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herstroywritten · 2 years

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Embers and Flames, My Love

So... this isn’t Rivusa. (Shocker, I know.) Look, this is something I wrote after first watching the show because I won’t lie, watching the Skloom kiss for the first time brought tears to my eyes. I never planned on posting it, but I have been recently made aware of just how few fics there are about them, so here’s one more!

PS: Everyone say thank you Abbey and Danny for being beyond adorable and most definitely bringing the Skloom shipper out of me.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thudthudthudthud.

Sky is running, his feet pounding against the ground with such force that it's sending jots up his spine. He knows he should stop, slow down, take more precautions. Running down the fairies' hallway at 2 AM was a welcome invitation for one of Rosalind's loyal guards to splice him open without any hesitation. He didn't think his title as Andreas' son really did him any good in Rosalind's eyes. The woman seemed to like reminding everyone, including her own followers, just who was in charge at the moment.

He should stop. He should really stop. He knows he should at least try to be a little more conspicuous about it, not give Rosalind another reason to make life for the Winx suite any more of a living hell. He definitely should not be barging open the door to the girl's suite and making such a ruckus in the process.

He knows it all, everything he should do.

He just can't be bothered to care.

He'd lost all sense and reason the second Aisha had entered the training room, eyes scanning the space like a caged animal, scared and ready to set off once more if she didn't find what she'd been looking for. They'd locked eyes over the training bars Sky had been trying to pack away. The look on her face had been enough for him to know why she was there and why the thing she was searching for was actually him.

"Bloo-" Aisha never got to finish her sentence. Sky was already past her and running towards the suite. Nightly curfews and possible death threats be damned.

Again.

It happened again. And again, he hadn't been there when it started.

He doesn't bother with the pleasantries as he enters the suite. Terra and Musa, who stand by one of the couches looking as tired and worried as ever, seem relieved to see him.

"The bedroom," Terra whispers as Musa wordlessly points to its door. He opens it without a second thought, praying that what he finds on the other side is the same thing he's found so many nights now and not something worse.

If there's a God up there, please. Please, let her be ok. That's all I ask for. Just her. Her.

He shouldn't be comforted by the sight that does greet him- Stella cradling Bloom on her bed as if she were a child, lips pressed against her temple and fingers digging into her arms as if the blond girl could somehow squeeze all the pain away from her friend if she just tried hard enough. Flora, the newest addition to the suite, is kneeling on the floor beside the bed, wiping away at Bloom's brow with a wet towel and brushing away stray flame-like wisps of hair, whispering something he can't quite hear. Bloom is writhing between her two friends, eyes closed tight and yet somehow leaking tears, face flushed so bright it's starting to meld into her hairline, and chest convulsing but not quite taking in any air. But the worst part of it, the worst part of it every time, is the way she screams a silent scream, mouth wide open but her voice no longer there. It's as if she's been possessed, as if she's being tortured by her own mind and is unable to break free. It's a sight that's going to replay in his memories at night as he tries to fall asleep along with all the others he's got stored away. But it's also a sight that means she's not dead. Hurt in a way he can't seem to fix, but not dead. And for that, he's thankful.

Stella looks up at him as he enters, "Sky, please. Do something. I… I can't… I don't- I…" Tears well up in her eyes, and Stella, strong and confident Stella, whimpers as Bloom beings to shake in her arms.

Sky sees red.

As he gently pushes Flora out of the way and takes Bloom from Stella, setting her against his chest as he moves to lie her down on her bed properly, he starts to doubt the presence of that God once more.

Why her? Why not me? Give me her pain, let me have it. Just not her.

Once he has Bloom in a somewhat safe position, he kneels before her in the same spot where Flora had been. He begins to run his fingers through her tangled waves, uses his other hands to trace the freckles on her face. She whimpers, as if his touch is hurting and it takes all of him not to stop because as much pain as this seems to being her, it also calms her. Her shakes become more manageable tremors, and her tears dwell to hiccups, and her silent scream becomes a sharp inhale as she breathes in as if for the first time in a long time.

"Do you want us to-"

And then Bloom's eyes fly open, her hand already reaching for the fingers he's got cradling her chin. Blue green eyes stare up at him, wide and unyielding.

"Sky?"

And with her question come tears as she scrambles to cling to him and cry once more. He hears Stella and Flora move out of the room, closing the door behind them.

"You're okay, Bloom. You're okay. We're all okay." He's repeating the same words he did last time, running hands down her back in an effort to bring the poor girl some sort of comfort.

"It was another nightmare, Sky. But this one was worse, more real. So much blood. So much death. You were there, and you were dead, and-" she breaks her speech as hiccups take over, and he tries to shush her, hold her, breathe for her because even that seems to be hurting her fragile form.

"It's ok, my love. I'm right here." She presses impossibly closer to him, as if trying to mold herself into him.

"No, no. You don't get it," she whimpers, fresh hot tears mingling with the old ones. "You'd hate me if you knew."

"Knew what, Bloom? There's nothing to know, and I could never hate you." A kiss to her temple, a hand on her chin so he can pull her face up and press another butterfly kiss to her delicate (now red) nose.

"No, no. You would."

"Then tell me, my love. Tell me what you saw, what your dream told you this time. Tell me so I can fix it, so I can show you I do no hate you, now or ever." Her blood-shot eyes stare up at him from her spot in his arms, the little nook of his heart she'd managed to carve out for herself the second she'd stepped foot in Alfea what seemed like so long ago.

"You can't fix this, Sky." She whispers the statement with such certainty that it breaks him. He wants to crush every person that ever hurt her, he wants to kill what broke her. But how can he do that when it's her own brain tearing her down?

"Let me try, Bloom. Please?" He sinks his face to the top of her head, breathes her in and waits for her to start.

"There was a voice this time," she starts.

"What did it say?"

"What I already know… It told me stories, Sky. Our stories. It told me about how I burned my parents, about how my real parents probably didn't even want me. About how I started a war with my stupidity and trust issues. About how Stella's always on edge now because her mom's here to watch her every move. And Terra hasn't seen her dad in days. And about how we brought Flora into this whole thing without meaning to, and now she's also in danger. And Professor Silva's in…jail, or at least that's what we hope. And you're having to deal with Andreas, and with Silva being gone. And…and, Professor Dowling is… she's," she's breaking. "Dead."

"We don't know that."

"Don't we?"

"Hey," he's lifting her chin again, back up so she's forced to look him in the eyes. "We're going to figure it all out. We'll be alright, all of us."

"Even Riven? Even your best friend, Sky? Even those of us who are already… gone?" Desperation clings to her voice, and he has the sinking feeling in his chest that he knows where this is going.

"Where is this coming from, Bloom?"

She doesn't answer, choosing instead to search his eyes and ask, "Even me, Sky? Am I going to be alright?"

She's digging his grave with those words, because he'd walk right to death if it meant she'd be alright.

He doesn’t hesitate to answer, "You of all people are going to be alright, Bloom. That's the one promise I plan to keep in life and death."

She smiles at him, and he wishes it made his heart flutter the way so many of her smiles did. But this smile was a sad one, similar to the ones she's worn these past few weeks.

"You say that so easily. But don't you see, Sky? I can't be alright. I started this mess, I'm going to have to end it. It's my fault, it's all my fault-"

"It's not!"

"No, Sky, no. It is. The deaths, the friends lost to the other side, the friends barely making it day by day, my parents, Rosalind…"

"Bloom."

"It's all my fault."

"Bloom, no. Stop. Please, stop."

"How can you not hate me? How can you still love me? How do they all not hate me?"

"Bloom, your friends don't hate you. They could never hate you, you brought them together. Your coming here gave them each other. Do you think Stella and Musa would be talking today if you guys hadn't all been put in this room?"

"Musa and Stella fight all the time," she mumbled into his shirt.

"Yes, over hairstyles and which flavor of coffee to stock up on. It's their love language. If things hadn’t worked the way they did, the two of them would probably have started a war over a lot worse." She chuckles at that sentiment, and his heart jumps to his throat, because yes! Finally, she's hearing him. She hasn't laughed in so long, and he wants to know what else will get her to laugh again.

"And hey, your parents, wherever they may be and whoever they may be, are no fault of yours. Just as your powers and what they did to your mom, are also not your fault. We don't choose who we're born to and what we're born with, my love. But we do choose who we love and what we do with our gifts. And your gift is remarkable, Bloom. Your heart and ability to love beyond any that I've ever seen-"

"Says you," she mutters, but it's in a lighter tone and he knows she's teasing him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She smiles up at him, big smile with teeth and a scrunched up nose, through her tears. "You're the school's golden boy. You willingly choose to love the most broken of people, and you fix them."

"Perhaps," he states, as he shares in her smile. "But I remember someone once told me that they don’t need the fixing."

Her smile falters. "That someone was wrong."

"No, that someone was right. She's not broken. She's perfect."

She searches his eyes with her own, a moment so intimate that he feels his bones melt within him.

"Is that really how you see me?"

"Bloom," he chuckles, "I couldn’t even being to describe how I view you."

"Try," she says. "For me."

She might as well have placed a spell on him, because there was nothing he'd deny her.

"You, Bloom, you're embers and flames. You're pure soul and unadulterated passion. You're a match waiting to be lit," he's stroking her cheek, leaning down to place kisses along the path his fingers trace. "You have no tether to this world, and you never should. You're too bright, too much to contain. You catch fire faster than a forest on a dry summer night, and I hope you never lose those guts. I hope you never lose you, Bloom." His fingers have finally made their way to her lips, tracing them slowly and deliberately. She pushes up, already arching into him, and he wants to give her all she asks for, but she has to hear this first. A chaste peck on her lips, because he can't resist her and those eyes.

"I don't know if you know this Bloom, but sometimes, I find myself dreaming about you. In my dreams, just as in real life, there is but one thing that runs through my mind, you. And even in those dreams, I struggle to keep up with you, but I'm trying. By God, Bloom, I'm trying. And sometimes, when you kiss me like you do, I feel you rise out of the ashes of your fears. You're bold and bright even in my dreams, Bloom."

She's crying now. Her hands move from clinging to his shirt, to holding onto the sides of his temples and pulling him down to her level. Their foreheads are touching, eyes leveled, when he finally gets to finish his speech.

"You are embers and flames, both on my lips and on top of the world. You catch fire suddenly and beautifully. And sometimes you give too much of that fire away, my love. Sometimes you care too much, think too much," he presses another of her restless strands of hair behind her ear. "And before you know it, you've given too much away, and you're left with ashes and dust, and I'm left to rummage in the remains of you. And I always will, Bloom. I will always rummage through your ashes, because just as you are embers and flames, I am Hephaestus trying to make sense of your fire and shape it into what you need it to be. You told me once I am a fixer, and I am. I'm a fixer. I'm your fixer. Not because you need it, not because you're broken, but because sometimes you need a reminder that ashes can always catch fire again."

"Sky…"

"I'm your fixer. And you are embers and flames, my love."

And the fire in her eyes catches light again as she no longer waits for him to kiss her, but instead reaches up and catches his lips in one full sweep.

There it is, he thinks. There's her fire.

#skloom #skloom ftws #ftws #fate #because there is a criminally low amount of fics about these two #CRIMINALLY

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