you a yes or no question, the correct answer is ‘yes Ma’am’ or ‘no Ma’am.’ Clear?”

 

Sophia’s throat was dry as she answered. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Mh. Good girl,” came the purring reply.

 

So, so, so fucked.  

 

“Second rule; red-yellow-green safewords are always in effect. Do you know what that means? Explain if you do.”

Sophia nodded jerkily. “Red is full-stop. Yellow is slow down or change something without ending. Green means ‘you better keep going.’ Uhm, Ma’am.” The quick grin from Taylor proved that to be the correct answer, as the woman kicked off her heels, brushing them to the wall with one long leg.

“Third; if, for some reason, you can’t talk -” Sophia bit her lip at that, hands white-knuckled on her thighs. “-tap me anywhere three times and that’s the same as a yellow light. Four times is a red light. Got all that?”

 

Sophia nodded, listening as the woman continued, her voice stern but still sending shivers down the shorter woman’s spine with every word, that tone still piercing right to the heart of her, holding her attention like it was on a leash.

“Mh. That’s the basics, I suppose. We can get into the more... interesting things as we go,” Taylor said, languidly stretching out her leg, leaning towards Sophia. She watched her advance with fascination, as Taylors hand made its way across the quilt, before sliding onto her jeans, kneading her thigh. Matte black nails shone against the blue denim and pale skin, trimmed short and smooth. The other hand soon joined it, as Taylor rose onto her knees, slowly leaning towards Sophia, weight settling onto her legs and trapping her in place.

 

“Well then. Our first order of business... how do you want me to fuck you, Sophia?” she whispered, head tilting to the side and down. Sophia tilted her head back, and was rewarded with the press of lips against her kneck, soft and warm. “Do you like it slow? I can torture you with it, if you want. Leave you breathless and begging, riding that edge, hovering right at it for as long as you want. Or I can make you cum again and again, over and over, until you’re sensitive and stinging, until you can barely stand the idea of being touched, and then bring you over that edge again. I can fuck you sweetly, softly, fast and hard. You pick. It’s the only choice you get to make tonight, after all.”

 

Sophia moaned, squeezing her thighs together under Taylor’s legs, but the other girl used her positon to force them apart, spreading her wide and unable to hide the growing damp on her jeans.

“Fuck me like you hate me,” Sophia whispered, once she could get the words out.

 

“Mmh. I was hoping you’d say that,” Taylor whispered, before a hand quickly reached up and grabbed her by the shoulder, pushing her back down on the bed. Sophia’s vision swam, and she lifted up her hips as Taylor commanded her to, sighing as she felt the button pop and the zipper pull down, then the rough scratch of nails as the pants were swiftly ripped off, yanked down her legs and tossed away with a muffled thump of fabric on carpet, her panties coming off as well, tangled in the denim. The sudden chill of air on her pussy made her shiver, and she pressed her thighs together, desperately trying to soothe the burning ache that had been building since that night in the gym three days ago.

A hand made its way to her hair and slowly but surely pulled her up, forcing her to stand. “Shirt off,” Taylor said brusquely, and Sophia hurried to comply, pulling the thin top over her head and leaving her completely bare. “Turn,” she said, not raising her tone, still speaking in that same stern but seductive voice she had used to explain the rules to her. Sophia turned on her heel, face red as she presented her back to the woman, feeling the weight of her gaze on her back.

 

“Mh,” taylor murmured, and Sophia jumped as a hand cupped her ass, nails scraping lightly over brown skin, leaving behind a trail of raised skin. “It’s even better out of the jeans, damn,” she breathed right into Sophia’s ear, making her tilt her head away from the exhalation.

Everything felt so fucking raw , every nerve feeling extrasensative. She swore she could feel Taylor’s eyes scraping across her, practically carving lines into her skin.

 

“Bend over,” came the command, and Sophia breathed in before sinking slightly, widening her stance and then bending at the waist, until her hands pressed against the floor, palms flat. “Show off,” Taylor huffed, and Sophia could hear the smile in her voice.

“Yes Ma’am,” Sophia said, voice cheeky, fully expecting the light swat across her ass it earned her. Fuck, she was so exposed like this; tits dangling down, ass in the air, her pussy spread wide by the angle of her legs, exposing glistening pink folds. Taylor sighed as if disappointed, running her hand across the curve of her ass, then making Sophia shudder as a single finger traced around her lips, just barely scraping around her most sensitive areas.

 

“Hm. Gorgeous, but I knew that already. You always were hot, even when you were acting bitchy; it was infuriating, you know. But somehow, you look so much better like this. Waiting for me to take you,”

 

“Please,” Sophia whimpered, earning another, harsher hand across her ass. She jumped slightly, moving forward an inch from the force of her own surprise.

 

“No talking. I believe you wanted me to show you some hatefucking , no?”

 

A strong arm slid across her waist, tucking under where she was bent over, and another swept under her knees, sending her falling. She gasped, but gravity barely had a hold on her before she found herself lifted, her back pressed to Taylor’s front as the girl bodily picked her up, taking one step backwards before turning and tossing Sophia onto the bed.

 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck -” she chanted, something about that thrilling her. Sophia was a easily a half a foot shooter than the other girl, if not more, and probably thirty pounds lighter. All the mass Taylor had on her was pure muscle, and that was incredibly, terrifyingly attractive. “Holy shit, that was -”

 

“Shut up,” Taylor hissed, leaning forward and shoving two fingers into Sophia’s throat, cutting her off as she gasped around the digits pressing down on her tongue. You get to beg and scream my name, and that’s all you get to say tonight.”

Sophia gasped as the fingers pulled free, rubbing her own spit across her face before stepping away. She watched as Taylor swiftly pulled off her tank top and un-knotted the skirt, letting both pieces of fabric fall to the ground, leaving her in just a pair of lacy black panties. Her breasts stood out, mounds tipped with peaked pink nipples, hard in the charged air of the room.

Taylor crawled onto the bed, kneeling over Sophia, bracketing her with her limbs, a cascade of curly hair running down her back. Sophia watched her advance, drinking in the sight of her, a hunter on the prowl, moving in for the kill. Those lips came down, and finally Sophia got to know what they tasted like.

 

Hebert tasted like sweat and raspberry chapstick, like the rough press of a tongue against her own and the cold, hard tang of that titanium piercing. Sophia finally managed to learn what that ring tasted like, darting out her tongue to rub against it, groaning at the hard press of lips against her own. Taylor’s hands moved up, one grabbing her by the chin and holding her in place, as the other tangled itself in her hair. Position secured, Taylor didn’t so much kiss as she did plunder her mouth, kissing hard and harsh, tongue pressing into Sophia’s mouth, scraping her teeth, shoving her own tongue aside as it established dominion. Taylor stole her breath, rough and undeniably in control. Sophia felt her hips jump, her hands coming up to hold on to whatever they could, settling on Taylor’s back, one limply holding onto the wrist by her chin.

Taylor kissed like it was a battleground, and won without question. Sophia gasped, just happy to be along for the ride, sighing and moaning as Taylor nipped on her lower lip, sucking it between her teeth and biting lightly, hand tugging at her hair softly. Sophia tugged on the arm of that hand, pushing it further back, and was rewarded by Taylor tightening her grip, the pain harsh and sharp, mixing in with the pleasure of the kiss.

The woman didn’t pause as she continued, keeping Sophia pinned by that hand in her hair, releasing her chin and sending her now-freed hand wandering. Nails scraped a line down her front, wandering the peaks of Sophia’s breasts and lightly twisting the nipples there, Taylor humming as Sophia whined and jumped at the sensation. Down her abdomen, across the light dusting of curls at her pelvis, and then slowly scraping across her labia, sending Sophia keening at the touch.

 

“How do you feel about marks?” Taylor asked, pausing for a moment. Sophia panted, looking up at her, meeting those familiar eyes that had been haunting her sleep the last few days; blown-out pupils surrounded by a thin rim of brown, piercing into her.

 

“Yes,” Sophia replied, back arching at the thought, hips jerking against the hand at her pussy.

 

“I mean,” Taylor said, chuckling softly, “Where do you want them?”

“ Yes,” Sophia hissed again, the her hands reaching up and tugging Taylor down, tilting her head back and exposing her neck as much as she possibly could.

 

“Noted,” Taylor growled, and then sank two fingers into Sophia without so much as a warning, pressing in quickly and curling , scraping softly against her inner walls. Sophia’s back arched again, legs pressing against the mattress and lifting her. But Taylor swiftly laid her own leg across her thighs, pressing her back down and trapping her in place, panting harshly in Sophia’s ear before her mouth latched onto the side of her neck, biting with teeth before sucking.

 

She wasn’t sure what to focus on. The hand in her hair, still pulling; the lips on her neck, mauling away what was sure to be a massive hickey in the morning; the fingers buried in her cunt.

 

Then those fingers started moving, and her place of focus was obvious. Taylor started slow at first, finding that sweet spot; swirling the first few inches of her entrance, rubbing across her lips, pressing inwards and questing until she found the spots that made Sophia jump , struggling against the press of Taylor’s body and finding not a single inch of give. When she found the right angle, Sophia keened, loud and high, her voice escaping in a sharp wail. 

 

“Oh Fhhuck there-” she began, but Taylor was two steps ahead of her, already picking up speed, pistoning her fingers with rapidly increasing speed. Sophia twisted and jerked, crying out as Taylor switched from her neck to her shoulder, biting down for a second and then beginning to suck again, bruising away at her skin. Those long fingers kept hammering that spot, over and over, and Sophia felt that familiar pressure building as harsh wet noises were pulled free along with with gasps and screams.

“Fuck fuck please don’t fucking stop, fuuuck,” she hissed, eyes rolling back with the force of the coming orgasm.

 

“Beg for me,” Taylor purred, leaning forward and nipping at the shell of her ear.

 

“Taylor please, please, please don’t stop,” she begged, breath coming in short pants as the climax ran higher.

“Good enough,” Taylor said, then flicked her thumb and pressed down on Sophia’s clit hard .

 

It hit her all at once, just like that; her body locking, muscles flexing as the wave of pleasure hit her. She arched off the bed despite Taylor’s press, forcing the girl to wrestle her back into the mattress, holding her in place as she screamed, throat raw with it. Taylor gave her a moment, but then continued, rubbing circles onto her clit as she resumed her furious pace. Sophia barely had time to realize what was happening before the second orgasm hit on the heels of the first, drawn along and carried away by the swell. She jerked, toes curling, hands flying to the bed and pulling at the sheets.

 

As she came down, Taylor started up again, and Sophia flailed with her arms, reaching out to grab at the woman’s wrists and pull her away, still sensitive and shuddering with aftershocks. Taylor snarled , the hand not currently buried in her pussy grabbing at the offending hands, seizing both wrists, crossing the arms and slamming them back until they were held over Sophia’s head. She screamed out again, practically sobbing as Taylor held her down completely.

She was babbling something, voice incoherent. “Taylor Taylor Tayyyloor please please fuck oh fuck Taylor please -” over and over, jerking and twisting on the mattress.

“One more,” Taylor hissed, sliding in a third finger, twisting and stretching Sophia around her hand. She clenched around those fingers, shuddering and gasping, air a luxury she didn’t have time to appreciate. “Give me one more, kitten,” she whispered. Sophia groaned loudly at that. 

 

“Mh, you like that, don’t you? Be a good girl for me, kitten. You want that, don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Sophia sighed, arms struggling against the steep grip holding her in place. Fuck, she was so sensative, so aware of those fingers, scraping at inflamed nerves and pounding away at her g-spot, that thumb occasionally rubbing a circle on her clit or pressing down, causing her to jerk. “I’ll be good for you. So - fuck, so fucking good, please don’t stop,” she begged, feet kicking as the third slowly rose, chasing the heels of the aftershocks that were only now leaving her.

 

She screamed when it hit, the loudest so far, too tired from straining to push Taylor up like she did before, instead just shaking on the bed, her scream eventually fading into a silent, open-mouthed shriek as she was hit with the largest one yet.

 

Eventually, she slumped against the mattress, panting, heart jackhammering against her ribs, hair plastered to her forehead with sweat.

Taylor didn’t pause, shifting to the side, long, pale legs pointing as she quickly grabbed her own soaked underpants and yanked them off, leaving behind trails of wet liquid as she tossed them to the side. She grabbed Sophia’s leg and pulled it to the side, straddling her thigh and beginning to grind.

“Look at me, kitten,” the tall woman said, gripping Sophia’s chin and forcing her to look up at Taylor. She let go once, she had her attention, leaning back, hands gripping Sophia’s hips as she started to rock and grind. Sophia groaned, feeling the scalding heat against her skin, the wet feeling of skin on her own as Taylor used her body for her own pleasure. 

 

She grabbed her hips, tugging her upwards, grinding down hard on her thigh and sighing softly. Taylor tilted her head to the side, biting her lip, that fucking piercing moving as she did so, hair cascading over her shoulder. She slid her hands up, hips rolling, and Sophia took the chance to grab her wrists.

 

Taylor watched, eyes dark, mouth open wide, as Sophia pulled those hands up, and then placed them around her throat, thumbs on either side of her trachea, fingers fanning out against flushed and already bruised flesh.

She stared up at Taylor, eyes wide, gripping her wrists and waiting. Taylor growled, expression going angry. 

 

Yes. Like that. Please like that -

 

Her unspoken plea must have been heard, because Taylor squeezed, slowly but surely applying more and more pressure. Sophia gasped, breaths rapid and struggling, tilting her head back as her head grew fuzzy. Taylor pressed harder, and the breaths stopped coming, blocked by her hands. Taylor ground away, pace increasing, and began to slowly release and tighten the pressure of her thumbs, giving Sophia the chance to catch quick, ragged breaths.

The whole time, they locked eyes, Sophia staring up with rapture, Taylor staring down, jaw open, eyes starting to flutter as her own orgasm approached. Eventually, it hit, and Sophia writhed as Taylor pressed down hard, cutting off her air for five, ten, fifteen seconds, shuddering and rocking on her thigh. Eventually, Sophia tapped at Taylor’s hand three times, and the woman let go, letting her suck in a deep breath.

 

Taylor slowly slid off and to the side, landing on her back. Sophia turned onto her own side, shuffling until she was pressed up against the still-shuddering woman, unsure if she should reach out or not. Taylor solved the problem herself, panting as she turned towards Sophia, grabbing her by the back of the head and pulling her into a kiss, one leg going over her hip and pulling her close. 

 

The kiss was soft, slow, but no less hungry for it. They parted, a thin string of spit connecting them, breaths both coming short but starting to lengthen, sweat cooling in the air.

 

Sophia began to laugh, shocking herself as chuckles began to escape. Taylor hummed, laughing softly for a moment, then pressing a kiss to Sophia’s forehead as the chuckles blew into hysterical giggles. She reached up to her face to find that tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she didn’t feel a hint of sorrow.

 

Taylor ran a hand through her hair, scratching at her scalp, then slid an arm under Sophia and pulled her closer, nestling her head into Taylor’s shoulder and holding her tight as Sophia laugh-cried for a few minutes, a feeling of elation and relief filling her. Her muscles began to relax, sinking into the bed with a sigh as the giggles subsided.

 

“Fuck, I needed that,” Sophia said softly, looking up at Taylor. “Thank you.”

 

The taller woman smiled softly, pressing another kiss to her brow, still scratching at Sophia’s scalp. “I enjoyed it too, kitten. Bit of a give and take relationship, you know?”

 

“I feel like you gave a fair bit more than you took, Taylor,” Sophia mumbled, eyes suddenly heavy. “Fuck. Sorry, I should return the favor.”

“Don’t you worry about that. You did a good job. Perfect, even. Told me what you wanted and tapped when it was enough; gave me control for the both of us. Such a good girl for me,” she whispered, hands gentle in Sophia’s hair. “Besides. I can get myself off easy enough; I really just enjoyed watching you come undone.”

“I’ll... return the favor. I wanna,” Sophia said, sleepily. She should get up. Falling asleep in the bed like this? This was just fucking. Taylor hated her, didn’t want her around. Just a way to fuck with her, get her payback.

 

“Next time, kitten,” Taylor whispered. “Next time.”

 

Sophia smiled, closing her eyes.

 

Chapter 5: Five

October 20th, 2016

 

Sophia woke up feeling like she could fight god.

 

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. Hookwolf was within her reach; maybe Antares if she did some stretches first. She groaned, limbs extending, her back crackling as she arched it, yawning long and loud. Her feet dug into the soft sheets, lifting her off the bed with the force of her relaxation.

Holy fuck, that felt good. She snuggled under the covers, reveling in the afterglow of a good nights sleep, head resting on a pillow. This bed was so fucking big, she could just spread out as much as she wanted without even touching the edges; a far cry from her lonely little single mattress in her apartment.

Sophia turned over, satisfied, and saw the rest of the bed.

 

It was empty, of course.

 

Right. It was - she checked the alarm clock on the nightstand, grimacing - eight thirty in the morning. How long had she slept?! Of course Taylor would be up. Probably doing work while she waited for the fucking freeloader in her house to get a move on so she could get back to her life.

 

She sat up, looking out at the room, and noticed that her clothes had been folded and piled up neatly on the foot of the bed. Sophia sighed to herself and slid out of bed, getting dressed swiftly and preparing for the inevitable embarrassment of the walk back to her apartment.

 

Taylor was probably laughing her ass off right now, at how Sophia had just fucking fallen asleep on her. The poor little idiot who cried on her last night because she’d had a few good orgasms. Fucking dumbass. This was a horrible fucking idea. Taylor said she didn’t want to hurt her, but missed the fact that Sophia was more than able to hurt herself with her own damn stupidity.

 

She pulled on the jeans, but paused, staring at them with the button free and the zipper undone still. She’d worn these for two days already, there had been a coffee stain on the left leg, not to mention the mess she had made last night, leaking like a fucking faucet.

 

Were... did these get washed while she was asleep? Sophia lifted the hem of the thin-strapped top up to her nose, and breathed in. Lilac and the faint smell of soap.

 

Huh. Taylor had washed her clothes.

That was... something. Considerate, at least. Trust fucking Taylor Hebert to fuck a girl she hated into the mattress, wring a handful of orgasms out of her, and then do her damn laundry on the way out. Fucking hell, and this was after Sophia had made her life a living nightmare for two years?

 

Sophia opened the door to the master bedroom slowly, looking around for a moment. Light peeked in through the windows, illuminating little details she hadn’t seen before. Pictures on the walls of Taylor and her parents, a black and white painting of a forest stream, another bookshelf by the alcove where the laptop sat, open but screen dark with inattention.

 

Movement could be heard from downstairs. Sophia took a deep breath, then started walking down the steps, wood creaking.

 

Taylor was in the dining room, sitting at the table with a book open and a half-eaten plate of breakfast in front of her. She looked up as Sophia got to the bottom of the stairs, nodding. “Good morning,” she called softly over her book.

 

“Yeah. Good morning. Sorry to hog your bed for so long,” Sophia said, feeling like an intruder. Taylor’s hair was messy, bits of it falling in tangles over her shoulder. She was wearing that green tank top from last night, but instead of the skirt had on a simple pair of flannel mens sleep pants, feet bare. Her arms seemed so fucking long, bare from the shoulders down, muscles shifting under the skin with every tiny movement, tattoos taunting her.

“You’re fine, Sophia. I don’t have any classes before noon anyways,” she said with a smirk, picking up a cup of tea next to her and taking a quick sip. The mug was simple white, and had the words ‘World’s Best Dad’ on it.

“I’m still sorry for passing out on you. Should have gone home after... after.”

 

Taylor chuckled over the rim of her mug, eyes distinctly amused. “If you were able to walk after that I’d be disappointed. You’re fine, Sophia. You looked like you needed the sleep, anyways.”

“You’ve got that right,” Sophia said with a smile, then stood in the door, unsure where to go from here. She wanted to talk, maybe. Set up some plans to do this again? Like, a lot, hopefully. Figure out if the ‘hate’ in ‘hatefucking’ was as strong as it should be, after all the shit Sophia had caused her.

But the words failed her, leaving her with silence and that feeling like she was intruding in someone else’s space. Taylor watched her for a moment, then looked back down at her plate.

 

It was fine. This was just a one night thing, probably. Taylor had left her a mess and would lord it over her head to fuck with Emma, and had no plans on doing it again. Sophia sighed, and bent down to grab her shoes.

 

“Hope you’re hungry,” Taylor called, and Sophia turned quickly, looking at the single plate on the table, then back up. Taylor motioned to the side with her head. “Your plate is in the toaster oven. Hope you don’t mind veggies, I tend to go for more greens in the morning. Heavy stuff too early makes me sleepy If it’s not to your liking there’s a few types of cereal in the cabinet. And if you need to go, I can give you a lift. Sorry, didn’t know if you had plans,” she said, looking down and returning to her book as if she hadn’t just blown Sophia’s whole fucking life open.

 

She wanted her to stay, at least for a while. Sit down and eat with her. Taylor had done cooked her breakfast, washed her clothes, held her as she cried happy tears after the best fucking orgasms of her life . Who the fuck did that, especially for her?

Right. “Thank you,” Sophia whispered, walking into the kitchen. Taylor just hummed in acknowledgement, turning the page of her book.

 

Sure enough, there was a plate in the toaster oven, wrapped over top with tin foil. Sophia stared at it, then pulled it open, peeling off the metal wrap and balling it up. A plate of pan-fried vegetables sat there; brussel sprouts, onions, and a few others she couldn’t identify, small pieces of bacon mixed in. It smelled of garlic and butter, so basically, like heaven. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten the night before.

 

Balling up the aluminum foil, she looked around for a moment, trying to find where to put it without opening every single drawer in the kitchen. Taylor spoke up from behind her. “Trash is in the bigger door next to the sink. Silverware is in the drawer on the other side, cups above the trash can. Hot water in the kettle if you feel up to tea,” the woman said, and Sophia turned to see those brown eyes staring at her again. Taylor smiled softly, before returning to her reading, idly poking at her own half plate.

 

Sophia fixed herself a cup of orange juice and sat down across from Taylor, still feeling like she was intruding despite the clear invitation. She dug in, tentatively at first but groaning appreciatively as she steadily worked her way through her plate, the two of them sitting in silence. In between bites, she looked over, admiring the view once again.

 

Taylors hair fell over one shoulder as she read, glasses low on her nose, one of the straps of her tank top sliding down on her arm. She had a look of total concentration on her face as she read, her brown slightly furrowed. Sophia sighed as she caught sight of her exposed ear, eyeing the handful of piercings with envy. Those must have taken forever to heal. She couldn’t wear piercings of her own; her costume only had a face-mask, and anything that could possibly identify her while in costume was frowned upon. It wasn’t forbidden, but she really didn’t want the headache of arguing about her body with her PR agent.

 

“What are you reading?” she found herself saying, surprised to find she was actually interested in the answer. Taylor looked up, blinking behind the rectangular rims of her glasses, then lifted the book up so Sophia could see the cover.

 

“A History of Parahumans, by Emmet Schafer?” Sophia read, humming. “Is that a textbook?”

“No, thankfully,” Taylor said with a groan. “It’s garbage, if I’m being honest. It’s a historical fiction from the perspective of an early cape, sort of a history of Earth Bet, but written by an author from Aleph. I thought it would be interesting to see an outside perspective, but you can tell he doesn’t actually know what he’s talking about.”

Sophia chuckled. “Kinda hard to write about that sort of thing if you don’t live where the fighting actually happens. Let me guess, it’s a lot of relationship drama without mentioning the property damage?”

“Uhg, like you wouldn’t believe. I swear, I’m only sixty pages in and there have been more descriptions of spandex-clad breasts than I can handle. Written by a man, by the way, so it all comes across as ‘She breasted boobily down the stairs.’”

 

A snort escaped her before she could help it, and she flushed as Taylor looked up with a smirk. “Why not drop it, if its that bad?” Sophia asked, shoveling another bite into her mouth. 

 

Taylor hummed, marking her spot with a bookmark and closing the book, pushing it to the side. “I can’t really judge a book for a bad beginning. I like to stick it out, see if it makes up for it in the end.” She looked up, eyes flicking to Sophia, expression soft. “Second chances and all that.”

 

Sophia coughed, looking back down at her plate, having trouble swallowing with her heart suddenly in her throat. “Ah. Makes sense, yeah. Uh, this is really good, by the way,” she stammered, stabbing at a sprout with her fork. “Like, really, really good. Best breakfast anyone has ever made me.”

 

Taylor accepted the change of topic with a smile, rolling her eyes slightly. “Flatterer. It’s an easy meal, just chop some stuff up and throw it in a pan with butter.”

 

“I’m not kidding!” Sophia chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, maybe my bar is a little low. I think this is only like, the fifth time anyone has made me breakfast before.”

 

The taller girl blinked, eyebrows touching together for a moment, before they smoothed out. Sophia took another bite, glancing away.

The two of them steadily worked through their meal in silence, neither one of them willing to break the uneasy quiet. Sophia shifted in her seat, knowing that once her plate was empty she was going to have to ask questions and not sure she would like the answers she would get. Taylor eyed her, hands around her mug, plate already empty as she watched Sophia eat, waiting. Her expression was hard to read, but it didn’t seem judgemental, just thoughtful. 

 

It surprised the both of them when Sophia was the one to break the quiet. “So. How much of that was payback, last night?”

 

Taylor blinked, tilting her head to the side. “Do you want the answer you were expecting or the truth?”

“The truth, please.”

“About two tenths, if not less. I wont lie, asking you was mostly just me seeing a great chance to fuck with you all, but once you texted me I set that aside.”

 

Sophia blinked, having expected it to be more. Honestly, she had expected the entire thing to just be revenge, even if the impression she had been getting all night was the opposite. “I was expecting it to be around five or six tenths, honestly.”

“I kind of figured, what with the whole ‘fuck me like you hate me’ thing,” Taylor drawled, smirking. Sophia flushed, looking down at her plate. “Also...”

 

“The choking?” Sophia whispered, shifting in her chair.

 

“Mmhm. You seemed very into it, so I’m not going to complain, but I feel like I need to lay down some groundwork here to make sure we aren’t going into this with any misunderstandings,” Taylor said, and Sophia’s neck nearly cracked with whiplash as she jerked it up.

 

‘Going into this’ implied there was something to go into. Implied that Taylor wanted to go into something, implied that sitting at this table or laying in bed, that waking up in the morning to soft sheets and breakfast and smile would be more than just a one time thing. 

 

She wanted that. Fuck, did she want it.

Taylor continued, “I don’t think I’m ever going to be willing to date you. If thats what you want, please say so now,” Taylor began. Sophia nodded, finding no issues with that. Honestly, Emma was already going to blow a gasket because Sophia had slept with Hebert; dating her would probably cause a full blow meltdown.

“That’s okay with me. I’m really just looking for... more. Of last night. I have a lot of stress, with school, and work, and-” Stephen “-family bullshit. That was the best sleep I’ve had in a long fucking time.”

Taylor smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Not the best sex you’ve had in a long time? I’m a little upset to hear that.”

Sophia rolled her eyes, flushing. “Of course it was, but the bar was even lower there than it was for breakfast, y’know?”

 

The other woman blinked, then furrowed her eyebrows again. “Was that -”

“Yes,” Sophia cut her off, frowning. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve dated before, gotten below the belt a few times, but never really - y’know - fuck it, it’s not important.”

 

“If I had known -”

 

“What? You would have been gentler, treated me like some pretty fucking princess? I’m not some blushing girl on prom night, scared of being touched. You asked me what I wanted, Hebert, and I told you. Don’t feel sorry because you gave it to me” Sophia smirked, shaking her head and saying slyly, “you can make it up to me next time, if you feel that bad about it.”

Taylor stared at her a moment longer, then rolled her eyes and smiled. “I guess I’m just surprised. You always seemed so confident before, I assumed you’d... I don’t know.”

Sophia scoffed. “Yeah, well, don’t judge a book by its cover. Besides. Its not exactly easy, dating around as a black lesbian in Neo-nazi central. Gotta be careful you don’t draw attention from some balding fucker in a wifebeater.” Taylor toasted her with her mug at that, grimacing.

 

“This fucking city,” she cursed, sighing. Sophia raised her own glass of OJ and returned the toast with a grim smile of her own.

“Yeah, not really fond of it. It’s a shitheap, but its my shitheap, y’know? Nazi’s on every street corner, the murder cult moving in down the road, fucking heroes sitting in their ivory tower and playing dress up instead of doing anything about it,” she spat, staring down at the glass. “The only people doing anything in this fucking city are the Undersiders, and they just protect their little fiefdom and slap down anyone who interferes.”

 

Taylor was silent for a moment, and Sophia looked up to see the woman studying her intently, mouth curled up at the edges. “What?” she asked, confused by the attention.

 

“Nothing. You just... aren’t what I expected, I’ll be honest,” she murmured, smiling into her mug. Sophia shrugged, not sure what the correct response to that was. She as glad she wasn’t what Taylor expected. Honestly, she was just happy to have gotten this far.

 

They sat for a moment longer, before Sophia spoke up again, pained but knowing the subject needed to be addressed. 

 

“So. Two tenths, huh? I expected more. We weren’t - I wasn’t great to you. Back then. Pretty fucking terrible, honestly.”

Taylor hummed, face growing still. “I wont lie and say it doesn’t come up sometimes. You did a number on me, you know? Fucked with my self worth, really twisted up everything. No one helped me, I had no friends to talk to. Felt like the whole fucking world was against me. No where to run, no one who cared about my problems, every time I spoke up I just got hammered back down.”

Sophia swallowed, wrapping her hands around her empty glass.

 

“And - well. The locker.”

 

“The locker,” Sophia echoed, hoarse. “For what its worth? I’m sorry it got to that point. Sorry that one of us didn’t realize how fucked up it all was, how beyond reason we were. I regret... lots of things, from back then.”

Taylor hummed. “Well. It was certainly a capstone on that period of my life. I still have nightmares about it,” she said, matter of factly. Sophia winced, as Taylor rolled the mug between her hands, expression fading to numb blankness.

 

“I Still wake up sometimes screaming, thinking I’m trapped in a tiny box with all that filth around me. I sleep with a lights on because waking up in the dark can send me into panic attacks; my room is soundproofed not to keep sound out but to keep it from coming in. Because if I’m in the dark and hear distance voices it reminds me of a time when I was trapped and everyone just walked by and laughed at me.”

Sophia folded her arms under her chest, looking to the side as Taylor continued, her expression still flat and blank. 

 

“You did that to me, Hess. You, personally, did that to me. It was your hands on my back that shoved me in there, your voice outside that mocked me, your eyes I can still remember seeing through that slit, looking in to laugh at me. No amount of hindsight or regret will change the fact that it happened.

 

“I do not forgive you for it. I don’t think I ever will.”

Sophia’s breath was oddly tight, her throat sore, struggling to pull up a response to that. Eventually, she just nodded, forcing out a quiet “Okay.”

“I got better, obviously. A friend came up to me, and pointed out the truth of it,” Taylor continued, but her voice was distant, her eyes fixed not on Sophia but a point beyond her. “I had two paths, she told me. Keep moving down the one you had set me on, or pick my own. Keep my head down and hate myself into an early grave, wondering what I had done to deserve all this; or pick my head up and say enough was enough, realize that I was not the problem.”

 

She smiled, thin lips curling up. “Gotta admit. I still think about that punch I gave Emma. Damn, if that didn’t feel good.”

Sophia chuckled weakly. “She felt it, thats for sure. I think that was the bit where I, personally, started pulling back. You had proven yourself, whatever the fuck that means to you. Didn’t really make sense to me back then. I think I was just looking for an excuse to feel strong, stupid as that sounds. Makes me feel like a fucking anti-bullying video to say that, y’know?” she sighed, smiling wryly. “You proved you weren’t worth the trouble, and that was around the time I realized I had spent the better part of two years fucking with you for... stupid reasons. Madison was always just along for the ride. Emma - always had this fixation on... well. It’s not my story to tell, as much as you deserve to hear it.”

 

Taylor sighed. “What happened to her, Sophia? She went from my best friend, my sister in all but blood, to my worst enemy in the span of a few months. I used to think it was something I did, you know? Used to think it was my fault, but that level of obsession isn’t normal. I used to dream that she would walk up to me and apologize, explain exactly what happened, and we could just... go back to normal. Forget it all. I still don’t understand it, even if I don’t dream about her changing these days.”

I taught her how to be broken .

 

Sophia shrugged, apologetically. “Sorry. Not my story to tell. I won’t say she had a good reason, but she’s... struggling. I don’t really expect forgiveness. For any of us. This was a lot more than I was expecting, honestly; I was mostly expecting you to close the door in my face last night and laugh at me behind the door.”

Taylor pursed her lips wryly. “I considered it, if you can believe that. But that part of my life is behind me. I wont lie and say it doesn’t still have an effect on me, but - I don’t want it to. I’m willing to put it behind me, if you are.”

 

A smile stole across Sophia’s face, brittle and soft. “I’d... like that. Friends?” She said, extending a hand across the table, taking a deep breath.

 

The other woman raised an eyebrow. “Not yet, no. You’ll need to work for that. Right now we’re ‘acquaintances who fuck,’ to borrow a phrase from a friend of mine. But friends is... somewhere down the road,” she finished, reaching out and squeezing Sophia’s hand, shaking once. 

 

Sophia could live with that.

 

They sat there for a moment, hand in hand over two empty plates and a pile of fragile moments, until Taylor’s phone buzzed. She frowned, pulling it out with a sigh, then froze as she looked at it. 

 

“Shit, sorry. I need to go, something just came up” she cursed, standing abruptly. “Text me whenever? I’ll see you around. Really sorry to cut and run like this, I swear I didn’t mean to leave so soon.”

“Yeah, no worries. Shit happens,” Sophia said, startled as Taylor quickly walked over to the staircase, clearly on a mission. She followed, stopping by the door, pulling her sneakers off the rack and pulling on her sweatshirt. Taylor was halfway up the stairs before she thought to speak up, trying to end this on a positive note.

 

“This was great, Taylor. Thanks for having me over,” she called, and the tall woman paused, turning around on the steps to look down on here. “I can’t remember the last time...” she began, but paused, raising her hands and dropping them, unsure how to drop that particular bombshell. The last time, what? She didn’t even know.

 

Taylor stared at her, then sighed, walking slowly down the steps. She stepped up to Sophia, raising her arms, cupping her face in her hands. Sophia smiled up at her, and Taylor stared at her face, clearly thinking hard about something. Those eyes focused down on her, weighing her, drinking in the sight of her.

 

The kiss was swift, soft, and completely unlike the charged ones from last night; a quick press of lips, the soft sound of a gasp crushed between them. Sophia barely knew it was happening before it was over, Taylor pulling back with a sigh, leaning down to press her forehead against Sophia’s.

 

“Stay safe, Sophia. I’ll talk to you soon,” the woman whispered, before stepping back and returning up the stairs.

Sophia just nodded, watching as Taylor ran up the stairs until she turned the corner, ducking back into her own life and whatever had pulled her away.

 

The door closed behind her, and she breathed in deep, starting the lonely walk back to her own life.

 

---

 

“Hey, Mom. How are you doing?” Sophia asked, phone pressed against her ear. She sat on a bench in the middle of the campus park, phone tucked into her shoulder, pressing her head down. Part of it was so she could dig through her bag for her assignments for next class; a bigger part of it was hiding the massive fucking hickey on her neck from anyone who passed by.

 

‘How do you feel about marks?’ ‘yes.’ Fucking, goddamnit Hebert. Goddamnit, herself, honestly. She had hopped into the shower after getting home, stepped out in front of the steam-covered mirror, and remembered exactly how hard Taylor had gone to town on the side of her neck and shoulder. A trail of deep purple marks stood out on the side of her skin, each one the size of a quarter if not larger, rimmed with marks of teeth. Evidence in total, of how sweetly Taylor had devoured her last night. No amount of concealer was hiding that away, so she didn’t even bother, just shrugging on her sweatshirt and praying the neck didn’t fall down too far.

She would be so much more upset if it didn’t turn her on, sitting out here, knowing anyone that walked by could see them and know exactly what she had been up to last night.

 

“Sophia?” came from her ear, and she jolted, trying to ignore the sharp pant of breath in her ear and the scrape of teeth on her skin.

“Sorry, I spaced out for a minute. What’s up?”

 

Her mom sighed, loud and dramatic, and Sophia had to repress the urge to shout at her. “Are you coming to the dinner Tuesday or not?”

“Didn’t I already say yes to this, like six times?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. And after the last time you said you would come but vanished, I think I have enough reason to worry about your plans for the night.”

Sophia took a deep, calming breath before answering. Her mom was trying. That was all she ever did, try her best to be a good parent, and she needed to appreciate that. Mom didn’t deserve the sort of response Sophia wanted to give her. “I didn’t vanish , Mom, there was problem at work. You knew that. Someone had to go in.”

 

“It didn’t need to be you, dear. Your father was quite upset when you left mid-dinner, you know. He had been so excited to talk to you,” Terri Hess said, her voice soft and melancholy. “It really broke his heart. Someone else could have gone, you didn’t need to just leave us like that.”

She took another breath, biting back a snarled response. It was fine. She was fine. Her mother tended to forget that when problems happened at Sophia’s work, it wasn’t because some idiot missed a shift behind a cash register, it meant people were dying and she was needed to save them. That time she ‘vanished’ was to stop a band of fucking E88 gangsters from burning down a bar hosting a drag show, saving the lives of at least ten people and getting a dozen of the Nazi fucks arrested.

 

“I’ll be there, Mom. I promise this time. I’ll make sure to ask for that night off specifically,” she said, sighing and checking her schedule over. Frustratingly, her Tuesday night was already empty, so she didn’t have a good excuse to pull out last second. Fuck. She was actually going to have to go.

 

“Do you have anyone to bring?” her mom asked, perking up. Sophia bit her lip, thinking. Well - no. No she didn’t. No one she wanted to introduce to the shitshow that was the Hess family, and certainly no one her mom and Stephen would approve of.

 

Knowing all that, she still said “Yes, mom. I’ll be bringing someone. I think you’d like to meet... them,” she said stiffly, already wondering what her excuse would be when she arrived alone. Fuck, she couldn’t just say it was a breakup, her mom would spend the whole night crying for the sake of a ‘boyfriend’ who never existed.

 

“That’s so wonderful to hear! I’m excited to see you, dear. I just... I just want us to be a family again,” her mom said, sighing.

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them, but honestly, Sophia wasn’t sure she regretted them. “Yeah, well, we tried that. Didn’t work that well, did it?”

“Sophia Hess!” her mom hissed, voice high pitched and wounded. Sophia groaned, preparing to apologise, but - she just couldn’t fucking do this anymore.

“I gotta go, Mom. Class soon. Talk to you later,” she finished, turning her phone off and stuffing it into her pocket with a groan. Fucking... fuck.

 

“There you are!” came from behind her, and she groaned louder, leaning forwards and resting her face in her hands. There was a thump as someone sat beside her, and she peeked through her fingers to see Emma sitting to her left, Madison following just a second behind. “Seriously, Sophia, where have you been?”

She leaned back, groaning, trying to subtly tug her hood forward and cover up her neck. It didn’t work - judging by the look on Madison’s face, she had spotted the hickies and love bites immediately, her smile growing wide and sinister. Whatever, Maddy wasn’t the one obsessed with Hebert, that was Emma.

Well. Sophia probably had a bit of an obsession too, she could admit. Just - on a different angle. She hoped. If this turned out to be a nearly decade-long session of denial, Sophia was going to flip her lid.

“Sorry. Was talking to my mom, lost track of time. We’re having a family dinner soon and I’m... uhg. She’s really insistent on me finding someone to bring, and I may have said I was going to to get her to back off.” Sophia tilted her head back, looking up at the distant cloudy sky and wishing it would rain on her.

 

“Would that be hard to do?” Madison asked with a smirk, nudging Sophia tellingly. “I’m sure you could find someone willing to be arm candy for the night.”

Emma grimaced, knowing the story full well by this point. Madison had never really been close enough to Sophia for her to talk about this sort of thing, didn’t know all the fine details that Sophia had no desire to spell out. They were friends, certainly, but her issues weren’t the kind of thing she liked to flaunt everywhere.

 

She wasn’t in a mood to talk about it in detail. “I may have fucked up and told my mother I was bringing someone. Mom expects me to bring a guy.”

Madison blinked, frowning. “She does know that you’re...”

“Gay? I keep telling her, but she either doesn’t believe me or doesn’t want to believe. She... it doesn’t matter. Suffice to say the situation is complicated, to say the least.”

 

Madison leaned into her, sighing. “Sorry. I didn’t know she was... bigoted.”

“It’s not even that she’s homophobic. She just... can’t seem to understand that her daughter is never going to live out the dream she always wanted for me. I don’t think its hate as much as it is... I don’t know, denial,” Sophia said weakly, defending the woman who raised her.

 

Emma sighed, reaching out and patting Sophia on the shoulder. Sophia fell silent, staring out into the park, seeing the shape of people walk by but not their features, focus failing her.

 

She could do this. It was fine. Just one dinner with Stephen and her mom, one night, just a few hours. Sit at a table and pretend everything was fine. Like she was eleven again and the world made sense, like everything was normal and fine and completely safe and she was okay and -

 

“Sophia?” a voice called, distant. She blinked, looking up, her breath catching instead of hyperventilating, recognising that voice.

 

Taylor Hebert stood in front them, about fifty feet away, walking down the path. She was always fucking here, somehow. Part of her wanted to hate the woman as much as the rest of her wanted those arms around her again, wanted to yell at her with lips that yearned to press to hers again. Why now, damnit? In front of all of them, at her lowest, why was fucking Hebert the one who showed up?

“Hey, Taylor,” she said, sitting back and sighing. Emma stiffened against her, head turning slightly.

 

“Everything okay?” Taylor asked, and it fucking cut at her that it sounded like she was actually concerned. Sophia took a deep breath, considering, then let it out.

 

“No, but it’s nothing you can help with,” she said finally, leaning back in her chair. “Thanks for asking, but I’ve gotta deal with it on my own.”

“Do you, though?” Madison said thoughtfully, causing the three of them to turn to her; Taylor with interest, Sophia with anger, Emma with blank horror. “I mean. Your mom wants you to bring a friend. You and Taylor are...” she trailed off, raising a brow.

 

“We’re not dating,” Sophia grumbled. Emma spluttered, clearly wondering how that was at all in question. “Just - uhm.”

“Acquaintances?” Taylor said slyly, and Sophia flushed, ducking her head. Madison chortled, the bitch.

 

Emma was tellingly still beside her.

 

“My Mom is having a dinner I really can’t afford to ditch, and I may have accidentally said I was bringing someone with me. Problem being... she and her husband aren’t, exactly accepting of me. So once again, my fat mouth gets me into trouble I can’t back out of.”

 

“It does seem to run away from you at times,” Taylor said softly, smirking.

 

Sophia squirmed on the bench, looking away from her eyes.

 

“Yeah. So I’m a bit lost here, and not really looking forward to showing up alone and having the whole night be them nitpicking me about that. I swear, sometimes it feels like my Mom expects me to already be married with kids on the way, the way she talks -”

“I’ll go,” Taylor cut her off, smiling sweetly. “If you’d be willing.”

Sophia blinked, taking a deep breath.

 

Yeah, not happening. That was a disaster waiting to happen. She imagined opening the door to her Mom’s apartment, Taylor standing behind her, muscular arms crossed, tattoos on display, a faceful of piercings. Introducing Taylor to the shitshow that was her home life, smiling and saying ‘Hi, Mom! This is my friend who fucked me unconscious the other day, I figured I’d bring her by and say hello!’ Not fucking happening.

She meant to say that, of course. ‘No, thank you, but I’ll handle it.’ 

 

What came out instead was “That would be awesome, thank you.” She froze, face a beacon of heat, and Taylor nodded, starting to talk.

 

They all froze as Emma stood abruptly. The redhead stepped a few paces to the side and whirled, staring, shaking her head as she looked between the three of them; Sophia’s blushing mortification, Taylor’s calm sadism, Madison’s schadenfreude.

Emma’s mouth bobbed, lips working but no sound coming out. Sophia could see the moment when here eyes caught on the line of hickeys down her neck, because her eyes went wide and her lips pressed tight. She stood there, eerily frozen, looking from Taylor to Sophia, back and forth, back and forth.

 

Finally, she blinked, seeming to reset. “I- I can’t. With... this. Whatever it is.” Sophia was shocked to see moisture in the corner of the redheaded woman’s eyes, as she stammered, before turning abruptly on her heel and pacing away.

 

Taylor sighed. “Sorry to stir up shit. I just saw you and... well. You seemed like you could use a friend.”

Sophia chuckled, shaking her head. “Moving up the ladder already, hm?” Taylor shrugged, before mouthing the words ‘call me’ and making her way out of the park, hips swinging.

“I’m so fucked,” she whispered. Madison laughed next to her, grinning.

 

“I ship it,” the shorter girl said, the little fucking gremlin. “Emma will get over herself. Honestly, its quite sweet, how quick she was to walk over here once she saw you were having... once she saw you were struggling.”

“I swear to god if you write another ‘friendfic’ about me I am going to toss you off a fucking cliff, shortstack.”

 

Mads giggled, standing and gathering her things. “Ah well, I’ve got more than enough written already. Hey, if you fuck this up, do you think she’d be willing to bang me instead? If she’s working her way through the list of former bullies. ‘Enemies to lovers’ is a favorite of mine, not gonna lie.”

 

Sophia stood, groaning. She had a six PM meeting with her public relations agent to get to; she didn’t have time to sit around arguing with her slutty goblin of a friend. 

 

“Have a good night!” Madison cheered, as she stepped away. “I’m rooting for you!”

 

Sophia sighed. With friends like these, who needed enemies?

 

---

Chapter 6: Six

Notes:

Just a reminder that this fic is about bondage and sado-masochism; there's a scene at the end of the chapter where descriptions of pain are involved. Consensual of course, but stay safe.

October 21st, 2016

 

The weekend was here, finally. Sophia would be enjoying it if it didn’t just bring with it more fucking work to do .

Her bike hummed silently underneath her, the stupid fake-engine noises turned off for the night, thankfully. They were running quiet, the whole Protectorate, doing their best to patrol on the edges of Undersider territory and not start anything, but prepared for when someone did. Everyone was on edge, waiting for the moment that something, somewhere, would end up exploding. Officially, this was intended as a show of force; a way to say ‘we wont just sit by and let this happen.’

 

Yeah, bullshit. Their plans to deal with the Teeth up until yesterday was ‘sit in a corner and watch them come in’ because everyone was too fucking terrified of a cape that didn’t exist in the city yet. So instead, Sophia had been forced to sit around with her thumb up her ass, waiting and letting someone else protect the city.

Fuck, they had just let them come in and set up shop! Making excuses about ‘letting things settle’ and ‘the volatility of the situation’ and ‘biting off more than we can chew,’ making plans and contingencies for the a cape that wasn’t even in the city until six weeks later.

 

Sometimes, Sophia fucking hated her job.

 

The expected thing had come to pass; the Teeth had scurried in like fucking rats, settled into the nooks and crannies of the Bay, chipping away at everyone’s territory and setting up a home for themselves. It had been a slow, gradual migration; the Butcher had been killed by some poor sod of a hero, vanishing into the woods afterwards, probably spending the last month and change screaming at trees while their brain melted. Having outstayed their welcome in Boston, the Teeth decided it was time to come back to their old home and see if there was a place for them.

 

She gritted her teeth under her mask, leaning into a turn as she cut around an alleyway, ignoring the few idiots out on the street. Who the fuck was out tonight, with the city the way it was?

The Teeth had slowly moved in, occupying the spaces no one had been able to push them out of, like a rot creeping into an already unsteady city. Sophia had been forced to sit back and watch, as the E88 followed suit, pulling out of their territory and leaving just the Undersiders to fight against the new gang.

 

And yesterday, they paid the price for that, the Butcher showing up to join in on a fight against the Undersiders. Reports said that there weren’t any casualties, but several of the Undersiders unpowered members were heavily injured, and a few unpowered Teeth and one of their capes had been captured when Armsmaster finally showed up to join in on the fight. Vex was currently sitting in a PRT containment cell, waiting for a Birdcage transport. Hopefully, they would be able to actually get the cape out of the city without the transport being busted open. Sophia wouldn’t bet on it.

 

It had been a big fucking PR victory, capturing one of the Teeth capes the very day that the Butcher moved back into town, proving that they were still on top of things. Nevermind the fact that they didn’t capture her so much as pick her up; nevermind that they had intentionally let the Undersiders be the ones to take the blunt of the Teeths predictable outburst of violence.

 

She leaned down further on her bike, feeling the wind whip over her head, the pull of resistance on the fabric of her costume. Her patrol took her about three blocks into what was nominally considered ‘Undersiders’ territory, a residential district closer to the Docks than she normally went. ‘Reassuring the populace that we’re on the lookout,’ was the memo. Get some people to chatter on social media about her driving by, stir up some attention, tie it all in with her next PR event. Instead of doing into the dockside area proper, the areas where the Teeth actually were, she was spinning her gears in suburbia. FUcking hell.

 

Well, it wasn’t all bad. She recognised some of these streets - her own apartment was about fifteen minutes walk away from here, and Taylor’s house wasn’t too far away either.

Sophia wondered what the woman was up to, at this time of night. Probably sitting in her house with her shitty Aleph-written cape book, reading it through because she hoped it magically became better if she gave it a chance.

 

Idiot.

 

...She could alter the patrol a bit. Just... hope of this main road and into the suburbs, swing by. And... what? Live up to her fucking name by peeking in the windows, desperate for a glimpse?

 

It could wait. She could text Taylor after the patrol tonight, it was just a short one. Maybe even... maybe even go over again? How soon was too soon? Was a day enough time to wait without seeming desperate? She would probably look like some sort of clingy idiot. Probably already did, after that fucking sob story in the park yesterday. Fuck, that dinner was going to suck so much.

 

She shook her head, chasing away the thoughts and trying to focus on the road ahead of her. Half an hour of patrol, and she could go home and worry about stupid shit there instead of the few bits of time she had to actually do the part of her job she enjoyed.

 

“Shadow Stalker, we’ve got reports of an incident in your area, location Sixteenth and Bayer. Route yourself west-northwest and take a cut onto Nelson Ave, and you should see it. Sounds like a robbery, suspected Teeth involvement. No capes on site, but be aware,” came to her ear, right through the speakers on the side of her mask.

 

Her fingers tapped on the spot above her ear, where the com unit sat. “Copy, Console,” she said with a grin, flicking the bike into higher gear.

 

Fuck yeah.

 

She yanked back on the throttle, speed suddenly increasing to a frenzy, the bike under her still eerily silent even as it doubled in speed. Tilting to the side, she swerved out onto a main street, looking down at the layout screen between her handlebars and following the path set for her, heart already starting to pound in her ears, lips widening with the force of her anticipation.

 

There were a few cars out on the street, people puttering by, and she ducked between them easily, swerving around cars and keeping an eye out for pedestrians. A few people turned and watched as she flew by, a purple and black blur on the already dark streets.

When she saw the turn for Nelson Avenue, she slammed on her ‘breaks,’ the jets tilting and cutting her momentum, fishtailing around the corner. In the distance, she could see the people already; a handful of distant figures in shades of gray and red, carrying items. They were standing in front of a shop of some sort, a truck backed up to the entrance.

“On site now. Going loud,” she said into her coms, then gunned it down the straightaway, approaching in near absolute silence. One hundred feet away, and she could count the people; seven of them, carrying black sports bags they were stuffing with whatever was inside, throwing them into the back of the truck. Seventy feet away, she knew that four of them were men and the other three were women. Fifty feet away, and she started picking out individual weapons. Two with pistols, one with a shotgun, all of them with bladed weapons or bats dangling from their hips.

 

Twenty feet away, and they finally noticed her, moving towards them at top speeds. One of them raised a hand to point at her, mouth opening, and she lifted one hand off the handlebars, flexing her middle and ring fingers to fire a quick flurry of darts at him, her crossbow making small ‘thwip’ noises with each shot. He let out a short, aborted yell as he began to fall back, limbs already unsteady from the tinkertech tranquilizer. 

 

She kept moving, aiming the bike towards them, as they turned and aimed towards her, raising weapons and staggering back. She zipped into the gap between them, bike still moving at top speed, and went shadow, letting go of her handlebars.

 

Immediately, her own momentum cut out, as she phased through her own vehicle, letting it drive off into the distance. It would stop itself and return to wait nearby if she needed it, but she had other things to worry about, letting the wind catch her and slow her down to a stop.

 

People didn’t realize the amount of control she had over herself, when she went shadow. They tended to assume that she was still a person, just one made out of vapor; but they forgot that meant she still had the qualities of vapor as well. They didn’t realize she could control the shape of it, expand the cloud, shrink it, sneak through crevices and around obstacles. It allowed her to pass through things, but her favorite thing to do with it was fuck with her own speed. Making herself slower meant that when the Teeth fuckers turned to follow her path, they didn’t see her come to an almost instant stop, instead turning to watch the bike as it speeded by.

 

Which sucked for them, because she solidified in the middle of their little team huddle, none of them noticing she was there. Her shadow form was already hard to see in the dim lighting, and their sudden shock and focus on her empty bike meant they had no clue she was there until she opened fire at the man with the shotgun and one of the women, holding out a pistol.

 

Darts thudded into their sides, they cried out, falling down. Sophia didn’t wait, jerking to the side and letting her momentum carry her forward as she went shadow, her silhouette expanding in a sudden flare of smoke. She dove through one of the Teeth as she turned around, machete swinging blindly, and reformed behind her, taking out the back of her knee with a sharp kick. The gang woman cursed, falling to a knee, then fell on her face as a dart hit her in the back.

 

Footsteps from behind her alerted Sophia to someone charging her, as the remaining Teeth members spread out. Sophia spun on her heel and shifted mid-motion, letting an aluminum bat pass through her, and then reforming with her hands wrapped around his extended arm, then bent it upwards in a way it wasn’t meant to go. The man screamed as the limb popped, probably dislocated. She went shadow again, passing behind him, then grabbed him in a headlock with one arm, kicking out his knee so he lost his balance.

 

She felt her cheeks aching, from the force of her smile. Fuck, she missed this.

 

The other two Teeth members stood across from her, one of them carrying a large studded club, the other with a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. The man in her grasp wheezed, his remaining uninjured hand tapping weakly against Sophia’s arm bar, face probably turning red as he choked. 

 

Sophia raised her arm over his shoulder, firing two darts at the man with the pistol, but he ducked behind the truck with a curse, clearly not willing to open fire on his buddy. She shifted her aim to the remaining woman, and she wasn’t so lucky, taking a dart to the leg and collapsing in short order.

 

With a quick hop and a shift, she jumped up through the man in her grasp, her light form letting her jump higher than humanly possible. She re-appeared spinning in the air, leaping over the truck and landing with both hands aimed at the pistol-wielding Teeth member. He jerked, trying to adjust his aim, but one dart from each wrist-mounted crossbow hit him before he could even get his gun raised. 

 

She smiled, walking slowly around the truck, its engine still idling as her boots tapped on the ground. The man she had been squeezing out was on his knees, on hand massaging his throat, and Sophia didn’t even look at him as she nonchalantly put him down with a dart, slumping to the ground.

“Console, incident resolved,” Sophia said into her earpiece, satisfied. “I’ve got seven unpowered Teeth members here, waiting for the wagon whenever you have time. No major injuries, no visible fatalities. I’ll check the building they were in but I don’t think anyone was inside.”

 

She hummed as the person on the other end of the line responded, telling her to wait for pickup and keep an eye out for anyone else. Once she was sure no one was dying inside the building or on the street, she tapped on her wrist, calling her bike back and pulling a few sets of restraints, binding the hands and feet of her captures with a feeling of intense accomplishment. This was what she was meant for - taking the fuckers off the street, so they wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else, not sitting in front of a camera and reading her fucking lines.

 

Finally, she took the chance to see exactly what the building she had saved was, and was confused by the name of it. She looked inside, seeing rows and rows of rectangular objects, dozens of shelves.

 

“A fucking bookshop?” she said aloud, confused. Sophia turned to one of the duffle bags, unzipping it, curious to see what had brought them here of all places. “What, did you fuckers not want to pay for a library card? I swear, if I just arrested you because the Butcher wanted to read some fucking Thomas Harris books, I’m going to be pretty upset.”

 

“Y’know, I didn’t take you for the reading type,” a sarcastic voice called from across the street, and Sophia whipped her head up, looking to see who had spoken. She wasn’t hard to find; that purple outfit was pretty distinctive.

Tattletale emerged from an alleyway, hands on her hips, smiling under her domino mask. That giant eye on her chest stared out at the street, matching those bright green eyes that were watching Sophia as she crouched next to the duffle bag.

 

Subtly, Sophia checked her wrist launchers. Six shots for the right, seven for the left. She wondered how many she could drop into Tattletale before she hit the ground, the bitch. Thinkers were such a headache to deal with.

 

“Please don’t,” said Thinker said with a disappointed sigh, proving her point. “We’re not here to fight. Just checking in on the building. Good work, by the way - we were considering stepping in, but I figured you needed a chance to get all that pent up aggression out of your system.”

 

Her eyebrows narrowed, under the blank white of her mask. “We?” she said sharply, standing up, tense.

 

A sound like rushing water started to come from the alleyway Tattletale had walked out of. Millions of smooth clicking noises, legs and wings crawling over the asphalt, the walls, each other. Sophia clutched her hands in fists as the mouth of the alley writhed , bugs starting to pour out of it like a river of black chitin.

Two yellow eyes appeared, the only thing visible in the shadows of the alley, as the bugs parted down the middle. The eyes moved forward, accompanied by the click of boots on pavement, as Skitter emerged from the cover of her swarm.

 

Right. We.

 

“Like I said, Shadow Stalker. Not here to fight, just wanted to check in. Honestly, we were hoping to run into you at some point tonight anyways,” Tattletale said as her team mate slowly walked forward, those yellow eyes never looking away from Sophia, that bug-like mask betraying no hint of emotion nor any idea what Skitter was planning.

 

Sophia stood away from the bag, looking at them on the other side of the street. “Not sure I like the sound of that,” she called, flexing her fingers. “You do realize the most important thing to do when fighting a Thinker, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let the scary blonde talk, I know. If you were going to put a dart in me you would have done it by now. If you could , that is,” the woman said, smiling. “Mind if we come over? No tricks, no games. Just a bit of chit-chat before you pick up these gentlemen.”

Skitter suddenly... softened, for lack of a better word, and Sophia realized exactly what was so terrifying, seeing her standing there. Skitter had the unnerving habit of just going completely still when not fighting, no sign of breathing, no muscle movements, none of the tiny little tells normal people had when just existing. Like a spider, completely still on a web, waiting for the fly. All that changed in a moment, the woman’s fingers suddenly tapping on her side, her head tilting, yellow lenses looking away from Sophia.

“If this was a sting operation, you would know by now,” Skitter said, her voice backed with the soft nightmares of her swarm. Sophia paused, trying to decide if she was being fucked with or not. Tattletale answered that question for her, groaning softly and raising her hands to massage the edges of her domino mask.

“Please don’t start, Skitter. Not right now,” she hissed, sighing and looking up with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about her. We don’t let her out of the house often, but don’t worry. She doesn’t bite,” Tattletale said, then tilted her head to the side and tapping her chin. “...much.”

 

“Fine. Talk,” Sophia said, already wondering exactly what the fuck was going on here. She had never dealt with these two outside of some frankly terrifying situations, where she was either fighting them or failing to chase after them. She took a few steps back, tapping on the side of her mask, signaling to Console who had heard the whole conversation already.

 

“Gallant is inbound along with your squad of troopers, ten minute ETA,” came from her earpiece, and she swallowed. Ten minutes to stall, sure. She could do that. Not that boy wonder and the styrofoam brigade were going to help much in this situation, but it was good to know that when she got eaten by a swarm of fucking ladybugs someone would be by to watch and laugh at her misfortune.

 

Tattletale and Skitter made their way across the road, Skitters swarm crawling back in between the buildings and vanishing. Sophia wasn’t fooled; there were probably fifty bugs on her own body at this point, out of sight, but waiting to bite her the moment she so much as twitched a finger, not to mention the thousands flying around, too small to be seen. Skitter was very good at playing harmless, then pulling out enough firepower to take down you, your buddies, and anyone else within a football field of distance.

 

She took a few steps back as they approached, keeping herself between the downed Teeth members and the villains but leaving behind whatever was in the bags. Tattletale knelt by the one she had unzipped, and peered in, reaching in with one purple-gloved hand and pulling out a manilla envelope. She hissed, looking up at Skitter with concerned look.

 

“What, they find your secret smut stash?” Sophia snarked, crossing her arms. “Mind filling me in on why they came for this store specifically?”

Skitter locked eyes with Tattletale, the two of them clearly having some sort of well-practiced silent conversation. Tattletale eventually nodded, looking back to the bag and starting to search through the documents.

 

“The shop is ours, if you must know. Entirely legal, of course, but we use it for... storage. Documents, record keeping... blackmail. The sort of thing you want to keep around but don’t really want out in the open, or on a computer server where Dragon can find it,” Skitter said, her voice flat, made slightly faint by the hissing of bugs on her person.

“And I’m sure the fact that it launders your money doesn’t come into play at all,” Sophia said, not convinced. “You’re telling me the Teeth, of all people, are trying to... what, steal your shopping receipts? I don’t buy it.”

“I don’t need you to buy it. I’m not trying to sell you anything, Stalker. This... this could have been very bad. Not just for us, but for everyone in the Underside. What do you know about how we work, over here? How we actually work, not whatever lines the PRT feeds you,” the black-clad villain said, settling one hand on a hip.

 

Sophia swallowed, looking back at the duffle bags, which Tattletale was starting to pile up, sorting through them. “Why don’t you tell me how you think things work, and I’ll let you know what parts don’t line up for me?”

Skitter scoffed, the noise enhanced by the bugs surrounding her. “I can see you stalling. Your backup is delayed, hero, sorry about that. Two - make that three, now, flat tires. So sad. Maybe ease up on the word games and just listen to me instead of your ear-pals, hm?”

 

Tension crawled into Sophia’s arms, making her itchy to move. “Fine. You like to style yourselves like some sort of neighborhood watch. Taking care of people, protecting from the gangs, sometimes going on payback missions if the Empire steps too far out of line. Doesn’t change that fact that you’re villains. A lesser evil is still an evil, and you guys haven’t exactly stopped running around stealing shit either.”

The woman sighed, a thousand wings echoing her, making it sound like the whole fucking street was taking a breath. “Succinct enough, if lacking some critical nuance. But sure. ‘Villains for a greater cause’ is a good enough term for it. We do our part to keep the city safe, without drawing enough attention to ourselves to get hammered down. Up until last month, that worked.”

“And then the Teeth came home.”

“Yes. Needless to say, it upset the balance. We stuck to our borders and refused to give ground, because we knew giving an inch meant we were putting people in danger. People who trust us. People who count on us to keep them safe from the real evil in this city, people who you and yours can’t be bothered to wander away from the Boardwalk without -” Skitter stopped, swarm buzzing angrily around them, and shook her head. 

 

“Don’t act like you’re all sunshine and roses, Skitter. You’re villains for a reason. The Undersiders have killed people - you killed people, personally. I wouldn’t expect us to smile and wave whenever you pass by, because you have ‘pure intentions,’” Sophia hissed, crossing her arms.

Skitter stared at her for a moment, her swarm humming ominously in the background, and then shook her head. “We’re getting off topic. I didn’t come here to bandy hypocrisies with you, Shadow Stalker. I came to ask you, personally, something.”

“What do you think I could do for you, Skitter? I’m not high up on the ladder, I don’t have any sway in how things work. I’m not going to be taking part in any counter attacks for your sake, so don’t bother asking. Piggot would have my head, even if I wanted to.”

“I don’t need you to change the PRT or Protectorates mind about us. I just want you to carry a message, and I want you to think about it, okay?”

Sophia groaned. “You’re going to get me put in the fucking tank, you know that? Fine. Say what you need to say.”

“I told you about how we work, because there’s a very, very important issue happening here. This attack wasn’t random. It was planned to hit us in the worst possible place, where it could do the most damage to the Underside as a whole. We’re different from the E88 and the Teeth, because we don’t just take from the city. We’re part of the community, here. We run outreach programs and fund food shelters, fix up buildings, actively protect and work to change things.”

“Modern day Robin Hoods, huh,” Sophia muttered, trying to ignore how Skitters eyes locked onto her mask. She could just barely see the hints of eyes behind those yellow lenses, staring through to her, the slightest edge of humanity peeking through.

“Yes, if you want to belittle it like that, but it doesn’t change that we are doing good here. And in those bags is how we do it,” Skitter said, waving with one hand, black-clawed gloves cutting at the air. “The Undersiders don’t work alone. For every person we have in uniform walking the streets, there are a dozen more, willing to help but not able to fly the colors. Carpenters and contractors, willing to take cash under the table when the Empire burns down someone’s house; truck drivers willing to move food and furniture purchased with dirty money; mental health professionals; people who watch agree kids when their parents get put into a hospital by a Villain with no concern for collateral damage. We have to keep records somehow, and until tonight, we kept them in this building.

“When the Teeth come for us, people will be caught in the crossfire. That’s a matter of fact, not just a vague concern; we have made ourselves part of the Underside, like it or not, and when the Teeth come knocking they won’t be hitting dogfighting rings or gambling dens, won’t be hitting a fight club or a rally or shooting at someone who can fire back. When they knock on that door, looking for their pound of flesh, there will be families behind it.”

Sophia took a deep breath, behind her mask. Skitter sounded emotional behind that mask, the force of her concern and anger easy to hear. She looked at Sophia, arms held by her side, waiting for a response. 

 

The hero grimaced, half expecting some answer from Console to tell her what to say, but no answer was forthcoming. It was just her, and her fucking opinion. Skitter had a point. What had Sophia said, yesterday morning, at that table with Taylor? ‘The only thing doing anything in this city are the Undersiders.’

 

Funny. That implied that she wasn’t doing anything either. Maybe it was time to change that.

 

Taylor lived in this part of the city. Sophia did, too. So did some of her friends from school, her family. Her old elementary school was down the road, the corner store where she picked up candy and soda on her way to class. The deli where she would pick up exactly one pound of ham every Tuesday for her sibling’s school lunches, knowing that Delmar the butcher would slide in an extra half pound she couldn’t afford. 

 

She imagined the Teeth wandering through here, with the names and locations of every person who dared to think they could ever try to do something to help, punishing the people who held out hands to lift up the people around them. She imagined her mother and siblings, huddling behind their apartment door when Animos or Hemorragia or the fucking Butcher came knocking, looking for protection money. She thought of Taylor opening the door to her cozy little house and seeing men in gray and red, here to convince her to pay taxes.

 

“I - okay. What do you want me to do?” she said, sighing, knowing that the conversation was being recorded. 

 

“Just keep us in mind, when the Director says she’s going to write us off. I’m not asking you to stick your neck out or fight the Teeth personally; just remind them, when they decide its our problem to deal with, when they say ‘they poked the beast, they get what they deserved,’ remember that all we tried to do was protect the people who live here. Being in our corner, even just the littlest bit, would do a world of difference,” Skitter finished, voice softer. 

 

Sophia let out a low, long breath. “I - can’t promise I’ll be able to do anything. But - I’ll do my best.”

Skitter hummed, nodding once, before turning on her heel. “That’s all I ask. Have a good night, Stalker. Be seeing you,” she called while looking over her shoulder, before that tide of insects surged forward, rushing from behind Sophia. She stumbled, stepping to side, but Skitter did her usual trick of parting the flow of bugs. No matter how much she moved, she never so much as brushed an insect, the bugs opening holes under her feet and flowing around the captured Teeth members.

The street was a storm of insects for a moment, but they quickly faded, leaving behind an empty street, no sign of the bags Tattletale had been stacking or the capes themselves. Sophia sighed.

 

A lone monarch butterfly, far out of season, flapped in front of her face. It spun a lazy circle around her, then slowly flew away, up into the sky.

 

She turned as a rumbling noise came from down the road, headlights breaking the dark of the street, the PRT van limping into view on two spare tires and a flat. Sophia groaned as black-suited troopers poured out to it before it stopped completely, rushing over to the downed Teeth members and setting up a perimeter. Gallant stepped out of the back of the van as well, his armor glinting.

 

“I heard you had a chat with our resident plague,” he said, stepping over to her, eyeing the prone forms. “I heard most of it on my way in. How are you feeling?”

 

“As if you can’t tell,” she huffed, then sighed as he continued looking at her. His mask was one of those ones that left his mouth uncovered, so he could show off his stupid smile to all the middle aged moms. “Confused, honestly. Not really sure how to take that.”

“Skitter’s got a point,” Gallant said sadly, and Sophia whirled on him. He shrugged, frowning. “What? I’m not saying she’s in the right, but she’s not wrong. The Undersiders are structured differently from any other gang we’ve had in Brocton, and they’re the ones the Teeth will be focusing on for a while. It’s going to be a rough few weeks until the Teeth feel like they’ve gotten their payback.”

“Or until we push them out of town,” Sophia sighed.
Gallant gave her a tightlipped liars smile, the fucker. “Or that, sure. Anyways. I think this is the end of your patrol, right? Console said you were free to finish your planned route if you want, but you can head home now if you need to. We’ve got some spare civvies in the truck that should be around your size.”

Sophia considered that, thinking. Another free hour of patrolling would be nice. Drive off the mixed feelings talking with Skitter had given her, maybe find someone to hit until the world made sense.

 

Her phone vibrated in her belt. Not her PRT one- her personal one. She licked her lips under her mask, and turned away to quickly open her belt pouch and look at it.

 

Well. She spent all that time worrying about reaching out to no end, it seemed. She put the phone back and looked up, smiling under her mask. 

 

“Actually, I think I’ll be done for the night. I’ll send the bike back to HQ, have it trail the van,” Sophia said, zipping back up her pouch and looking back to Gallant.

Dean stared at her, mouth open slightly. She frowned. “What?”

He stared a moment longer, then shook his head, huffing. “Nothing. Just - didn’t expect to see the day when you, of all people, would turn down more time patrolling.”

Sophia glared, crossing her arms. “I have a life outside of being a hero, you know.”

Gallant raised his hands, chuckling softly. “Hey, I never said you didn’t. Enjoy your night!” he called over his shoulder, as he went to help the troopers with the downed Teeth.

 

Sophia stared at his back, frowning, then gave up trying to understand Dean. It had never worked in the past, probably wasn’t going to work now. She pulled out her phone again, tapping out a quick reply, then humming softly to herself as she ducked into a side alley, not bothering to change as she started making her way to the apartment. She was sneaky enough to pop into her own wall. She had made sure one of the externals was wire-free for that reason, after all.

 

It wasn’t until she was in the shower, soaping up her hair that she realized Dean had probably been able to see the emotions the text had caused her, and she groaned, resolving to slug the bastard next time she saw him.

 

“That fucker told me to have a nice night!”

 

---

 

Metal clinked as Sophia jerked, her hands held above her head. The fabric of the cuffs bit into her wrists, straining them as she whined, back arching. Her legs wanted to kick and flex, but Taylor had her by the hips, arms holding her thighs down as she devoured her, eyes staring up over the trimmed curls on her pelvis. Taylor kept that eye contact as she leaned forward further, lips locking around her clit and sucking , sending Sophia screaming again, two fingers slowly pumping in and out of her as the gorgeous woman user her control to turn Sophia in a keening wreck.

 

Taylor hadn’t wasted any time when she arrived, bringing her to the bedroom immediately and practically tearing Sophia’s clothes off. The cuffs had been a welcome surprise; Taylor had barely needed to ask, before Sophia had her hands together, letting her latch them to the frame above her head.

 

And then the woman had gone to work, destroying Sophia like it was her job, like she had no plans other than figuring out exactly what made the shorter woman scream and then doing that on repeat until her throat gave out.

Sophia clenched on air, knees shaking, eyes rolling back as Taylor continued to twist those two fingers, slowly but surely bringing her to another orgasm. It wasn’t like the last time, when she had gone fast and hard, forcing Sophia to cum as quickly as possible and as hard as she could; this was methodical, a slow assault. Taylors hands roamed her body, nails searching for places that made Sophia jump and sigh, gripping, scratching, pinching. The sides of her hips, under her ribs, the curves beneath her breasts; Taylor hunted down Sophia’s weaknesses even as she ate her out, keeping track of them, noting them down. 

 

“Fuck, oh my god, Taylor, so good please,” she whimpered, voice failing her. Taylor laughed, and Sophia could feel her smirk against her lips.

“Mh, you’re so lovely when you beg for me, kitten. So eager. I think I could get addicted to watching you come undone,” she said, voice sultry.

Sophia thought she might already be addicted to it. She panted, breaths hot and quick, as Taylor worked her fingers again, slowly pressing against her g-spot before sliding away slowly, then slowly pressing back in. Sophia bucked her hips, trying to get her to move faster, but Taylor just pulled back and waited until she gave up to resume her slow torture.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Taylor asked softly. Sophia looked up and glared at her, meeting those brown eyes over the swell of her own breasts. 

 

“Fuck you, Hebert,” she hissed, flushing.

The other woman raised an eyebrow, stopping for a moment. “How rude,” she said, narrowing her brows. “I think that deserves a punishment. Remember to snap if this hurts too much,” she said, before moving her lips from Sophia’s pussy to her thigh.

Sophia watched with rising anticipation as Taylor looked up at her, slowly pulling her lips back, exposing rows of white teeth flush against her cinnamon skin. Taylor smirked, then bit down, right into the meat of Sophia’s inner thigh.

 

Fuck, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much and Sophia moaned loud, crying out. Taylor bit down even harder and she shrieked , hands flailing in the cuffs, rocking her upper torso as Taylor kept her lower body in place.

“Fuck fuck fuck-” she panted, shuddering, as Taylor shook her head like a fucking animal, then lifted off with a wet pop, no doubt leaving behind a vivid purple mark of her teeth against Sophia’s skin. She turned her head to the other side, and Sophia closed her eyes groaned gutterally as Taylor pressed down on the other thigh, evening out the favor.

 

It was too much. Fuck, it was so fucking good, but she was so sensative, the pain all encompassing. She loved it, needed it, loved the throbbing ache in her leg, the knowledge that she wouldn’t be able to look in the mirror for days without seeing bruise marks on her thighs, but it was too much right now.

 

Sophia snapped twice, the signal Taylor had given her, and instantly the other girl stopped. Sophia wanted to apologize but wasn’t given the chance - two snaps was the yellow equivalent, ‘stop doing that but keep going,’ and Taylor did, swiftly pressing her fingers inside of Sophia and moving them frantically.

 

She was so fucking sensative already, the pain from the bites still lingering, the high from her last orgasm still hanging, the knowledge that she was tied up and unable to escape present in her mind. She could get out, could go shadow, could run if she needed to, but - why?

This was exactly where she wanted to be.

 

It hit her hard , easily stronger than any of the climaxes last night, and suddenly, with no buildup. One moment she was writhing, hips jerking, and the next she was there . She twisted in Taylors arms, hips jerking, toes curling and heels pounding against the bed, no noise escaping her open mouth as she shook from the heat of it.

 

When it was done, she collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily, arms sore as they hung in the cuffs. Taylor said something, but she couldn’t hear, much less answer. “Bwuh?” was her response, and Taylor laughed.

 

Sophia focused on that sound, breaths slowing as she looked up, seeing Taylor smiling as she leaned back on her heels. “There we go. I got you to forget it after all,” she said, smirking down at her.

 

Part of Sophia wanted to say something biting in response, but the rest of her just felt... good. Glowing. She didn’t know what was causing the feeling, but something inside her chest softened and released, melting away as Taylor looked down at her, smile on her face.

 

“Can I kiss you, kitten?” she asked, leaning forward, and Sophia nodded. “Out loud, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, ma’am. Kiss me,” she replied, and sighed as Taylor leaned forward, pressing her lips to Sophias, slow and soft. She could taste herself on the other woman, and sighed between kisses, closing her eyes as Taylors hands ran soothing circles up and down her body, fingers trailing over her sides, tracing the curves of her collarbone, nails raising trails of gooseflesh as one hand slid up her arms. The other hand slid over her hips, gentling cupping Sophia’s ass and squeezing lightly.

 

There was a soft click, and the pressure on Sophia’s arms vanished. She raised her eyebrows, some part of her impressed that Taylor had not only managed to unlock them while still kissing her, but one handed as well. She sagged against the frame without their support, breaking off the kiss as gravity finally reclaimed her, pulling her into the softness of the bed.

 

Taylor sat up, kneeling next to Sophia, reaching out and grabbing her wrists. She used her thumbs to slowly massage the sore skin, soothing away the aches as she kept her eyes locked on Sophia’s own.

 

“Wow,” Sophia said, eloquent as ever. “That was... very good.”

Her... friend laughed, looking away for a moment, smiling as she laced her fingers together with Sophia’s and shrugging. “I felt like you earned it.”

“Well, tell me what I did and I’ll make sure I keep doing it, if my reward is the best sex of my life,” Sophia said with a chuckle. 

 

Taylor laughed with her, still smiling softly. “Just keep being you,” she said after a moment.

 

That odd melted feeling in her chest returned, as Sophia locked eyes with Taylor, breathing softly. Taylor’s thumbs rubbed a slow circle into the back of her hands, pale fingers bright against Sophia’s skin. She watched those fingers, smile softening.

 

What did she say now? What was the correct thing to say, after this? The things she wanted to say probably wouldn’t go over well at this point, and the questions she wanted to ask would likely have answers she didn’t want to hear.

 

Something did pop into her head, however, and she smirked as she pulled her hands free of Taylors, then slowly slid down the bed.

 

“And what are you up to?” Taylor asked, raising an eyebrow. Sophia just grinned, grabbing Taylor by the hips, then quickly bucking and rolling, sending Taylor toppling over. The other woman yelped playfully, going along with it as Sophia crawled over on her hands and knees until she was between Taylor’s thighs this time.

 

“Returning the favor,” she said with a smile, reaching out to grab Taylor’s hips, then leaning forward and licking a long, slow stripe up Taylor’s pussy.

The tall woman gasped, legs flexing, and Sophia smiled as she started her own exploration. Those muscular thighs clamped around her head, and she shuddered, feeling the pressure in that hold.

 

So this is what it feels like to be a watermelon , she thought, before continuing. 

 

It was new to her, so she took it slow, trying to judge what Taylor liked and didn’t. The other woman let her, content to lay back and let Sophia do the work. Taylor didn’t scream like Sophia did, didn’t pant or curse; instead, she let out tiny little gasps, rapid and quick, as Sophia slid two fingers into her, questing. She bit her lip, grabbed the sheets, but otherwise didn’t move at all, too in control to writhe.

 

That, or Sophia wasn’t trying hard enough. “Tell me what you want, Ma’am,” she said, taking a moment to reach under Taylor’s hips to grab that fucking ass and squeeze. It was practically inflexible, her fingers finding hard muscle and not soft flesh, firm without much give.

Taylor laughed once, a single exhale, then gasped again. “F-fingers, inside. Three. Don’t - thrust, spread,” she said, then gasped again as Sophia followed her advice, fanning her fingers against Taylors inner walls, expanding and contracting.

“Lick, outside. Light, not rough,” she commanded, and Sophia listened, eager to obey. Taylor raised one hand to her mouth, biting down on a knuckle. Her hips jerked slightly upwards, and Sophia had to hold them down, fingers dipping into the pale skin at her hips with force. God, she hoped she would leave behind bruises there. The idea of the other girl being marked, evidence that Sophia had been here, had done that to her - it turned her on so much, just thinking about it.

 

“How do you feel about marks?” Sophia said, feeling cheeky. Taylor lifted her head up, glaring, but had to lay it back down as Sophia dove back in, increasing her pace. 

 

“Lightly. Pain - not good. Suck, don’t bite. You g-get - one,” she said, breathing heavy, her words choppy. Sophia smiled, then locked her lips onto the muscle of Taylor’s left thigh. She got one? She was going to make the most of it. She sucked hard, lathing at the skin with her tongue and caving her own cheeks in with the force of the vacuum, then let go with a loud pop and returning to the pale lips in front of her.

 

Taylor groaned, the loudest noise yet, and Sophia grinned internally, but kept going, her jaw starting to get sore. Taylor’s gasps became more frequent, her hips jerking more, but her arms stayed locked at her sides, immobile. After a few minutes of this, she spoke up.

 

“Clit - press. Hard, with wide t-tongue. Don’t flick. Jus- ust- F-ffuahh-!” the woman said, then cut herself off as Sophia did as she was bid, pressing down with the flat of her tongue and licking hard, up and down.

Those thighs clamped together with force, squeezing Sophia’s face, and she gasped before continuing, doing her best to keep her tongue on Taylor’s clit as the woman jerked. Her hips raised slightly off the bed, forcing Sophia to lift up with her, and then back down, as she finally screamed.

“S-Sophiiia, ohhhh-” she cried, hands finally moving, sinking themselves into Sophia’s hair and pressing her down even harder for a moment longer. Sophia just kept licking, more than happy listening to Taylor’s shuddering gasps, something inside her extremely pleased by the way Taylor moaned her name.

 

Finally, her thighs relaxed, and Sophia sat up and wiped off her lips. “Can I kiss you?” she asked, and Taylor shook her head.

 

“Sorry. Mouthwash - in bathroom. First. Then yes. Please,” she said between pants, eyes closed. Sophia smiled, then quickly stood and went to the bathroom, drinking a quick glass of water before rinsing her mouth and returning. When she got back, Taylor’s eyes were still closed, but she lifted her arms towards Sophia.

 

She fell into those arms, letting Taylor hold her close, and kissed her. Softly, sweetly, long and gentle. Taylor smiled, breaking off the kiss and pressing her forehead to Sophias, sighing out a long breath.

 

“Thank you, kitten. That was - very good,” she said quietly. “I don’t - usually. From that. It takes more work than people usually want to give me.”

Sophia huffed, pressing a kiss to Taylors nose and smirking when she wrinkled it, eyes still closed. “I don’t mind. Best of your life, you think?”

Taylor laughed. “Beginners luck. Top five, easily, if you must know. Maybe... next time,” she said, voice trailing off.

 

“Next time,” Sophia whispered, as Taylors arms slackened. The woman must have been pretty tired already, because she fell asleep fast, face going slack and breath evening out.

 

That melting feeling was back, with a vengeance. She stared down at the sleeping woman, still wrapped in her arms, wondering in the sudden relaxation of Taylor’s face. ‘It takes more work than people usually want to give me.’ Fuck, Sophia wanted to give that to her. Wanted to do things for her to make her as happy as she currently felt, inside and outside of this bedroom.

She wanted to eat breakfast and joke about school; shoot the shit about whatever weird book Taylor was reading, see if the girl was a Sharks fan or not. Sit in rooms other than the bedroom, cuddle in the easy chair, see if she would teach her how to cook. Fall asleep in these arms every night.

 

“Sophia, you fucking idiot,” she whispered, before reaching down and grabbing the covers they had kicked away over the course of their sex. She pulled them up over them, and then nestled down, her ear against Taylor’s sternum, listening to the steady thump of her heartbeat, the slow rise and fall of her chest.

That melting feeling sizzled and hardened, as she lay there, in the arms of a girl who made her feel happy. The woman who somehow managed to give Sophia everything she wanted, without even trying.

 

Sophia had a problem.

 

She was falling in love with Taylor Hebert.

Chapter 7: Seven

Notes:

Content warnings come into play here, people. Scroll to the bottom for specifics. Stay safe all.

October 22nd, 2016

Two days until Family Dinner

 

The sun woke Sophia up, the annoying bastard. Soft light poked through the curtains, making contrasting areas of light and shadow across the room, bits and pieces of the world illuminated. She sighed happily, nuzzling into her pillow, and received an answering hum as a pair of arms wrapped around her, squeezing softly.

 

Being aware came a short while after being awake. She opened her eyes slowly, greeted by a curtain of curly hair in front of her face. Sophia inhaled softly, the faint smell of vanilla filling her nose. Her pillow murmured softly, rising up with a breath, before falling back down.

Right. She had fallen asleep on Taylors chest last night, and the other girl hadn’t stopped holding her as they slept.

 

Sophia felt so fucking warm, both inside and out. Huddled under the blankets, Taylor’s arms settled over her shoulders and one across her hips, not trapping her, just... holding on. Like Sophia was something she didn’t want to let go of, even when she was at her least aware.

 

Fuck, she was getting poetic.

 

Damn you Sappho , she thought, laughing softly. Their legs were tangled together under the covers, Sophia’s knee between Taylor’s thighs, calves rubbing, feet touching. Like they had both decided in their sleep that the best thing to do was get as close as possible to their partner.

 

Friend. To their friend . Right.

 

Fuck.

 

Sophia’s next breath was remarkably less easy to get through, for some reason. She laid there for a moment, stewing in her own idiocy. The rules had been very simple. Very easy to follow. This was a casual thing, just some friends who fucked, no need to put any emotions behind it. Trust her to go and forget all that, and start getting all attached to the one woman who she absolutely should not start getting attached to.

 

There was no way this went any way positive. Taylor had said quite clearly she wasn’t going to date Sophia, and that was fine. Totally, totally fine. Emma would probably have a fucking meltdown if she did, Madison would never let her hear the end of it, not to mention the shitstorm that her mom and Stephen would stir up if she started actually dating a woman.

Also she had relentlessly tortured the object of her affections to a quite literal braking point, and Taylor had admitted that was the very specific and understandable reason why she didn’t want a relationship.

 

Good going, Old Sophia. Leaving behind yet another mine for New Sophia to stumble over when she least expected it.

 

After a few minutes of melancholy rest, Taylor hummed, tilting her head slightly. Sophia looked up, staring at her sleeping face, tracing the curves of her features with her eyes. Yesterdays makeup still stuck to her eyes, having been rubbed at and streaking; her hair a mess of curls and tangled strands; her morning breath, honestly kind of terrible as she puffed out little jets of air, right into Sophia’s fucking nose.

 

She was gorgeous. 

 

Sophia leaned forward, unable to stop herself, pressing a soft kiss to Taylor’s lips. The taller woman hummed, lips quirking slightly, and when Sophia leaned back Taylor's eyes were open, watching her.

 

“Good morning,” she said softly.

 

Taylor smiled, a long, slow stretch of lips, the kind of smile that made your eyes squint and cheeks hurt. The kind of smile that changed the entire profile of her face; the kind of smile Sophia had never seen Taylor make before. It was always grins and smirks and sly glances, short little curls of the lips. 

 

The kind of smile that had a whole world in it, if Sophia hadn’t been so stupid as to fuck it up beforehand.

 

But damn, if she didn’t want to see it again.

 

“Mm. I’d say so,” Taylor replied, humming and closing her eyes, tugging Sophia close. “Got any plans for the day?”

“Nah. Need to catch up on some coursework, but other than that I’m free. Why, do you?”

The tall woman raised an eyebrow, her hands starting to slowly trace up and down Sophia’s back, fingers dipping into the curve of her spine. “I can think of some things,” she purred, sending Sophia’s insides squirming.

 

Taylor sighed, leaning back. “Actually, I’m thinking about going to the gym today. Want to come with? We can finally do that workout you missed out on, back when you were still glued to my abs.”

“You say that like I’m not still glued to them,” Sophia grumbled, one of her hands already on said abs, running her fingers over the ridges of firm muscle. She leaned back, Taylor’s hands moving from her back to settle at the curves of her waist, as Sophia sat on her heels and stared down. The covers lifted away as she rose, exposing long expanses of pale and colorful skin. 

 

“I mean, can you blame me?” she continued, hands slowly tracing Taylor’s form, the shape of her hips, the soft swell of her breasts, the lines of her ribs. She ran a finger across the elegant lines of a white snake, eating its own tail; the scales of the silver dragon; the mane of a lion on her calf. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” she whispered, oddly reverent.

 

Taylor didn’t answer, so Sophia looked up, concerned. The other woman was studying her with a curious expression, blinking quickly, brow furrowed slightly. Sophia felt vulnerable, and also like she had done something to upset Taylor, somehow. “What?” she asked, defensively.

 

“Nothing. That’s... you mean that,” Taylor whispered, her hands tight on Sophia’s waist, like she was suddenly holding on for dear life.

 

“Of course I do. I mean - have you seen yourself?” Sophia chuckled, but the humor faded away swiftly as the womans eyes grew suspicious wet.

 

“Yeah. I know, objectively, but it’s - hard to remember sometimes. I - it just means a lot. Hearing that from you, especially,” Taylor said, voice quiet and emotionless.

 

Sophia sighed, regret pulling itself back to the fore. “Yeah, I mean that. So much. There’s a reason you keep turning me into a stuttering mess and it’s not just because you know how to work your fingers,” she joked, smiling as Taylor’s smile returned. She felt like she needed to say more, though, the moment... oddly tender. Close.

 

“I’m sorry. I know I said that, before, but - it keeps hitting me. How shit I treated you. The idea that you could look like - like this , be so fucking beautiful, strong, in control, but still have doubts - and have those doubts because of shit I did, shit I said... I don’t know. It feels even worse, with context,” Sophia rambled, the words hard to put together, each one needing to be pulled free with care.

“I’m sorry, Taylor. I’m - I’m so fucking sorry.”

A hand reached up, cupping her face, tilting her head up to meet Taylor’s smile again.

“I forgive you,” she whispered. Sophia frowned, shaking her head.

 

“No, it’s okay. I know that I hurt you, you don’t need to -”

 

“Sophia,” Taylor said softly. “It was years ago. I told you that, didn’t I? These days - most of it just seems... childish. Idiotic, really. Names and words and meaningless little insults. You did hurt me. You did do those things, yes, and they did and still do have an effect on me. But I forgive you , Sophia. The person you are now is not the person you were then. I can see that pretty easily.”

Sophia swallowed, letting herself be tugged back down. Taylor ran her hands through her hair, nails scratching against her scalp, as she kept talking. “I... knowing what I know now, bits and pieces, I know that it probably was... well. None of us were the healthiest kids.” Taylors voice was oddly apologetic, as if she felt guilty for some reason.

“Show me a teenager who isn’t a little bit of a mess,” Sophia grouched into Taylor’s shoulder. Taylor chuckled.

“I can tell you really regret it. I know you wont believe me, but I’ll keep saying it. Don’t beat yourself up over stupid shit you pulled when we were, what, fourteen, fifteen? You’ve changed. Let yourself believe that.”

Sophia closed her eyes, swallowing tightly, as Taylor held her close.

“I forgive you, Sophia.”

Both of them expected the tears that followed, of course. How could they not? Sophia sniffled quietly, and Taylor let her, just holding her and running her hands through her hair. 

 

How the fuck could she still be this good , after everything? It didn’t feel real. No one was this kind. No one was this forgiving. No one cared this much about her, and bothered to think about how she felt, thought about how much the shit she had done hurt her.

There was no fucking way she could just stay friends with Hebert, was there?

When she finally felt steady enough to move, she sat up with a sigh. “Mind if I use your shower?” she asked, stretching as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I feel like a mess.”

Taylor didn’t answer for a moment, and Sophia looked over her shoulder, then froze. The tall woman was eyeing her as she sat nude on the edge of the bed, her eyes slowly wandering up, from the swell of her ass to the curves of her back, the creases of her shoulderblades, the turn of her neck, until they locked on to her own.

 

Those eyes were wide with lust, and Sophia shivered.

 

“Of course you can use my shower. Mind if I join you?”

How could she possibly say no?

Somehow, when they left the shower, Sophia felt less clean than when they went in.

 

---

 

“Alright, so what is she doing now?” Madison said over the phone, once the giggling was out of her system. She was such a bitch, honestly. “After your passionate forgiveness and you cried out into her arms, the power of love -”

“Will you stop fucking talking like this is one of your stories?” Sophia hissed quietly into the phone, ignoring how her anger made Madison laugh again. “This isn’t fanfiction, Mads, this is my fucking life now. I asked for help, are you gonna do that or just giggle at me?”

Her friend sighed, and Sophia added her to the list of ‘people I am going to punch next time I see them,’ right under fucking Dean. “I am helping, Soph. What’s she doing right now?”

Sophia sighed, running a hand over her still-damp hair. “Well, we just finished showering -”

 

“Mmmh, soapy.”

“-And now she’s making breakfast. Once we eat, we’re going to swing by my place and pick up my gym stuff and go work out, and then... I don’t know, she mentioned something about this Thai place she liked for lunch.”

Silence, from the other end of the phone. Finally, Madison spoke up. “Sophia, she is dating you.”

Sophia groaned, flopping back on Taylors bed, listening to the sounds of pots and pans downstairs. Taylor had some sort of music playing, some sort of pop nonsense she was half-singing along to. Sophia could almost make out the words from up here, hear Taylor’s voice as she mangled lyrics like nobodies business. The dork.

 

“No, she’s just being nice, right? You and I go out to lunch all the time.”

“Yeah, but I don’t cook you fucking breakfast, share my trauma with you, and then hold you softly as you cry, Sophia. We never really talk about your shit - no, don’t apologize to me, I don’t share my shit either. We’re friends, but there’s lines we don’t cross, and I’m okay with that. Emma is your bestie, and you’ve got a pile of shit to worry about, I’m perfectly happy to be the friend you chat up about stupid shit and complain about work to.”

“I’d ask what I did to deserve you but honestly I feel like the answer would probably be something I don’t want to hear.”

“Ha ha, funny. Listen, Sophia. You’re happy, aren’t you?”

She sighed, staring up at the soft gray of the bedroom ceiling. “Yeah. Like - a lot. So much, right now, it’s both amazing and terrifying.”

“Mhm, yes, and I both am so happy for you and am seething with jealousy, but you gotta do something about it. Bring it up. Mention how you feel and figure it out, before you end up really fucking hurt by all this.”

“She said she didn’t want to date,” Sophia whispered, unease coiling in her gut. “Was pretty damn up front about that.”

Madison hummed, about to reply, but Taylor yelled from downstairs. “Sorry, one second,” Sophia said, standing and peering down the staircase. “What was that?”

“Would you mind grabbing the sheets off the bed? I want to get them in the dryer before we go, so we can sleep on a bed that isn’t soaked in sex tonight,” Taylor said, arms on the railing at the bottom of the stairs. 

 

“Yeah, one second!” Sophia called back. “Pillowcases too?”

“Nah, you don’t drool that much.”

Sophia laughed, rolling her eyes before pressing her phone back to her ear. “Alright, I’ll be down in a second. On the phone with Madison.”

“No worries! Tell her I said hi,” Taylor finished, voice fading away as she went back to her cooking. 

 

Sophia flopped back on the bed, belly first. “I’m back.”

“‘You don’t drool that much,’” Madison imitated, voice sickeningly high pitched. “Uhg, that’s fucking gross. You two are disgusting and I hate you.”

“She just wanted me to grab some dirty sheets, Mads, it’s not a big deal.”

Her friend groaned, and Sophia could just see her on her bed, kicking up her feet and rolling her eyes. “Sophia? She asked you to make the bed for when you sleep with her tonight . Like, ‘you’re staying here tonight, I’m not asking, I’m just assuming that’s what you want’ levels of implication. She’s fucking dating you. Ten bucks says she’s looking at uHaul rentals as we speak.”

 

“She’s just - fuck, I don’t know, okay? She told me she didn’t ever want to date me. That was like, day one, number one rule. ‘You have fucked up don’t expect more.’ Besides, it’s been like - a week. Five days. That’s way too fucking fast for her to change her mind about dating.”

“I mean. Five days was clearly enough for you, to completely change your opinion of her and then promptly fall in big gay love. Why do you assume it wasn’t enough for her?”

 

Sophia didn’t really have an answer to that one. “You sure I’m not just, like, overthinking it?”

“I can’t say for sure, babe, because I’m not the one there. All I have to go by is your sad whining and the glances the two of you shoot at each other whenever you’re in line of sight, but if you want my opinion? Just fucking go for it. Best case, it all works out great and you two give me fucking cavities by living in the same city. Worst case, you find out early enough that you can still fix your big gay heart without too much trouble.”

“This is going to end terribly.”

“Orrrr it’s going to be the best thing that ever fucking happened to you. Sophia. I have never heard you this happy when you talk about someone, you know. Not once, not ever,” Madison said, voice serious. “Also, she’s like ten outta ten smash material and if you fumble the ball I have dibs on the rebound, okay?”

“Have you ever watched a sport?”

“Checkmate, bitch, I’m about to dunk a home run.”

Sophia mentally moved her up a spot on the punching list. “I’m hanging up now, thanks, bye.”

“Later! Let me know how it goes, I’m already looking up florists for the wedding. I’m thinking a nice September wedding would be great, purple and white themes? Maybe some topless gowns, really show off those -” click.

 

She hated her friends, sometimes.

 

Well, no. She loved them dearly. Madison was a grade-A asshole but it was usually in her favor, wasn’t it. She should do something nice for her at some point, as thanks, because despite all the nonsense and conflicted emotions, she really did feel better about things now.

 

Emma is going to flip her lid, she thought, and sat up slowly. Well. She’d burn that bridge when she got to it.

 

“Breakfast is ready!” Taylor called, and Sophia smiled as she pulled the sheets off the bed.

 

---

“Y’know, never really took you for a pickup truck kind of girl,” Sophia said, window of the cab down.

Taylor raised an eyebrow, darting a glance over as they came to a stop at a light. “Mind explaining whatever that was supposed to mean?”

“I kinda had you pegged for a hybrid driver. Puttering around in a Prius or a Camry or something. Maybe a minivan. You already have half a library in your house, might as well complete the librarian look,” Sophia grinned. Taylor huffed, reaching out with an elbow jab that Sophia leaned away from, laughing.

 

“Excuse you, brat. I’ll have you know I can do both. They make hybrid trucks, you know.”

“Is this one of those?”

“No, but how dare you try to fit me to a standard anyways.”

Sophia laughed harder, eyeing the cab. The truck was new, she could tell by the condition, one of those big black fuckers she usually expected to see with giant tires and a light rack for literally no reason. The sort of truck an asshole would drive. Taylor fit into it pretty well, honestly, one arm leaning out the open window, enjoying one of the last warm days of the season in her black tank top.

“If I look in your closet, how much flannel am I going to find?” Sophia asked, giggling.

 

“If you look in my closet you’re not going to find much clothing,” Taylor said with a leer. “I keep the fun stuff in there, if you must know, and I don’t actually own a single piece of flannel. That’s Lisa’s thing.”

“Lisa being..?”

“That friend I had over, the first night,” Taylor said, smiling as she looked out the road. Sophia’s smile froze a bit, at the fondness in Taylor’s voice. Right. Taylor probably had lots of friends who spent the night and got called pet names and - “Her girlfriend is ace, so we have a bit of an arrangement whenever Lisa gets pent up. She’s my best friend. Also an absolute menace, so tying her up once in a while is great for me.”

Her smile thawed. “I get that. Maddy is a fucking goblin woman at the best of times.”

Taylor laughed, shaking her head. “Y’know, out of the three of you, she was the only one that made me laugh some times, once I stopped actually worrying about the shit you all said. Emma kept trying to be hurtful, but Madison was the one with a sense of humor. It was so hard to keep a straight face sometimes, even though I considered us all ‘enemies’ at that point. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear she was just in it for the chaos, honestly.”

“Sadistic little fucker,” Sophia huffed, quietly pleased by Taylor’s assessment. It was good to know that she no longer thought of them all as enemies, even if she had said something to that effect before, multiple times now.

 

Taylor nodded, letting conversation lapse for a moment. Sophia looked out the window, watching houses go by as she took a sip from her water bottle.

 

“Also, she’s been sending me smut to read for the last few days,” Taylor said nonchalantly, having waited until Sophia was taking a drink to drop that particular little nugget. Sophia coughed, spitting water out the window as Taylor giggled at her misfortune.

 

“Fucking - bitch! I knew she took down your fucking number,” Sophia fumed, as Taylor reached over and popped open the glove box, pulling out a handful of napkins. “Madison and her fucking fiction, I swear. Wait - which ones did she send you?”

Taylor hummed, still watching the road with a smile on her face. “She does a lot of cape fics, which is kinda weird to me but she’s actually shockingly good at it. I think she might have a crush on Shadow Stalker, though, because like half of them involve her. My favorites so far were the one with Miss Militia and the one with Skitter, actually. Didn’t think I’d be into spiderweb bondage until I read that one, but I’m kinda curious now.”

Sophia turned out the window, biting down a fucking whine of embassment. Hopefully Taylor just thought she was ashamed by her friend’s complete lack of shame, and not hearing that Taylor had enjoyed reading about Sophia’s alter ego being died up by the most terrifying cape in the city. What did I do to deserve Madison as a friend, indeed , she thought, her face feeling on fire. Taylor just chuckled, leaning over to check the mirrors before turning into the parking lot of Sophia’s apartment building.

Once Sophia’s soul had returned to her body, she stepped out of the truck, meeting Taylor’s incredibly amused smile with mortification. “Want me to come with?” she asked, leaning against the truck, pulling out her phone.

 

“No, I’m fine,” Sophia said, thinking about that. Thinking about bringing Sophia into her dead little apartment, with its empty shelves and blank walls, the furniture that had been sitting in one place for months because she never bothered to move any of it or get her own. Thought about Taylor standing in the middle of her tiny room, seeing exactly how little Sophia was made of, and had to hold back an anxious shudder.

 

She went up the stairs two at a time, sliding into her room and grabbing her gym bag, making sure she had all her work gear in the hidden bottom, sliding out of yesterdays outfit and throwing on something new for the day. She stared at her dresser once she was done, considering.

 

Her backpack came out, books and coursework in one section, clothes for Monday in another. Then - an extra outfit, just in case. Toothbrush. Comb. Phone charger, so she could stop needing to borrow Taylor’s. An extra pair of shoes and a set of pyjamas. Makeup kit. Her own shampoo and conditioner, and body wash.

Just - the essentials, of course. In case she was going to stay overnight again. Possibly.

When she makes it back downstairs, Taylor smiles at her, as if the sight of Sophia coming back was the best thing she had seen all day. A wide smile. The kind that makes your eyes squint and your face hurt, just a little.

 

Sophia smiled back.

 

She was still smiling, when they hit the gym, busier during the day than it was in the evenings. When Taylor took her up on that offer of ‘needing a spotter’ and Sophia spent exactly zero time paying attention to the weights, instead keeping track of the way sweat dripped down her arms, the way her skin rippled and flexed with every motion, the expression of concentration on her lover’s face. When Taylor found her alone in the showers and pushed her up against the wall for a moment, kissing her roughly until she had to lean against the wall to stay standing, Taylor stepping away just as someone else walked in, leaving Sophia breathless and red-faced under the shower.

 

She was still smiling, when they went to the little Thai place Taylor claimed to the best in town. When the man behind the counter recognised Taylor by name, and she had to fight with him to pay for the meal; when Taylor explained what the things on the menu were, joking about her taste in food; when their hands brushed above the table and their feet tapped together as they ate, exchanging coy glances.

 

She was still smiling, when Taylor took the long route home, passing by the lighthouse at the mouth of the Bay and stopping so they could wander around the park. When they looked over the rocks, watching waves come in, asking Taylor simple things. Favorite book(Pride and Prejudice), thoughts on her major(English Lit, who could have guessed), favorite drink(green tea with lemon and honey). Not so much concerned with the answers, as she was concerned with hearing Taylor talk. When they sat on the bench watching the sun begin to go down, shoulders touching, and she put her head on Taylors shoulder, as Taylor wrapped an arm around her.

 

She was still smiling, when the truck parked in the garage, and they clambered out with both of her bags. When Taylor ran a casual hand over her back as she wandered into the kitchen to fix up some leftovers for them to eat. When they laughed at the kitchen island, sitting up on stools that left their feet of the ground. Whenever there was a break in conversation, they would fill it with sidelong glances or casual touches, a hand on the back, a foot tapping a shin, elbows knocking lightly and purposefully.

 

Taylor wandered over to the sitting room after dinner, hovering in front of the book shelves. Sophia trailed her, pulled by a string or a magnetic force or just a plain old desire to be close to the tall woman. Taylor reached up, shirt riding above her hips, slender fingers pulling a worn book off of the shelves. Sophia leaned against the wall, body weary from her earlier workout, heart lighter than it had ever been, cheeks hurting from smiling.

When Taylor sat down with her book, Sophia sat with her, throwing her legs over the other womans lap and leaning down, nestling into her shoulder. Taylor didn’t miss a beat, one hand going around her back, propping the book open on Sophia's legs and beginning to turn the pages.

 

Sophia didn’t want this to end.

Well. If that was the case, she should do something about it, shouldn’t she?

Taylor had sixty pages into a dog-eared edition of Robinson Crusoe when Sophia finally worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been plaguing her all day. She felt her chest shudder as the words crawled up her throat, hung in her mouth, and then forced themselves free, hovering in the open air.

 

“Are we dating?”

The book closed with a sudden snap, as Taylor looked up, staring into the distance for a moment. She went still, not moving, and Sophia winced. Fuck, she knew it was a bad time to ask. Too soon, if it was ever even an option. She just had to go and fuck it all up.

 

A deep breath caused the chest she was leaning against to rise, then fall, as Taylor set the book to the side and turned to her. Her expression was pinched, lips furrowed, as her eyes studied Sophia.

 

She waited for judgment, that hand on her back still rubbing circles despite the stifling silence.

 

Finally, Taylor spoke up. “Not... yet,” she whispered, ducking her head.

 

Sophia felt her lungs expand with relief, her heart restarting, her mind going back to work, now that she wasn’t waiting on that answer. “Oh. Good,” Sophia murmured, settling her head back down, feeling suddenly light.

 

“If you had asked me four days ago - I don’t think so. But. This has been - I’ve really -” Taylor said, voice flat and controlled. “I’m really enjoying this. Spending time with you. It’s... I don’t think it would be a big surprise if I say that I have issues with... control.”

“Understandable,” Sophia replied into her shoulder.

 

“Mh. I don’t - trust, easy. And I’ll be honest, I never thought I would even be able to, to, consider a relationship with you. But I meant it, when I said that I could tell you’d changed. I meant it, when I said that I forgave you. And I mean it now, when I say - no, we are not dating. But we could be. I just need...”

“Time?” Sophia whispered, smiling when Taylor broke off and nodded. “I get that. We really are fulfilling all the stereotypes, aren’t we.”

Taylor laughed wryly. “Why do you think I got the truck? Saves me money on uHaul rentals.”

 

“Do you need me to give you... space? To think?”

“You had better not,” Taylor said sharply, squeezing her with both arms. “I’ve gotten too used to you in my bed at this point. I don’t need space. Just - some time. To process. There are things you should know, about me. Things you deserve to know. I just - struggle, with giving up control of any sort.”

“Trust takes work,” Sophia replied. “Should we - talk, about what we would want? Out of a highly theoretical relationship, that may or may not be happening?”

Taylor laughed at that, shaking her head. “Dork. I- sure. What do you want to know?”

“Have you dated anyone before? Like, really dated. Long term.”

“No.” Sophia looked at her, surprised, and Taylor shrugged. “Honestly, want to know a big secret? You are the fourth person I’ve had sex with, and the second person that I’ve slept with more than once. Lisa is the other.”

“You’re shitting me. But you always seem so - confident. I figured you’d done all this before.”

“This may surprise you, but this is all - new to me, too. I’ve never really. Never let anyone close before. I’m still worried that the reason I’m considering it with you might be because I have this, this deep seated need to control , and some hurt little girl inside of me is delighted with the idea of having authority over you.”

Sophia nuzzled her chin with the top of her head. “This doesn’t feel like that sort of relationship. Honestly, it -” she took a deep breath, then released the valve, letting the words come out. “This has been, and I say this without any exaggeration, the best few days of my entire life.”

Taylor took a sharp breath at that, then held her closer. “I’m happy to hear that. And I - I think this has been really good for me, too.”

She smiled into Taylors chest, one hand wrapping around her waist, pleased. “I still can’t get over that you haven't actually done this. You seem so sure of yourself all the time, I figured it was practice.”

 

“Honestly? I’m in a constant state of panic,” Taylor answer sardonically. “You have no idea how nervous I was, that first night. A quarter of me thought it was some sort of trick, the other half was freaking out at the hottest girl I’d ever met basically throwing herself at me.”

“Fuck off, really?”

“I’m serious!” she laughed. “You’re beautiful. People often tell me that I have this air of absolute confidence, but it’s really just a front. I’m - well, I guess you could say I have a good handle on my emotions.”

Sophia sighed at that, leaning back, as the both of them relaxed a bit. “So. Just Lisa, then?”

“Yeah. I - I’ll stop, if you want. It’s not a very frequent thing. Once every other week or so, she gets a lot of stress from work.” Sophia hummed, considering, shooting down that instinctive response of ‘you’d do that for me?’

 

“I don’t... know if I mind? You know by now that you’re... it for me, so far. But I’m interested in experimenting. And - part of me finds the idea of finally seeing this ‘Lisa’ in person really fucking hot.”

Taylor snickered. “You’ve met once or twice, actually. I think you’ll like her a lot less once you see her in person, but we’ll get to that. She’s actually been pestering me about you since that first night, you know.”

“Madison has been the same way,” Sophia said with a groan. “Shortstack and her stupid shipping charts.” Taylor laughed, and they fell silent, just sitting there for a moment longer.

 

Sophia’s phone buzzed, and she grimaced, knowing who it was probably from. She didn’t bother to look at it, just pulling it out of her pocket and tossing it on the couch across the room. Taylor watched it go, curious, so she explained. “My mom is - still bugging me, even though I said I’d go on Tuesday. She wants everything to be - perfect. Or at least look like it. Because if she can’t fix things, she can just pretend they weren’t broken, and somehow that will make it all better,” Sophia finished bitterly, anger and old hurt seeping into her tone.

 

Taylor scratched her back with her nails, the sensation still felt through the fabric of her shirt. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” she said quietly, concerned. 

 

Sophia shook her head. “It’s - fine. You should know, anyways, you’re going to need to deal with them. Besides. I want to put in the work that it takes,” she finished, looking up to lock eyes with Taylor.

 

The tall woman blinked, and then smiled shyly. Sophia was heavily amused to see her actually blush, recalling her words from the last night.

She focused, thinking about how to start, and then just... decided to go for it. “My dad died when I was eight. He was an accountant for some company just outside the city. Did most of the work for us; mom stayed home and watch me and the rest of the kids. At that point it was just me, and my two younger siblings, Terry and Monica. Dad got caught by the Empire on his way home from work one day. Probably saw a black man in a suit and decided to make an example, or something. I don’t know, they never caught the fuckers who did it. I don’t really remember him all that well, I was so young, but I do remember that when he left, mom went with him. She basically collapsed, couldn’t do much of anything. Heartbreak, or depression, or whatever you want to call it.

 

“We coasted, for a while. Aunts and distant relatives came by, helped us out a bit. Mom started getting some money from the state, unemployment, food stamps, the like. I remember she had to be talked into it, hated the idea of having to rely on charity. Probably got my pride from her, now that I think of it, because I remember my grandmother getting into a full blown fight over it at one point. She wouldn’t take any money from anyone, regardless of how bad we needed it. Dad had life insurance, but the company screwed us, managed to claim that because it was the Empire they had grounds to mandate it as ‘cape-caused death,’ which our plan didn’t cover. Yet another fucking branch to hit on the way down.

“We sold the house, moved into a tiny apartment. Limped on like that for a few years. Mom was still so sad all the time, and Terry and Mons were three and four years younger than me, barely even able to understand why we need to move. So I figured it out. When we were hungry, mom would hand me a handful of cash and let me go get it, sitting on her bed and staring at the ceiling.”

Sophia sucked in a breath, let it out. Settled, then continued. “I used to hate her for that. Might still, a little. CPS came knocking once or twice, but she always cleaned up her act. Sometimes got a part-time job, made some waves about getting better. I had the option to speak up, but she told me - told me that if they thought she was a bad mom, they were going to take us away from her. Separate me from my siblings. I was so scared of losing another parent, losing my brother and sister, so when someone at school pulled me aside and asked me if things were okay at home or if I was eating enough, I just smiled and said of course.

 

“When the kids at school were learning about trees and birds, I was learning how to cut coupons and run the washing machine. By the time I was nine, I was figuring out how to budget. By the time I was ten, I was starting to skip meals so the younger kids could eat, learning exactly how far I could stretch half a sandwich over the course of a day.

 

“When I was eleven, mom brought home a guy one day, out of nowhere. Didn’t even know she was dating around at that point, met him on one of her part time jobs. I think the day she brought him home was the first time I saw her smile since my dad died. Cheerful man. We all liked him immediately. He brought money, filled the cupboards, took us to the park and got us a pet dog. Moved us out of the one-bedroom we were living in to a nicer apartment up the road. Helped me with my school work, made my mom happy, made everything just... feel better. Mom married him by the time I was twelve, and we were happy. So happy. I called him dad, for a while, when everything seemed perfect. Meant it, even. Felt like we were finally a family again.

“His name is Stephen.”

 

She paused again, taking another calming breath. Taylor’s hands rubbed up and down her back, slowly, just letting her know that the other woman was there and still listening. Sophia appreciated the silent comfort, Taylor not pushing her on, but also not telling her she could stop again.

Sophia continued. “Stephen - had a few odd jobs, as an engineer or something, and made good money. But he also had a problem. Addiction. Heroin, to be precise. He fucked up his knee before my mom met him, doctors gave him some opioids, then cut him off, leaving him with the pain and a prescription they had prescribed him. He went to the merchants, started getting something to make things better. Make him feel better. Ran a few odd jobs for them, even. Not a member proper, but - involved enough.

“It felt like there were two Stephens. One, the one who I called Dad. Who pushed us on swings and took me to my first track practices and clapped at my seventh grade ‘graduation,’ when I made honor roll for the first time, who bandaged up my ankle when I sprained it and took me to get ice cream when I lost a meet. And the other - the other who wasn’t. Wasn’t good to us. To me, specifically.

 

“I still have trouble calling it abuse, because he rarely hit me, and when he did he immediately fell over himself apologizing. When you think of child abuse you think of kids being starved and beaten constantly, and it wasn’t that. It was - mostly just words. Stupid shit, and it wasn’t like it was constant. But you could tell - you could tell when withdrawals were effecting him. Home started feeling less like the place I lived and more like the place I was trapped. One moment, he would be happy, joking, playing with us; the next, he would start spiraling. Just falling apart. It was a coin toss, whether he got mad or sad, at first, but anger started stacking the dice.

“Every time I heard steps on the stairs outside, I would freeze up, thinking he was coming home. We lived on the third floor, out of six - people were always walking up and down those stairs, but every time I heard so much as a floorboard creak, I would tense up. It was dumb, because even if he did come home, he wouldn’t always be angry. It was just - a chance. Kids have malleable little brains, though, and fear shapes them like nothing else. So. I hear his voice, I see him when I don’t expect him, I see a car that looks like it might be his, I just remember he exists - and I froze up.

“It little things, at first. He would be snappish and critical. If I came home late, he would yell at me a bit, make it a lecture on following rules. If I ever got in trouble at school, he would just fume quietly and say he was disappointed in me. If I ever said something he didn’t like or he caught me in a lie, he would get angry, yell at me a bunch. The younger kids got it too, sometimes, but I started making him focus on me. Talking back a bit, intentionally coming home late, because it kept me out of the house but also kept him mad at me. Protecting the rugrats because I had spent so long being the only one who did.

“Mom was a doormat. She would get mad at him sometimes, but only after he yelled, only when it was too late to stop anything. If he ever went on a tirade, she just went quiet and let him, then told me that he loved me after he had slammed the door to his room, saying that he didn’t want to get angry like that, but it was my fault. For pushing him, she would say. She was so fucking caught up in trying to make things normal that she couldn’t see she was only making it worse.

 

“I stopped calling him dad when I was around thirteen. Started calling him Stephen, because that hurt him. When he was in a good place, getting his fix or just not in a bad mood, I would feel so happy to watch his whole fucking day crumble when I said that, remind him that he was a shit father. And when he was in a bad mood, there was no better way to stir the shit than calling him by name. His blow ups started getting worse - I think he was getting less and less from the Merchants as time went on. Withdrawals are a disease of their own, and he was suffering, but he took that out on me. His prized little whipping girl.”

She stumbled over the word whipping , breath catching, voice trembling. The worst part was coming. It always was. She shied away from it, but she couldn’t. Taylor should know. She wanted Taylor to know but she didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to admit it, couldn’t. Couldn’t face the day that broke it all.

“I’ve got you,” Taylor whispered, and Sophia blinked, shaking in her arms. “I’m here. You don’t need to say anything else, but I think you’ll feel better if you do.”

It was almost done.

Sophia steadied her breaths, pretended she wasn’t crying on her for the second time today, but she wanted to share this. Wanted to push through the hate and see if Taylor understood her on the other side.

She didn’t want to be alone with this anymore.

 

“It came to a head one day in eighth grade. I was thirteen, a little ball of hurt and anger, lashing out at the other kids at school to make me feel like I was worth something. Started picking fights, hurting others to forget that I was hurting, too. Dr. Yamada - one of my therapists - told me later that she thought I had ingrained the idea that reaching out meant giving up, so I felt I had to do everything on my own. That if I couldn’t do it on my own, it meant I was the one who failed. It just kept getting worse and worse, until one day it just - peaked.

 

“Stephen came home. It was a bad day. I started the usual routine, staying quiet and out of the way, trying to avoid setting him off, but he caught onto something. A dirty dish I hadn’t washed right, I think it was. He got mad, I poked at him a bit, and he slapped me. It wasn’t the first time, wasn’t even the worst one. But usually when he hit me he would go all cold, run up to his room and close himself in there with his guilt. I assumed this would be like that, so - I got the last word in. Called him a ‘scumbag junkie,’ told him our family would be better without him.

 

“He didn’t go up to the room. Instead, he went red, and grabbed his belt off the back of a chair.” she whispered, hollow. It was as clear as if it had happened yesterday. She could hear the pounding footsteps, Terry crying, feel the fear she felt in that moment as clear as if it were happening now. “I knew I had fucked up, so I ran to my room. There was a table or something in the hallway, and I threw it to the side. He tripped over it and I ran in. Closed the door to my room. I wasn’t thinking, just - running. Hid in the closet. Closed the door, hid in the corner. Just sat there and desperately hoped if he looked, I would be just another shadow.

“It, uh. Didn’t work. Obviously,” Sophia chuckled ruefully. “You probably saw the scar on my hip. Came from the buckle. Neighbors called the cops, but by then... well. They grabbed Stephen, put him in jail for a bit. He got a plea deal dependant on him attending rehab, and he’s been in and out of it for the last seven years or so. Whenever he’s out, he lives with my mom, and they pretend everything is fine, until his parole officer comes by and notices the track marks on his arms.

 

“So, there. My sob story,” she finished, feeling drained.

 

Taylor’s arms squeezed around her tightly, and a pair of lips pressed against her brow. Sophia curled up into her, feeling like someone had wrung her out like a dishrag. She didn’t even feel sad, just... tired.

 

Something wet ran down her cheek, and she paused, lifting up a hand and feeling it come away wet. She frowned, reaching up to her eyes, and finding them dry.

 

She looked up, to see Taylor’s eyes looking down at her, tears running down her cheeks, brown eyes wide and shimmering with water.

 

“Whoa, hey, babe, it’s okay -”

“It’s not,” Taylor cut her off. “It’s not okay. How could - and I never - I always just assumed you were like this. That - that you wanted to be the way you were. I’m sorry that I never considered it was taught to you.”

“My shitty childhood does not excuse me fucking up yours, Hebert. I’m a big girl, I’ll own my own fuck ups.”

“You shouldn’t need to. I forgive you. For all of it. Every bit of it. You shouldn’t have needed to go through that. You shouldn’t blame yourself for any of it.”

Sophia felt more tears run down her cheeks, and she knew without checking that they were her own.

“I’ve got you. Thank you for telling me, Sophia. It means - so much to me, that you did. I’m - honored, that you trust me enough to share this,” Taylor whispered into her hair.

“You make me feel safe,” Sophia whispered, finally letting that feeling come through. “I love it here. This - this house, this home, this chair, your arms. I want to be here forever. It’s - a safe space, for me, and I didn’t know how much I needed it until now.”

“Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go,” Taylor whispered, smiling. “I - have something to share with you too. But. Later. Tuesday night. After the dinner, when you’re no longer worried about it, when you’re home safe.”

“And then we’ll be dating?”

“I... think we already are, kitten. But. We can make it official then. I have some people I want you to meet. Who I think you’ll get along with, once you get to know them.”

“That sounds nice,” Sophia whispered, eyes closing.

 

She was still smiling when Taylor carried her to bed, already fast asleep.

 

---

 

October 23rd, 2016

One Day before Family Dinner

She woke up to an empty bed and an alert on her PRT phone, screaming harshly in her ear.

 

Undersiders and Teeth in conflict. Multiple fatalities. All units respond.

 

The alert was already two hours old.

Notes:

CW: Sophia describes her trigger event, which involves addiction and a long campaign of child abuse, both emotional and physical.

Chapter 8: Eight

Notes:

Hope you guys enjoyed the cliffhanger!

I can't promise I'm going to keep up the writing speed I had this last week, nor do I really want to - 7, 8k words a day was killing me a little even if I loved it. I will have all this finished by the end of the month, though. We're entering the home stretch people!

October 23rd, 2016

One Day before Family Dinner

 

Lisa sighed as she stared into the fridge, feeling her lack of sleep intimately at this point. Butcher had timed her assault perfectly; hitting the Dockworkers Union right when there would be no one guarding the back rooms. The leader of the Teeth had landed in Danny’s office, found the hidden safe, and made off with... a lot.

 

Not everything, thankfully; they weren’t stupid enough to put all their eggs in one basket. Lisa had started scattering their documents to the winds after the raid on The Quiet Corner bookshop, realizing there was something more afoot. She had even started burning some of the more sensitive stuff, anything that could expose people who were in the most danger of a Teeth counterattack. Business owners, tradesmen, truck drivers; people who were willing to do the mundane shit at reduced rates. People who trusted them to keep them safe.

 

People they had failed today. The safe in Danny’s floor had been ripped open easily, and they had lost vital record books and contact information. The Butcher had taken the information and left, but not before killing six people who had been working overnight, including the man who had been in the room when the psychopathic cape teleported in.

 

Poor Taylor.

 

Lisa grabbed a thermos in the back, pulling it out with a grimace before looking over her shoulder. Taylor was still sitting on the couch, shoulders bowed, fingers laced together in front of her mouth, knuckles white with the stress of squeezing them. Her eyes were dry, but that honestly wasn’t a good sign - Taylor’s ability to just ignore her emotions was a mixed bag at the best of times.

 

The Thinker popped open a cabinet, pulling out two of the disgusting protein bricks that called themselves food, because [likelihood of Taylor engaging in physical activity high, coping mechanism/stress outlet-] and she could use something to eat before she went to do the angriest workout of all time.

 

She was upset, of course. They all were. They had shown up after the fight was nearly over, done their best to put out the fires Butcher had gleefully caused, and then watched as the fucker teleported away laughing. None of the Undersiders had been hurt, save for their pride.

 

Alec was laying down on the couch across from Taylor, idly tossing his scepter into the air above him and catching it. One of these times he was going to taze himself playing like that and Lisa was going to laugh so hard [deadened sense of emotions lead to desire for physical sensation, pain seen as positive, would enjoy being shocked, has been shocked recently-]

 

Lisa yanked on her power, groaning aloud at the throbbing at her temples, like someone playing the drums with her frontal lobe. Thank you, power, for making her headache worse in order to mention Alec’s fetishes, really not what she wanted to hear right now.

 

Aisha sat on Alec’s legs, silently tapping on her phone with her Imp mask pushed over top her head. Brian was pacing softly behind them, working off his nervous energy. Rachel had gone to check on her dogs right after the fight, acting like she hadn’t been affected, but Lisa knew she was worried as she sat on the floor, scratching behind Bentley’s ears.

 

The addresses of her shelters had been in those books, as had the locations of several of their staches. Dead drop locations, safehouses, allies, dirt they had on the PRT and Empire, donors, charities they worked with - they had it all. 

 

It was fucked, to put it lightly. Lisa stared at the cabinets, refraining from screaming, but shook her head and settled. She could freak out later. When the screaming was done and they had a plan, she could feel the hurt and upset; right now, she needed to be there for her team.

 

Lisa put on her best liars smile and turned, tossing the thermos at Taylor’s head. The woman didn’t even bother to raise her eyes as she lifted a hand to grab it, setting it on the couch beside her and returning to her brooding without pause. The fucking drama queen. Lisa rolled her eyes, wandering over and plopping down sideways on the easy chair, head dangling down over the armrest so she could still see the rest of the team.

 

“Sooo... that sucked.”

 

Alec scoffed, tossing his scepter again. “You really have a way with words, Lisa, I’m always left so impressed by your little observations,” he snarked. Lisa would have been offended, but she had a rule about not listening to fuckers who refused to shave off their ratty goattees. Alec had insisted he needed an evil beard, and no one had been able to get him to shave it off. Even worse, Aisha liked it; the fucking weirdo.

 

Brian just huffed, turning on his heel, carving a groove into the hardwood floor of the Loft. “I have to agree with Alec, much as it pains me; it didn’t just suck ,” the muscular man growled, crossing his arms. He was still wearing his helmet, voice wavering with the sound distortion of his smoke field. “This was a major setback.”

“Setback?” Taylor said, voice expressionless. She leaned back on the couch, hands coming to rest on her lap, but otherwise not moving. “Setbacks can be recovered from. A setback would be real fucking good right now, Lisa, not - this.”

 

Lisa grimaced, noting the tremor in Taylor’s voice, peeking through despite the stillness of her body. She knew that anyone else could see her sitting there, completely still in her costume, mask sitting on her thighs, and think the shudder in her voice was repressed anger, but [feels responsible for current outcome, guilt y over perceived failure] . She winced, head throbbing.

Her smile didn’t fade as she continued. “I’m not going to lie, this was bad. Really bad. We knew the reprisal would be strong, but I didn’t expect them to take this tactic. The new Butcher is much more methodical than the last few were, I didn’t expect them to go this route.”

 

“Yeah corporate espionage isn’t really what you expect from the collection of screaming murder-souls,” Aisha groused, kicking up her feet. “So, what do we do?”

Everyone sat with that for a moment, then one by one they turned to Taylor, still staring at the floor with her fingers laced together. Aisha set her phone down, settling into the back of the couch. Brian leaned against the wall, finally taking off his helmet, shaking his dreadlocks free and resting the mask against his hip. Alec set his scepter on the floor, still staring at the ceiling but she knew he was listening. Rachel kept thumbing Bentley’s ears, crossing her legs on the floor and looking up with her face set in a harsh frown.

 

Lisa smiled softly, sitting up straight in her chair, watching as Taylor settled. The tension slowly faded from her and into her swarm, leaving her completely empty. Focused. Skitter was in the room, and now she was thinking about what their next options should be. What steps to take, to fix this issue. How to repay a slight sevenfold.

 

There was a reason they had elected her the leader after Coil had been dealt with; why Brian had stepped aside without needing to be asked. Taylor just... continued. Moved forward. When the rest of them were reeling from a setback or loss, Taylor took it as a lesson to learn from. Mistakes seemed to slide off of her and just make her more determined to fight back.

 

Slowly, she unfolded from her hunch, hands coming apart. The mask on her lap was tossed to the side as her back straightened, arms crossing under her chest. One finger tapped, slowly, like a metronome ticking out the time on the black armor of her costume. 

 

They all watched, waiting for her decision. Trusting her. Knowing she would

“We attack,” Skitter decided, her voice hard and laced with anger. “Tell everyone who might be in danger to go to ground, but have the men gear up. We can’t afford to sit on this and wait for them to come to us, not anymore. Not if they’re hitting our people.”

 

“Boss, that’s a little bit of a change in tactics,” Aisha said slowly, once they had taken in that reply. “Wasn’t the whole plan to rile them up, annoy them, and force them to meet us on our terms? Taking the fight to them isn’t really what we’re good for.”

“They changed their tactics; we need to change ours. Sitting back and waiting for them to come won’t help anyone at this point, it’s just asking for a fucking beating. They’re taking the subtle route, and that means we have to be the ones to go loud. Regent, did you manage to get a good look at Animos’s changer form?”

Alec startled, Aisha jumping on his lap as he flinched. “Uh, yeah. I can affect him a little, but it’s fuzzy. Takes a lot of effort.”

“Good, then the plan is still in effect. Our target will be the unpowered Teeth; if we cut them out, the organization crumbles. The Teeth are a cult of personality, and if we can’t take out the personality, we can drop their support group. At that point, the Butcher becomes just another solo Cape, and the PRT will have to get off their asses and do something.”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Rachel said gruffly, frowning.

 

Skitter nodded, accepting the point “We aren’t. Is Amy willing to work on those sleep darts for us? I’d prefer not to make this a massacre if I don’t have to,” she said, meeting Lisa’s eyes.

“She said she would, but just this once, and they’ll have to be ones that degrade quickly so we need to be fast. I’m worried she’ll lose her rogue status if she’s too overt about helping us,” she replied, thinking. Honestly, Amy had actually been over the moon about being able to design some nonlethal armaments for the Undersiders - Lisa was the one who was concerned about the outcome, talking her down from her initial ideas involving knockout flowers and wrist-mounted dart launchers.

 

“I think your little cuddle buddy will be fine, Leez. The PRT wont fuck up access to free healing. Even they aren’t that dumb,” Alec said, smirking at her. Aisha bounced on his legs, making him wince and turn back to her. 

 

“We didn’t think they would be willing to use the Teeth against us, either,” Lisa said sourly. “They clearly have us as a higher priority than they probably should, but I guess we shouldn’t have expected them to think about anything other than their image. Amy’s help will be minimal for the time being.”

Brian started pacing again, frowning. “Still can’t believe they just let them waltz into the city on the off chance it took us down a peg.”

“They can’t fight us without losing credibility; and even if they did, they can’t win. We’re one giant black mark on Piggot’s record - honestly, it was a good idea, if you ignore the fact that they’re supposed to be the good guys,” Lisa grumbled, still annoyed. She had really thought that if the Undersiders went on the offensive, the PRT would match them to avoid losing face. Instead, they had just let them take the full brunt of the Teeth without lifting a finger, claiming that the Butcher was too much for them to deal with.

 

It was a decent play, if you ignored all the people living in the city who ended up screwed by the exchange. Make the Undersiders look bad and maybe even force them to ask for help, prove that they couldn’t actually keep the people in the Underside safe.

 

Shame they underestimated the power of sheer fucking spite.

 

“So, are we emptying out the staches and relocating?” Brian asked, much more comfortable in his role of second in command than he ever was as a leader, content to keep the conversation running but not up to corralling this particular horde of cats. “I can start spreading the word, telling people to scatter.”

 

Skitter narrowed her eyes, biting her lip. Lisa had to refrain from rubbing her thighs together at the expression the tall woman had on her face, knowing Alec would give her endless shit about it, the nerve-reading fucker. “We need them together for the plan to work, and if we attack them at home, that works out for us. We need them to think they’re winning, that we’re floundering. Get the Yellowjackets to go to ground, but have them prepare for war.”

Taylor and her stupid fucking bug puns, seriously. Lisa bemoaned the day when Taylor had realized she was cool enough to start naming parts of the gang after herself. Even worse, the so-called ‘yellowjackets’ fucking loved the idea of it, prancing around in their spidersilk undersuits and bike jackets.

“And our resources? We’ve got a lot of cash lying around, cash that they know about now.”

Skitter grinned savagely. “It’s just stuff. Protect the people, let them hit the staches, take what they want. We’ll be getting it all back when we hit them anyways. Two days. Spread the word today, and spend tomorrow resting and getting ready to fucking fight.

 

“Because this Wednesday, we’re going to be pulling Teeth.”

Alec groaned, head thumping against the arm rest, and Aisha sighed loudly before vanishing. Lisa blinked, staring at Alec’s legs for some reason, then shook her head.

 

“That sucked. Like, a lot, and you should feel bad,” she groused, curling up her nose at Taylor, who just shrugged with a smug grin. But it worked - the mood had been reversed, and everyone was reassured. Skitter had spoken, she had a plan, and the plan was fucking terrifying but they trusted her to make it work. 

 

Taylor stood, stretching, and Lisa watched as she started shouldering her emotions again, pulling out of the swarm, Skitter sliding off of her like she was taking off a coat and setting it aside. She sighed, shoulders bowing again, and Lisa finally got up off the chair, reaching down a hand that the other girl accepted, pulling her into a hug.

 

She knew that Taylor was taking her loss hard.

 

“I’m sorry. Were you two close?” she whispered, Taylor holding her tightly.

 

“Not as much as we should have been. He was a family friend, close to us, but we hadn’t really been around much. I actually hadn’t seen him in person since Dad moved to Boston. Kurt was a good friend of his, I’m not looking forward to telling him that I got his old buddy killed.”

“Hey, stop that,” Lisa said, leaning back and flicking Taylor on her nose. “Kurt knew what he was doing when he agreed to help us. They all did. You didn’t make them do anything beyond giving them a chance to finally protect their home, and they wouldn’t want you to be upset with yourself.”

Taylor took a deep breath, holding it in for a moment, then let it loose. She did that three or four times, each breath causing her to relax a little bit more into Lisa’s arms, each exhale expelling a bit of hurt. Finally, she nodded into Lisa’s shoulder, then stood back.

 

“Not that it isn’t always fun to be the extra wheel on whatever fucked up tricycle you guys are riding this week, but can we keep the gay contained to a different room?” Alec drawled, back to tossing his scepter in the air. Lisa glared at him from behind Taylor. Always needing to be the center of attention, huh?

 

“That would mean a lot more if I didn’t know exactly where that scepter has been by this point, Alec,” she hissed, shooting him a glare. “Glass houses much?”

“I think I’d like a glass house, actually. That way everyone could watch when I -”

 

“For fucks sake,” Brian groaned, head thumping against the wall. “Can we go back to discussing how the Butcher wants to kill us in the worst ways possible, please? It would be better than this.”

 

Lisa sighed, leaning forward, head thumping into Taylor’s chest with a soft groan. Honestly, sometimes she hated these people. Most of the time. Pretty much always, actually. She looked up, meeting Taylor’s reluctantly amused smile, and smiled back. “If you need to talk about it, I’m here,” she said quietly.

 

“It’s okay, Lisa. I’m... dealing. Just another thing to keep me angry. I am very much looking forward to seeing the look on that fuckers face when we finally deal with him.”

If we deal with him , Lisa thought, hiding her grimace with the ease of long practice, lips folding into a familiar smirk instead. The odds weren’t great, when it came to actually putting the Teeth’s namesake cape down. Their plan was risky, and probably going to fail in the worst way possible, but they were running short of options.

 

They made do. They always did.

 

“I’ve gotta check in on Amy, tell her we made it out alive. Want to meet up here after? work on finalizing the plans for the Teeth?”

Taylor paused to check the time on her phone, then shook her head. “No, I should start heading back home. I didn’t have time to leave a note, I’m sure that So- My girl-” she began, then froze solid.

 

Lisa’s smirk became gradually less forced as Taylors cheeks slowly turned crimson. Taylor clearly hadn’t meant to [use replacement word to avoid identity, reached for internal references, first word that came to mind was used -] and she knew it was going to be held over her head for a while.

 

“Mh, right, your girl is at home waiting. I must say, I’m looking forward to Brian’s reaction when he finds out exactly who you’re dating , Taylor.”

“Why?” Aisha asked from right in Lisa’s ear, chewing loudly on a piece of gum. “Is it his ex?”

The blonde flinched, whirling on Aisha with a glare, but the younger woman was unfazed with her Imp-mask hanging over the left side of her face, like a ballcap turned sideways. “You are going to get shot at some point if you keep popping up right in my fucking ear like that,” Lisa complained, then paused and patted her side pocket, finding it empty.

Aisha just shrugged, unwrapping another stick of Lisa’s gum and chewing it up, unrepentant. “You’d have to be able to aim first, and we all know your only real weapon is pettiness at this point. Anyways, Tay-tay, spill. Who’s the new girl?” she said, voice much louder than previous.

 

Across the room, Alec tilted his head, still tossing that scepter. Brian turned with an eyebrow raised, plopping down on the now-vacant couch and starting to unlace his boots. “Congrats, Taylor. Have you known each other for long?” he asked, leaning down over his feet.

 

“They went to school together, but they’ve only been dating for four days now,” Lisa chimed in helpfully, knowing that [Skitter’s current expression emotion sign of minimal power usage, Skitter feels emotions more strongly after retreating from swarm senses, Skitters tendencies result in failed communications when flustered -] and just waiting for Taylor’s foot to meet mouth.

 

Taylor hissed out an angry “Me and Sophia are not dating!” before resuming her place as the world's most embarrassed statue. Lisa lifted her hand, lowering her fingers and counting down. Five, four, three, two, one...

 

“Wait,” Brain said, voice confused. “Sophia? That’s a really unfortunate name. Wasn’t one of those girls at Winslow you hated named that?”

The tall woman’s silence was telling.

“And wasn’t she...” Brian continued, looking up from his boots with a look of disbelief tinged with dawning horror.

 

Lisa locked eyes with Taylor, seeing the implication above those bright red cheeks. Those eyes promised retribution, but whispered that it would be much, much worse if Lisa continued. Skitter had a widely known history of repaying insults twofold. It would probably be a very bad idea to continue.

 

Slowly, still staring Taylor right in the eyes, Lisa pulled out her phone, set it to record, and pointed it at Alec. “Taylor’s in love with Shadow Stalker,” she said, and then reveled in the aftermath.

 

Aisha coughed, spitting out her gum on the floor before vanishing. Brian’s expression went from confused to sheer horror in an instant, and Alec, predictably, dropped his scepter taser-first onto his crotch.

Hah. Blackmail for the ages , see if he replaces her coffee with decaf again. 

 

Rachel didn’t even look up, still scratching Bentley’s ears, entirely unconcerned.

 

Taylor closed her eyes, inhaling sharply. “Why are you like this?” She whispered mournfully.

 

“It’s more fun this way,” Lisa said with a grin.

 

“Once all this Butcher stuff is dealt with, I am going to make sure you cannot sit for a week,” she whispered sharply.

 

Lisa smiled wider. “Like I said. More fun this way.”

Brian’s voice was haunted. “She tried to kill me twice,” he whispered, hands by his side.

“Don’t worry,” Alec wheezed, cupping himself as he curled up on the couch. “She’s. Probably been. Punished for it. By now.”

Aisha hummed as she landed on Alec with a jump, slamming into his side as he writhed. “Damn, you move fast, Skitter. Hatefuck of the century, there,” she said with a toast of a soda can, pulled from the fridge. “Wait, is that the girl you were getting all gross with at the gym? Nice.”

“In my fucking gym,” Brian said softly, his tone still bewildered. “Wait, you said you’d been dating for four days? ”

 

“No, no,” Lisa continued gleefully. “They’ve been seeing each other for four days. Sophia asked her out last night.”

Brian slowly sank his face into his hands, expression never moving away from horror as he stared at the floor between his fingers. “Four days,” he repeated.

“I’m sure it would have been two, if it weren’t for the hero thing,” Alec said, grimacing.

 

Rachel finally spoke up, still not looking away from Bentley as she rubbed his ears. “People, please. We’re traumatizing the token straight,” she said gruffly.

 

Brian slowly put his helmet on, flipping the visor down, before resuming resting his head in his hands.

 

Lisa smiled, happy with how things had gone. This whole ‘team mom’ thing was pretty easy. All you had to do was make sure everyone had their chance to be laughed at.

 

---

 

Sophia collapsed into the booth with a groan, rubbing at her temples. She was fucking exhausted , yet again, thanks to the PRT calling them all in to discuss how their plans on dealing with the Teeth hadn’t changed despite the six casualties at the Dock Workers Union headquarters. 

 

If they were just going to waffle on the fucking subject, at least let her sleep the hell in. She had been hoping to check in with Taylor, see if she was okay after her family emergency, but the other woman was busy. Sophia had ended up back at her own apartment for the first time in a few days, to find that it felt even more alien than usual, even less like home. She took a shower and only realized once her hair was wet that her shampoo was at Taylor’s.

 

The PRT meeting had been, as per usual, garbage. She had some sort of interview with a local news crew on Thursday, yet another fluff piece to show off ‘Brockton’s newest star’ as one squeaking PR manager had said, while trying yet again to get Sophia to agree to a boob window.

 

Six hours later, Sophia was counting on the double espresso she was sipping on to get her through the day, while knowing it probably wouldn’t. She sighed, groaning softly, before pulling her biology textbook out of her bag and doing her best to study for a test she was about to fail in two hours.

 

There was a rustle of red hair as Emma slid into the chair across from her. Madison was just a few steps behind her, plopping down in the booth and elbowing Sophia until she caved and scooted over. Sophia shot her a quick glare, before returning to her textbook. “Hey, Emma. How goes it?”

Her friend sighed, leaning back in the chair, immediately launching into a rant about one of her teachers. Madison was already on her phone, tapping away without pause, and they settled into the old routine. Sophia made all the right noises, nodding and shaking her head and ‘yes that sucks’ when prompted.

 

Like nothing had changed.

 

Sophia held in a sigh, looking up and watching Emma talk. The same patterns, as always; the same person, despite it all.

If you had asked Sophia a week ago, she might have said it was a good thing, if she was in the mood to lie. Might have said that it was a sign that her friend had stood strong, that she was still the same person after all she had been through, and that she was better for it. 

 

Emma hadn’t changed, not much at all. But Sophia had, and if you had asked her a week ago, it was a sign that she was the weak one.

 

Old Sophia would have never given Taylor a second glance. Change wasn’t a sign of weakness, was it? Just something everyone was supposed to do, better or worse.

 

Sophia pulled out her phone, letting Emma’s usual tirade wash over her, and shot off a quick text to her... to Hebert.

 

“Who’s that?” the redhead asked, pausing in her complaints about the boy in her political science class, retreading the same old points like grooves carved into a path she couldn’t step off of. “Work bugging you again?”

“No,” Sophia said with a smile. “It’s Taylor.”

The girls froze, each in their own respective ways. Madison lifted her head up, phone pressed flat on the surface of the table, and turned her head away from the two of them without a word. Emma became a statue, smile fixed on her face like it had been carved in with a knife, eyes staring sightlessly forward.

 

Sophia sent the message, humming softly, then pocketed her phone without looking up. She took a sip of her coffee, closed her textbook and pushed it off to the side, and only then looked up, smile still on her lips.

“Haha,” Emma said, a faint sound that almost passed for laughter if you didn’t bother to look closely. “Funny, Sophia. Good joke.”

“I’m serious. She had some sort of incident - a close family friend passed away this morning. I’m a little worried about her,” she said, entirely serious.

 

Madison slowly began to stand. “I’ll - let you two hash this out,” she said softly, gathering her things.

 

“Stay,” Sophia said, surprising them all. “Please. I’d like you to be here. You’re close to me. I’m sorry if I ever gave you an impression otherwise.”

She was surprised to find that she meant the words. Change indeed. Madison met her eyes for a moment, then nodded and sat back down on the edge of the booth.

 

“You can’t,” Emma said, voice flat, still smiling that rictus grin. “You can’t be, be...”

“Dating her? I’m not. Not yet. But soon, I think; maybe tomorrow night. We wanted to get through dinner with my family and Stephen first before committing to anything, I think.”

 

“You’re joking. This is - this isn’t. Happening.” Emma’s smile said, as it slowly pulled its way free of her face. “It’s - a joke. A prank. Something you set up.”

“I’m entirely serious,” Sophia replied, a pang of guilt in her heart. Not for upsetting Emma, not really. This was the response she expected, all things considered; no, she was guilty that the redhead had ever gotten to this point in the first place. That she had ever become this broken shell, never able to get to the point where change was acceptable, much less possible.

 

“It - you can’t like her. You can’t pick her . Not you, not with - not with Taylor,” her friend said quietly, not yelling, not angry. Just. Beaten. Her smile had been replaced with cold, naked fear; her eyes were wide and wet. “You - you’re too good for her. You can’t choose her, not the loser, the fucking reject -”

“Please don’t talk that way about the woman I love,” Sophia said, the words catching the both of them off guard, the first time she had spoken them aloud and yet no less meaningful for it. She paused, considering that concept, and decided she liked it. “I love her. I think this is love, at least, but this is the feeling I always had in mind when I dreamed about it, the thing I wished for whenever I wanted a girl to notice me. She notices me. She makes me happy . Please don’t talk about her like that.”

Emma’s jaw opened and closed, and a tear ran down her face, escaping from the corner of a shell shocked eye. “You can’t,” she whispered again, eyes locked onto Sophia’s face as she desperately searched for a hint of deceit. “You can’t choose her.”

“I am choosing her,” Sophia whispered back, her voice soft but no less stern. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not also choosing you, Emma. It’s not one or the other. You’re my best friend. You mean the fucking world to me, Ems. Those nights you let me crash at your house without question, the times you helped me bandage wounds or fix a split lip or let me collapse onto you, the times you held me as I came the fuck apart - I’m not letting go of those. I refuse to let go of those, Emma. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Then don’t hurt me,” Emma said, voice trembling. “Don’t. Just stop, with - with her. With Taylor. You can’t pick her, Sophia, she’s weak, she can’t, she’s not good for you.”

“That’s not what I’m sorry about, Emma,” Sophia whispered, reaching out and grabbing her friend’s hand. “That’s not what I mean, when I say that I hurt you. I’m sorry that when I found you, I taught you how to be just like me, because I thought it meant I was making you stronger. Not hurting you worse.”

Emma jerked her hand free. Sophia chose not to let it hurt her, knowing that Emma would react as she always did when hurt; with aggression. The way Sophia had taught her to.

“I choose her. And I choose you. I need you to accept that, and understand that one of those things doesn’t mean I can’t have the other. There is no ‘you or her’ to decide from here, Emma. I’m going to keep on holding on to the people I love, regardless of how hard it is.”

Her friend closed her eyes, brow folding inwards, hands fisting atop the table. Finally, she had enough, standing and gathering her things. “I’m - fine. If you want it that way, have it that way. Take your worthless fucking girlfriend. You’re both weak, you deserve each other, you fucking - fucking - monster. You - how could - why -” Emma said, breath panting, drawing the attention of the people in the coffeeshop. She slammed her hands down on the table, crying out, and then turned and quickly ran from the shop, shoving aside a man who was entering without looking back.

 

Sophia sighed, lifting her cup of coffee to her lips and taking a quick sip, then setting it back down with shaking hands. Madison cleared her throat, having kept herself as small and quiet as possible as the two of them... talked.

 

“That went, uhm. Poorly.”

“Actually?” Sophia said, shrugging. “I think that went pretty well, all things considered.”

“She just called you worthless and ran away, and that was the good outcome?” Madison replied, bewildered. Sophia just shrugged.

 

“You have met Emma before, right? Besides, like I told her. I’m going to keep holding on to the people I love. She’ll reach out to me, when she’s able to. If she doesn’t, I’ll just have to reach out to her. Things will be okay.”

Her friend sighed, smiling despite herself. Sophia groaned as the smile became a sly grin. “So. You loooove her, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up. Fuckin’ gremlin. She told me exactly what kinds of filth you’ve been sending her, by the way. What the fuck, Mads? It wasn’t weird enough for you to write smut of me, you had to send it to the girl I’m - seeing?”

 

Madison giggled. “I’ll stop, sorry. Please tell me it was weird when she brought it up, though. Oh, to be a fly on the wall when that one came out.”

“I spit half a gallon of water out my fucking nose, you bitch. And - you don’t need to, uhm. Stop. I think she might be getting ideas .”

Her friend smirked. “Oh?”

Sophia sighed, resigned to yet another moment she would never be able to live down. Her friends kind of sucked, honestly.

 

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

---

 

October 24th, 2016

Dinnertime

 

Taylor stepped out of her truck as Sophia approached the apartment building, the bus she had ridden slowly hissing away as it let off the brakes and started back up. The bus-stop out front had been a godsend, when she was a child; a way to escape anywhere across the city without needing a car of her own. Now, it was like a mix of nostalgia and heartbreak, as she stared up at 109 Taron and Green; a six story building with large glass windows and balconies for each apartment. Upscale, compared to some of the places she had lived in the past, and yet she would trade any of those dingy apartment buildings for this one in a heartbeat.

 

She sighed, turning to take a look at her... at Taylor, as the girl approached, smiling. Taylor was wearing a black tank top under an open yellow jacket, bits of her tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves. Sophia was quietly pleased to note that all her piercings were in place, and she was wearing a pair of torn jeans and combat boots. It was all... unapologetically Taylor, down to the last inch. Her hair flowed free down her back, pinned out of her face with a few clips, and she wore only a bare hint of eyeliner and mascara.

 

She was fucking gorgeous. Sophia couldn’t help herself - she leaned up on her toes as the other woman approached, catching her lips in a soft kiss, sighing out against Taylor’s lips. She could care less who was watching.

 

“Hey you,” Taylor whispered, arms coming down to hold Sophia close, hands settling on her waist. “You look great,” she continued, pulling back a moment to eye her own outfit.

 

The shorter woman grimaced, feeling exposed in the blue skirt she wore under her white blouse and blue cardigan. “Really? I - don’t really dress like this. Often. Only wearing it now because - well. Mom would make some stupid comment about being ‘unfeminine’ if I wore pants of any kind, and I do like them, I just -”

“Hey,” Taylor whispered softly, bending down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry you feel that way. You shouldn’t need to wear anything you don’t want to. If it helps, I think you look wonderful tonight.”

Sophia flushed, as Taylor stood back with a grin.

“Honestly,” the tall woman continued. “I don’t understand how your mom could look at you at any point and find you anything less than the perfect woman.”

“You can’t just say shit like that,” Sophia gawked, face flaming. Who the hell dropped things like that in the middle of conversation?! “Hebert, what - you fucking cheeseball, holy shit. I can’t with you.”

Taylor chuckled, reaching out a hand, and after a moment Sophia took it with a sigh. “Thank you for coming,” Sophia said after a moment, breathing in deep, feeling remarkably more settled with Taylor’s hand in her own. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s fine. Like I said: Nowhere else I would rather be.”

The strangest part was, Sophia believed it.

 

They rode up the elevator to floor three in silence, a familiar trip that would have sent Sophia spiraling into anxiety if Taylor wasn’t there, one hand in her own, the other rubbing careful arcs onto her back. Sophia’s heart felt fit to burst or stop, as the door to 319 approached. That hole in the wall was still there, a tiny little dent Sophia had made with her shoe almost ten years ago now. She wondered if Ms. Gramholm still lived in 320, if she knocked on the door, the older woman would open it with a smile and a plate of snickerdoodles. 

 

She didn’t knock on 320, didn’t want to know if things were the same as when she left them, because they weren’t. They couldn’t be.

They wouldn’t be.

 

“Last chance to back out,” she whispered, knowing what the answer would be even before Taylor responded, and knocked on the door. She looked up at Taylor with a shaky smile, nervous as ever, and waited for it to begin.

 

Her mom opened the door after the third knock, peering out through the cracked sliver, then opened it with a smile. “Sophia!” she called, stepping back to let her in.

 

Sophia felt the loss of Taylor’s hand in hers as she stepped forwards, letting herself be embraced firmly. Her mother held her tightly for a few moments, sighing out in a huge breath. “It’s good to see you again, darling. I missed you.”

“Missed you too, Mom,” Sophia whispered, hating that she meant it.

 

“And who is this?” Terri Hess said, stepping back with a smile. “You brought a friend after all!”

Sophia took a deep breath of her own. “This is Taylor. She’s my... she’s a classmate. We went to highschool together, actually, and we’re in some of the same classes at BBU.”

There was a distinct and visible moment, in the entryway of the apartment, where Terri noticed it all. Saw her daughter with the familiarity of a mother, looked from her to Taylor and noticed the signs. Saw how close they stood together, the way they glanced at each other when Sophia stuttered on exactly what to call her, the soft smiles and looks.

Sophia, in turn, saw the exact moment when Terri locked that realization away. How her eyes went wide, and then slack as she turned away. Her mom didn’t bother to shake Taylor’s hand, didn’t even speak to her, just smiled tightly and changed the subject, chattering about new furniture and how excited the kids would be to see her, shoving Taylor out of mind like a thousand other uncomfortable subjects.

 

Taylor’s hand on her back steadied her, already helping more than words could say. She shot her a quick smile, before following her mother into the room.

 

The rugrats came running, of course. Moni slammed into her side with a happy squeal, and Sophia grinned down, ruffling her little sister's hair. “You’ve gotten so big!” she said with a laugh, mourning the fact that she was already too big to lift up without dislocating something important.

 

“Sophiaaaaa,” her sister cried, peering up. “Missed you!”

 

“Missed you too, rugrat. Oh, this is my friend Taylor,” she said, turning to introduce the other woman. Monica, ever the shy one, stepped to the side and behind Sophia, peering up at the tall woman.

“Nice to meet you, Monica,” Taylor said, smiling down at her sister but making sure not to be patronizing. “Sophia tells me you collect bugs? I know a lot about them, myself.”

And just like that, Monica was gone, now that someone else in the house shared her interest in all things creepy and crawly. Sophia rolled her eyes, already missing the hug, as her sister bounced in front of Taylor, jabbering away at a mile a minute.

 

Ter, her other sibling, wandered up to her. They rolled their eyes at Monica’s antics, standing off to the side with a bored expression. “Friend, huh?” they asked, raising an eyebrow. “Gotta say, you do pick your friends well, sis.”

 

Sophia glared back, playing up a pout, before grabbing Ter and pulling them into a headlock, giving them a noogie to remember. Her sibling writhed, flailing, as Sophia laughed maliciously. “Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t hear you from down there,” she said gleefully, knuckles rubbing against their scalp.

 

“I- Said- your girlfriend is hot,” they whined, before tapping out. “Fine, you big asshole, I’ll stop. Don’t know why I was excited to see you.”

Soph ia turned the headlock into a hug, smiling softly. “Missed you too, brat. How has school-”

“Where’s my girl?” a voice called, loud and happy. A cheerful fellow, when he was in a good place. He sounded like he was in a good mood today; excited and earnestly happy.

 

Sophia froze regardless, one arm around Ter as she heard footsteps approach. She swallowed, putting on a brave face because she knew anything else would be a mistake, and turned as Stephen walked into the room.

 

He looked better. His face was still thin and gaunt, but not as bad as it had been in the past; he wore a short sleeved polo shirt and khaki pants, respectable and showcasing arms free of track marks. Her mom had said that he had tried hard to stay clean, since coming back from rehab, and she supposed it had worked. Probably.

Stephen opened his arms wide, moving towards her, and she flinched back, unable to help herself. He frowned, disappointment flickering across his face, and Ter slowly moved to hug her back.

 

“There you are, Sophie. C’mon, give your old man a hug,” he said, smiling wide like nothing was wrong.

She stood there, remembering that smile and how easily it twisted into a snarl of rage, how quickly he could go from a good man to the worst one in a heartbeat. She still stood there as he approached, arms still raised to his sides.

 

She was still standing there when Taylor smoothly moved between them, extending a hand outwards towards him, a smile on her face, arms bare and exposing lean muscle and colors. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” she said, reaching out and grabbing one of Stephen’s raised hands, pulling him into a handshake.

 

Stephen frowned, his gaunt face pulling to the side as he looked Taylor up and down for a moment, clearly not liking what he saw. “Oh, Terri said that Sophie was bringing a friend. I’m Stephen, her father.”

Taylor leaned in and smiled, her teeth like knives, her eyes like ice. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Stephen. I’m Taylor. Sophia’s girlfriend.”

Ter gawked in Sophia’s arms, their jaw dropping, and Sophia wasn’t much better. Her face felt aflame, but she suddenly felt light, like she had gone shadow and gravity had ceased holding on to her.

Girlfriend? Well, they had talked about it. It was the obvious conclusion, wasn’t it? At the end of this. That was what ‘Not Yet’ meant, after all. A relationship. Partners, being a couple, all that. But they hadn’t really discussed - labels, or -

 

Girlfriend. 

 

Sophia turned away, jaw hurting from her smile, and Ter gave her a quick hug before running to the other room. Stephen let go of Taylor’s hand a few moments later, flexing his knuckles and wincing slightly, before looking between the two of them.

 

Taylor’s hand came to rest on Sophia’s back, and Sophia leaned into her, brave enough to meet his eyes now that she was backing her up. Stephen looked between the two of them, and she could see the moment when he followed her mothers example and decided not to comment, turning on his heel and going to the dining room.

 

“Taking some liberties, are we?” Sophia said softly, looking up at her with a soft smile. Taylor smiled back, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. 

 

“I don’t know, am I?” she asked, and Sophia just sighed, not having an answer. She tugged on her girlfriend’s hand, pulling her into the dining room, suddenly much less anxious about spending an entire meal across from Stephen.

 

It wasn’t going to be enjoyable. But she had the funny feeling that with Taylor by her side, it wasn’t going to be nearly as hard as she had thought.

 

---

 

They sat quietly in Taylor’s truck after the meal, Sophia feeling worn and melancholy. Taylor drove without comment, one hand resting across the center console, their hands threaded together as the streetlights slowly crawled by overhead. 

 

It hadn’t been easy, but it was over, and that was what mattered. Taylor had been invaluable, in more ways than one; Sophia had appreciated her help from the moment she stepped into the door. Her hand on her knee under the table; quietly pressing their knees together whenever her Mom said something mildly chiding; squeezing her hand whenever Stephen spoke up and Sophia reflexively froze.

It had been tame. Remarkably, easy, honestly. Taylor had stepped into the middle of the conversations, directing them with ease, deflecting Terri’s probing questions and keeping the younger siblings talking, deflating Stephen by taking his attention off of Sophia or abruptly changing the subject every time he made to speak up. By the end of it, he had just been eating silently, not bothering to look up at any of them and only asking for food from the table whenever he did speak up.

 

The dinner had been the best one in recent memory, that was for sure. Her siblings had loved Taylor, probably because she kept including them in the conversations, and even her mom had started to come around by the end of the meal, won over by the woman’s easy confidence and encyclopedic knowledge of book series. The only one left out of the loop had been Stephen, but he could fuck himself on a cactus for all she cared.

 

Taylor squeezed her hand once, thumb rubbing a slow circle onto the back of her hand, waiting for Sophia to speak up, just letting her decompress. Sophia appreciated it more than she could put into words, how she remained close by to provide support but knew Sophia would need time to process.

 

“Can we go to the gym?” Sophia said finally, unable to put much else into words. She felt energetic, contained in a body that was too small for her, like she needed to move and do something to burn off energy but she was trapped in a space too claustrophobic to do so. She just needed to run for a bit; clear her head with the familiar feeling of feet pounding on rubber. Taylor just nodded, swerving into a different lane without pause, rerouting them from memory.

 

Sophia sighed, settling back into the chair. “Thank you,” she said, turning to look at Taylor, eyeing the woman’s face in profile as it was illuminated in turns by the street lights. “Don’t know how I would have gotten through it without you.”

“You would have. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Taylor said, turning the wheel as they rode towards Labornes. “But I’m glad you didn’t end up doing it alone. I am sorry that you’ve needed to deal with that.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not, babe. It’s really, really not. But I understand why you might think it is. I - don’t have the best relationship with my dad, even still. After my mother died, he basically fell apart, left me on my own. Had to do a lot of growing up despite that. Even now, when we’ve recovered a bit, learned to move on, I still have problems trusting him. Coming to him with important things. More importantly, it took me a long time to accept that it was okay . That I didn’t need to force things to work out between us; that just because things were broken didn’t mean I had to be the one to fix them. It’s not fine that you need to deal with that, but it’s not on you to make them better.”

Sophia didn’t know how to answer that, so instead she focused on something else, already scraped too raw tonight. “Babe?” she asked, voice leading.

 

Taylor turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, babe. Or would you prefer something else? Sweetheart? Darling? Love? Princess? ... Kitten? ”

 

She shivered, pulling her hand free from Taylor’s grasp to cover her face. “You- you’re a fucking dork, do you know that?”

“I’m an English Lit major, it was implied.”

“We’re talking about this. After the gym.”

 

Taylor hummed, smiling softly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

They entered the gym hand-in-hand, bags slung over their shoulders, to the grin of the receptionist. “Keep it out of the locker room, please. Just had the floors washed,” the younger woman called as they walked by, waving at them with a smirk. Sophia flushed, but Taylor just rolled her eyes, tugging on Sophia’s hand so their shoulders bumped together.

 

Sophia undressed swiftly, climbing into her workout clothes and doing her best not to ogle Taylor as she stripped, and failed. The taller woman shot her a smirk over her shoulder, bare back rippling as she tugged on a sports bra. Sophia swallowed, tracing the tattoos with her eyes.

 

“Do they mean anything?” she called, pulling on her own shorts and tying the knots. “Your tattoos.”

Taylor nodded, lifting one foot onto the bench to reach her laces. “Yes, they all represent something specific. I’ll tell you tonight, if you’re up to it?”

She considered the idea of that. The two of them laying in bed, Taylor nude, Sophia slowly tracing the tattoos and listening to Taylor’s low voice, huskily describing each book or life moment or person that the tattoo represented, running her hands along her body, finding bits of ink in every inch of skin...

 

“That, uh. Sounds good,” she squeaked, and Taylor laughed, swatting out with a towel.

 

“I don’t know if you’ll find it as fun in the moment,” the tall woman said with a smirk, meeting her eyes. “I get the feeling that-”

Taylor froze, turning her head to the side, staring at the wall. Sophia blinked, confused, and turned to see what had caught her eye.

 

Something thudded in the distance, a low bang. It sounded vaguely familiar- where had Sophia heard something like that before? A few seconds later, it happened again, the bang louder this time, then louder, then suddenly there was a massive explosion somewhere nearby - inside the building.

“Taylor! Check your phone, woman,” a voice said from just feet away. Sophia whirled, hand already raised to strike, but pulled back when she saw that it was just the receptionist, Aisha. How had the younger girl gotten that close without her noticing??

 

Sophia’s confusion vanished into fear as the woman continued. “We’re under attack from the Butcher,” she said, and Taylor cursed.

There was another massive bang in the hallway - Butcher’s teleportation, that’s what it was. Sophia cursed, looking to her gym bag, knowing that she had a backup costume hidden in the bottom.

Fuck, this was not how she wanted to come out to Taylor.

The tall woman was unexpectedly unphased, her expression one of anger rather than fear. “Evacuate the building, then get to the lower office. Stall him if you can,” she said, and Aisha nodded before -

 

Sophia blinked, eyeing the row of lockers. What had she been thinking of? There was another massive bang nearby, and she hissed, staring at her bag with longing. 

 

Fuck it. She had no clue why the Butcher was here of all places, but she wasn’t going to just stand by and let him rip down a building that was coming to mean so much to her. It wasn’t the way she had been thinking of coming clean about the hero business, but secrets were less important than keeping Taylor safe.

 

She ripped open her gym bag, digging through, quickly tearing at the hidden pull-tab and yanking off the false bottom. An old Shadow Stalker uniform sat there, and she reached in, grabbing the mask and turning, planning to explain to Taylor somehow. She froze, staring, mask suddenly limp in her fingers as she saw her girlfriend standing there.

 

There was a mask in the other woman’s hand as well. Black and gray, with yellow lenses that caught the light, and mandible carvings where the mouth would have been. A familiar mask; one that Sophia had seen time and time again, on the face of the most feared cape in the Bay. Taylor reached up, affixing it to her face, and turned.

 

Skitter stared at her, and Sophia stared back.

 

Chapter 9: Chapter Nine

“Go, go, go!” Sophia called, hand on the back of an older man, shoving him through the emergency exit. The man fled into the night, hands over his head as he sprinted away. Sophia grimaced, watched him go, and then slammed the door closed before running back into the gym.

There was another massive bang down the hall, as a figure appeared, silhouetted by flames that licked at the wall. A piece of rebar hissed over her head, heated and glowing red, thrown by the force of Butcher’s teleportation. Sophia went shadow reflexively, just in time for a hail of bullets to rip through her, each shot trailing black mist behind it. She grimaced, tightening her hold on her form, pulling the smoke back in and darting in a thin trail of shadow through a nearby door, appearing in a changing room with a grimace.

“That’s the last of the civvies out!” she called loudly, ratcheting back her crossbow and loading up another few darts. She pressed up to the door, taking a moment to catch her breath. Outside, that whirring sound continued, Butcher keeping his signature minigun revved up. There was a sudden cough and grinding noise, as the cacophony ended with a screech. 

“Good. Just gummed up his minigun, he’ll probably find someplace to drop it before coming back. Your tranq darts will work, if you can pierce his armor. Remember, focus on nonlethal - ” the bugs in the room answered, a thick coating of them running down the walls. Sophia snarled.

“I know what I’m doing,” she hissed quietly, glaring at the bugs. There was no clone or face or set of firefly eyes this time; just a few thousand bugs hanging unnaturally still on the wall. Enough for Taylor - Skitter - to listen and talk to her. She had been using the changing rooms as cover from the mad cape’s rampage, as the Undersiders did - whatever the fuck they were doing. Hiding paperwork, or something, because the Butcher was after it and her favorite gym was actually a front for one of the most powerful cape organizations on the East Coast - and they were only that strong because of Taylor who was fucking Skitter all this time -

Fuck, she couldn’t think about that right now. Not with a mass-murdering Villain on the other side of this door. She took a deep breath, then burst through the door, emerging into a hallway that was hazy with smoke and stained with scorch marks.

And also, of course, empty. She cursed as she looked around, but the Butcher had vanished. Must have teleported somewhere she couldn’t hear the end-explosion of his power.

An arrow of bugs formed in front of her face, flying insects gathering into a cloud from every angle, clinging onto each other and hovering in formation. Sophia eyed the arrow of bugs, the point tilted upwards, and grimaced. She looked up, tapping the side of her mask and watching the overlay feature, as glowing red lines appeared. Wires in the walls, highlighted to the tracking visor, outlining the structure of the building. The spot above her was clear, thankfully.

Sophia grimaced, rolling her shoulders, then jumped onto a nearby locker. Her sneaker-covered foot caught on the depression where the door latch lay, and she tensed, using that leverage to throw herself upwards. The jump would have ended far short of the roof, but went shadow at the last minute, the resulting shift in her body weight meant the jump was more than enough to make up the distance.

She burst through the floor and into the room above, reforming with a grimace. It looked like a simple office - the room for a manager of some sort, with about a dozen filing cabinets. A bit much, for a gym.

Then again, this wasn’t just a gym, was it? 

Figures in the room belied the truth of that, giving context she had been lacking before. The receptionist was crouched over a black duffle bag, still wearing the same clothes as before, a grinning white demon mask pushed up over her hair, a vest with several knives thrown over her loose band t-shirt. Tay - Skitter stood there as well, mask over her face, wearing the armor portions of her costume over her gym clothes. Without the black fabric, it was so much easier to see who was under that mask - layers of color and ink, familiar by exposure and experience at this point. Firm muscles and soft skin and -

And the fucking swarm of bugs, hanging from nearly every fixture in the room. Ants crawled through the carpet, manilla envelopes and sheafs of paper on their backs; spiders dragged folders with tow lines of silk; wasps and dragonflies worked in concert, leafing through filing cabinets and tearing apart select papers with their mandibles.

Through it all, Skitter stood there, not bothering to turn and acknowledge Sophia’s arrival. She was mid-conversation with Imp - because who else could it be, if not for the Undersiders terrifying Stranger? - holding a knife in a loose grip, a pistol tucked into the armor on her legs.

“- Just let him have the cash, Imp. It’s not worth the trouble, remember? The plan we talked about?”

Imp groaned angrily, reaching into the desk in front of her and opening a drawer, pulling out a wad of bills, then dropping it when Skitter stepped forwards. “Skits, this is like a third of our cash -”

“We’ll get it all back tomorrow, and then some. Remember the plan?”

“And if we don’t?”

T - Skitter sighed, the voice familiar. “Then we have bigger problems. We’ll get it back, and if we don’t, it’s just money, we can get more. Take the documents and go , Imp.” Sophia watched her shift, crossing her arms, legs flexing under the plates of black armor. How had she not fucking seen it, at this point? How had Sophia -

Not. Now.

Her turmoil wasn’t helped when Skitter turned to look at her, those yellow lenses framed by that unmistakable mane of black curls. “Thanks for getting the last of the civilians out, Shadow Stalker,” she said, still speaking normally. Without the cover of bugs to disguise the voice, it was easy to hear those familiar tones. 

“Don’t thank me for doing my job,” Sophia replied, voice harsh. “Where’s the Butcher now?”

Skitter watched her for a moment longer, yellow lenses tilting, staring into her own smirking mask. Finally she sighed, turning away.  “Butcher Fifteen prefers hit-and-run tactics to the all-out brawls his predecessors used. He likes to teleport into odd areas, places outside of my range, and then quickly drop back in from angles I don’t expect. Last week, he teleported up to get out of my view, then dropped in on us at near-terminal velocity. He’s probably hiding somewhere nearby, maybe in one of the lockers or a cleaning closet - he’s been dropping smoke grenades, and my swarm is starting to lag.”

“So he could be on us at any second, and you’re in here... what? Filing paperwork?” Sophia said, kneeling down to check the straps on her shin-guards. “Great use of time, honestly.”

“It’s not that simple, babe -”

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking babe me, Taylor. Not - just no. Don’t you fucking dare.” The words were raw , heated, pulling themselves out like they were escaping, not just being said.

On the ground between them, Imp cleared her throat. Sophia turned her glare onto the younger woman, who flicked her eyes between the two of them. “Yeah, I don’t need to be here for this,” the Stranger said, pulling down her mask and zipping up the duffle bag on the ground. “I’m just gonna -”

Sophia blinked, glaring at the empty ground, then turned back to Taylor. “Do we run?” she said after a moment, standing from her crouch and re-adjusting her crossbows. “Butcher is a bit beyond me, in more ways than one.”

“I can’t,” Skitter said, standing tall. Bugs on the walls were beginning to hiss and writhe as she stood there, shoulders back and still. “If I leave too soon, Butcher will know we did it on purpose. Someone has to put up a front, act like we lost the battle instead of giving it to him. It’s part of the plan.”

“Right. The plan ,” Sophia said, biting back the urge to ask what part she played in the plan. Had she just been another little piece to move on the Undersiders board, someone to make friends with, get someone ‘on their side’ in the PRT?

She didn’t think that was the case. This - they - it had been real. But...

But.

“So the plan is, you send Imp away and fight the Butcher alone until you either escape or he fucking kills you? Great plan, Skitter,” she said, biting back the sudden pang of fear and covering it the way she always had.

“I don’t know,” Taylor said, turning back to her, slinging a bag over her shoulder. “Am I fighting alone?”

“Fuck you,” was the reflexive reply. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t made a fucking public building the head of your operations. You got civilians dragged into this, Skitter. Part of me thinks I should just let the Villains duke it out.”

“It’s not that simple -”

“Not just Villains and Heroes, I get it, I was there for the last time you conned me into trusting you. Spare me the speeches, Skitter. Fine. What’s the plan?”

Sophia couldn’t see the expression on Taylor’s face, but the sudden sag in her shoulders was familiar enough for her to know the other woman was frowning under that mask. Skitter sighed, a sound that was echoed by the swarm around her, then firmed up.

“Fighting retreat. When he starts coming back, I’m going to start running, carrying these bags with me. Eventually I’ll be forced to drop them in the fighting and run, and he’ll hopefully take the bait and leave us alone.”

The Hero sighed, tilting her head back and ignoring the flux of emotions that brought with her, pushing it down and focusing. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Sophia started, “I’m not doing this -” for you? Well, that was a lie, wasn’t it? Why else would she be here, fighting the fucking Butcher, one of the few capes in the bay with a ‘Flee-on-sight’ order? If she was following orders, she’d be running the fuck away at this point, clearing out and calling for backup.

Me and my stupid fucking heart, yet again . Taylor slowly reached up, pushing her mask up off her face, looking out from under with brown eyes and a smile. Sophia didn’t return the favor, clinging to her own mask like a lifeline, using it to hold back all the things she wanted to say but really didn’t have the time for.

Was it real? she wanted to ask, wanted to scream. She wanted to hear an explanation, wanted to know why Taylor hadn’t said something - how long the other woman had known . How long had Taylor been sitting with all the cards in her hand, playing the long game when Sophia couldn’t ever see the board?

The most important thing to remember about Skitter was that she was always one step ahead. Each plan had a hidden goal, and each action was a misdirection.

Sophia was desperately hoping this hadn’t been just another scheme, just another way to get some support on the inside. A way to get a hero in her back pocket and keep eyes on the PRT. Fuck, they hadn’t even sugarcoated it that night at the bookstore, had they? They wanted someone in their corner.

And here she was, suddenly pinned by the walls and that scared smile, tricked into it by a mouth that had whispered such sweet things in one ear and cajoled promises in the other. 

She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders. Not the time. They could talk about it later, figure things out. Fuck, she hoped they could figure things out. If she lost Taylor now, after tonight, after all this -

What the fuck else did she have left?

In the distance, there was a loud bang, and Skitter turned towards it. The Villain drew her pistol in one hand and a knife in the other, and Sophia followed suit. She shot a brief glance at Skitter, suddenly acutely aware that they were about to fight a cape that had killed hundreds of parahumans over their collective career. 

“Don’t die on me,” she said softly, raising her crossbows.

“Back at you,” Taylor said, turning her masked face to meet Sophia’s own. She nodded, once, as another bang rang out, closer. “He’s coming. Get ready to run, but make him fight for it.”

There was no more time for talk, as suddenly a bang rang out in the room they were in. A sphere of fire flared out, painting the room in bright hues of red and orange, insects suddenly burning to cinders in the air, raining down like ashes from a campfire. Butcher grinned, brandishing two massive concrete axes, and whirled into the fray.

Sophia let loose two darts, rushing forward and letting the axes pass through her, swirling around the cape and appearing behind him, lashing out with a kick to the back of his knee. He didn’t even stumble, swinging with a backhand that nearly took off Sophia’s head as she dropped backwards into smoke, reforming herself in a crouch.

Gunshots rang out, muffled by the ear protection in her mask, as Skitter opened fire. Insects rushed Butcher as he cackled madly, striking with axes and sprinting forwards, a swirling black tide of chitin rising off the ground to meet him. One shot, two, three, four - Skitter didn’t so much as pause, walking backwards with her gun raised and not bothering to look away from the other Villain. Her shots hit him in the joints repeatedly, one for each knee and elbow.

Butcher was unimpeded by the bugs and gunfire, not bothered in the slightest as bullets chipped away at skin as if it were stone rather than flesh. He jumped into the air, howling with an animalistic scream, and Skitter barely side-stepped the attack as two heavy axes cratered the floor where she had been a moment prior.

Sophia fired at his back, coating her bolt in shadow so it would pass through his armored skin and deliver its payload. Right as the arrow was about to hit, he spun -

Then appeared behind her with a burst of explosive force and red light. The force of the explosion actually pushed her right into the wickedly sharp edges of those heavy stone axes, and only a quick shift saved her from being carved in half by the weight of the blow. She floated through the floor, letting gravity take her, and landed back on the hallway below.

Gunshots rang up above, followed by the pitter-patter of heavy footfalls and that constant thrumming sound of Skitters swarm, millions of bodies pouring into every hole, rushing out of every dark nook and cranny. They crawled up the walls in efficient lines like flowing ink in reverse, running up the walls and hissing through the air.

A collection of fireflies formed on the roof, forming into odd ovals. Sophia frowned as they began to move, and realized after a moment that the bugs were showing Butcher’s feet as the cape walked down the hall. Sophia raised her crossbows, tracking the fireflies as they moved, waiting.

Butcher had a wide variety of powers, but they were all lesser versions of the original. Fifteen powers was still a lot of leeway to play with, but it left gaps, weaknesses the original wouldn’t have had.

The Eighth Butcher, Ifrit, had been the one to introduce what was his strongest power - short-range teleportation, which caused a massive explosion wherever he arrived. The teleport had been longer ranged and quicker to recharge when Ifrit had held it; unfortunately the strength of the explosion didn’t seem to be reduced at all as it was passed down the line. But there was a weakness to be exploited - Butcher needed exactly six seconds to recharge between each teleport, and that was a window that left him open.

Waiting, waiting, waiting -

There were three more shots from above, and then a massive bang. Sophia whirled, watching as the fireflies darted further down the hall and settled under a pair of running feet. She snarled, then fired a barrage of five shots, each of them coated in shadow, before jumping back up through the ceiling.

She appeared to a hellscape of fire and swirling insects, a cloud so thick she could barely see the walls and floor around them. Two more gunshots rang out, as a male voice screamed in rage.

Got you, fucker.

A path in the bugs formed, a thin line right at Sophia’s eye level so she could see what was going on. Butcher was on the ground, Skitter several feet away, gun held in her hand. The ground at his feet was distorted, as if it had been splashed upwards like a puddle being stomped in only to settle in the air, mid-wave. One dart was wedged midway between the head of his ax, the blunted head of the projectile poking a few inches through the concrete.

One dart stuck out from his arm, its payload delivered.

It wouldn’t be enough to knock him out, not with his regeneration, but it would be enough to stall him, slow him. The Teeth cape hissed angrily, shaking his head.

Sophia didn’t rest on her laurels. She raised her arms and fired more shots, hoping to drown out his regeneration with enough tranquilizers to put down a herd of elephants. Butcher snarled, not even looking at her as he stood, raising his ax in a sweeping uppercut -

Then appeared right in front of Taylor, ax swinging upwards!

Skitter didn’t even stumble, twirling on her foot, knife flashing as if she had expected the attack - hell, she probably had. Her knife snuck in between the armor plates of his arm, sinking in and coming away bloody; the Butcher howled and dropped his ax. She didn’t pause, raising her gun and falling to a crouch to dodge his second ax, then pressing the barrel of her pistol right to the back of his knee and firing once, twice, three times. The third shot exploded outwards, a splatter of red coating the insects in the air.

The bugs began to swarm instantly, pouring into the weakness she had made as Butcher dropped his second ax and fell to the floor, screaming with rage and pain. He vanished, and a bang sounded out in a nearby room as he teleported away.

“Six seconds,” Taylor called, spinning on her heel and resuming her walk towards the stairwell, ejecting the magazine of her pistol and swiftly reloading. Sophia quickly followed suit, reaching to her side and grabbing a fresh clip of darts, sliding it into her right crossbow as she kept a wary eye on the hallway.

Four, three, two, one...

Butcher appeared behind Skitter, lashing out with a roughly made knife of steel that looked to be taken from the lockers downstairs. Skitter didn’t even pause to look behind her, just taking a single step to the side and raising the pistol behind her back, firing twice at Butcher’s already injured knee. The Teeth cape snarled again, stumbling and falling to the ground, leg unable to support him.

The linoleum began to shudder and warp into his hands, crawling up into his grasp as he made a new weapon. Sophia didn’t give him a chance, firing the last of the darts in her left crossbow in tandem with her freshly-refilled right.

Butcher abandoned his weapon to form a shallow wall that he ducked behind. Taylor kept firing at him, and his shouts of pain gave way to the fact that the blows were landing true. Butcher stood, using a roughly made spear in his hand for leverage, and then turned to glare at Sophia. His smile turned sinister as his eyes suddenly glowed a bright red.

Rage, raw and unfiltered, filled her. The sort of raw anger she had only felt once or twice in her life, the sort of sheer, unending hate that would have driven her to attack mindlessly in years before. But that wasn’t her reaction any longer.

Anger was a crutch.

The Protectorate ENE had been training for this moment, ever since the Teeth started filtering into town. Gallant had been blasting them with anger repeatedly, forcing them into mindless rages like Butcher was able to, and they had done it until their reaction to sheer rage wasn’t to fight but flee. Sophia went shadow and fell through the floor, the anger fading like water as soon as she left Butcher’s line of sight.

Gunshots sounded above, and Sophia realized abruptly that Taylor wouldn’t have that protection. She cursed, quickly reloading her left crossbow. Out of clips - she didn’t really carry much ammo in her gym bag, for obvious reasons. She leaped back up, expecting the worst and hoping desperately that Taylor hadn’t been tricked into the sort of fight the Butcher wanted.

A spear swing nearly took her head off as she emerged, Butcher lashing out towards her as she re-solidified. Sophia fell backwards with a yell, firing blindly. She looked up from the floor, eyeing the hallway.

Taylor was slumped against the ground at the end of the hall, pinned through the arm by a spear of white linoleum. The woman still had her pistol raised in her other hand, not seeming to be bothered by the spear at all, firing two more shots at the Butcher’s back as the cape advanced towards Sophia.

Butcher didn’t seem phased at all, grinning sickly, his stride not at all bothered by the fact that his knee had been red mush just a few minutes before. He carried another spear in his hand, this one seeming to be made of the brown metal of a doorframe. Sophia shifted just enough to change her position, reforming in a crouch and nimbly ducking a spear strike, pushing the blow away with her forearm and hissing from the force of it. Fuck, but he hit like a truck.

She ducked back, waiting, waiting, just dodging and flowing through his attacks as his temper began to rise. He glared at her again, flooding her with rage, and she merely shrugged off the blow with a quick shift. He set the nerves of her body alight with unending pain, but the joke was on him - her reaction to pain had been to shift away from it since the moment she got this power.

Every stab pushed aside and every dart she fired just made him more and more livid. The new Butcher seemed like an animal, barely even present as he lashed out with mindless fury. If she didn’t know better, she would think his rage-inducing power worked on himself as well.

Finally, the moment happened - he flicked his eyes behind her, over her shoulder. Teleporters were pretty predictable, once you were used to them.

She jumped up -

A wall of heat hit her back, scorching her exposed skin -

She went shadow -

The force of the explosion hit her smoke form like a swift breeze through mist, pushing her down the hallway. Sophia held herself together with great effort, forcing herself into the tightest ball she could to keep her shadow form from bursting apart. She wasn’t immune to damage in this state; a strong enough force could and would kill her.

Not this one, though. She rode the force of his explosion down the hall, reforming in a slide on her knees that carried her skidding down the linoleum towards Taylor. She came to a stop just a few feet away, standing with a hiss and grabbing the spear in her arm and turning it to smoke, pulling it aside but keeping a firm grip on it.

Skitter didn’t waste any time, kicking up off the floor smoothly, one arm dangling by her side. She turned to eye the back sitting in the middle of the hallway, and moved as if to grab it.

Sophia grabbed her by the shoulder. “We don’t have fucking time, Skitter! Move!” she said loudly, pushing the Villain towards the stairwell behind them. She carried the spear in her hands still, running dangerously low on weapons already.

Butcher took that as his sign to move, teleporting down the hall between them and the bag. Skitter swore loudly but began to retreat, gun trained on the man in front of them. Bugs formed a thick screen between him and them, clogging the doorway, coating the walls, rushing at him with stinging force as they began their retreat.

They were halfway down the first flight of steps when Butcher jumped through the cloud of bugs, bag over his shoulder and spear pointed towards them with intent to skewer. Sophia shifted through the railing as Skitter swiftly stepped to the side, firing twice and backpedaling down the steps, eyes never leaving Butcher as she continued her quick walk. 

He just smiled savagely, reaching out to the wall with one hand and scraping away at the concrete, pulling it to him like putty. A massive sword began to take shape, longer than she was tall and easily twice as heavy. Butcher dropped his own spear, swinging at air with the sword -

“DOWN!” Sophia shouted, grabbing Taylor and pulling her back, the stolen spear clanging against the railing. They were just in time to dodge the oversized blade as Butcher appeared right above them, stone edge slamming into the wall with the sound of crumbling stone. She fired two more darts, gratified to see them sink home, but hissed as the next attempts to fire ran empty. 

Skitter fired as well, pistol barking three times, each shot hitting Butcher in the arm. He merely smiled, pulling the sword free and hefting it over his shoulder, beginning to leisurely walk towards them. Skitter’s next shot clicked empty, and she swiftly tossed the weapon to the side and pulled out another combat knife.

“Shit,” Sophia said softly. They emerged from the stairwell into a burning hallway, limping from the damage they had taken and out of ammo to keep the man at bay. He didn’t bother to teleport, just stalking forward slowly, grinning madly.

“Run,” Taylor said, voice flat. “You can get out of here.”

“Shut the fuck up and fight,” Sophia hissed, offended that she had even suggested the idea.

Butcher swung his blade again, and Sophia desperately blocked with her spear. The weight of the blow tossed her to the side, spear snapping, and she flew until she hit a bank of lockers and fell to the floor.

“SOPHIA!” Sk-Taylor cried out, but soon the other woman had bigger things to worry about, dodging to the side and lashing out hopelessly with her knife, stabbing down at Butcher’s shoulder. Sophia watched, coughing weakly, as the knife glanced off of his armor. Butcher’s careless backhand struck Taylor across the face, sending her to the floor.

Well. Sophia struggled to move, grimacing at the pain in her chest - three broken ribs, easily. Internal bleeding, judging by the taste of blood in her mouth. Fun times. She gripped the remaining half of the spear, wobbling to her feet, stumbling to the wall as Butcher raised the sword over his head, stone blade carving a furrow into the ceiling as he began his swing. Insects began to flood in around him, clawing at his face, biting at his fucking eyes , but the man just laughed loudly and kept moving.

There was something she could do. Something she had been expressly told to never do, not once, not ever. Risky, but if the alternative was watching Taylor die - well. She wasn’t sure how she felt right now, but she knew sitting by while the woman she - she loved died wasn’t an option.

Sophia became shadow, rushing towards them, and solidified behind Butcher. She reformed, thrusting out with her hands.

The spear in her hand, still made of shadow, passed through his stomach, a black bar of mist appearing out the other side of his torso.

She let go.

Butcher stumbled, sword dropping from his hands as he fell to the side, two feet of power-carved floor poking through his stomach. Sophia didn’t stop to see the results, just running towards Taylor, ignoring the throbbing ache in her chest as she held out a hand to help the woman up to her feet. Taylor nodded at her, eyeing the Butcher as the man stumbled, clutching at the bar of metal. Sophia didn’t think it was lethal; but testing had shown objects that solidified inside of living material superimposed themselves on the space they occupied. That inch-thick area in Butcher’s stomach wasn’t just pierced; it no longer existed .

Bugs continued to swarm around him as he howled angrily, reaching down and grabbing the pole, sliding it out with a slick sound and a red splatter onto the floor. Sophia bent down to recover the pointed half of the spear, standing as tall as she could. Skitter brandished her knife, the both of them putting on a brave face they really couldn’t back up. She felt like a stiff breeze would knock her over at this point.

The Teeth cape eyed them, and Sophia watched as he stared out, one of his eyes just gone , wasps and flies crawling in the empty socket. His remaining eye flicked between the two of them, from Skitter to Shadow Stalker, then flicked back quickly to Taylor.

He grinned. Sophia was horrified to see that half his left cheek had been eaten away, a grim smile poking through the empty space. The Butcher chewed for a few moments, then turned to the side and spit out a mouthful of bugs, flesh, and blood.

Butcher raised a hand, pointing at Taylor but locking eyes with Sophia. He opened his mouth, speaking the first words he had said the entire fight.

“She knew exactly what she was doing,” he said with a grin, and then vanished. A bang sounded in the distance, and then a few seconds later, another, quieter. 

Sophia smiled softly, falling to the floor with a groan, legs splayed in front of her as she sat for a moment.

Just... just a moment of rest. 

“Sophia?” someone said nearby, voice distant and growing fainter. Sophia hummed, smiling, and then went to sleep.

 

 

Sophia woke up to see a woman wearing way too much eye-liner staring back at her, and a gnawing hunger in her stomach. The woman blinked, stepping back, and turning away to close something beside her. A tub of some sort? Sophia groaned, blinking blearily, and sat up with a wince. Where...

A pizza box landed in her lap without any fanfare. “Eat up,” the woman said, locking up the tub and pushing it to the side. “It’s cold, but hey, at least it’s not room temp. Hope you don’t mind pineapple on your pizza.”

Sophia recognized the voice, somehow. “Where -”

“Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to play twenty questions,” the woman said, frowning sharply. “Eat your fucking food before your body starts eating itself, I had to pull from your muscle mass to fix your side. Your left lung was basically a collapsed balloon by the time you got here, not to mention the severe spinal damage. Seriously, how did you even stand?”

The hero let her head fall back against the wall, sighing. “Adrenaline is a hell of a drug,” she said, before taking a longer look around the room.

It was a simple bedroom, by the looks of it. Dresser against the wall, closet with the door half-open, showing a variety of mens coats and sweatshirts. She was sitting in a decent sized bed, covers fallen to her hips.

She was back in her outfit from the dinner, as well. Someone had dressed her. Sophia had the funny feeling she knew exactly who.

The woman continued to shuffle about, grabbing at a few items - blood-stained bandages, from the looks of it - and otherwise ignored Sophia. The hero squinted at her, trying to place that familiar-ish tone. She got it eventually.

“Panacea..?”

“Quick on the uptake, I see,” the woman said, rolling her eyes. The healer - because now that she thought about it, who else could it be? - was far different from the last time she had seen her. Her hair was cut short and dyed purple, and she was wearing a metal-band t-shirt over a pair of torn jeans, black spiked bracelets and chokers completing the outfit. “And it’s just Amelia, thanks. I don’t do the name shit anymore. No point to it.”

“Power to you,” Sophia mumbled, flipping open the pizza box. She was ravenously hungry, and even the sacrilege of pineapple on pizza didn’t stop her from chowing down. “So,” she said between bites, “did you raid a Hot Topic for your outfit or what?”

“I really don’t feel like you have a leg to stand on there, Shadow Stalker . I feel your judgment, and I reject your judgment.”

Sophia shrugged. “Just curious. It’s a new look, at least for me. I usually don’t get to see you when you put my outsides back on the insides. Looks good, honestly. Digging the ‘intentionally poor bedside manner’ chic.”

Amelia smiled grimly, black lips quirked up. “My girlfriend tells me that I dress like this to, quote, ‘disguise the fact that I am actually a giant, angry marshmallow.’ I just like that people have stopped trying to reach out and touch me when I visit hospitals.”

The healer stared at her for a moment longer, and eventually Sophia looked away, munching on her heretical pizza. She focused on the room harder, eyeing the dresser, the window with the blinds closed, the closet door, the divots on the ceiling. Anything to keep herself from thinking .

She knew exactly what she was doing .

“Hey,” came a voice from the foot of the bed. Sophia turned, eyeing the healer, who stood there with an awkward expression on her face. “They’re not as bad as you think they are. Li-Tattletale filled me in on a few things. The Undersiders are a pile of fuckups, don’t get me wrong, but they’re, like, reasonable fuckups? Fuckups for a good cause?”

Sophia grimaced, as Amelia poked right in the heart of her issues. Panic, sharp and angry, clawed at her gullet like it was going to burst out.

She fell back on old habits. “Forgive me if I don’t believe the word of the woman who swapped sides like she changed outfits,” she said brusquely, turning away.

The other woman huffed, turning away quickly. “I’ll choose not to hold that against you, but next time you say some shit like that I’m dropping you a cup size.” She walked to the door and threw it open.

“Sadly there was nothing I could do, she’s fuckin’ dead. Sorry,” Amelia called into the hallway, then walked out of sight.

“WHAT?” a familiar voice called out, frantic with worry. Sophia barely had enough time to sputter before Taylor was in the doorway, eyes wide as she gripped the frame. Someone laughed in the hall, low and startled.

“You can’t just say shit like that -” a woman’s voice said, laughing, but it faded away as Taylor closed the door behind her, staring like she was drinking in the sight of her. The taller woman slumped against the door, sighing.

“I regret ever introducing her to Lisa,” she said softly, still staring at Sophia. She was still wearing her armor over her gym clothes, coated in soot and hair tangled as if she had been running her hands through it.

Part of her longed to reach out to Taylor, pull her in, hold her. Just let loose with the joy that she was alive and okay and here , cry into her, because she had been so fucking worried, so fucking scared that either of them might end up alone at the end of that fight. Terrified because suddenly that was a possibility, a thing that could actually happen - Taylor was a cape, and that meant her odds of living to see tomorrow were drastically lower than most people’s. 

The rest of her... the rest of her wanted to make sure Taylor stayed as far away as possible.

Panic rose like bile in her throat. 

Those were the hands that had held her own, caressed her hips, tangled themselves in her hair; but they were also the ones that had taken down countless fighters, holding knives, guns, batons, and lengths of wire to garrote. 

Those eyes were the ones that she couldn’t help but be lost in, the ones that filled with mirth and humor, that looked at her as if she were someone worth seeing; but they were also the cold and unfeeling lenses that had been the last sight of more than just a few people in the city, a signature stare that sat in the nightmares of her and her comrades.

That mouth had pressed itself to her own, had whispered such wonderful things, had caressed the length of her neck and thighs and each knuckle of her hands; was the same one that ordered violence and death on a scale that left the city reeling, the one that spoke with a voice from a million mouths.

Taylor was Skitter. And Skitter... was not to be trusted. Always a step ahead. Always planning, scheming, reacting with audacity where another person might dare think of discretion.

It should have been unthinkable, that this was all just a front, a scheme, some sinister web Sophia had been trapped in. Should have been obvious, that the emotions running across Taylor’s face were real and not an act. Should have been easy to dismiss her worries and remember how clearly Taylor had been there for her, how clear her care and affection had been.

It should have been.

The most terrifying thing was that it wasn’t.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Taylor said softly, taking a step forward. Sophia couldn’t help her reaction - she froze, clutching the blankets tightly.

Taylor noticed. Of course she did.

Skitter saw everything .

“I’m - it’s good to see you’re okay too,” Sophia mumbled, looking away, unable to take the sudden pain that ran across Taylor’s face. “She healed your arm?”

“Yeah,” the other woman said. “Sophia, can - can I come over?”

She turned, glancing at Taylor for a moment, then looked away again. The expression in her eyes... Sophia took a breath, and was surprised by how much it hurt.

Taylor stood there, unmoving, waiting for a reply. Sophia thought about it, really considered how she was feeling, and the thought of Taylor being any closer made her head shake with the panic of it.

“Not right now,” she said finally, and winced at the sharp breath from across the room. Taylor nodded, thumping back against the wall.

They stood there in silence for a moment, Sophia tracing the lines in the blanket, Taylor staring at her from against the wall as if being this far away was physically painful for her. What the fuck was she supposed to say, here? She wanted to ignore it all, just pretend things were fine, finally hold Taylor and hope all the messy emotions and fears went away. Wanted to pretend tonight had never happened, wishing they had just gone the fuck home after dinner instead of to the gym. 

But - what would that help? Could she really just smile and pretend things were fine? Could they ever be happy, if she didn’t - didn’t know ?

“Was it true?” she said, breaking the silence. “What he said.” 

Taylor grimaced. “We - think we know why we’ve been struggling to deal with the Butcher.”

Sophia could feel the moment when her heart fell out of her chest. “That’s not what I asked.”

The woman sighed deeply, then looked up at her, meeting her eyes.

“Yes. He was right. I did know exactly what I was doing,” Skitter said, voice flat.

Sophia just... nodded. Laid there and stared through the woman she thought she knew, as she spoke.

The villain continued. “I’ve known you were Shadow Stalker since I was sixteen. Kept that in my back pocket. In the bad days I used it as proof I was better than you, proof that the system was rotten. ‘Look what they let people get away with. Look who the ‘heroes’ really are,’ I’d think, when I wasn’t sure if I was on the right path.”

“Happy to be your fucking guiding light, Hebert.”

Taylor flinched at that, recoiled physically, like her own name was an insult she hadn’t heard applied to her before. Sophia drew her knees up to her chest, sighing, pain and guilt mixing like oil and water in her chest. Finally, she leaned forward, patting the space on the bed where her legs had been.

The villain walked over swiftly, and sat down. Pulled up her legs and crossed them, facing Sophia but not meeting her eyes. Eventually, she kept talking.

That was good. Sophia wasn’t sure she had it in her to speak right now.

“Once we hit our stride, figured out what we wanted to be... I guess it faded. Hard not to collect identities, when you’ve got a power like mine. I stick to the rules, keep it to myself when I can. After the Empire thing, with Coil? That pretty much cemented what would happen if we broke them.”

“You killed him,” Sophia said, staring down. Sitting across from her murderer of a lover, cheap cold pizza in a box on her knees. “Marched into his little base, drowned his men in bugs, and put a bullet in his brain. That was when you got bumped up a level, you know? When it went from ‘the Undersiders, who are a gang of thieves we can play cops and robbers with’ to ‘the Undersiders, who might shoot you if you mess with them.”

Taylor nodded. “I don’t regret it,” said the woman she loved, flexing hands that had ended lives. “I would do it again in a heartbeat. Coil was the worst sort of scum, and the world is better off now that he’s dead.”

“Can you say that about everyone you and your gang have killed, Skitter?” Sophia shot back, boiling in her mixed feelings.

“No. But I can say the city is better off with me than it would be without me. Remember Lung and the Merchants? The constant gunfights in the streets? The fucking rape houses the ABB used to run? Yeah, I’m no saint, and I’ve done some shit I’m not proud of. But this city needs me, Sophia.”

“Oh good, Villain speeches. Is this the bit where you unveil your master plan?”

Taylor sighed, turning away with a grimace. Sophia watched as she went from angry and hurt to blank and empty in just a few moments. “What do you want from me, Sophia? What can I do to make it better?”

Sophia wanted her to hold her. Wanted her to say it was okay and call her pet names and stroke her hair, wanted her to lunge across the bed and kiss her like it didn’t hurt.

“Right now? I’d like it if you could explain exactly what it was you knew you were doing.”

The brunette took a deep breath. Let it out. Answered. “We figured out why the Butcher was so hard to predict. He’s a Thinker. Focused on social networks and seeing connections between people. When he said that - he picked the worst thing to say to drive a wedge between us.”

Sophia laughed, the sound hoarse and scared. “You think I don’t know that? If it wasn’t the fucking Butcher I’d be gone, Ta - Skitter . But I’m not going to let some psychopathic asshole be the reason this falls apart.”

“Is it - going to? Fall apart?” Taylor responded, choking on the words. She looked up, meeting her eyes, and Sophia watched the faint lines of water well up in her eyes.

“I sure fucking hope not.” Sophia said, leaning over her knees, clutching at them until her hands were pale from the pressure. “But you better start helping me hold it together, because I’m this close to walking through that wall and leaving, Taylor.”

“It wasn’t - planned. This. I - when you - after that first time, in the gym, I could see you. Watching me. I went to Lisa - Tattletale - and asked her to be sure you didn’t suspect me. That was roughly about the time we found out you lived here. Her power - it just feeds her things, sometimes. Little bits of information she couldn’t find out on her own, but might be able to in time. We realized you lived in our territory, that you might be... sympathetic. The plan was to get you alone during a patrol, but - well.”

Sophia laughed. “You decided to fuck me first, to make sure I was in the mood for it? Get me attached so you knew all the good buttons to press?”

“NO!” Taylor said, shouting the response, looking up with shocked eyes. “No, that wasn’t - it wasn’t meant to be that. Never, never that. I - Lisa was doing some searching. We were - desperate, at that point. We were losing people to the Teeth, and the PRT wasn’t interested in helping until we begged for it, regardless of the fact that many of those people were civilians. We were looking for someone, anyone to stand for us. I was learning more about you, and. Well.”

“Liked what you saw?”

Taylor laughed. “Honestly? Yeah. If I ignored my issues with you, focused on your track record... you’re a good hero, Sophia. A good person. I wasn’t joking when I said that the first night was only twenty percent payback.”

“Like hell,” Sophia said, incredulity mixing in with the oil and water. “You do know how I got started, right?”

“Yes. I do. Maiming murderers, pinning rapists to walls, cutting the Empire right were it fucking hurt. You had an average capture rate of .7 E88 gangers a night for your entire solo career, did you know that? Lisa pointed it out to me. That’s kind of fucking insane. You never killed anyone, but fuck if you didn’t put them in a vise.”

“Didn’t get caught killing anyone,” Sophia whispered, burying her face in her knees. 

Taylor paused, turning towards her. Sophia shrugged, wincing at the thought of it. “It - fuck, calling it an accident seems so fucking idiotic. It was supposed to be - supposed to be an intimidation tactic. Dangle the fucker off the roof, get him to talk about some missing girls. Comic books and cartoons don’t really tell you how hard it is to hold a man up when you’re fourteen and angry.”

She could still hear that awful crunch, as he hit the ground. Turning to Emma and choking down the bile under her mask, realizing she had tried to play it tough in front of her friend and killed someone because of it, turning to Emma and saying ‘ You probably shouldn’t come with me on patrol anymore’ as if this was a normal, everyday thing.

“He probably deserved it.”

“You don’t get to make that call, Taylor,” Sophia said, too tired to be angry. “Don’t tell me it’s fine that he died because he was a bad person.”

“I get it. Killing someone - it’s. Not easy. In the moment, with all the reasons laid out? It seems so simple. I killed Coil and went home, fell asleep without missing a fucking beat. Woke up vomiting across my bed. Sometimes I still see him, when I go to sleep. I can remember the sound of him begging. Do I regret that he died? No. But sometimes I regret that I was the one who did it.”

Sophia shook her head into her legs, ignoring the urge to reach out a hand, hold onto Taylor, look up and see if her eyes were just as raw as her voice was. Instead, she reached out with a foot, digging her toes under Taylor’s thigh from beneath the covers, and kept looking down. “So when you were done fangirling over me -”

“Please, I appreciate your career. Don’t get a swelled head,” Taylor laughed. “So. Yeah. I knew you were - more than I had assumed. And yes, maybe a big part of me approaching you was for the joy of your reactions - but me inviting you over, had nothing to do with our past, or the Undersiders, or the fucking cape scene. I just - wanted to know. Who you really were.”

The hero sighed, finally looking up. Taylor smiled weakly at her, and Sophia quirked her lips, shrugging. “I... could believe that. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. That you knew , that night you confronted me, told me to stand up for you. It still feels like you were manipulating me, finding the leverage you needed to push me over the edge.”

“I’m sorry. I -” Taylor took a deep breath, cutting herself off before continuing. “I’m not - good. With handling emotions in the moment, or considering... what my actions might mean to someone else. Did you know I didn’t actually understand how scary my power was until I was eighteen? By then, I was already the most feared cape in the city by a wide margin, and I was still clueless. Lisa had to take me aside and explain it to me before I finally got why people were too afraid to talk to me with the mask on.”

Sophia laughed weakly at that. Taylor just shrugged. “No, seriously. There I was, drowning people in fucking wasps, having captured Lung himself by shoving heroin- coated grubs in his eyes -”

“You fucking what ?” That bit certainly hadn’t made it into the Wards-approved after action report.

“-And I was complaining to Lisa about how it was so hard to make people take me seriously, when I was just a wee little girl. It’s - hard, sometimes, to see myself as other people do. So... When I say that I’m sorry, for not coming clean to you sooner, know that I mean it. Know that I fucked up, and it wasn’t... wasn’t just a ploy.”

They sat for a moment, still and silent. Taylor reached out a hand, slowly sliding it along the blankets, and Sophia let her fingers get tangled up in the other woman’s. Taylor rubbed a thumb across the back of her knuckles, pale against the dark tone of her hand. “I want to believe you,” Sophia whispered.

“I would understand... if you didn’t,” Taylor said back, grimacing. “I was hoping to tell you tonight, you know? It wasn’t my secret to share. Had to clear it with... everyone else, first. They’d like to meet you.”

Sophia shook her head. “Not - not now. I can’t. I think...” she paused, working up the courage to force out the next words.

They hurt, tearing on her throat on the way up, but she pushed through, casting them to the air where they wouldn’t be trapped inside of her.

“I need some space.”

Taylor took in a shuddering breath, suddenly squeezing hard on Sophia’s hand. She clutched it like a lifeline, swallowing, before nodding sharply.

“Okay,” she replied, weakly. “I - I get it. That’s - do what you need to do. I’ll be here. When you’re ready.”

Will you ? Sophia thought, fear striking like lightning. Taylor could die, soon. She almost did, just  a few hours ago. Butcher had nearly killed her, and she had only lived because Sophia was there to save her. What if she wasn’t, the next time?

But - staying in this room, meeting the Undersiders, with all this... noise bouncing around in her head? That wasn’t going to happen. Sophia needed to go back to the apartment. Sleep it off, think about it when her head wasn’t splitting at the seams. Make sure the way she felt was real , make sure things were actually okay before she jumped into something that just got her even more hurt.

She tugged away, slowly, and their fingers unlaced. Taylor’s hand remained where it was on the bed, splayed out as if waiting for her to come back.

Sophia stood, turning away.

“I know - this isn’t helping. But I need to ask,” Taylor said from behind her. Sophia reached by the bed, grabbing her bag as her lover continued. “The Undersiders are taking the fight to the Teeth tomorrow. Can you talk to the PRT? Try to get them to help?”

“How can you ask that, after what we just talked about?” Sophia answered, voice raw. “You’re not exactly making this easy for me. How can you say it wasn’t just a ploy, and then ask me that?”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But - feelings and worries aside, I have to face the facts. I need to do something to help my people, but as it stands, people are going to die tomorrow. People I care about. This - these people mean the fucking world to me. They trust me. I’m not asking you to fight by our side, or even fight at all, just - speak up, because nobody else will. For the people here, if not for me.”

“Fuck you, Taylor,” Sophia hissed, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and turning around. “I - fine. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll speak up. Happy?”

“No.”

Me either , Sophia thought, sick with the thought of it. She stared at Taylor, who was looking back at her, face drawn but brow firm. This could be the last time they saw each other.

Sophia dropped her bag, stepping forward, and lunged forwards. Taylor turned as if she knew what she was doing, which was odd, because Sophia didn’t have a fucking clue.

Taylors arms settled around her at around the same time as their lips met. It wasn’t a deep kiss, nor a simple chaste peck; they kissed like it was a tearful goodbye, like they weren’t searching for pleasure as much as they were searching for a reason to stay.

It didn’t last, of course. Sophia broke away, pressing her forehead to Taylor’s with a sigh that could have been a sob just as easily.

“I love you,” Taylor whispered.

Sophia closed her eyes. “Don’t fucking say that.”

“Might not be able to later,” her girlfriend whispered. “Go. Do what you need to, to feel safe again. If you never talk to me again - I- I’ll miss you, but I’ll understand.”

“You’re not making this easy on me,” Sophia whispered back, mirroring her earlier words.

“Who ever said this was going to be easy, Sophia? The best things in life take effort, and I’m prepared to give it, if you let me.” Taylor stepped back off the bed, smiling bitterly.

The villain watched as the hero stood up, the empty bed and a million miles between them. Sophia drank in the sight again; Taylor, standing there in simple shorts and a tank-top, torn and covered in soot; hair a mess, eyes rimmed red, a smile on her lips and fear in her eyes.

It wouldn’t be the last time they talked to each other.

It couldn’t be.

Sophia didn’t know what to say, so she did what she did best instead, responding to pain the way she always had. The wall faded into the dimly-lit streets of Brockton bay as she stepped through it, streetlights flicking behind the old warehouse she had been inside.

It wasn’t that long of a walk, back to her own life. The apartment was only a fifteen minute walk away. Not far at all.

If it was so close, why did it feel like she was leaving her home behind?

 

 

Taylor stared at the wall, seeing beyond it. Tens of thousands of insects had eyes on Sophia right now; she could still talk to her. Explain, find better words, find the right things to say. Talk about her options and her plans, explain every step she had taken to get here. The losses and sacrifices and how sometimes she couldn’t afford the luxury of choice -

She took a deep breath, and let Sophia walk away.

Her teammates looked up as she opened the door, falling silent. She expected some sort of witty reply or questions, maybe an explanation - she had basically forced them to wait outside, unmasked. Told them that she was telling Sophia the truth tonight, and they could deal with it. They hadn’t so much as complained, accepting her call. Trusting her, despite it all.

Lisa looked into the empty room behind her, and her smile fell. “I’m sorry, Tay.”

Taylor shook her head, shaking away the thoughts and fears and the taste of love on her lips.

“Get some sleep,” she said, instead of it’s not your fault . “We’ve got a fight ahead of us.”

It was time to protect their home.

She watched through a thousand eyes as it walked away, and wished with all her heart she had been good enough for her to want to stay.

Chapter 10: X(which is ten)

Summary:

CW: Brief mentions of suicidal ideation

October 25th, 2016

War

 

Sophia couldn’t sleep.

Her leg bounced restlessly as she sat in the chair by her kitchen table, linoleum creaking underfoot. Two hours ago, she had given up on being able to close her eyes at all, not without seeing yellow lenses and visions of her friends drowning in a sea of insects. She was running on fumes - her body was teetering on the edge, but her mind was too wired to consider shutting down. Three hours of tossing and turning had been more than enough, so Sophia had resigned herself to yet another all-nighter.

It was funny, how unused to this she was, after just a week or so of good sleep. She kept thinking that sleep should be easy, as if a handful of nights outweighed six long years of brutal experience. 

The bed was too empty for her to feel comfortable in, it seemed.

She yawned loudly, eyes drooping, as she went over her gear again. Just - just for habit, of course. Something to do. Re-tuning the crossbows, filling up the clips, sharpening the broadheads on her Brute bolts. Checking the straps of her armor had been easy enough; then she started buffing out scratches, washing away bits of soot from the night before. By the time she realized she was polishing the fucking shin-guards and boots, she wasn’t really able to ignore why she was so anxiously preparing her kit.

People are going to die tomorrow.

A groan pulled itself free of her lips, black armor clattering to the floor as she sat back in the chair, wood creaking. “Fuck,” she hissed, shaking her head.

The fuck was she supposed to do? It felt like she was trapped in a game of tug of war, completely unable to decide which side she wanted to win. On one hand, there were rules, regulations, habits, and fears. She was a hero . The good person, the one who stood against people like Skitter and the Undersiders. And on the other hand - Taylor. Fuck, Taylor . Sophia could admit that she was biased, that she was... just, fucking lost for that woman. Maybe it was the fact that it was the first real relationship she had managed to find in years; maybe it was the way the other woman made her feel seen; maybe it was just lust and she would get over it.

But, fuck, the idea of one of those casualties being the woman she loved made her heart pound in her chest. It made her want to scream and run out of the room. To stand by her side, and do her damn best to make sure the two of them came out on top.

It would have been a simple choice, if -

Well. If Taylor’s alter-ego had been literally anyone else. She was self-aware enough to know that a large part of why she couldn’t sleep wasn’t just her thoughts chasing each other in circles; it was fear. Part of her knew exactly which nightmare would be playing, when she shuttered her eyes closed.

Skitter was terrifying. The woman was a walking nightmare, a biblical plague who didn’t forget and never forgave. She believed in second chances in the same way most people believed in Santa Claus - like they were a distant thing she had outgrown, and anyone who still thought they existed was either naive or stupid. The woman had a trail of bodies behind her. Bodies of horrible people - rapists and murderers and abusers and nazi’s, sure - but it was hard to have the high ground atop a mound of corpses, no matter how high up people had to look to meet your eyes.

The Protectorate protocols for working in the city followed a strict rule: find out wherever Skitter was, and then go somewhere else . There was no real counter to her power, not unless you wanted to gas-bomb the entire city. There was nowhere you could hide, no way to prevent a gruesome and terrifying defeat. The talking heads had her listed as a Master eight with a matching Shaker rating, with lower ratings in Thinker, Brute, and Stranger. She was the sort of person you didn’t really fight, just survive.

Skitter was also Taylor. The woman who had held Sophia as she cried, the one who had forgiven her endlessly, the one who had defended her at the dinner last night and made it bearable. She was the one who smiled at Sophia like every day was a gift, the one who thought Sophia was worth something and wasn’t afraid to remind her of it.

It wasn’t easy, trying to make those two facts mesh . In one moment, she would be remembering the feeling of soft skin and calloused fingers tracing her cheek. In the next, she would be remembering exactly how it feels to have three hundred wasps crawl under your armor and bite until your skin felt raw and your muscles spasmed from the pain. A soft sigh, with a hand on her wrist holding her down; a scream of agony, as a taser was pressed to her side, followed by the droning of the swarm bearing down upon her.

Gunshots and kisses and a baton crashing into her forearms; piercing yellows and inviting browns, a smile where there should be mandibles, clawed gloves where there should be black nail polish, beetle shells clicking where there should be expanses of soft skin and bright colors.

She just couldn’t make it fit . Couldn’t click the two pieces together, like it was a puzzle and no matter how hard she jammed the parts together the picture just didn’t come out right.

The room shook as she stood, levering herself up from the table like she was prying herself off the chair, head spinning from the rush of it. Sophia checked her phone; three-thirty was an abysmal time to be alive, same as always.

Fingers hovered over her contact list. She resisted the urge to text the most recent number; not because she was worried about the consequences but because she couldn’t even imagine what those would be. Who would pick up the phone? The woman who loved Sophia, or the one who needed bodies to throw at an invading army?

She hovered over the second name, grimacing, then sent a quick text. It was too soon, probably, but she needed someone to talk to. Someone to help with - whatever this was, even if she was uniquely unqualified to assist in this particular instance.

It would be fine. There was no way she was awake, not at this time of night. Sophia wandered over to the fridge, checking to make sure it was empty for the fourth time tonight, and debated if she was willing to put in the effort to boil water for pasta at fucking three-thirty in the morning - dinner had been so long ago, and she really hadn’t had a chance to finish that cold pizza. 

The water was bubbling by the time her phone vibrated, loud against the wood of her table. Sophia flicked her eyes over to it.

Hm. Imagine that.

The pot clattered into the sink, the stove turned off, and the elevator dinged as Sophia stepped in. Coffee time.

 

 

The duffle bag was oddly heavy at four in the morning. Part of that was what it held, the meaning behind it. Gearing up for a workout was lighter on her than gearing up for war. If - that was what she was doing. She hadn’t decided yet.

A bell rang out as she opened up the door, sun still buried under the horizon, street lamps and stars her only company. Under the Bridge wasn’t their usual coffee shop, but it did boast some fucking insane hours, making it a good last-ditch effort when you needed caffeine at an ungodly time of day. Perfect for cram sessions, last-minute essay writings, and existential dread. 

The man behind the counter was older and scrawny, with the sort of wiry strength you didn’t expect a barista to have and the look of someone who had his nose broken one too many times. His hair was long and oily, and he had the disposition of an underpaid bouncer - perfect for a four AM coffee, in other words. He took Sophia’s order without comment, clearly having been selected for the early-morning shift for a reason, and passed over her triple espresso without comment.

Emma was there already, of course. Sophia rolled her shoulders as she sat down, her bag thumping to the floor with a muffled clatter, her body not much quieter when it hit the chair. Her friend remained staring at the table, fingers laced together, thumbs circling each other, and a steaming cup in front of her.

Sophia winced. Emma never drank hot drinks if she could help it. “Thanks for coming out,” she whispered, oddly hesitant to break the silence. Emma just hummed, pulling her cup closer and raising it, then settling it down after a long pause, a fair bit closer to empty. Only then did she look up, meeting Sophia’s eyes.

Her friend had seen better days, that was for certain. Deep bags sat under her eyes; her hair wasn’t carefully styled, just pulled back into a quick ponytail. Hints of yesterday’s makeup sat around her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged and spotty.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” Emma replied, voice flat and hoarse.

“The kind who knows she can ask for space, when someone else has hurt her,” Sophia replied, suddenly feeling guilty, then angry at herself for feeling that way. “But - I’m happy to see you. I wasn’t sure if I would, honestly.”

Emma stared at her for a moment, gaze locked onto Sophias, searching for something. Eventually she sighed, rolling her eyes and downing the rest of her coffee. “I’m not going to abandon you. I think we’ve gone through a bit too much at this point to do that, you know? Regardless of how fucked up I’ve been the last few days - we’re still friends, even if that label is a bit fucking simple at this point.”

“Mh,” Sophia said, unsure how to reply. “Yeah.”

They sat there for a moment longer, Emma staring at an empty cup with tired eyes, Sophia staring at a full one with trepidation. Finally, Emma broke the silence.

“You didn’t break me,” she said finally, voice trembling. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Sophia shook her head sharply, “You aren’t broken , Emma.”

“I’m also not fucking blind , Sophia, do you think I can’t see? The way you look at me, those guilty expressions whenever I step over some... some sort of fucking tripwire or buried topic, when I say something and it makes you sigh like I poked at a fresh bruise. The fucking sad glances my parents give me and the way everyone talks like they need to dance around things, because if they push too hard they all think I’ll fucking fall apart. ”

The words fell in a steady stream, pouring out of Emma like she was a soda can shaken one time too many, bursting free, pressurized by the strain of holding everything in. She didn’t look sad, or hurt, or confused - she looked angry . Her eyebrows slanted together, reaching out to each other across a furrowed brow, and her green eyes shined with the weight of tears she was too furious to let fall. 

“I keep fucking trying ,” she whispered, voice loud with the force of her feelings but still quieter than conversation. “To do the good thing . To be better . But sometimes I say something that I don’t expect to be a problem, and everyone around me turns to look like I just started spitting insanity in the middle of class. Little comments that fucking worked and made me better in the past but now it just makes me stand out, like - like everyone can just see the fucking jagged edges and if they dare to touch me they’ll come away bloody. And the worst thing is - I remember how it used to make me feel. Like being a sharp little piece of stained glass meant I was strong, and not just brittle. ”

Sophia tilted her cup of coffee, staring into it. “You - you’ve been thinking about this. For a while.”

“I don’t have much else to think about these days, Sophia,” Emma muttered, slumping into her chair like the force of her tirade was the only thing keeping her back straight. “Not like we talk much, these days.”

“That’s not true,” Sophia started, blinking. “We talk every day.”

“We discuss. We don’t talk. I say some shit about classes and boys, and you just nod and hum, then you say some shit about how much you hate your job and then we smile and leave. Weather and school and work and parents; shit I could tell everyone but I never used to need to talk about with you of all people. We used to be an everyday thing, remember that? Nights together, sharing every little thing that popped into our heads, planning the days and weeks and months around each other. Trading nightmares and telling each other we were stronger than our pain. And now... it’s like we barely even know each other. Yesterday was the first time I’d seen you happy in so fucking long, do you know that?”

Sophia sucked in a breath, catching it on her teeth, the air jagged and harsh. Because yesterday meant two very different things to the two of them. “It’s... kind of a mess, honestly. Some stuff came up and I’m not sure what to do. But... I am happy. I’m sorry my happiness came at the cost of yours.”

Emma laughed bitterly. “You assume that there’s anything for me to lose. I have nothing. I have you, a mostly worthless modeling portfolio, half of a degree I don’t even want, and that’s it .”

“You have more than that, Emma, don’t say that. You have other friends, classmates - a family who cares and supports you. Just because you didn’t live up to your highschool dreams doesn’t mean you can’t find new ones.”

Her friend leaned forward, limply resting her weight on the table. “How - how am I supposed to want those things? Everything was supposed to be so simple. So easy . I had you, and I was strong, and that meant I could take on anything . And now - now I feel weaker every damn day. Like it would be better to just... not bother.”

Sophia took a deep breath, reaching out slowly to rest her hand on Emma’s. Emma flipped her hand, nestling their palms together like she was grasping for a lifeline.

Without rage there to hold them, the tears escaped, trailing down her face. “Sometimes I feel like I did die, back in that alleyway. That they killed me, and it just took a few years for the rest of me to catch up. That sometimes I would be better off just... not being here.”

“I would miss you, if you did go,” Sophia said, keeping herself calm, trying not to show the sheer panic that was rising inside her. “So many people would. More than you know.”

Emma shook her head. “I’m not - suicidal. I’m just... tired. It feels like the rest of the world is moving on, and I’m just... sitting here, watching it happen. You’re growing, moving on. You’re the fourth highest ranked hero in Brockton, did you know that? Now that New Wave has all but collapsed, at least; Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Gallant, You. I used to be proud of that, as if it meant I had anything to do with it. My sister’s getting married next year, Dad’s the head of his own firm... And here I am, just struggling to feel alive. Screwing the same guy because I like the idea of him pining over me more than I like having him around. I realized, yesterday, that - soon, it might stop being us and just start being me . And I have no idea who I am without you.”

Sophia had to take her hand back, drink a sip of the coffee to ease away the sudden lump in her throat. “You’re more than just our friendship, you know. If you don’t want me -”

“Why was that ever a thought, Sophia?” Emma said, raising her voice. “I didn’t even consider it as an option, until you told me I didn’t need to talk to you. The idea of us not being friends wasn’t even a thought in my head until yesterday, I never could have imagined it, but now I can’t think about anything else. This... this thing you have with her , and how it might be the thing that breaks us . And how it would just be my fault .”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it isn’t. Nothing is simple , with her . With us. It’s just a big fucking network of tangled lines and habits and hates and then you came along with a pair of scissors, as if you could cut it apart without realizing it was my safety net. I - I can’t. Understand why it would be her , of all people, but then you said you were choosing her and choosing me as if those were both things you could do.”

The hero sighed, drinking another sip of her coffee. “It doesn’t need to be one or the other.”

“But it does . For me. It can’t - me and her, we can’t. Fix it. Because - because -”

Sophia took a deep breath, then snipped with the scissors again.

“If you admit it can be fixed, that means something is broken.”

Emma sobbed, tilting forwards, and Sophia stood up. She grabbed the back of her chair, tugging it along the floor until it was next to Emma, then sat down and wrapped an arm around her.

Her friend leaned into her, crying tears that were equal parts sorrow and fear. Sophia repeated herself softly, arms tight around Emma’s shoulders.

“You aren’t broken , Emma. Hurt. Damaged. In pain. But if you think you’re broken, that means that you are the problem. Don’t call yourself that. You aren’t the problem. You’re suffering from the problem.”

The redhead quieted, stilling after a few minutes of crying. Sophia looked up, staring around the shop. The wiry man leaned against the counter, bored and on his phone, as if women crying at four in the morning were his usual clientele and he couldn’t be bothered to care. She appreciated the gesture, more helpful than any words of support from a stranger ever could have been.

“If I could love you like she did, would you stop? Just - stay with me? Stop talking to her, and go back to the way things were?”

“Don’t ask that question, Emma. That’s not possible. It’s not worth asking,” Sophia replied, knowing what she actually meant was you wont like the answer if you keep asking .

“I could try,” Emma said weakly, then shook her head. “No, sorry. That - wasn’t fair. I know it wouldn’t work. Ignore me. It feels like - everything would be simpler, if it was just me and you against the world again, but it wouldn’t be that easy. Or - healthy for either of us. I - talked to my therapist, yesterday. Actually, just called her at fucking nine at night in the middle of a panic attack.”

Sophia hummed, choosing not to be hurt that Emma hadn’t come to her with the panic attack. She was pretty sure she knew what the cause of it was. “I didn’t know you had one. A therapist, that is.”

Emma shrugged. “It was... lip service, mostly. Something I did to get mom to stop talking at me about it, some woman she introduced me to. Mostly it was just me smiling and nodding for fifty minutes a week, but - I don’t know. Guess I made a mistake, opened up enough for her to realize how little I was actually telling her. I’ve got three sessions a week now. I think - I might give it a try. Put some effort into it, honestly.”

“I’m happy for you. It’s not easy, is it? Putting it out there.”

She shrugged again. “Don’t know. Haven’t really tried yet. We’ll see, I guess, if it works or if it’s all just... nonsense.” Her friend sighed deeply, and Sophia squeezed her gently, before letting go.

“It hurt, a little. I guess that was what set me off. Alice - ah, my therapist - has said things, in the past, about dependency. I always thought it was bullshit, that she was just talking out her ass, when she said our relationship was... unhealthy. That we relied on each other too much, based our personalities on the other person,” Emma continued softly. “But - yesterday. With - with her , and then you told Madison to stay, and I realized it wasn’t all bullshit. It never had been, I just wanted to pretend it was okay. That deep down I knew that we were codependent and struggling for it, but I thought it would be okay as long as I had you.

“And then - and then suddenly it looked like it wasn’t just me and you . It was you, and Madison, and her , and - and - there I was.” Emma raised her hands weakly, then let them flop back onto her lap, a look of bewilderment on her face. “Just sitting on the sidelines, watching as you suddenly stopped being the person I needed.”

Sophia hummed softly, raising a hand to scratch at Emma’s scalp, that spot above the ears she liked. “I told you, didn’t I? That I’m holding on to the people I love. That means you. And yes, that also means... her.”

Her friend just laughed bitterly. “Out of all the people it could have been, why - why did it have to be -” she paused, and took a steadying breath, “- Taylor.”

“I could list the reasons, but I don’t think you’re really in the mood for that right now.”

Emma groaned, sitting up. “Sorry. I - you came here to talk about your problems, and I’m just making it about me again.”

“Hey. Don’t put down my friend like that. You needed to talk, and I’m willing to listen. Besides, I - I think you helped enough on that front already.” Sophia smiled, realizing the things she had said without speaking, over the course of the conversation. How things had suddenly become much clearer, when she thought through them instead of around them. “But - I’d like to talk more, if you’re willing.

The redhead shrugged, rolling her eyes and then smiling wryly. “Fine. I permit you to speak of her, but first you’re buying me a refill. And nothing graphic, please. I’ll... try to keep an open mind. I’m starting to realize that my reactions to her might not be, ah. Entirely valid.”

The hero smiled softly, standing. The barista didn’t say a word, grumbling softly as he made another espresso for her and a frappe for Emma - her friend could use the sugar, honestly. He surprised her by waving off the payment without a word, just handing her two cups and wandering to the back of the kitchen.

Alright then. Sophia stuffed her payment in the tip jar instead, then wandered back to the table. Emma took her cup with a sigh, smiling softly.

Sophia waited for a moment, wondering where to start, what could be said and left silent. Eventually, she took a deep gulp of coffee, and spoke. Something welled up inside her; an odd mix of fondness and anticipation, a sort of warm glow that started to suffuse her.

“I guess it all started with a late night, laying awake in bed. I couldn’t sleep - nightmares - and my apartment felt empty. I needed to do something, so I searched up the closest gym near me, and just wandered over...”

 

 

That warm glow carried her out of the coffeeshop, onto the bus, and across the city. Her throat felt raw and she still felt drained, wrung out, and exhausted, but she didn’t feel tired . Maybe that was two and a half cups of coffee and insomnia talking, or maybe it was something else.

Probably the coffee, to be honest. She was going to crash so hard soon...

It was an odd feeling, one she was having trouble identifying, so she didn’t bother. Important things to focus on. The meeting was - she pulled out her phone to check, humming - two minutes ago and counting, and she still needed to get her costume on. Reports to give, reprimands to take, promises to keep.

Eh. Piggot could wait. It wasn’t like they could start without her, not after last night.

She let the warm glow carry her into the lockers, humming softly under her breath as she put on her costume, sliding on the undersuit and armor. She debated the mask, but decided to leave it clipped to her belt, bouncing against her hip. She nodded to a few troopers, smiling softly as she made her way to the elevator, enjoying the air on her face. It was odd how different people treated her when they could see her . People she had worked beside for years gave her a smile or nod, when they had never so much as looked her way before. Crazy how much difference a bit of plastic made.

It was just a mask. She was the same with or without it.

Heads turned, as she opened the door, humming softly. Amused looks, glares, smirks - she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She took her seat, giving a brief nod to the Director, saluting with her plastic cup, ice clinking.

Sophia showed up twenty minutes late to the meeting. With coffee.

“I’m pleased to know your priorities remain intact,” the Director said dryly, narrowing her eyes. “Did you forget the donuts, as well?”

Gallant turned towards her, head tilted slightly to the side. Sophia was suddenly reminded he was on the punch list, and resolved to finish that before the meeting was over. Rather than answer Piggot, she raised the straw to her lips, slurping. Then she shrugged.

“Sorry, boss. Traffic was crazy. Had to rush a bit to get here,” she replied, waving with her cup.

Someone snorted, and Sophia turned to give Chris a wry grin, the younger man shocked to remember that she was in fact still an asshole. Piggot clicked her tongue, clearly peeved, but decided not to call her out on it.

“Yes, well, now that you’ve finally decided to arrive, perhaps you could tell us about this altercation last night? Your details were... sparse, to say the least. You violated protocol, by not coming in for a debrief after a fight with the Undersiders, much less the Butcher ,” the director practically hissed.

“I was banged up after that fight. Spine damage, three broken ribs, punctured lung. Wasn’t fun, to say the least,” Sophia shot back, the words hissing out of her like water tossed into a heated pan, hitting the air in a puff of steam, but fading quickly. 

“You received healing from Panacea, then?” Armsmaster cut in, intrigued. “Seeing as you are still standing.”

It was a fair question. Panacea’s support was touch-and-go at the best of times these days. She spent a lot of time across the country or overseas, letting rich folk or cities pay her massive sums to heal the incurable. Brocton got it for free, of course; it was just a matter of actually getting it some days.

Sophia stood with a sigh, drawing the focus of everyone towards her. She resisted the urge to twitch at the attention, instead focusing back to recall the events of the night prior. “I was in my civilian identity at the start of the altercation; an attack on the fitness center called ‘Labourn’s Fitness’ on One-Six-Eight Greenwill Street...’”

She took liberties with the story, of course, cutting details here and there. No, Director, she didn’t know that the gym was a front for the Undersiders, and she certainly had no idea that Skitter and Imp were in the building. Where did she wake up? Oh, she couldn’t really say, it was all so confusing when she woke up. She just got up and ran, of course, couldn’t point it out on a map, sorry.

The Butcher’s new power and what she had seen about his fighting style; things she had ‘inferred’ from Skitter and Imp’s conversation, their impromptu alliance as they fought off the Butcher, her choice to use her power in its most lethal manner against the one cape you absolutely were not allowed to kill. She expected flak about that, of course, and got it. But not as much as she should have - Piggot was upset about something else.

“You chose to remain in combat with the Butcher and Skitter, despite knowing that was against our regulations.”

“Yes,” Sophia admitted, crossing her arms in front of her and staring down the table, meeting the eyes of anyone willing to match her gaze. “I judged that the risk was worth preventing any further loss of life.”

“You admitted that you evacuated the civilians first, Shadow Stalker,” Miss Militia said, voice curious. “Was that untrue?”

“As surprising as it may be to hear, Skitter is in fact alive,” she said back, biting on the anger in her tongue. “And -”

Gallant turned suddenly, perking up at something. Sophia shot him a quick glance, right in his mask, wondering what colors had popped up in his little sunshine aura chart to make him actually take notice for once. What color was this, bravery or stupidity?

She took a deep breath, and continued, knowing this was the hard part. “And I couldn’t let her die.”

The table was silent for a moment, before Piggot broke the stillness with something like glee. “You chose to risk yourself on behalf of the most dangerous Villain in the city?” the director said softly, like she was laying out rope for Sophia to hang herself with.

Sophia took the line without hesitation. “Second most dangerous. And yes. I live in the Underside, Director -”

“- Undersider Territory , we do not glorify warlords and their claims -”

“-and I know that would happen if Skitter dies. If the Undersiders collapse, like you seem to want them to. The Teeth will eat this city without them. Skitter dying would be a blow we couldn’t afford.”

“That was incredibly reckless of you, Sophia,” Miss Militia said, her voice soft. Sophia turned to her, meeting a pair of sad eyes over her bandana. “You risked a lot - not just death, but a fate worse than death. For a Villian we’ve been in conflict against for years now.”

“I’d do it again,” Sophia replied, firmly. Militia blinked, then sighed, shaking her head.

Piggot sat there quietly for a moment, eyes narrowed, her expression dangerous. Sophia met it evenly, not looking away. Those eyes were cold and hard, but Sophia had that warm glow backing her up, keeping her standing.

“What are your passcodes for the week, Shadow Stalker?,” the director asked quietly. 

Sophia glared back, anger souring her next words. “Epsilon-Marco-Foxtrot, green, city square. Not that it should matter. I’m not surprised to hear that you think a conscience might be mind control, Director, seeing as I can’t recall you ever having one.”

The director’s nostrils puffed up, like a bull preparing to charge, but suddenly someone else waved the cape. “With all due respect, Director, if you think that’s a good enough reason for a night in the tank, you’ll need to move me too.”

Everyone blinked, turning to the sound of a new voice. Gallant slowly removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm as he looked out at the table with a smile that hid knives. “I agree with her assessment. Skitter’s loss would be a nightmare for this city. I feel like you forget that Brockton has always been a balancing act - and the Teeth do not play nearly as nicely as the Undersiders do.”

Sophia stared at him, blinking, as the man scowled and continued. “I’m not happy with this course of action we’ve been pursuing. We needed to pursue action against the Teeth weeks ago, not just wait until it was convenient.”

He turned to Sophia, nodding once, and then crossed his own arms. Right. Okay, that was - something, she guessed.

Maybe he could come off the punch list.

“I understand that you might be upset, with a lack of action, but Butcher is a threat far beyond us at this point. It’s never easy, knowing that inaction might cause harm, but action could cause more.” Miss Militia, always the peacekeeper.

‘Peace’ had caused more harm to this city than violence ever had. “I would have rather done anything than let them move into our city,” Sophia replied. Miss Militia shook her head, turning away with a sigh.

“It was the best course of action we had at the time,” Armsmaster said suddenly, stoic under his helmet. 

“The best option, sure. But was it the right option? Aren’t we heroes? Isn’t our job to be the ones who take the sacrifice, to be the people who protect innocents, rather than sacrifice them for our own safety?” she said, voice heated. Why did she have to be the one to say it? She was the worst hero in the room - how was she the only one who could see it?

She took a deep breath, then continued into the suddenly stifling tension of the room. “I believe we talked about Skitter’s plea last week, when she confronted me during a heist with the Teeth. I feel like we didn’t give her words the consideration they deserved.”

“Skitter is a Villian, Shadow Stalker, and I think you would do well to remember that,” the Director spat out. The atmosphere in the room was divided; some people seemed angry at the idea that Sophia could have possibly taken a stand against them like this; some seemed open to listening.

“Skitter is a person , Director. As are the people under her, as are the people in her territory. The Underside isn’t just a fancy label to slap on ‘enemy controlled territory’ - for a very large part of our city, it means home . Myself included. You seem very eager to let two of your problems war it out and do the work for you, but you forget that the battleground is our fucking city .”

Piggot narrowed her eyes, glaring. “I would suggest you watch your tone , Shadow Stalker. You’re walking a very fine line.”

“My name. Is Sophia . And I fucking quit. ”

The mask made a lovely skittering sound, as it slid across the table, sliding to a halt in front of the director. Sophia stood tall, nodding once, then turned away from her former boss. This wasn’t about her, after all.

The heroes in the room stared at her, a myriad array of expressions and looks pasted across their masks and faces. It was about them, honestly.

“The Undersiders are going to be taking the fight to the Teeth, today. Sometime this morning - I’m afraid I don’t know the timing. The outcome of that fight will have severe repercussions on the city, one way or another. If the Teeth win - you know that we don’t have the force or powers needed to capture the Butcher. You know we can’t stop him. This new Butcher is the most dangerous of the bunch - a social Thinker with fourteen other powers backing him up, capable of terrible damage. He’s also ruthlessly insane and cruel. We need to stop him now, because if he gets a foothold in the city, we won’t be able to pry him out without burning the city down around us.”

“Where are you going to go?” Miss Militia asked, leaning forward. “Don’t do this, Sophia. It’s not safe, running on your own.”

Sophia rolled her shoulders, grimacing. “I - I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I’d like to finally be the one doing the right thing, for once in my life. I’ve messed up. I’ve hurt people. But I think it’s time I gave saving people a try.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Piggot said, standing from her chair. “You can’t seriously be suggesting -”

“I think,” Sophia said, cutting her off. Not loudly, or angrily, but... softly. The truth was such a sharp knife, if you weren’t ready for it. “I think I’m tired of being a good soldier for you. I’m going to be a hero instead.”

The assembled heroes looked at her, sitting around the table. Miss Militia looked at her sadly; always trapped thinking about the former Wards as her children. Armsmaster bowed his head, either thinking or refusing to meet her eyes. Chris and Dean were nodding, as if they agreed with her - Missy, too, standing in the corner as the Wards leader. 

It wasn’t the total reaction she had hoped for. Some people agreed with her, but that didn’t mean they would join her. She just hoped she had given them something to think about, for once.

Sophia sighed deeply, before turning away, booted feet loud on the floor. The room behind her was silent as she left, but voices quickly broke out, discussing. Piggot was probably still fuming silently; Sophia was half convinced the woman would have her foamed, but she didn’t call out the order. Maybe she wasn’t willing to see how many of her heroes would refuse to follow that particular command.

Another pair of footsteps fell into step beside her, and she paused, turning. Gallant gave her a quick smile, helmet still tucked under his arm. “Brave thing you just did,” he said quietly.

Sophia sighed, pulling at her hip and grabbing her PRT badge. The wrist-mounted launchers went next, as did the clips of darts on her belt. Actually, the whole belt went too. And the fucking cape. Fuck that thing. Equipment littered the floor behind her, as she walked out of the building. “I don’t feel brave. I feel fucking terrified, honestly, Gallant. I have no clue what comes next, and that is both exhilarating and mortifying.”

“I think you can call me Dean at this point,” the man said with a chuckle, and Sophia scowled at him. Fuckin’ smily little boy scout, same as always. Well. Maybe not just the same. 

“Fuck you, Dean . Oh, and this is for the other night,” she said, thumping him in the arm. He winced, staggering to the side, but laughed it off.

“What was that for?”

“ ‘Have a good night,’ seriously? You fucking perv, you knew .”

Dean laughed louder at that. “What? I meant it! Not my fault your mind was in the gutter. And - I get what you mean. About not knowing what comes next. I’ve been considering leaving too. Actually - I think I might go to school.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Well. Congrats, I guess? I swear to god if you go to be a therapist I will actually end you, though. You suck at it, please stop trying.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I just know - my future isn’t here. Honestly, its felt... empty, without Vicky here. Not that I miss her like that, calm down, I’m just - when she left, it stopped being fun. Started being work. I’m thinking I might follow her in spirit, if not actually following her in person.”

She frowned slightly, lips curling at the corners. “I can’t say it was ever about the fun for me, Dean. But - yeah. It used to feel like we were doing something. Now - it just feels like I wave at a camera three times a week and punch the rare Nazi that pokes his head up.”

He nodded, eyes oddly soft. “I want to do something where I can actually make a difference, you know? I’ve been thinking about being a social worker. Hanging up the cape. I guess I just wanted to say... thanks for leading the way.”

Sophia’s throat felt oddly tight. “You know I’m not hanging up the cape myself, right?” she asked, as they wandered through a security checkpoint. “Just... changing hats.”

Gallant shrugged, smiling widely. “I know. But it’s still brave, nonetheless. Don’t think there was ever a day that I looked at you and expected you to be the best of us, but. I’m glad I was wrong.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, unsure how to respond to that. She settled for elbowing him in the side, scowling lightly. “Thanks for having such a low opinion of me.”

“I always had a high opinion of you. You just didn’t grow into it until today,” he said, grinning. “I’m glad I got to see you happy. Go be a hero, Sophia.”

That warm glow filled her chest, and finally, she had a name for it. Hope. The knowledge that things would be better, and she would make them so.

It was a good day to be a hero.

Chapter 11: Eleven

Summary:

It all starts coming to an end

Notes:

Hey guys! Sorry about the wait, life got hectic and my muse started dragging me in wildly different directions. Thanks for sticking with me.

If any of you are interested in that sort of thing, I have a

Tumblr

now! Feel free to follow me for parahumans memes and other nonsense.

Also, innumerable thanks to

SilviaNorton

and

Pendragoon

for their work on editing these last few chapters. They're both great authors, check them out and give them some much deserved love.

October 25th, 2016

There was something nostalgic about a hockey mask.

 

Maybe it was the fact that Sophia could remember wearing them as a different person; back when Old Sophia had first slapped on the first thing she could get her hands on; a mask she had from back when they had the money to play hockey. Sophia had loved the sport - something about being allowed to slam someone into a wall at thirty miles an hour appealed to her - but the money had run dry soon after, leaving her with a pile of equipment she got to watch herself outgrow. Just another bit of her childhood she had to watch slip away.

 

She had spent years running around the area near her home with this mask on, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Back when something as mundane as patrolling made her feel alive instead of stressed out, when the feel of wind in her hair and gravity tugging at her shadow-self meant she was free, instead of perpetually too late.

She traced the divots and holes in the plastic with familiar hands; felt scratches and scrapes along the edges with calloused fingertips. A different person had worn this mask, years ago. A different Sophia had put on the mask, putting her desire to hurt over her desire to help. It hadn’t been about doing the right thing - it had been about being able to hurt someone else and be in the right for once. She could recall the biting anger quite easily - it hadn’t ever left, just settled down to sleep. That desire to go out and find someone that she could beat down on to prove that she was better than them.

 

For all her talk of being a hero, she didn’t know if she knew what that meant. Sometimes, it was so much easier to make a stand than it was to keep standing. Was the energy pulling at her fear, or just the lack of sleep? Were the nerves mixing in her stomach because of the upcoming fight, or the one she had just left? She had no idea.

 

Fuck, she was doing this, wasn’t she. Running off to join a fight between two of the worst villain gangs in the city. Part of her was still terrified.

 

The rest of her felt free . This was probably going to be the worst fight of her life, wasn’t it? The worst sort of situation to involve herself in, and she was moving at it head-on.

 

And it felt so good .

 

The tote bag at her feet clanked as the mask went in, armor plates jostling. She was on a timer of some sort - fuck, she didn’t even know when the fight was planned to start; Taylor hadn’t exactly broadcasted her plans to launch a surprise attack on the Teeth to the world at large. It was barely eight in the morning, she hoped Taylor hadn’t been planning to ride at dawn or some dramatic bullshit.

 

Shit, she absolutely would, wouldn’t she? The nerd. Sophia huffed quietly, shaking her head before returning back to the closet.

 

Next out was a crossbow, the arms folded inwards. Sophia could remember solo patrols easily; thinking she was being slick when she slipped out of the apartment, not realizing she was just feeding Piggot more line to hang her with. Those earlier years in the Wards were the worst - when she felt more trapped than ever before; angry at everything and eager to make it everyone else’s problem. Angry at her mother, for daring to miss Stephen when he was in prison. At the PRT, for daring to cage her for doing ‘the right thing.’

 

And probably at herself, for not being strong enough to just power through trauma. Old Sophia had been a bundle of anger, hadn’t she? A pile of issues, relying on violence to make herself feel strong, and when that wasn’t an option, bullying Taylor. Lashing out at anyone who dared to reach out, because a hand lowered to help her up looked the same as a hand raised in violence.

 

She raised the crossbow up, running her hands along the faded paint of the body, bracing the stock against her shoulder. She pumped the lever twice, then pulled out a single bolt from the box at her feet. It was the work of a moment to aim it, old habits and muscle memory calling to her like whispered bits of history.

It had been this weapon that pinned a man to a wall by his wrists. The man had been a rapist and murderer - she didn’t feel guilty about it in the slightest - but still. That one death still weighed on her, and it had been an accident, dropping him from the roof. She couldn’t imagine how guilty she would be today if she had hit him just a half-inch higher, and the PRT had found a corpse instead of a screaming victim.

 

She fired, the bolt sinking into the wall up to the fletching.

Man, she was going to miss her wrist-mounted launchers. She had been so tempted to walk out with them and see if she could get away with it, but Piggot was a vindictive bitch at the best of times - if Sophia had given her a reason, she had no doubt that the director would have her locked up for stealing Protectorate property or some nonsense. Hopefully she could make do.

 

The crossbow went into the bag.

 

Was that all? She stared into her closet, looking at the pieces of her life, the bits of memories and old hurts, trying to decide if anything was worth taking. Something caught her eye - a black jacket, something she hadn’t worn in a while. It was all tight and leather, the kind of thing she had wished she could wear but didn’t feel confident to take outside. The sort of thing Old Sophia loved and New Sophia distanced herself from.

 

Ah, well. Might as well make a few changes to kick off her villain career. The jacket went on - after a quick modification, of course. She was quite glad she hadn’t thrown away that tape, now.

 

New Sophia held a bag containing the remnants of Old Sophia with something approaching disdain. She wondered if this should be a ceremony of some sort, if she should be feeling a bit more reverent about dismantling her past to prop up her present.

 

Armor, mask, and crossbow clanked as she slung the bag over her shoulder. It wasn’t all that important, really.

 

It was just Sophia. New, Old, ashamed, proud... It was all just one person, the same person she had ever been, the only person she was ever going to be.

 

She had finally grown into herself.

 

The lights went off as she left the apartment, carrying her life with her.

 

---

 

Taylor could admit it wasn’t going great. She had expected it to be an uphill battle, of course - the Undersiders made their name on hit-and-run tactics, confusion and disorientation over sheer brute force. But Brute force was what the Teeth thrived on, lived on, prepared for. The plan had been to take the fight to them and hit them before they expected it, and it had worked. Spree couldn’t clone his way out of tear gas, and stolen containment foam sprayers had made quick work of Reaver - the man was deadly in a fistfight, but didn’t exactly have the punch to rip out of the foam. The unpowered Teeth members were out of the fight before it even started - despite living in her city, they had forgotten to prepare defenses against drowning in fucking bugs.

 

That left the Teeth with only three capes, now that Vex was in lockup - Animos, Hemorragia, and Butcher Fifteen.

 

Unfortunately, that was more than enough to match the Undersiders.

 

Skitter ducked behind a car as a trail of bullets traced her, punching holes in the metal with the screech of steel. Butcher laughed loudly in the distance, voice high and nearly hysterical. Her swarm traced the edges of the battlefield, as she tilted the rifle on her lap up and slipped in a new magazine.

 

They had fifty-two Yellowjackets left, and around twenty six injured. Panacea was on site, healing those who had taken wounds, but more than one of the still bodies on the asphalt were her own people. Skitter tucked down the guilt grief fear sorrow and focused. She had told them the odds, told them they could leave this fight, and more than one person had. Scaring off Empire goons or flipping the PRT the bird was a far different task than taking a fight to the Teeth themselves. They had chosen to be here, to give their all for this city.

 

Everyone here had.

In the distance, flies and wasps clung to the sides of monsters; three massive leathery creatures fighting a fur-covered monster that resembled the unholy mix of a bear and a crocodile. The net around Animos’s mouth had been a masterstroke, hooks digging into his skin and anchoring the spider silk ropes. It didn’t stop him from being a half-ton mass of claws and muscle, but that’s what Bitch was here for, riding atop Angelica with her spear in hand, stabbing down at the Changer while shouting commands at her pack.

 

Hemorragia was a bit more of a struggle. Grue and Regent were keeping her in check, but her blood weaponry was wickedly sharp and the woman had decades of experience backing her up. Taylor absently dedicated part of her swarm to assaulting the Teeth cape, bugs swarming at her. The woman was wearing a skin-tight bodysuit and a fully sealed face mask, but there were always gaps; it was just a matter of time. She wasn’t the issue.

 

The Butcher was. He was always going to be. They had expected him to be an issue in this fight, but they hadn’t expected him to be smart about it all. Lisa kept up a running commentary in Taylor’s ear, trying to find out exactly what the new Butcher was planning. The revelation that he had a social Thinker power in addition to the dozen other deadly powers had not been a happy one - Tattletale had taken personal offense to the fact.

 

“He keeps looking in the air - between people. Connections? Intentions - Some sort of precognitive effect, I can tell that much. He keeps jumping away from the foam before it even gets fired. Not sure what the vector is, but it’s absolutely related to interactions and predicting them.”

Grue was inside his smoke cloud, taking potshots at Hemorragia. Alec was keeping an eye on Animos as Bitch kept him held down. Lisa was on overwatch... there was someone else, wasn’t there?

“Plan B,” Taylor said, cutting through the chatter. “We can’t win a long fight, and foaming him didn’t work. Pull the Yellowjackets back.”

 

Tattletale sucked in a breath. “I hate plan B.”

“Yeah, me too. That’s why it was plan B. We need that gun out of play, who was supposed to be on that? We had a plan -”

 

“Gun is handled, Skitter. Don’t worry about it.”

“But -”

“It’s handled. Trust me. Just keep the man occupied and we’ll have it down in a few seconds.”

Skitter took a breath, nodding to herself. Right. Trust Lisa. It was the plan, after all, regardless of how many holes it seemed to have in hindsight - who the fuck was supposed to get that minigun? She braced herself, and then stood quickly, rifle braced against her hip. Fire. Pull lever. Fire. Pull lever. Duck back, wait.

 

The Butcher didn’t seem to mind the heavy-caliber bullets that rained onto him, from both Taylor and the retreating Yellowjackets, even as they scored cuts and tears onto his toughened skin. The man smiled through a mouth of blood and shattered teeth, uncaring of the damage to his body. Irritatingly enough, he had strapped sheet metal to his knees and elbows, learning from the last fight - the joints were always a good place to target with Brutes. If you can’t put them down, cripple them. Butcher had learned from that last fight, adapted, and come back with a plan that threw their own into a tailspin.

 

Taylor had half a mind to call him out for copyright infringement.

 

His minigun whirred to life, and Taylor quickly jumped to the side, trusting in her swarm as his aim shifted towards her. Bullets flew with a roar, and she rolled out from behind the car as it was torn to pieces, bits of asphalt spraying up onto her. Three steps to the left carried her into the open - not a good place to be when your opponent had such heavy artillery. Taylor sprinted to the side, wincing as the bugs on Butcher’s arms started to gain on her. She turned on her heel, raising the rifle in a single smooth motion and firing a shot at Butcher’s hand.

 

The weapon jumped, skipping just enough for Taylor to duck behind another parked car, the bullets shattering the windows instead of her bones. She didn’t stop moving, turning her panicked slide into a roll, leaving the rifle on the ground and pulling her pistol from her hip. Bugs swarmed the Butcher, covering his vision, but it didn’t help - he still kept pulling the barrels of his gun towards her. The swarm lashed out as she ducked and wove, bullets inching closer and closer to her feet as they struck the road.

 

It wasn’t going to work. She was too slow, and he was too persistent - there were only seconds left until his aim caught up to the frantic flight of her path. Insects gathered on the gun itself, coating it, trying to gum up the internals - there was something stuck to the side of it. Taylor paused, feeling out the rectangular shape. Was that a -

 

The Butcher exploded.

 

Bits of the gun went everywhere - Skitter ducked down as a piece of the barrel flew over her head, impaling itself into the side of an empty van. She blinked, more than just a little bit confused until Lisa spoke in her ear. “Don’t worry about it. Trust me. Plan B is a go.”

 

The Yellowjackets poked out from behind their cover: dumpsters, alleyways, and parked cars coming alive with gunfire as they covered their retreat. The Butcher, blackened and soot-stained, tossed away what was left of his gun with a snarl that could be heard over the gunfire.

 

Skitter pulled a knife from her belt, bracing herself as she rallied the swarm. Hemorragia was on the ground, a bullet wound in her leg finally putting the experienced cape on the floor, and when one of the Yellowjackets pulled off the cape’s helmet, the swarm finished the job.

 

“I think I’ve got it. He doesn’t seem to get anything when he sees people - they need to do something first before he focuses on them,” Lisa said quickly, her voice excited. “Oh! Of course, that’s how it works, why didn’t I see it -”

 

Butcher exploded on top of a roof nearby. Taylor grimaced, knowing full well what was on that roof and readying herself to dodge in response. When the Butcher fired an arrow made of concrete at her head from his oversized bow, she managed to duck behind a car just in time. “Get to the point!” she shouted into her headset. She had set her swarm on the bow, of course, but carbon-fiber wasn’t easy for termites and ants to chew through.

“He sees how people react to others. Their intentions towards them and how they respond, both internally and externally. It’s not quite precog, but it could pass for it. The way he looks between people - he’s not looking at them, but at how they think of others.”

Brian came across the headset, sounding angry. That wasn’t unusual for him; he tended to channel anger in his fights to pull away from his fear, and fuck if he didn’t sound livid right now. “Give us something fucking useful, Tats.”

“He’s too reliant on it. It’s not perfect - he gets a variety of likely responses, not a perfect result, and I don’t think he sees things that apply to him specifically. Just people he sees. Try mixing up responses. Plan for two things, then pick one at the last minute. It’ll throw him off, maybe catch him out. His power isn’t meant for combat, thankfully, it seems like it needs too much prep time.”

“So you have no solutions that help us right now, is what I’m hearing?” Alec drawled. “Some Thinker you are -”

“Oh, like you’re being much help right now -”

“Quick the fucking chatter,” Skitter barked over the mic. “Rachel, keep Animos contained the best you can. Someone -” she had to jump to the side as an arrow punched through the car she was hiding behind, slamming into the asphalt and sinking halfway through the road. “-Someone fucking distract Butcher for a couple seconds.”

The roar of a shotgun sounded nearby, and her swarm detected Brian jumping in, pumping shots into Butcher’s lower body. There was an explosion as he relocated behind Grue, followed by a massive cloud of black smoke pouring from her teammate. Grue and Butcher vanished into the dark, a fight the Butcher was not likely to win. Brian’s power cut off his bloodsight and danger sense could only take him so far.

 

She tracked their progress with her swarm as she stood up, running to her rifle and snatching it off the ground. Her bugs followed the progress of the fight, as Brian steadily backpedaled away from Butcher’s wild swings with his fists and bow, firing shot after shot into the Teeth cape’s legs. She braced herself against the hood of a car, stock of the rifle against her shoulder as she waited, laying across the hot metal and breathing slowly.

 

Soon enough, the Butcher realized that fighting against Brian in his smoke was a losing proposition for anyone not named Skitter. The madman stepped backwards once, twice, and on the third step escaped the cloud of smoke, wisps of darkness trailing behind as if to pull him back in. A pistol barked nearby as Alec fired a few shots. Butcher snarled, and then he finally fucked up.

The bow came up, arrow knocked. He turned, aiming for Alec, who was standing behind the wall of a nearby building, but all that did was give Taylor a clear shot.

 

A fly landed on the bow.

 

Taylor’s bullet snapped the string.

 

The arrow went flying off to the side, spinning away into the distance. Skitter smiled savagely under her mask as the cape roared with anger, and then vanished somewhere out of sight. Her bugs found him a moment later, angrily making a pair of axes on a nearby roof.

 

Another weakness - His danger sense only activated when the damage was pointed at him , not his tools. That was how they had taken out the minigun too, whoever it was that had managed that.

 

“Bow is out of the picture. He’s down to melee at this point,” Tattletale said.

 

“Oh good, so we just need to fight a psychopath with fifteen powers hand-to-hand. No big deal,” Alec muttered.

“It’s better than an arrow to the fucking face, isn’t it?” Taylor shot back. “Rachel, back away but keep harrying Animos. Keep him angry. Alec, stay as far back as you can, and keep an eye on Animos - Brian, you’re on containment with me. If he gets close, keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

 

“We can’t keep him nearby for long, you know,” Grue said, loading shells into his shotgun. “He’s got four brute abilities, and we can’t put him down at all.”

She sucked in a breath, settling herself as she dropped the rifle and reloaded her pistol. “I’m aware. We have the plan.”

“The plan doesn’t take everything into account, you know,” he replied, coming to stand near her. “Odds are still high it goes wrong.”

 

Taylor held back a sigh, knowing what Brian was really saying. He knew the plan, knew the odds, knew how likely it was to fail. Too many variables, too many ‘if’s’ and ‘maybes.’

 

“Whatever it takes,” was all she said, turning her head to look him in the eye.

That skull mask stared at her, then nodded back. “Two on one isn’t exactly the best odds,” he said.

 

“Yeah, but we’ve never fought fair in the past, he’ll just have to deal,” Taylor shot back, settling as her swarm noted the Butcher standing up from the ground, axes fully formed.

“Good thing we have backup coming,” Lisa suddenly cut in. The swarm traced something in the distance - someone on a vehicle, rapidly moving towards them. It felt like a motorcycle - Armsmaster? Taylor furrowed her brow, but before she could ask for clarification the air in front of them exploded. 

 

Brian cursed, falling onto his back and rolling as an ax cut through the air over his head. Taylor fired two shots at the inside of his elbow while the arm was extended, then stepped to the side as another heavy blow cratered the ground where she had been standing.

 

She lashed out with a knife, barely scoring a cut on the Butcher’s arm. He snarled at her through blood-stained teeth, and then suddenly everything was RAGE .

 

Her voice roared as she lashed out with her knife, swarm hissing with her anger. Someone screamed into her ear, but it was meaningless noise when she was this fucking angry . This was her city! Her fucking city! Everything was drowned in a shade of red as she rushed the man, ducking a blow and stabbing at him repeatedly with her knife, continuing even when her strikes failed to do any damage, pistol forgotten on the ground behind her. Bugs poured onto the man, coating the Butcher in a thick cloud of biting, stinging rage. He laughed loudly, and she took the chance to shove hundreds of bugs down his throat, choking the laughter away.

 

“Taylor!”

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him ! This was her city, her life, her work. She was not going to hand it over to him, let him bring back the darkness she had spent her morality, her youth, and most recently her love driving away. 

 

The roaring in her ears was matched by the roar of an engine in the distance, steadily getting closer. She ignored it, focusing on the bastard who dared to fuck with her city .

 

Butcher staggered away, clutching at his throat, and she made to follow, to finish the job. A hand grabbed her shoulder, and she swung backwards with a snarl, turning to see who dared to stop her.

Grue took the blow on his helmet, and Taylor paused, listening as he shouted at her. “Taylor! Master power! Back away! ”

 

The anger bled away quickly, dispersed into her bugs, but in the time it took for her to realize it was a Master power and that the voice screaming in her ears was Lisa, the Butcher was able to land a punch to her chest, sending her tumbling across the ground. She called off her bugs, and the Butcher groaned, soundly sickly disappointed as a stream of insects clawed their way out of his lungs.

 

Taylor hissed, rubbing at her chest as the last of the anger faded, and the Butcher laughed loudly. His crazed eyes locked on her, grinning widely.

 

“Almost had you,” he shouted, and she realized he didn’t mean he had almost killed her .

 

She had almost killed him. That was what he wanted.

 

“Don’t worry,” Butcher continued, spinning an axe as he spat out a mouthful of blood, the red running down his chin. “I’ll make sure he can’t stop you next time.”

Taylor raised a hand as the Butcher vanished, suddenly appearing in front of Brian, exploding with flame. Her teammate shouted as he fell, his gun flying away as he landed on his back. Taylor screamed as the axe went up, Brian spitting out a cloud of smoke but it was too late, she couldn’t stop him, her swarm was too slow, too weak, too far -

 

The engine noises grew louder, just feet away.

Taylor turned just in time to see a motorcycle slam into the Butcher at full speed, sending the Teeth’s leader skidding away. A trail of smoke fizzed off of the bike, resolving into a figure standing tall, her back to the Undersiders as she watched the Butcher skid down the road, buried underneath a half-ton of purple and black metal. She wore a black jacket with what looked like yellow duct tape painted on the back, forming a V on the leather; a crossbow slung over her shoulder, the bow of it folded to the sides, and a quiver on her hip. She turned, revealing a scratched and well-worn hockey mask. It covered everything but the eyes, leaving their identity a mystery.

 

But those eyes were smiling, and Taylor knew them well.

 

“I always hated that bike,” Sophia said, rolling her shoulders. “Sorry I’m late.”

 

---

 

She still had no clue how they let her out of the PRT without taking the keys to her bike, but she wasn’t complaining. Grue stood up off the ground, his skull mask pointed towards her as he scooped up a fucking shotgun . Man, they weren’t playing around today, were they?

Her bike shifted and suddenly flew to the side as Butcher stood with a roar, casting aside the wreck. Sophia was glad the Tinkertech hadn’t just exploded on contact with the man, but he seemed to have that covered all on his own.

 

Sophia shifted as the man appeared in front of her, his axe passing through her shadow state easily. A few paces away, Grue vanished into a cloud of shadow - Sophia grimaced, knowing full well she couldn’t get too close to that without issues .

Taylor, on the other hand, just fucking stepped into the Butcher’s attack and kept going. An elbow thrust out at her, and she just pushed down on it with her own forearm, shoving the blow to the side so she could lash at the Butcher’s eyes with a knife. The man roared, his eye running with blood as he stepped back with a snarl, bugs moving in to eat at the exposed wound.

 

“So what’s the plan?” Sophia asked, pulling her crossbow off of her shoulder. “Please tell me there’s a plan.”

“There is,” Grue shouted, voice distorted. “But you aren’t going to like it -” he cut off as Butcher appeared in front of him, vanishing into a cloud of smoke as the madman started swinging. A single shotgun blast was swallowed by the smoke, echoing oddly before being replaced with absolute silence.

The crossbow unfolded quickly, and she pumped the lever twice to pull back the string before loading a bolt. “Plan?!” she asked leadingly, raising the crossbow to train it on the Butcher.

Taylor didn’t respond, walking over to the road and picking up her pistol off the ground. Sophia was about to ask again before a buzzing noise near her ear stopped her. She turned, spotting an odd cluster of bugs holding onto a bluetooth headset. Sophia held out a hand and caught it as the bugs dispersed, staring at it warily.

 

Fuck, did she have to shove this in here ear now that all those bugs had touched it? Dating Skitter had downsides and she was not interested in thinking about that right now. Bugs fucking everywhere, shit.

 

Ignoring her instinctive disgust, she shoved the earpiece in. A voice quickly spoke up, familiar despite its rushed tone.

“Hey, good to have you, please tell me you have backup,” Tattletaid said.

“Sorry. Just me, I think.”

“We’ll take what we can get,” Skitter said, raising her pistol just in time for Brian to slide out of the smoke on his back, shotgun roaring up as the Butcher chased him. Taylor’s arm tracked his motion, following him out of the cloud of inky mist, pistol blaring as she shot at his knee. The armor there was shredded by this point, and soon enough the Butcher stumbled as a bullet finally found purchase in his joints. He growled, then vanished, a nearby roof exploding with the wrath of his travel.

 

“The plan is pretty simple - we’re going to kill the Butcher.”

Sophia grimaced, lifting her crossbow up to the rooftop, trying to see if she could spot the man. “Oh, yeah, simple enough. Mind explaining what makes you think that it will work this time? No offense, but if the next Butcher has fucking bug control I may just leave the fucking city.”

“A few fights back, Regent managed to find the muscle cluster needed to make Animos roar. We’re keeping him penned in right now with Bitch’s dogs - his roar doesn’t stop changer-style effects - but the goal is to corner him right after a teleport, make Animos roar, and then we have a thirty-second window to kill him without the inheritance happening,” Tattletale explained.

 

“That... doesn’t sound like it will work,” Sophia said quietly.

 

“We’ve been just politely ignoring the fact that one of us is going to end up in the ‘Cage at the end of this,” Grue said, his voice echoing in the smoke and also in her headset. “The odds aren’t in our favor, but we’re... low on options, at this point.”

“I can tell,” Sophia said, a sudden surge of fear churning in her stomach. “Is there - no other plan?”

Taylor shook her head, the motion sharp with frustration. “Plan A was to cripple him and see if we could get him foamed, and hope that his teleportation is line-of-sight. He always looked to where he was teleporting... but either it’s not vision based, or he has a workaround somehow. This is what we’ve got.”

Fuck. Fuck, this was bad. She had assumed Skitter had everything planned out - because how couldn’t she have? This was the same woman who had managed to no-sell almost the entire Protectorate roster for years, the woman with the largest set of threat ratings on the east coast. She had thought things would be okay - just one hard fight and then they had the rest of their lives to figure it out.

 

Suddenly ‘the rest of our lives’ was a cold comfort, if it meant one of them was going to spend it as the Butcher.

 

There was an explosion nearby, and Sophia whirled away as an axe hissed towards her. She fired off a bolt, grimacing as Butcher blocked it with the head of his weapon, then lashed out towards Skitter. Fuck, she was missed the wrist-mounted launchers. Loading the crossbow took precious seconds, and by the time she was reloaded Butcher was gone, appearing down the road and throwing one of his massive axes at them.

 

Skitter ducked the blow, and Sophia let it pass through her, slamming into the road behind her and sending up fragments of stone and asphalt. She watched as the Butcher vanished again, leaving the three of them in the street.

 

A voice spoke in her ear, quietly. “Hey. I’m about to say some really fucked up shit, but you’re going to agree with me anyways. Don’t worry, it’s just us.”

Sophia blinked, wary as Tattletale whispered to her. “What -”

“Shhh, just listen, she can hear you. Skitter can’t be the next Butcher. We all agreed on that - Me, Regent, Bitch, and Grue - that we need her more than she needs any one of us. If we die or end up contained, life will go on. If she inherits... well. The Undersiders and the Underside collapse. The problem is -”

“She’s a good person.”

Tattletale laughed bitterly. “Yeah. The best of us, and it shows at the absolute worst of times.”

Taylor was running down the road away from them, towards the sound of dogs barking and explosions. Sophia eyed her, tracing the lines of her armor, the way her costume shifted with each motion. The waterfall of curling black hair running down her back, the purpose with which she moved.

 

Her lover would pay that cost in a heartbeat, Sophia knew. Taylor would see it as a worthwhile trade, if her friends lived on, without realising how fucking empty life would be without her. She probably saw it as her duty, or some shit.

 

“I know this isn't what you wanted to hear. But if the time comes to it... take him out before she can.”

“That will destroy her, you know that. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“But she’ll be alive to be hurt. If she kills him - you won’t know her anymore. Skitter will be gone. Taylor will be gone. And we both know that between the two of you, there’s really only one choice to make.”

Sophia felt that choice hit her like a knife to the side, slipping between two ribs, right to the heart. Playing off of her infatuation and her sense of self worth in a single sentence, huh? Tattletale would have fit in great with them, back in high school. “You’re a pretty fucking miserable excuse for a human being, do you know that?”

“There’s a reason my house doesn’t have mirrors, Sophia. Being a horrible person doesn’t make me wrong, though. Can we count on you?”

 

She stared down the road for a moment, then let out her rage in a single long sigh. “Fine. Just - fine. I’ll do it.”

“You won’t be alone. We’ll all be trying to do it -”

“But you wouldn’t mind if it was me, would you. That way you can keep your little gang in one piece.”

Tattletale’s response was simple. “They’re my family. Can you blame me?”

Sophia didn’t dignify that with a response, just shifting to shadow and relocating, following the action. She crested the roof of a car, jumping to a fire escape, looking for a place to shoot down from, and arrived at a warzone.

 

A half-dozen massive beasts were circling the street, five of them lizard-like in appearance, with thick leathery hides and massive maws of teeth. The sixth looked more like a bear than anything else, heavier with muscle than the dogs were. Bitch’s dogs and Animos snapped at each other, the pack keeping the Changer locked down, claws and jaws never giving him a moment to rest. Down the street, Grue was flitting in and out of a cloud of smoke, firing potshots at the Butcher with his shotgun. She spotted Regent behind a nearby building, his masked face peeking out as he held his scepter by his side.

 

Skitter stood in the middle of it all, of course; a writhing swarm of black churning the air around her, lashing out in thick tendrils whenever the Butcher got close, a pistol in her hand roaring frequently. 

 

The Undersiders were holding their own, each of them playing a part. Training and expertise shone through.

 

But the Butcher...

 

He was fury .

 

One moment, he was under assault from Skitter, the swarm enveloping him and drowning him in venom; the next, he was gone, suddenly appearing inches away from Grue. Grue managed to fend him off by blasting smoke directly into his face, ducking under the wild axe swings, but suddenly he appeared next to Bitch, digging the blade of his weapon deep into the leg of one of the dogs. Bitch howled, jabbing down with her long spear at his face, until he vanished again. Regent’s half cover hadn’t been enough to block the bloodsight; he managed to use his power to guild the axe blow over his head, then jabbing out with the electrified scepter.

 

And then he was back to Skitter. Around and around he went, never fighting long enough to take damage.

“This isn’t how he’s supposed to fight,” Grue said after a quick exchange, breath coming in heavy pants. “He’s playing it smart, wearing us down. We can’t keep him at bay for long.”

 

“He knows our plan,” Tattletale said, voice angry over the comms. “Fuck! Of course he knows, how couldn’t he. He’s keeping his back to Animos - but making sure that if we hit him with the blast, we’ll be vulnerable too. Sadistic fucking prick he wants us to choose .”

“Solutions, Tattletale?” Skitter shouted, firing rapidly to cover Regent from a brutal assault.

 

Sophia floated down to the street, unable to get a clear shot from the rooftops, and alighted atop a car parked down the road from the action. Butcher was moving so rapidly, it was hard to get a bead on him - he picked his targets at random, and never fought for more than a few seconds before vanishing.

 

Well. shit. This was becoming a clusterfuck quite quickly.

Down the road, Butcher suddenly appeared next to Taylor, swinging out with twin axes and nearly taking her head off. Skitter fell to the ground to dodge, but was unable to avoid the kick that hit her in the ribs, sending her sprawling down the road. Sophia watched in horror as Taylor rolled several yards, slamming into a parked car and coming to a stop with a bang. Butcher stalked after her, a sick smile on his face as he dragged an axe behind him. It cut into the pavement, eating away at the material, melding and warping until it was that massive sword that had nearly killed them both just a few days ago.

 

He raised the blade high, laughing maniacally, ignoring shots from the other Undersiders as he prepared to kill their leader.

 

A crossbow bolt caught him right in the ribs, passing through his chest and only slowing once it pierced out the other side.

 

Sophia stared, waiting to see what the result would be.

 

It had been a rough choice to make, when it was a matter of ‘if’ and ‘maybe’ in her head a few moments ago, but it seemed that when it came down to the wire she already knew what she wanted to do.

 

Butcher stared down at the bolt, ignoring the bugs that were swarming over him and ripping at his skin. He snapped the bolt off, lifting it up to examine the crimson liquid dripping off of it in more detail.

 

When he turned to Sophia, she stepped back involuntarily, horrified. Half of his face was just gone , stripped away by insects that were still biting at the edges, white bone exposed to the air. His skeletal grin was matched by a look of absolute glee on what remained of his features, as he dropped the bolt with a laugh, turning to look from Taylor to Sophia, cackling madly.

 

“One of you is going to die for the other,” he said with something like wonder, laughing madly. Taylor froze, caught halfway in the act of standing, clutching at her side. Sophia turned to look at her, her heart dropping in her chest as she locked eyes with her lover.

 

One of Taylor’s lenses had shattered in her tumble, revealing a fraction of the person beneath the mask. A scared brown eye looked out at the world, matching Sophia’s own terror at the idea of it.

 

Sophia watched as terror bled away, replaced with manic determination as Taylor stood, reversing the grip on her knife as raising a shaking arm. Sophia hissed under her breath, reloading her crossbow, raising it to her shoulder.

 

Butcher laughed again, a sound that was tinged with the watery warble of blood in his lungs and psychotic rage. He smiled again, and vanished, appearing down the road, wading into Grue’s smoke cloud with a gleeful shout.

 

Taylor tapped at her ear. “Bitch, get Animos pinned and pointed here. Regent, hit him with the roar on my command.”

“Like fuck -” an angry woman replied, dogs snarling in the background, but Taylor cut her off.

 

“Fucking do it , Bitch. That’s an order. Either you do it or we get to die by a thousand cuts.” Sophia watched as Taylor rolled her shoulders, wincing slightly at the pain in her ribs.

 

“Please don’t do this,” someone said over the comms, and Sophia realized a few seconds after the words were said it was her. Skitter didn’t turn to look at her, instead walking forward into the middle of the road, knife held out in front of her. She had lost the pistol somewhere in her uncontrolled tumble, and her stance was unsteady from pain, but her resolve was firm.

 

“Someone has to,” Taylor replied, waiting. Sophia looked down the road, where Butcher was fighting with Grue, clearly toying with the man. “Someone needs to do it, and I can’t let it be anyone else.”

“I can’t let it be you,” Sophia replied, raising her crossbow. There was no reply, but the way that Taylor’s shoulders tensed showed that she had heard the words.

 

Down the road, Butcher vanished.

 

Everything stopped . Sophia could feel the world balanced on the edge of a heartbeat, as she waited for him to appear, tension filling her limbs like ice. She raised her bow to her shoulder as fire began to bloom, right in front of Taylor.

 

Butcher appeared, laughing, sword swinging, soot raining around him as the insects in the air burnt away.

 

A wave of force hit him in the back, the distortion visible in the air as it passed him. Butcher staggered, sword slipping from his hands, but his smile remained steadfast as he pulled the remaining ax from his belt.

 

The insects in the air dispersed by the force of the roar. 

They didn’t come back.

 

Taylor sagged, dodging to the side as Butcher swung his ax down at her and lashed out with her knife. Sophia was still raising her crossbow towards the man, and couldn’t do anything but watch as the blade lashed out towards his chest. It hit the Teeth leader right between the ribs; it was a clean blow. It should have sank into his heart.

 

Instead, it barely pierced the skin. Butcher smiled, his knee coming up, slamming into Taylor’s chest and sending her sprawling. Sophia watched as the knife spilled from her fingers, clattering to the pavement.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Tattletale whispered. “Animos doesn’t dispel Changer effects, he still has a Brute power. ”

 

Sophia panicked as the axe came up, firing her shot too quickly. It hit Butcher in the shoulder, piercing through the bone and piercing to appear out the back, but it wasn’t enough.

 

She dropped the crossbow and started running, but she wasn’t alone.

 

Bullets rained down from everywhere nearby. Regent appeared down the road, firing towards the Butcher; Grue sprinted towards them, loading his shotgun, shells spilling from his hands in his haste to load it. Massive footfalls sounded, and Sophia could see Bitch out of the corner of her eye, Animos forgotten as she charged towards them with her long spear raised.

 

Tattletale hadn’t been kidding, when she said that they had all agreed to take the fall when possible.

 

Sophia got there first, lashing out with a kick that barely budged the Butcher, but did get him to turn. She let his backhand sweep through her, grimacing at the speed of it - it was far reduced from his strength earlier, but it was still clearly above the human norm.

 

Grue fired a shotgun blast into Butcher’s back, sending the man staggering forward, but he dropped the empty shotgun and tried to grapple the Brute afterwards, grabbing ahold of his arm and trying to wrench it back. Bitch arrived next, her spear lashing down as she shouted loudly. The spear hit Butcher in the side, sinking in half a foot, the man howling with rage as he stumbled to the side. His leg gave out on him at the worst moment, bringing him to his knees.

 

It nearly worked, but nearly was never as impressive as doing the thing right. Butcher snarled, windmilling his arms to dislodge Grue, then reaching up and grabbing the haft of Bitch’s spear. He roared, snapping it in half, then swung his axe blindly from a crouch. The heavy stone blade took the dog in the knee, cutting clean through the leg in a spray of red viscera, and Grue barely managed to dodge the wild swing that came at his face. He was unable to dodge the followup fist that took him in the chest. The Butcher rose from a crouch with a massive uppercut, sending the Undersider soaring down the street and cratering the roof of a car as he landed.

 

Suddenly it was just the three of them again. Butcher was howling with animalistic fury as he raised his ax in both hands. Taylor was staggering to her feet, but she clearly couldn’t support herself as she stumbled.

The realization came with shocking clarity; a cool rush of ice that ran down Sophia’s back and washed away everything else. This was going to be her last moment with Taylor, regardless of which one of them died here. She took a deep breath, tracing the sight of her lover, drinking the set of her shoulders, the determination in her fists, the burning fire in her exposed eye as she fought with everything she had.

 

So this is what it feels like to be a hero , she thought, smiling under her mask as she stepped forward, under his raised arms, one hand wrapping around the broken haft of Bitch’s spear. The weapon faded into mist as the axe began to come down, towards the woman on the ground, cutting the air with terrible inevitability.

 

The shadow didn’t make a sound as Sophia raised it, turning it point up and sliding it through Butcher’s head, through his jaw and out his scalp. She let go.

 

Butcher was dead before she stepped back, a wide grin on his lips and manic joy in his eyes.

 

He had gotten what he wanted, in the end.

The axe was too heavy to be stopped so easily. It must have been two hundred pounds of stone easily; Butcher was beginning to fall to the side, but it still carried on its deadly descent, unbothered by who was holding it or who it was going to hit. It was just a weapon, after all; it didn’t care what it cut, only that it did.

 

Sophia could have gone shadow and dodged the blow, but that wasn’t the plan, was it?

 

She turned to look over her shoulder, meeting Taylor’s eye through the broken lens.

 

“Sophia -” the other woman was saying, eyes wide and panicked, hand raised towards her. Sophia smiled.

 

The hero had just enough time to say “I love you,” before the axe hit and everything went black.

Notes:

:3

Don't worry I promise chapter 12 wont take as long to come out as this one did.

Feel free to come scream at me on the

Gaylor Discord!

Chapter 12: Twelve

Summary:

Told you it wouldn't take too much longer :3

Notes:

For those of you catching up - yes, I did in fact drop chapter 11 and then wait six hours to post this, just to make the audience squirm.

Thank you all for reading, more effusive notes at the bottom.

EDIT: 2/11/25:

I have just been informed that, at some point Ao3 bugged and ate chapter 12. Meaning when people read the fic they only got up to the horrible cliffhanger that is chapter 11, and then saw the fic hadn't been updated in like 3 years. Which is - not what I intended, jesus, I'm so sorry to all of you who read through this and didn't get my cathartic last chapter, I swear I didn't intend to leave you all on that cliffhanger.

For those of you who have read chapter 12, there is no new content here, im just fixing some archive shenanigans.

Thanks for reading!

Sophia woke up like sleep was fighting her back every step of the way. Her eyes felt heavy and lidded; her mouth was so dry it felt like she had been chewing on fucking salt. Her body felt sluggish; moving it took more effort than it ever had.

 

It was a good thing she was so stubborn.

 

She groaned as she opened her eyes, forcing her eyelids to part despite how tired she was. There was - something she was supposed to do, wasn’t there? Someone who she needed to see... she couldn’t just lay here, not when -

 

“Taylor!” she cried out, sitting up in the bed. Blankets shifted to the side as she rose, blinking rapidly. Right, the Butcher had almost killed Taylor, she needed to -

 

The Butcher had nearly killed her . She had killed him. There was a sizable gap between those two things - killing the monster and dying for it - and waking up, tucked snugly into a bed she didn’t recognise.

 

“Gross,” someone said off to her side, and Sophia turned to the side, seeing a familiar face. Amelia scrunched up her nose as she packed away the same blue tub as last time, sliding it onto a rolling trolly. “Must have been a good dream, if you woke up screaming your girlfriend’s name, huh?”

Sophia’s train of thought skipped a few rails, as she jumped from near-death experience to sassy innuendo in half a second. She shook her head, the panic that had been plaguing her just a moment before fading into exasperation. Amelia was wearing a similar outfit to last time, torn jeans and a band t-shirt with her dark makeup, but she looked a fair bit haggard and worn. Her shirt was stained rather liberally with dried blood, and Sophia had the feeling at least some of it was her own.

 

The memory of that axe falling was clear as day. She could still feel the impact, as it hit her in the shoulder, shattering bone on the way down. Taylor’s scream as everything went black would haunt her for a long while. 

 

She shook her head, chasing away that thought as she forced herself to look around the room. Someone had shoved her into a worn T-shirt and sleep pants - she recognized them as Taylors clothes, so likely her girlfriend had done it.

 

Fuck, how had she not seen the whole Skitter thing at this point? The shirt was a graphic design with a smiling bee on it, the letters B.D.S.M. over the top, with the words ‘Bees Do So Much... for the environment’ under it. Not so much a subtle wink as it was a screaming shout, honestly. Her partner was such a fucking dork.

 

Partner. She liked that term, it implied a certain amount of time to it. Time like ‘forever,’ an implication that they would do things together. Partners in life, love, and probably crime.

 

Man, she was so down for some crimes right now. She was still pretty pissed that no one from the PRT had shown up for the fight, and after she had given such a good speech too! And some fucking food.

 

“No pizza this time?” she said, stomach grumbling. Panacea shrugged, reaching on top of the trolley and grabbing something, writing on it with a pen.

 

“Little too busy to take orders right now, sorry,” the woman said, flicking something at Sophia. She picked it up, eyeing it and snorting when she saw it was a fucking punch card, with two circles marked. “Three more heals for the free ice cream, four for the dinner,” Panacea called, rolling the cart.

 

“You hand out ice cream to frequent fliers?”

 

“Excuse me, no, you buy me the food, thank you very much.”

Sophia shrugged as Panacea paused by the door. “You saved my life, I feel like that deserves some sort of recognition. Thank you.”

“Please, for my sake, keep the thanks to a minimum. You’re helping us out, it’s what I do.”

“It’s a little more than just -”

“Shadow Stalker?” Panacea cut in, raising a hand. “I meant it. Keep the thanks to a minimum, please. If you want to repay me, just keep the idiots out here alive until I can get to them, okay? I may not be part of the team but keeping you alive is for more than just my own sake.”

Sophia hummed, leaning back in the bed. “Okay. Th- ah, uhm. Good... work? With me being not dead, or whatever.”

Amelia laughed, shaking her head exasperatedly. “Oh my god, you two are perfect for each other, actually. I take back my complaints. Fucking dorks.”

 

“Oh. Wait, you were complaining -”

“It was selfish of me, anyways. If you die, Taylor gets sad, and if she’s sad my girlfriend gets sad, and if my girlfriend is sad it ruins my plans for the weekend. Nothing to it, really.”

The former hero laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, if that’s the case, fuck you then. How dare I mess with your weekend plans .”

Panacea hummed, the healer biting on her lip as she looked towards the door for a bit, then turned back. “For what it’s worth? I think you’ll fit in with the team pretty well. As hard as it may be to believe, they’re good people once you get to know them.”

Sophia thought about that. Thought about how everyone had accepted her help, and how they had rushed the Butcher madly in that last moment; each of them struggling to be the one to land the final blow. Thought about Grue’s concern and Bitches wordless rage, thought about how they bickered and chatted in the middle of a warzone. Thought about how Tattletale had described them as family .

 

“I don’t think it’ll be that hard to believe at all, actually,” she said quietly.

 

Amelia smiled, then opened the door and left.

 

“Everyone run! Butcher Sixteen lives!” she shouted, before casually walking down the hall.

 

Sophia rolled her eyes, before stepping out of the bed, feet digging into the carpet. It was the same room as last time, but this time she didn’t take time to examine it, padding on bare feet towards the door. Her clothes weren’t around, but they had probably been destroyed in the last seconds of the fighting anyways. She had already made a pretty shit first impression with these people - she couldn’t imagine showing up in a shirt two sizes too large for her and plaid pajama bottoms would be that big of a deal.

 

Her hand felt rather heavy regardless, pushing the door open and stepping out.

 

“Man, Butcher Sixteen dressed down,” someone said from near the door. She turned to see a younger man, probably around her age, leaning against the wall with a plastic coffee cup in hand. He was on the shorter side, with messy black hair that fell to his shoulders and neatly trimmed goatee. He was also wearing what appeared to be pajamas - a pair of sweatpants and a ratty band t-shirt probably two sizes too large for him, and a pair of massive, oversized slippers shaped like bees.

 

Well, either this was some other random homeless person who happened to live in the warehouse, or a member of the Undersiders. Sophia hummed, eyeing him again.

 

“Regent, I’m guessing,” she said, as the man stepped aside.

 

“What gave me away? It was the legs, wasn’t it?” he replied, tapping at his thighs under the sweatpants. “I wear the tights for a reason, y’know. Can’t hide quality like this.”

She snorted, oddly amused despite the nervousness curling in her gut. “Yes, actually. I was staring at this guy in a Linkin Park shirt and thought to myself, ‘why yes, this is indeed someone who enjoys dressing up like a ren faire reject.’”

 

Regent put a hand to his chest, collapsing against the wall as if shot. “Oh, ow. Clean shot right there, I can see why Brian has a beef with you. Well, that and the mortal wounds and blood loss and all. I miss that couch,” he trailed off, staring up nostalgically. 

 

Sophia cleared her throat, tension flooding her suddenly. Right. The affable person next to her was a member of the Undersiders. Specifically, Regent, who had a long laundry list of crimes and suspected ones as well. Also highly likely to be the son of fucking Heartbreaker , so she had that to look forward to.

 

And the friend he was talking about was Grue . The man she had tried to kill more than once.

 

“Eh, it’s all water under the bridge, as they say. You’re gettin’ it from the boss lady, and that greases some palms, but I’m sure you know about that.”

“Gross,” Sophia replied, flinching back.

 

“Alec! Please for the love of god do not scare off the newbie, not after my girlfriend went to the effort of saving her,” a voice called from down the hall. Someone laughed in the distance, and Regent - Alec - smirked before stepping to the side.

 

Well. At least I’ll be with good company , she thought sardonically, and walked through the open door. Regent pulled it closed behind her, and she tried not to be intimidated by how close he was. “Come along, little hero, we’ve gotta corrupt you before you change your mind and run back to the side of all that is good and pure.”

 

“What gave me away?” she said instead, trying to pull back the mood from before. “It was the hair, wasn’t it.”

“Actually, it was the massive fucking hickey on your neck. Taylor’s a bit of a biter.”

Sophia flushed, slapping a hand to the side of her neck. Regent snickered as she pulled out her phone, turning on the camera to check if there was indeed a mark on her neck. 

 

There wasn’t, of course. Regent gave her a smirk as she turned to him with a glare, and she suddenly realized that he wasn’t some villain with a master scheme or game he was playing.

 

He was just an asshole.

 

Regent just gave her a smile as they continued down a short hallway, as if his point had been made. “No, Taylor wont stop talking about you. We made the mistake of getting her started and now she won’t shut up about you, it’s honestly kinda sickening. I’ll have you know I have been mercilessly shit-talking you because I find her reactions hilarious .”

“You’re just a big old ball of fuckery, aren’t you.”

“No, that’s Lisa. I’m the token sane person,” he said, somehow saying it with a straight face.

Sophia blinked, frowning slightly. “Lisa would be Tattletale, then?”

Regent nodded. “Yep, that’s the one. I gotta say, if you do start offing us, start with her?”

 

“Do you not like her?” she asked, taken aback.

 

“Nah, I just think it would be funny to say ‘I told you so’ when she has a crossbow bolt sticking from her gut. Anyways, welcome to the crib,” he finished, pushing as they stepped out of the hallway to reveal -

 

A living room.

 

She wasn’t sure what she expected, honestly. It was... just a living room. An easy chair and two couches sat arrayed around a massive television; in the back of the room, a rather large kitchen sat behind a counter. The floor was polished hardwood with a few throw rugs; posters hung on the wall. Actually, on closer inspection, those weren’t just posters - they were fake mug shots of each of the Undersiders, posing in costume with a numbered slate in hand.

 

Right. Because what else would you decorate your walls with?

The television was running, some shooter game playing far too loudly on the massive screen. Snack pouches were scattered everywhere; bags of chips and pizza boxes, an old box of takeout chinese food on the table in front of the couches. Drinks here and there, phone charger cables criss-crossing the floors. A speaker in the back of the room was blaring pop music of some sort, the rhythm audible but the lyrics lost.

 

A muscular man who could only be Grue looked up and narrowed his eyes at her, hands stilling on the bottle of beer in his lap. Sophia met his eyes for a moment, but turned away as if disinterested. Her eyes caught on a younger woman with a familiar face - Aisha, the receptionist at Laborns. She was wearing a black leather outfit with scarves and belts trailing off of her, Imp’s mask pushed to the side of her face. The Stranger was laying back on the couch, flicking a butterfly knife back and forth, combat boots thrown over the armrest. Aisha shot Sophia a quick grin as she entered, but went back to her phone a moment later.

 

Another woman sat in the corner, ignoring the room entirely as she fussed with a dog in front of her, several more sitting in a line next to her. The canine looked battle hardened - a german shepherd with one scarred over entirely, the ear on that side chewed short. It turned towards her and bared its teeth, growling softly. Only then did the woman look away from the vest she was taking off of the dog, revealing a stern face with a strong jaw and short-cropped brown hair. Hellhound - Bitch - glared, and her dogs all turned to stare at Sophia in eerie synchronicity. 

 

Regent stepped by her, patting Sophia on the shoulder. “Welcome to the party, bestie. We’re all happy to see you! In order, we’ve got: Brian, Rachel, and that’s all that’s important. Just look at those smiling faces. Anyways, I have shit to do, so I’m sure you can introduce yourself,” he said, before flopping into the chair and picking up his game controller.

 

Sophia stood there as the Undersiders stared her down. Where was Taylor? She was supposed to be here - Sophia wanted to talk to her, explain, apologize. Say some things that she shouldn’t have waited this long to say. Hold her close and tell her she loved her, over and over and over again. Make sure she was okay, that they were both safe.

 

Instead she got the crew of villains she had been fighting against for years, winding down from the battle of a lifetime.

“Hi, Sophia here,” she said, waving slightly. Everyone stared, then the tense mood popped like a bubble. Grue chuckled, raising his beer to tilt it at her sardonically, kicking his feet up on the table. Aisha giggled at the awkward moment, then grumbled as Grue swiped a beer away from her reaching hands.

 

Footsteps sounded as someone approached, and Sophia turned to see a scowl as Bitch was wearing a simple tartan skirt, the way it hung rigidly betraying the plates of armor hidden with it. She wore a sleeveless black vest, showing off well-muscled arms that ended in calloused hands. From this angle, Sophia could see that the sides of her head weren’t just cut short, they were shaved to the temple. The expression of mild rage in her eyes was made more clear by the shrinking space between them as well.

 

The dog-controller marched up to her, a scowl set on her face like it had been carved into place. Sophia turned, bracing herself on instinct as the woman stepped up to her, settling back into a fighting stance. Bitch snorted, looking her up and down, then lashed out with a lighting-quick punch. Sophia raised her arms to block it, only to find out it was a feint as a fist sank into her gut, bending her over nearly in half.

 

“That was for Brian,” the woman said tersely, stepping back. Sophia resisted the urge to lash out with her own punch, nodding sharply as she tried to suck in a breath.

“She tried to kill me twice ,” Grue called, voice thick with amusement. “Give her another.”

Bitch shook her head. “Nah, she’d dodge the second one. No fun.” Instead, she did something even more unexpected - she leaned forward and roughly pressed her lips to Sophia’s, giving her a brief kiss. “That was for Taylor, by the way. Thanks for trying to die for her. She’s got great hands. Name’s Rachel, by the way, and if you touch my dogs I will fucking kill you.”

Sophia felt the sudden urge to sink her face into her hands and either laugh or cry. “Okay, is there anyone in this room my girlfriend hasn’t fucked?!” she said loudly, feeling hysterical. Of course this is how her introduction to her future team would go, why wouldn’t it.

 

It didn’t help that when she turned to eye the room, only a single hand was raised - Grue, waving two fingers in the air. Sophia took a deep breath, trying not to scream.

Aisha turned to Alec with a curious expression. “Wait, you too?” The skinny man shrugged. 

 

“It depends on how you define fucking, I guess.”

“Bugs being flown up your nose doesn’t count as penetration, Alec,” a new voice called out. The bearded man shrugged, absently flapping a hand in the air for a moment. Brian slowly set his beer down on the table, turning with a blank face to stare at his... sister? They looked similar enough.

 

“I’m sorry, when did you sleep with Taylor?” he asked, voice very quiet.

“Which time?”

 

Sophia turned to the newcomer as she exited from a side room. “I’m sorry about Rachel,” she was saying. “She doesn’t really get the romantic or emotional subtext of physical contact? Basically she kissed you to let you know you were okay with her, or something. Or she wants to fuck you, one of the two.”

 

The woman was a pretty blonde, with bright green eyes and a scattering of freckles across her face. Her grin was hooked up in the corner and razor sharp - the kind of smile Sophia knew would hook her in an instant if flashed at her.

 

Oh look. It was being flashed at her. Lisa - because who else could it be? Sophia recognised that smirk anywhere - came to a stop in front of her, looking up slightly to meet Sophia’s eyes and holding out a hand.

 

Sophia shook it, forcing a smile onto her face. “You must be Lisa,” she said, voice too sweet to be anything but sharp. Lisa accepted the handshake, smiling back just as tightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Mh, it is nice to meet you face to face at last. No hard feelings about earlier, right?” the blonde asked.

 

“Actually, I kinda want to deck you right now,” Sophia admitted, watching as the smile fell. 

 

“Don’t bother, she’s into that shit!” Alec called from across the room. “Also her girlfriend is scarier than yours.”

 

Lisa sighed, rolling her eyes, and Sophia let go of her hand with a sigh. “For what it’s worth - well. I did what I thought I had to do. I’m rarely proud of it, but I would do a lot to keep this team together. Luckily for you, you’re on it now.”

“That easily? Just - ‘hey, welcome to the team?’ after everything I’ve done to you guys?”

“We’ve done worse to each other, some of us. It’s something of a rite of passage. We’re all a little fucked up, but that comes with the territory, doesn’t it? As far as I’m concerned - you’ve fought, bled, and killed for us. That makes you one of us.”

 

No one else in the room seemed to contest it. Sophia turned to the rest of them, to find them smiling softly and nodding, or just nodding in Rachel’s case. Alec just shot her a distracted thumbs up when she turned to look at him, busy with his game.

 

Well. That was it, then. She was an Undersider, apparently.

 

“Don’t worry, hun,” Lisa said, leaning in close with that fucking smirk again. Sophia was suddenly reminded that, despite how much of a bitch this woman had been, she was in fact very attractive. “We’re going to get along great .”

Before Sophia could process that, a door at the end of the hall slammed open, followed by a set of rushed footsteps. Lisa smiled softly, then stepped back, just in time for Sophia to be hit by a Taylor-shaped cruise missile.

 

Suddenly everything was right . Sophia hadn’t realized how tense she was, how much worry had been clawing at the back of her head. Taylor was alive and she knew that, knew that these people wouldn’t be just kicking back if their friend was dead -

 

But it was one thing to think that and another to have those arms wrapped around her, to have those lips pressed against her own as they frantically grabbed at each other, reassuring one another that things were okay that they were alive that she was here -

 

“I’m sorry, I wanted to be here but I couldn’t. I had to deal with the prisoner transport and the PRT and -” Taylor said, gasping an apology between desperate presses of her lips to Sophia’s. Apologizing, like she had done something wrong.

 

Sophia cut her off, reaching up to cradle her face in her hands, forcing Taylor to look her in the eyes. She watched as her partner’s gaze flicked from feature to feature, drinking in all the evidence, all the proof that Sophia was here, safe, whole.

 

“I love you,” Sophia whispered.

 

Taylor’s eyes froze, and settled onto her own. She blinked once, long and slow, and then the tension seemed to run out of her. Her eyes softened, and she leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.

 

“I love you too. So fucking much. God, you scared me, Sophia - when you - when I thought I lost you -” she said, stumbling over her words, burying her fingers in the shorter woman’s hair, anchoring herself in her.

 

“I’m here,” Sophia replied softly, pressing a soft kiss to her nose. “You scared me too, you know. When I woke up without you there -”

“I’m sorry, I know I should have been here -”

“No, shh. You had shit to do, I get it. Big bad Skitter had to go scare off the PRT after doing their job for them, fine. God, I wish I could have seen the look on Piggots face - but. You were so hurt, and I had no clue if I managed to actually stop the axe -”

“It got stopped at around mid-spine, which is interesting because I didn’t know heroes had those,” Alex chimed cheerfully from his chair. They paused, suddenly remembering that they weren’t alone in the room. Taylor closed her eyes, and Alec started coughing loudly from behind them.

 

“I don’t ever want to wake up without you next to me ever again,” Sophia said, her hands falling down to bracket Taylor’s hips.

 

The taller woman smiled slyly. “Luckily for you, I have no intention of you ever leaving my bed again.”

Sophia laughed, bright and clear, and it was two in the afternoon but it felt like the sun had just risen on a new day, like she was finally exactly where she was meant to be.

 

“Take me home, Taylor.”

---

 

They managed to make it inside the door before clothes started getting lost, which was honestly a fair bit beyond Sophia’s expectations. They didn’t manage to close the door, but hey, it was the thought that counted.

 

Taylor pressed Sophia up against the hallway wall, her knee between her thighs, hands on her hips and pinning her up off the floor. She was in rare form today; Taylor didn’t stop moving for an instant, her hands tracing trails of fire up Sophia’s sides, nails cutting lines of sharp electricity whenever they pressed into skin, lips leaving behind kisses that tingled, teeth scraping love letters into her neck.

 

Sophia just held on for the ride, sighing out Taylor’s name and words of encouragement whenever her mouth was free to form words. Taylor eventually let go with her hands, and Sophia’s eyes widened as the tall woman held her against the wall with just the press of her body and the strength of her leg, as her lover quickly ripped off her jacket and pulled her shirt over her head. 

 

It never got old, seeing the canvas of Taylor’s body, tracing the inked lines over taunt pale skin. She was a fucking masterpiece, and the fact that she was strong enough to pin Sophia to the wall like this was a definite plus. Sophia reached up with her arms to hold on as Taylor leaned back, grabbing her oddly-smooth undershirt by the collar and ripping it over her neck. Part of her recognizes the material - gray spidersilk, the same sort of armor all the Undersiders wear beneath their uniforms.

 

The rest of her was more focused on the fact that her lover was now shirtless. Sophia felt her heart stutter as she eyed the smooth planes of Taylor’s torso; her breasts, small mounds of pale skin lined with red and black around the edges, tipped with pink, pebbled skin. Her abs, faintly visible under her smooth skin, rippling as she moved, dancing just under the surface. The tattoos -

 

Wait.

 

One of Sophia’s hands came down to rest on the tail of a red and green dragon, in the eastern style of dragons. “You have to be fucking kidding me,” she whispered, disbelieving.

 

“Notice something?” Taylor responds, voice sly as she sets her arms under Sophia’s shoulders, keeping her pinned.

 

Sophia traced them again, seeing the ink with new eyes. A silver dragon, a knight, a spear - no, a halberd sunk into the ground with a red scarf tied around it. A lion - fucking Triumph - doing battle with a massive wolf - Hookwolf - and another dragon on her legs - a metal dragon . Things she had seen before, examined, but didn’t really think of beyond them being works of art in their own right.

 

“Did you -” she starts, flabbergasted.

 

“Mhhh?” Taylor responds, and Sophia looks up from her torso, meeting a far too amused gaze.

 

“Taylor fucking Hebert, do you have tattoos of all the capes you’ve beaten on your body?”

“I mean, the real question is how you didn’t notice by now, honestly,” her partner responds, nails scraping soft lines across her ribs. “I really expected you to notice the first night, they’re not exactly subtle . There’s a reason I wear long sleeves most places.”

Sophia rubbed a thumb across her hip, tracing a gladiator stabbing down at a woman in a black and red wizard’s robe - Triumph and Rune, clearly. “I was distracted.”

“All those times? Really?”

“Very distracted. Christ, you have one hell of an ego.”

 

Taylor grinned, leaning closer, sending Sophia’s heart thumping harder. A hand comes up to rest on her throat, squeezing just the slightest amount, but it’s more than enough to drive the disbelief out of her. “I think you and I both know I live up to it.”

“Don’t write checks your mouth can’t back up, Skitter .”

Her lover grinned down at her. “Oh, my mouth is more than capable. Do you need a reminder?”

Sophia didn’t have time to respond, because in the next moment Taylor’s hands were on her hips and lifting , digging into the elastic waistband of the borrowed pajama pants and yanking them down. Sophia gasped, as her back hit the wall, and Taylor slung her legs over her shoulders, holding her up to face-level.

“Well, fuck. Someone’s showing off tonight,” Sophia said, breathless as she raised her hands up to brace herself on the ceiling. Taylor hummed, laughing slightly, then she leaned forwards and there really wasn’t time for things like thought when lips closed around her folds. Sophia gasped, thighs clenching, as Taylor dove in.

A tongue, rough and possessive, slid through her lips. Teeth scraped on sensitive skin as Taylor devoured her, keeping her pinned by the bruising grip on her hips, grabbing hands keeping her aloft.

“Fucking - oh god, fuck ,” she moaned, one hand coming down from the ceiling to bury itself in Taylor’s hair, pulling her close. It was less about technique and skill than it was about brute force and friction - she ground on Taylor’s face, each movement sending a bolt of pleasure coursing from her core to her brain, making it hard to remember anything other than that tongue inside her. 

 

She clenched her thighs together around Taylor’s head as the wave rose, nails scratching at the ceiling, black strands silken around her fingers. “Fuck - Taylor -” was all the time she had to say, before she lost her breath and wailed .

 

Taylor didn’t stop, of course, because she was always a fucking overachiever - her tongue running quick circles around her clit, her lips wet and sloppy. When the orgasm faded, Taylor let her slide down until weak legs balanced against the floor. She leaned forward into her lover, breathing heavily.

“That was - something.”

“A good something?”

Sophia looked up with a grin, eyeing Taylor’s flushed face and messy hair. “A ‘we’re going to do that again’ sort of something. I love you.”

It slipped out, rather than the teasing reply she had expected to say, but what the hell else was she supposed to say when Taylor had that look in her eyes? A sort of disbelieving awe, as if Sophia was something she hadn’t ever expected to have.

 

Well, she had her, and waiting until death’s door was far too late to wait to realize it.

“I love you too,” Taylor whispered, hands soft around her hips. “So fucking much.”

Sophia loved her back. Too much for words, because a thousand of those little things would never be able to express it enough. Instead, she stood on her toes, pressing her lips to Taylors, then turned around. Holding her partner’s hand, she led them upstairs to bed.

 

“I want to try something new,” Taylor said, sitting down on the bed. She reached into the bedstead, pulling out a set of familiar metal loops. Sophia raised an eyebrow as she swiftly took off her nerdy shirt.

“We’ve used those before,” she replied, remembering the occasion rather well. Taylor smiled softly, biting her lip for a moment before responding.

 

“Pick something out of the closet for me,” she said, waving a hand. Sophia hummed - she hadn’t actually seen the closet yet, the door was always closed when she had been up here.

 

She stepped back from the bed, opening the door and flicking on the light - “oh!”

“I told you that’s where I kept the fun stuff,” Taylor said with a laugh, metal clinking from the bedroom.

 

“You don’t say,” Sophia said with a huff, eyeing the fucking case full of dildos. She hummed, eyeing the walls - lengths of rope, three paddles of varying sizes, a set of latex boots sized for someone far taller than her. Well. They would be exploring this later - they had the time. She found what she was looking for, pausing to pick out a good size.

 

“Well, we can start with this -” she began, then stopped as she exited the room.

 

Taylor looked nervous, nude on the bed, biting her lip again and smiling softly around the pale skin. The reason why was obvious, of course - her arms were held above her head, hands cuffed to the frame.

 

“Oh,” Sophia said softly. “I, uh. Wasn’t expecting this.”

“We don’t have to, if you don’t like -” Taylor said softly, but Sophia cut her off.

“No! No, I’m - uh. Down to try. I just didn’t expect you to, want me to.”

Taylor shrugged, as much as she could with her arms pinned as they were. “I don’t. I’ve actually, uh, never been in this position before. I just...”

Sophia watched as her lover took a moment to collect herself, closing her eyes, chest rising softly with her sigh.

“I’ve never trusted anyone enough to give up control,” she finished, looking away.

 

Anyone but you , Sophia heard, her heart swelling with the thought of it. She climbed onto the bed, unable to resist kissing her girlfriend when she went and said shit like that. It was frantic, rough and desperate, and when it ended Sophia grinned as Taylor tried to follow her. The cuffs clinked, holding her back, and Taylor tugged on them for a second before laying back down with a grumble.

 

“I see why you like this,” Sophia said, staring down at her girlfriend as she grabbed the strap-on and affixed it, tightening the belts.

“Don’t get used to it,” Taylor replied, puffing out a breath of air to push a strand of hair out of her face. “It’s gonna be your turn on your back in a bit.”

“I don’t know... I might just keep you here.”

Taylor laughed, and Sophia chuckled with her She rose to her knees, the plastic cock bouncing slightly. She looked down at it - this was her first time wearing one of these, and it felt weird as hell - then back up to her lover.

Her partner smiled fondly. “Fuck me like you hate me,” she said, and they both smiled, remembering that first night.

 

“I don’t think I can do that,” Sophia replied, crawling forward. She slipped her hand under Taylor’s knee, the muscular limb trembling as she pushed it aside and climbed between Taylor’s thighs. “I guess I’m going to have to love you instead.”

Taylor’s eyes fluttered closed as Sophia pressed in, watching with rapture as her lover parted around the strap. The tall woman breathed in, sharp, then let it out in a slow groan.

Sophia pressed in slowly, smiling down at Taylor as the strap slid in, inch after inch. It was a rather small one - Sophia had been expecting it to be used on herself - but Taylor didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“God, fuck, Sophia,” she whispered, the cuffs clattering on the headboard. “Fuck -”

Their hips met, skin to skin, and they both paused. Sophia watched as the tall woman settled her breathing. She reached down, grabbing Taylor’s hips, reveling in the flex of muscle as her lover wrapped those long legs around her back.

She pulled out slowly, and then rocked her hips back in. It took a minute to find the right rhythm, the correct position to push and the speed to thrust at, but Taylor’s moans were a helpful enough guidance. She was beautiful, clearly coming apart around Sophia, her head rocking from side to side as her breath came in short gasps,

 

“I love you,” Sophia said softly, keeping the pace slow.

 

“I - noticed,” Taylor replied, and Sophia giggled at the attempted sass. It was hard to take it seriously when Taylor’s hands were spasming in the cuffs. “You - fucking hell - can go faster, you know.”

 

“Oh, I know. But I think I like this pace, don’t you?” Sophia punctuated that with another slow, languid thrust, grinning at Taylor’s frustrated groan. She slid a hand up her lover’s body, raking across the colorful skin with her nails. “So, where am I on here?” she asked, eyeing the dragon that signified Lung again. 

 

Taylor smiled, an impish grin on her face. “Check my left ankle.”

“Your fucking -” Sophia said, jaw dropping, then grabbed Taylors leg. She raised it, holding it up to her chest, ignoring the sudden gasp that her partner let out at the shift in position.

 

Sure enough, there it was - a fucking black cat on Taylor’s ankle. With a little cape and a white mask at its feet. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said, frowning. “I’m an ankle tattoo? ”

 

“Something the matter, kitten? ” Taylor snarked, grinning up at her.

 

Sophia decided that maybe she was willing to go faster after all. She clutched the leg close to her chest, knee over her shoulder as she pumped her hips.

Taylor’s sass fell apart quickly, as she groaned loudly, head flopping to the side to bite at the pillow.

 

“None of that,” Sophia said, grabbing her by the chin and forcing her to look up at her. Taylor’s eyes were lidded, a thin sheen of sweat on her face as she bounced with each thrust, every breath in a lifeline, every breath out a moan. Sophia pressed her thumb to her lips, and Taylor let them part without hesitation, biting down softly on the digit.

 

Taylor’s orgasm was obvious. She shook violently on Sophia’s hips, the pleasure washing through her, starting off silent and rising into a frantic scream that she was sure the neighbors would hear.

 

Not that it stopped Sophia. She just kept going, grinning wickedly as Taylor’s eyes flew wide at the realization that Sophia wasn’t done with her yet.

 

All told, she wrung three orgasms out of her lover, with the third being a long, frantic mess. Taylor was begging by the end, legs too weak to wrap around her hips as she asked Sophia to let her go; ‘no, I can’t, no more, please.’ Sophia didn’t listen - Taylor knew the words to make her stop if she wanted to, and honestly? Listening to her strong girlfriend beg did things to her.

 

Maybe they could do this more often. They were both clearly enjoying it.

 

Sophia leaned back with a groan when she was done, thighs sore from the exertion. Taylor had it worse off - the woman sagged in her bonds, sweat cooling on her chest. Sophia smiled down at her, resting a hand between her breasts, feeling the rapid thump of her heartbeat.

 

“That was nice,” she said with a smile. Taylor grinned up at her, dazedly, and Sophia leaned down to kiss her. “Let’s get you out of those cuffs,” she began, reaching for the keys on the nightstand.

 

Which was why it was such a surprise when Taylor’s hands grabbed her around the wrists, her legs wrapping around her hips. Sophia had just enough time to gasp before Taylor flipped them, slamming her back onto the bed.

“Oh,” was all she managed to say, as Taylor smirked down at her. “You got out of the cuffs - that’s no fair.”

“Villain, remember? Escaping custody is lesson one,” Taylor smirked, swiftly locking Sophia’s hands up.

“When do I get those lessons? As a new villain, and all,” Sophia said, eyes wide as Taylor swiftly removed the still-wet strap from her hips, then began attaching it to her own.

 

“I don’t think I’m going to teach you. Don’t want to have you running out on me,” her lover replied, grinning.

 

“Trust me,” Sophia said, as Taylor settled between her hips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

They spent the afternoon on the bed, of course. They moved to the shower a few hours later; then the sink counter. Then the wall in the hallway. Then the kitchen table...

 

Well. They had a lot of horizontal surfaces (and quite a few vertical ones, Sophia was really enjoying the fact that Taylor could just lift her like that,) to break in.

 

They ate when they couldn’t wait any longer, Taylor whipping up a quick meal for the two of them, her eyes promising that they would be making use of the calories shortly. That was when the table got broken in.

 

Eventually, they ended up back in the bed, curled around each other, exchanging ‘I love yous’ like breathing. Sometimes with words, sometimes with actions, sometimes with looks - it was all the same. They settled down, exhausted and all so happy to be alive, Sophia’s head on Taylor’s chest, Taylor’s leg thrown over her hip, their hearts in each other’s hands.

Sophia talked about work and Taylor mentioned classes at the gym; Taylor talked about names and Sophia mentioned ideas she had always had. They talked about the future and meant each other.

 

Later, Sophia would show Taylor her too small apartment, how empty it felt without someone else in it. The pile of her life, so small, withered to a husk and chipped at by everyone who had wanted a piece. Taylor would help her pack it up - Sophia had always known it would fit in the back of a pickup truck. It was a good thing Taylor had one.

 

There would be problems and issues and things to resolve, of course. She had defected from the hero life, had broken laws and caused problems. It would take time to sort everything out, and it wouldn’t be easy.

 

Sophia didn’t mind. Taylor would be there to help take the burden.

 

She settled down, resting her head on her partner’s chest, hearing the soothing sound of her heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

It would be hard. But that was fine - Taylor was worth putting in the effort for.

 

She went to sleep, comforted by that fact. That as long as Taylor was with her, she would always have a safe space to return home to.

 

fin

Notes:

I can't believe this is finished. When I first started this fic, it was just an amusing little attempt at smut, something I wrote because I hadn't seen anything like it in the fandom. We have so few of the cutesty little AU's, I figured, maybe I'll just throw out something quick and dirty - but people started telling me it was something more than just a little AU. We have so little in the way of fics that address the trauma that Worm brings up but doesn't deal with; so few fics where characters get to be themselves and also just be happy for once. I was content to let this be a little four-chapter brain worm, but everyone's reactions showed me it had the potential to be something better - and I'm happy to say I think I've lived up to that potential.

This fic means a lot to me. The reactions that everyone had to the story, the effusive praise, the constant excitement whenever I updated - it made me see that I might be able to make this whole 'writing' thing more than a hobby. I'm hoping to turn Safe Space into its own stand-alone novel at some point in the near future, something that I never would have thought of without you guys. All you people who come back, chapter after chapter, to tell me how much you loved my writing and how good you found it - it means the world to me.

I put a lot of myself into this fic, and it was amazing to see that vulnerability returned tenfold. Thank you all, so fucking much, and I'm looking forward to all the time spent down the line. This isn't my last story, not by a long shot, and I hope you'll be willing to stick with me down the line.

Feel free to join me on Tumblr at https://i-am-purplexed.tumblr.com/, or yell at me on the Gaylor discord.

Also, this is not the end! Expect some one-shots and a three-part series revolving around Amelia and Lisa, as well as some other Wormfics I am very excited for.

Thank you all. Much love, and best wishes.

-Lexi