𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖊!

Once he had finished the laborious chore, he turned, ready to announce his domestic feat. But Frankie’s fingers coiled against his shirt, and they tugged him down at least six inches, faces so close that their noses brushed together. Ardan remained unaffected, and his ridiculous smirk only grew as the siren snipped at him to get rid of it. He couldn’t help himself, and the demon desperately bit back laughter. It would draw more ire from Frankie than necessary, even if he could pick up on the fondness in their eyes. Ardan accepted the kiss to the corner of his lips with biblical greed, his eyes so bright they could have blinded anyone else in the room. It wasn’t just encouragement; it was everything he could have wanted and more. “I think I might need another then,” he teased, pointing to the opposite corner of his mouth. “I finished in record time.”

frankie stared at the spot he pointed to, then lifted her gaze back to his with an expression that should have been enough to kill him where he stood. somehow, it only made him look more delighted. god, they loved him, but he was such a monumental pain in the ass that sometimes they wondered whether demeter had sent him as an additional punishment. “you moved them in the first place,” she reminded him, fingers still curled into his shirt. “you don’t get rewarded for fixing the problem you created.” even as they said it, their attention betrayed them, catching on the brightness in his eyes and the ridiculous satisfaction written across his face. it made affection tug at her despite every effort to remain annoyed. they let the silence drag out just long enough to make him think she might deny him, then leaned up and pressed a kiss to the opposite corner of his mouth. “there. now stop being needy,” frankie muttered, releasing his shirt only to give his chest a firm shove. the glare she offered him afterward had lost some of its bite, though she was still entirely committed to being mad on principle. “and don’t look so pleased with yourself. you’re still carrying every bag today, and i’m picking the most expensive place possible for lunch.”

Frankie’s hands were at his throat, squeezing in a way that made his lips flutter affectionately. That felt good, and he’d happily admit it if pushed. Feeling their thumbs stroke against his jaw, Ardan found himself humming. As his girlfriend began to list all of the things he was supposed to do, it was as if the demon completely glazed over. Instead, all he could think of was Frankie’s claws, fangs, and grip everywhere on his body, and he was gone. “Oh, I’m rememberin’ them alright,” Ardan responded, unashamed by how unembarrassed he could be. His hands remained eager against his girlfriend’s ass, daring to deliver another rough squeeze just because he could. He came back to his senses and grinned as he felt Frankie’s lips against the corner of his mouth. His response was to press an uncharacteristically chaste kiss to their lips. “Fine, love. I’ll unpack. I’ll be good.” Ardan winked playfully, his fingers coiling tenderly around his lover’s wrists.

frankie studied him for a moment, entirely unconvinced by the promise. ardan looked far too pleased with himself for a man claiming he intended to behave, and the way his fingers curled around her wrists only made her suspicion deepen. they liked teasing him when he got like this, liked watching every trace of confidence turn restless beneath their attention. there was an ease to it here that she rarely found anywhere else. in alaska, they didn’t have to monitor every instinct or worry about what might slip through. she could be sharper with him, more demanding, a little cruel for the fun of it, and trust that he would only lean closer. “you’ll be good?” they echoed, brows lifting as though he’d said the least believable thing imaginable. “that’s adorable.” rather than release him, she tightened her hands lightly at his neck and tipped his head back just enough to look at him properly. “go on, then,” frankie murmured, mouth curving as they withdrew one hand to tap his cheek. “finish unpacking. fold everything neatly. and maybe i’ll sit here and decide whether you’ve earned the rest of the royal blue set.” they slipped free of his hold before he could pull them back in, then perched at the edge of the bed beside the lingerie with deliberate composure. crossing one leg over the other, she gave him a pointed look and added, “and ardan? every time you get distracted, i add another ten minutes before you’re allowed to touch me. so, try very hard not to stare.”

But it wasn’t until they gripped his wrist, stared at him with those broken eyes, and spoke to him with such an unsteady voice that everything inside Ardan shut down at once. He didn’t care if he had his clothes on. Immediately, he sank into the bathtub with Frankie, the pink water curling around his body as he pulled her straight into his chest. Even with his firm grip, he made certain that it wouldn’t press on any of the wounds they had suffered. The demon’s lips were on the crown of the siren’s head, stamping kisses everywhere he could to provide her comfort. He knew it wouldn’t heal her completely, but it could maybe make her feel a little less alone in her pain. “They failed ya tonight, just like they had for centuries, Frankie.” Although muffled by her hair, his statement left no room for debate. “Ya should have gotten nothin’ but their love tonight. Ya got their stupid pride and inflexibility instead.” His arms squeezed a breath tighter, careful not to harm them more than they had been tonight. “Ya’re everythin’ without them, Frankie. Ya’re the only bein’ on this earth worth lovin’. If they can’t see that, it’s their problem, not yours.”

the second ardan climbed into the tub and pulled her against him, whatever remained of frankie’s composure collapsed. they folded into his body as much as their injuries allowed, one arm winding weakly around his middle while the other clutched at the front of his soaked shirt. her face pressed against him, and the sobs came harder now, shaking through her until even breathing hurt. they wanted to believe every word he said, wanted to let his certainty drown out the voices of their sisters, but grief kept dragging them back to the same impossible truth: they’d waited centuries for them, and they’d returned only to reject the person frankie had become. “i wanted them to know me,” she cried. “not just thaleia. me.” the distinction felt unbearable now. ardan had loved every name, every life, every ugly part of her, while the women who had known them first had looked at frankie as though they were a mistake. her grip tightened with what little strength she had left. guilt twisted through the heartbreak as she remembered the way they had hissed at him, the threats in their voices, the hatred aimed at the man who had done nothing but stand beside her. “i’m sorry,” frankie managed, the apology fractured by another sob. “i’m so sorry they treated you like that.” they lifted their head just enough to look at him, tears still spilling freely as their hand found his face. “you didn’t deserve any of it. you were trying to protect me, and they made you into the enemy because they couldn’t accept that i love you.” her fingers trembled against his cheek before she hid against him again. “none of this is your fault, ardan. please don’t ever think it is.”

EVERY YEAR AFTER 01.08 'Goodbye…'

at first, it felt like being on fire. like gasoline and a lighter, like everything was electric. and to begin with, that was fine. she liked the electricity – she liked the fire. they had been hot and heavy and fun. but every day that frankie didn't come down, every part of reagan felt like she needed to control it. she felt unsettled by it. they stopped eating, they stopped being a part of things. they moved everything, they kept running like they could out run whatever was in their mind. reagan is aware of how much frankie hates being handled. but at a certain point, there weren't any other options. and GOD, did she feel guilty about it. but that didn't mean that it wasn't the right choice. the facility was sterile. it feels a little like a hospital. reagan's never been a huge fan of hospitals, but that didn't mean anything. not when frankie was struggling, not when things were bad. she'd never stop worrying about the people she cared about. she worries after her brother, after noah, after frankie. and she really doesn't mind doing it, it tends to make her feel better. because there's things that she can do to help, at least, she likes to think she can. she walked through the door, and sat in front of frankie as soon as she was allowed. "hey." a beat, "um – i'm sure you don't really want to see me." another pause, "but i'm glad to see you."

frankie’s shoulders hunched the second reagan slid into the chair, instinct pulling her inward like she could fold herself out of sight. the fluorescent lights made everything feel overexposed, and it was worse knowing reagan could see the parts meds and restraint had scraped raw. guilt swam alongside anger — they still wanted to snarl about being locked up, but even now a quiet part of them understood the panic they’d caused. that only made the shame heavier. she stared at the floor until she could breathe without tasting salt, picking at the loose thread on her sleeve and wishing the couch would swallow her whole before another apology reached her. their voice came out rougher than they meant, but at least it didn’t shake. “why’re you here?” frankie forced herself to meet her friend’s eyes, resentment flickering beneath exhaustion. “you already did the hard part. made sure i couldn’t torch myself on the outside. you don’t have to sit in this place just to prove you care.” the words sounded harsher than the pleading underneath them, but they couldn’t untangle that now. it was easier to chew on the bitterness than admit how scared she’d been of waking up alone.

At the siren’s command, the demon moved. He brought them inside the bathroom, turning the water to a warm but pleasant temperature before running the bath. Once it was filled enough, he placed Frankie inside, dipping her into the water with great care until her body floated briefly before settling onto the bottom of the tub. Ardan collected a loofah and some soap, immediately dropping to his knees so he could lean over the tub. He went straight to work, washing every wound left on his lover’s body. The sirens did not spare an inch of her skin, and as he scrubbed the dried blood, he felt his own anger flicker dully in his chest. A family reunion turned into a massacre; it wasn’t fair to Frankie. She should have been welcomed with open arms by women who searched as vigorously as they claimed they did. Instead… she received this. The demon’s jaw clenched at the thought and at their broken confession. “I won’t leave your side tonight or any night after this, a chuisle mo chroí.”

more than the blood, frankie hated the weakness. she hated that her arms felt too heavy to lift, that she had to rely on ardan to lower her into the water and keep her upright, that even breathing seemed to require more effort than it should. their sisters had hurt them, yes, but this helplessness made the humiliation settle deeper. she’d survived centuries alone, had dragged herself back from death more times than she cared to remember, and now she could barely sit in her own bathtub without trembling. when the loofah passed over the first wound, frankie winced sharply and gripped the edge of the tub. “that hurts,” they whispered, more ashamed of the admission than they should’ve been. the water around her clouded pink as the dried blood lifted from her skin, and the sight made everything feel horribly real. the tears came before the siren could stop them. they slipped down her face in quick, burning trails, joining the bathwater as she turned her head away from the damage across her body. “i hate this,” frankie said, voice breaking. “i hate feeling like this.” they wanted to be angry, wanted to summon some of the fury they’d carried into the water, but all that remained was grief and exhaustion. her fingers reached for ardan instead, catching weakly around his wrist as another sob pulled through her. “they were supposed to come back and love me,” they said. “not make me feel like i’m nothing without them.”

dean + allie's hips

frankie had been staring at the water long enough for the roar of the crowd to become a distant memory, her thoughts drifting beneath the dark surface toward saltwater, old songs, and the familiar ache of an ocean that’d always known her better than anyone else. even after headlining a festival, where thousands of voices had shouted their name and sung every word back to them, this was where they inevitably ended up: standing at the shoreline like the tide might offer an answer they’d forgotten how to ask for. stellan’s voice cut through the rhythm of the waves, drawing her back with a faint start, and she turned her head to fix him with those shifting watercolor eyes, iridescent beneath the fading festival lights. “you shouldn’t sneak up on people,” they told him, though the slight curve at the corner of their mouth betrayed any real irritation. her gaze swept briefly over his stage clothes before returning to his face, one brow lifting. “especially people thinking about heavy things. you might end up hearing an answer you’re not ready for.”

And he knew exactly what he had to do before Frankie mapped it out for him. “That sounds like I got a chance to fuck ya then,” he replied jovially, offering a silly wink before straightening seriously at Frankie’s list of demands. Animatedly, he made sure to mentally note each statement with an exaggerated nod of his head. “Bag carriuh, lunch purchasuh, mug organizuh. I think I can handle that, kitten.” Each pat made his grin widen, so much so that he couldn’t stop the flash of his teeth as it happened. “I am well acquainted with cabinets, Frankie. Observe.” Sauntering to the kitchen counter, he opened the top cabinet and began to place the mugs back in their rightful place. As he did so, his eyes wandered back to the redhead, grin broad and ridiculous as if he wasn’t the single cause of Frankie’s aggravation this morning.

frankie narrowed her eyes at him, trying very hard not to let the ridiculous accent or that broad, pleased grin chip away at her irritation. it was deeply unfair that ardan could be this cute while actively earning their wrath. he looked like an overgrown menace congratulating himself for basic household competence, and some traitorous part of her wanted to laugh, kiss him, and forgive the entire thing before he had even finished moving the first mug. they refused. instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, watching him with a pointed glare as he returned each one to its rightful place. “you do not have a chance,” they corrected, even as the corner of their mouth twitched. “you have chores. there’s a difference.” her gaze followed the movement of his hands, making sure he put every mug exactly where it belonged, though she already knew he would. ardan loved getting under their skin, but he also loved taking care of them, and that made staying angry far more difficult than it had any right to be. still, principle mattered. frankie stepped closer once he finished, reaching up to hook two fingers into the front of his shirt and pull him down until they were nearly nose to nose. “and wipe that grin off your face,” they warned, entirely undermined by the reluctant fondness in their eyes. then she pressed a brief kiss to the corner of his mouth before releasing him with another glare. “that wasn’t forgiveness. that was encouragement to finish faster.”

“Beautiful,” he murmured, gaze trailing back up to Frankie’s. The preview was long gone, and instead, she stepped forward. Their bodies were flush against one another, and his hands were already clamped down on the siren’s hips. Their fingers were on his chest, tracing over his shirt idly as he hummed in satisfaction. The tease made him chuckle, thumbs pressing just above Frankie’s hips as he tugged her impossibly close. Leaning forward, he allowed his lips to hover over hers. “I figured ya needed some help with ya own things first. The gentlemanly thing to do is help ya love first, then yaself. Besides,” His voice trailed off the same way his mischievous hands did. Shamelessly, his palms cupped Frankie’s ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “What am I supposed to do when ya got a backside like this?”

it was hard for frankie not to laugh at the explanation, the sound bright and helpless despite how ridiculous he was being. only ardan could turn memorizing her lingerie into a sacred duty and somehow look pleased with himself for it. they should’ve expected nothing less; he approached loving them with the same shameless enthusiasm he brought to everything else, never embarrassed by how deeply he wanted them or how much attention he paid. that openness still caught her off guard at times. there was no calculation behind it, no effort to hide affection beneath indifference. he simply loved them loudly, foolishly, and without restraint. “you’re so lucky i love you,” she told him, shaking her head as the smile refused to leave her face. “because that may be the dumbest explanation you’ve given me yet, and there’s serious competition.” their eyes rolled the moment his hands slid lower, though they made no attempt to move away. instead, frankie lifted both hands to the sides of his neck and gave a gentle squeeze, thumbs resting beneath his jaw as she held him there. “what are you supposed to do?” they repeated, leaning closer until their lips nearly met his. “maybe finish unpacking like you promised. maybe keep your hands to yourself for longer than ten seconds.” her fingers tightened just enough to make the tease clear, amusement flashing through her gaze. “or maybe remember that the woman with the backside you’re so distracted by also has claws, fangs, and a very good grip.” they tilted his head slightly between their hands, smiling against the corner of his mouth. “though i suppose you’ve always liked learning things the difficult way.”

it's easy to slot back in like nothing changed. but everything had changed. shiloh changed. that ill fated trip to southie, that awful cloying knowledge in the center of her chest that she knows and frankie probably doesn't. but they're kinder about it than she expects. for clem. she never stopped loving them – it was never about that for her. but shiloh doesn't stay where she's not wanted, and she got it twisted up in her head somehow that she wasn't anymore. there's something painful in that, in knowing that everything fell apart over something that may not have even been true. they're saying right now that it wasn't. "i think – yeah." a nod, "i'm on an apology tour anyways." a laugh pulls through her, "kind of nice to have someone around that i'm not dreading talking to."

frankie laughed under her breath, though the sound carried more feeling than humor. “glad i made the safe list,” they said, giving shiloh a small sideways smile as they kept walking. she’d missed this more than she wanted to admit: the strange little jokes, how shiloh could make a room feel less exhausting just by standing beside her, even the pauses where neither of them quite knew what to say. for months, frankie had tried to convince themself they only missed the relationship, the routines, and the version of themself they’d been inside it. but this was shiloh — specific, familiar, and impossible to replace — and the realization settled into her with an ache that felt almost like relief. “you don’t have to rehearse some big apology for me, y’know,” they added, quieter now. “i’m just… really glad you’re here.”

He heard the click of the trunk locks and the front of the trunk clunking down on the floor, clear as day. Ardan knew plenty of what was inside it, but he still found himself peeking anyway, Pavlov’d by the sound. At this point, his luggage was neglected, and his full attention went to every piece of lingerie he had laid out for him. He rose to his feet, strolling to the bed with his hands behind his back. He leaned forward, drinking in each set of fabric with the same intensity as a contest judge. Ardan hummed as Frankie presented each new set, his eyes immediately gravitating to all the deep colors. Black, burgundy, and emerald; each complemented Frankie’s body beautifully. The demon had an eye for fashion, it seemed. “It would be cruel,” he agreed, nodding so gravely he must have looked ridiculous. “And the royal blue balconette set?” He asked, the muscle memory working scarily well as he glanced down at Frankie. “Did it make the cut?”

frankie watched him abandon his own luggage without a second thought, and the sight drew a private warmth through her. ardan teased them relentlessly about the shopping, the trunks, and the sheer amount of clothing they somehow justified bringing everywhere, but he never once tried to make them smaller. he never asked her to spend less, wear less, want less, or dull any part of herself for his comfort. if anything, he encouraged every indulgence, offered opinions like they genuinely mattered, and then carried the evidence afterward without complaint. after centuries of men trying to claim ownership over her choices, or deciding what parts of her were acceptable, there was freedom in being loved by someone who seemed delighted by all of it. “you remember far too much about my underwear,” they said, rolling their eyes as though they hadn’t noticed how quickly he recalled the exact set. “that’s either very flattering or deeply concerning.” her hands moved to the waistband of her jeans, pushing it down just enough to reveal the royal-blue suspender beneath it, the delicate straps disappearing beneath the remaining fabric. “of course it made the cut,” frankie murmured, watching his reaction with open amusement. they let him look for another second before easing the denim back into place, deliberately denying him the rest. “if you’re good, i might let you see all of it later,” she told him, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between them. their fingertips trailed over the front of his shirt, tracing an idle path down his torso while their brow arched. “although, considering you slapped my ass, sprinted upstairs like your life depended on it, and left your own suitcase half-unpacked, i’m not convinced you know how to behave for more than thirty seconds.”

At their nod, Ardan was already moving to the bathroom. Frankie deserved to get cleaned up as soon as possible so she could rest as soon as possible. He’d offer her more of his blood if it meant she’d heal faster. Hell, he’d give Frankie anything of his to get back to their proper baseline. The demon almost missed the siren’s whisper, but his hyperfocus on them would have made that impossible. Ardan halted midstep, arms still devastatingly tight around her, as if he would lose her again if he let go. Taking into consideration everything that happened tonight, he understood Frankie’s request clearly. “Alright, love,” Ardan replied, nodding his head as he stood in the hallway. “I’ll hold ya for as long as ya need. Ya let me when ya’re ready for me to take care of ya.”

as ardan carried her, frankie’s eyes fell shut, every step sending another dull ache through the wounds her sisters had left behind. they’d died enough times to know there was no graceful way through it. every death hurt — the tearing, the fading, and the awful instant when her body finally surrendered — and returning only meant waking inside whatever pain had killed her. they hated all of it, but this death felt crueler than the others. menodora, sophia, athenais, and helene had once been the only people in the world who understood what she was, the only ones who had shared the curse and the hunger and the endless years beside her. now their claws had been the ones to rip her apart. that knowledge hurt worse than any bite still burning across their skin. “i always hate dying,” she admitted, her voice worn thin from crying. “but i think this one might be the worst.” they swallowed against the fresh knot in their throat, fingers tightening weakly in his shirt. “it wasn’t supposed to be them.” she remained curled against him for another moment, taking what comfort she could from the certainty of his arms before forcing herself to think about the blood drying across her skin. they could feel it pulling whenever they moved, could smell the salt and iron clinging to both of them, but they still couldn’t bear to look down and see the full extent of what their sisters had done. “just put me in the bathtub,” frankie murmured, her grip loosening only enough to let him move more easily. “you can clean my wounds once i’m in there.” the request felt childish, perhaps, but they’d already lost too much dignity tonight to care. she leaned further into him as they neared the bathroom, trusting him to guide her through the rest. “i don’t want to see any of it yet,” they confessed. “just wash the blood off me, love. and stay close, please. i don’t think i can handle feeling alone right now.”