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fairy tale 100;
008. Sin and Grace {Eilierre}
His lips are rough on hers. Always chapped, always broken. She focuses on that. She can’t help, after all, the callouses on his hands as they dig into her skin. Can’t help the scars on his body, deeper than most of her own, crooked and twisted and unspoken. Can’t help the words written indelible across his skin, the coiling snakes on the surface and tangling around his heart.
But his lips are dry and chapped. When she catches his lips and kisses him hard, she leaves behind a sheen of her own chapstick on him. That much she can fix.
097. The wishing ring {CJleen}
It’s not an engagement ring. He’s promised her repeatedly that they’re still time away from that. Still lots of trust and work to go before they get to him actually getting down on one knee.
She doesn’t wear it on her finger. Keeps it instead on a chain that she pulls around her neck every morning when she pulls herself awake. It’s easy, comfortable to fiddle with when she’s reading. Comes to her lips almost of its own accord when she’s thinking of him.
The day she’s Ace again, she unchains it to return. Suddenly, he’s down on one knee.
093. A miraculous escape {CJleen}
It’s foolish, really, thinking they can get away with this. Foolish to think Kevin won’t knock on her door first thing in the morning just because it’s the weekend. Foolish to think they’d wake up early when they have the comfort of each other’s arms to rest in. Maybe the danger is half the fun, half the terrifying rush.
It isn’t, however, what makes it so electric when he pauses in the tree, tugs her out after him briefly for a passionate kiss. That’s just him. Just them. That’s what leaves Eileen breathless as he scrambles away into the dawn.
086. Three words at the grave
Edgar.
She’s called them all different things at different points. As a child, she had struggled briefly with what she was meant to call any of them. What was respectful, what was appropriate; what was true. Even now, years later, she struggles to assign anything beyond their proper names. Knows that the words never really mattered much to them.
Andrew.
The stones have pretty words on them. ‘Beloved.’ ‘Devoted.’ They’d had meaning before they were chiseled into slate. Might still, she hopes with a silent desperation as she reaches to smooth a leaf from the newest in the plot.
Argine.
091. Too much talk {CJleen}
Eileen always has a million things to say. Some might go so far as to call it a fault. Kinder souls call it endearingly endurable. CJ asks if she’s finally learned everything, kisses her nose lightly when her face falls into a pout.
What’s much better is when he’s fumbling. When something catches his heart and he struggles for words with a slight slack in his jaw. It’s always something silly now, no longer toreadors and rock bands but the light in her hair or the curve of her smile or the way his old baggy sweaters hug her shoulders.
060. Staying with a friend in rainy weather {CJleen}
At age eleven, rain meant going to the library. She would spend the day sitting at a table in a hardback chair with hands neatly folded under a volume of political theory, the only movement in the world a slow intake and exhale and occasional shift to the next page.
At age sixteen, rain means settling against a comfortable couch and even more comfortable shoulder, hands full of a novel and thoughts interrupted now and then by gentle murmurs against her hair.
Neither meaning is better. What is better is shifting closer, eyes closed, until the rain matches CJ’s heartbeat.
006. What was whispered in his ear {CJleen}
For a long time, she wants it to be perfect. Special. Epic. Something a person could write a love song about.
It isn’t. It’s a perfectly ordinary day. He’s finishing the sandwich she’s already abandoned in favour of flipping through yet another file, the usual end to their perfectly ordinary lunches in her office. She glances up briefly at the line of his jaw and the spark in his eyes, says his name without meaning to. Follows it almost unconsciously with,
“I love you.”
He wipes mustard from his lips before he leans over her desk for a soft kiss.
047. The girl who ate so little {CJleen}
She isn’t particularly ‘skin and bones.’ She’s a strong young woman. Every inch of her is trim with muscle, part of a finely tuned machine that already serves as a fine weapon for the Suit, only gets stronger with each passing day.
But her boyfriend’s mother pinches her cheek and clucks at her incomprehensibly fast, demands she have another and another and another helping. At first, dinners simply leave her stunned and reeling. It’s only after a few months she realizes what it means. That every time he brings a sandwich to her office, he’s saying ‘I love you’ again.
045. With his whole heart {CJleen}
Eileen has been loved her entire life. Faces have come and gone, arms have pulled her close and disappeared, but throughout she has always felt loved. Protected by affection. Guarded by devotion.
Being loved by CJ is still completely different.
It’s not a piece of himself he’s handing over—it’s everything in him. She sees it every time he even glances her way with his lips curved in a smile. Nothing is held back. Every touch of his fingers to her hair lays his soul bare before her. Every word against her skin is his heart beating in her hand.
069. The girl who wanted to be always young
She leans against Leigh as the city lights flicker by as fireflies across their faces, and paints a quiet future in the flutter of shadows. When she has a child—and in all her half-dreams, it’s a boy—he’ll be perfectly normal. He’ll have brown eyes and brown hair, a slight heart-shape to his face, skin that freckles easily in sunlight. He’ll go to school with other children. He’ll scrape his knees, and she’ll bandage them herself. He’ll cry, but never too long.
Leigh pulls her arm around her best friend’s stomach, murmurs gently, “So let him be this one.”
067. The girl who ran so fast {H/V}
She closes her eyes, presses them shut hard, and the world rushes away in a rough angry noise. She breathes in sharply. It’s the last sound she hears before everything turns to static noise.
It takes immense concentration to have this sort of silence.
She can’t stay long. Darren needs her to keep him on the right track, stable. Elisha needs her to answer his calls. Leigh needs her to laugh. Julien needs her to need him. Rachel needs her to be strong.
But just for a few minutes, now and then, she can hide inside herself and just breathe.
062. Keeping up appearances
Clubs look at their new Ace, and they still see a six-year-old girl. She always takes it with a smile, the bright flashes of a laugh and the child she used to be, the flutter of a grin as she waves off compliments.
It’s better, really, to let them believe that that’s still who she is. Everyone loved that little girl, wanted desperately to keep her whole and safe. Better not to let them see the cracks, the hurt, the exhausted dullness in her eyes.
People only caught glimpses in her challenges. Chose to believe the killer wasn’t really Eileen.
046. The man who competes with the devil {Johnny/Eileen}
He plays the fiddle like sin. It’s breathtaking to watch. She knows his fingers, can all but feel them rippling over her skin while she watches him play. Makes her understand why girls scream for rock stars when he pauses and she can’t keep her lips from his.
It’s better when she closes her eyes. Doesn’t look, just listens. Just feels in every sinew of her body. When he plays, she hears the pounding of her own heart while he cries out her name in ecstasy, the gasp of their breath slowing together. Maybe that’s what she’s in love with.
His lips are rough on hers. Always chapped, always broken. She focuses on that. She can’t help, after all, the callouses on his hands as they dig into her skin. Can’t help the scars on his body, deeper than most of her own, crooked and twisted and unspoken. Can’t help the words written indelible across his skin, the coiling snakes on the surface and tangling around his heart.
But his lips are dry and chapped. When she catches his lips and kisses him hard, she leaves behind a sheen of her own chapstick on him. That much she can fix.
097. The wishing ring {CJleen}
It’s not an engagement ring. He’s promised her repeatedly that they’re still time away from that. Still lots of trust and work to go before they get to him actually getting down on one knee.
She doesn’t wear it on her finger. Keeps it instead on a chain that she pulls around her neck every morning when she pulls herself awake. It’s easy, comfortable to fiddle with when she’s reading. Comes to her lips almost of its own accord when she’s thinking of him.
The day she’s Ace again, she unchains it to return. Suddenly, he’s down on one knee.
093. A miraculous escape {CJleen}
It’s foolish, really, thinking they can get away with this. Foolish to think Kevin won’t knock on her door first thing in the morning just because it’s the weekend. Foolish to think they’d wake up early when they have the comfort of each other’s arms to rest in. Maybe the danger is half the fun, half the terrifying rush.
It isn’t, however, what makes it so electric when he pauses in the tree, tugs her out after him briefly for a passionate kiss. That’s just him. Just them. That’s what leaves Eileen breathless as he scrambles away into the dawn.
086. Three words at the grave
Edgar.
She’s called them all different things at different points. As a child, she had struggled briefly with what she was meant to call any of them. What was respectful, what was appropriate; what was true. Even now, years later, she struggles to assign anything beyond their proper names. Knows that the words never really mattered much to them.
Andrew.
The stones have pretty words on them. ‘Beloved.’ ‘Devoted.’ They’d had meaning before they were chiseled into slate. Might still, she hopes with a silent desperation as she reaches to smooth a leaf from the newest in the plot.
Argine.
091. Too much talk {CJleen}
Eileen always has a million things to say. Some might go so far as to call it a fault. Kinder souls call it endearingly endurable. CJ asks if she’s finally learned everything, kisses her nose lightly when her face falls into a pout.
What’s much better is when he’s fumbling. When something catches his heart and he struggles for words with a slight slack in his jaw. It’s always something silly now, no longer toreadors and rock bands but the light in her hair or the curve of her smile or the way his old baggy sweaters hug her shoulders.
060. Staying with a friend in rainy weather {CJleen}
At age eleven, rain meant going to the library. She would spend the day sitting at a table in a hardback chair with hands neatly folded under a volume of political theory, the only movement in the world a slow intake and exhale and occasional shift to the next page.
At age sixteen, rain means settling against a comfortable couch and even more comfortable shoulder, hands full of a novel and thoughts interrupted now and then by gentle murmurs against her hair.
Neither meaning is better. What is better is shifting closer, eyes closed, until the rain matches CJ’s heartbeat.
006. What was whispered in his ear {CJleen}
For a long time, she wants it to be perfect. Special. Epic. Something a person could write a love song about.
It isn’t. It’s a perfectly ordinary day. He’s finishing the sandwich she’s already abandoned in favour of flipping through yet another file, the usual end to their perfectly ordinary lunches in her office. She glances up briefly at the line of his jaw and the spark in his eyes, says his name without meaning to. Follows it almost unconsciously with,
“I love you.”
He wipes mustard from his lips before he leans over her desk for a soft kiss.
047. The girl who ate so little {CJleen}
She isn’t particularly ‘skin and bones.’ She’s a strong young woman. Every inch of her is trim with muscle, part of a finely tuned machine that already serves as a fine weapon for the Suit, only gets stronger with each passing day.
But her boyfriend’s mother pinches her cheek and clucks at her incomprehensibly fast, demands she have another and another and another helping. At first, dinners simply leave her stunned and reeling. It’s only after a few months she realizes what it means. That every time he brings a sandwich to her office, he’s saying ‘I love you’ again.
045. With his whole heart {CJleen}
Eileen has been loved her entire life. Faces have come and gone, arms have pulled her close and disappeared, but throughout she has always felt loved. Protected by affection. Guarded by devotion.
Being loved by CJ is still completely different.
It’s not a piece of himself he’s handing over—it’s everything in him. She sees it every time he even glances her way with his lips curved in a smile. Nothing is held back. Every touch of his fingers to her hair lays his soul bare before her. Every word against her skin is his heart beating in her hand.
069. The girl who wanted to be always young
She leans against Leigh as the city lights flicker by as fireflies across their faces, and paints a quiet future in the flutter of shadows. When she has a child—and in all her half-dreams, it’s a boy—he’ll be perfectly normal. He’ll have brown eyes and brown hair, a slight heart-shape to his face, skin that freckles easily in sunlight. He’ll go to school with other children. He’ll scrape his knees, and she’ll bandage them herself. He’ll cry, but never too long.
Leigh pulls her arm around her best friend’s stomach, murmurs gently, “So let him be this one.”
067. The girl who ran so fast {H/V}
She closes her eyes, presses them shut hard, and the world rushes away in a rough angry noise. She breathes in sharply. It’s the last sound she hears before everything turns to static noise.
It takes immense concentration to have this sort of silence.
She can’t stay long. Darren needs her to keep him on the right track, stable. Elisha needs her to answer his calls. Leigh needs her to laugh. Julien needs her to need him. Rachel needs her to be strong.
But just for a few minutes, now and then, she can hide inside herself and just breathe.
062. Keeping up appearances
Clubs look at their new Ace, and they still see a six-year-old girl. She always takes it with a smile, the bright flashes of a laugh and the child she used to be, the flutter of a grin as she waves off compliments.
It’s better, really, to let them believe that that’s still who she is. Everyone loved that little girl, wanted desperately to keep her whole and safe. Better not to let them see the cracks, the hurt, the exhausted dullness in her eyes.
People only caught glimpses in her challenges. Chose to believe the killer wasn’t really Eileen.
046. The man who competes with the devil {Johnny/Eileen}
He plays the fiddle like sin. It’s breathtaking to watch. She knows his fingers, can all but feel them rippling over her skin while she watches him play. Makes her understand why girls scream for rock stars when he pauses and she can’t keep her lips from his.
It’s better when she closes her eyes. Doesn’t look, just listens. Just feels in every sinew of her body. When he plays, she hears the pounding of her own heart while he cries out her name in ecstasy, the gasp of their breath slowing together. Maybe that’s what she’s in love with.