#anyway it's angst but here's the happy ending

[hoonieyun]

this is where it ends ⋆˙⟡♡

days of dodging your boyfriend after your fight finally lead you to the answer you've been looking for (read part one here) heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon genre: aaaaangsttttt!!! angst!! heartbreak.. OOF warnings: toxic relationship, bad coping mechanisms, profanity, mentions of drinking as an addiction, gaslighting, arguing, 18+

hoonieyun notes: WHEW... lowkey was like.. damn this shit is TOO angsty so sorry in advance but im obsessed with angst lately and watching xo kitty did not help because that show was a rollercoaster LMAO anyways i hope you guys enjoy this sad piece of work because i have more coming with my vday anthology and exes reunited series plus! i've just announced my 1k follower special!

𐐪♡𐑂 @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @heartheejake @cloud-lyy @heeweenie @jakesimfromstatefarm @lovelymelon @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia

@chvconn3 @heeheeyeoiizz01 @pjselee @malloryaloisia @alienqbrain @jooniesbears-blog @haeeeeefer @firstclassjaylee

heeseung ⋆˚ʚɞ

it had been 3 days since you left heeseung standing in your apartment, dumbfounded and unsure of where you were. you really had hoped he would run after you that night but he didn’t and that seemed to put the nail in the coffin for you. 

were you ready to throw away your relationship all because of this? 

was it worth it to lose the person you love? 

you had pondered on so many questions since that night and each question felt like you were guilt tripping yourself into thinking that your own feelings weren’t valid, like you were trying to convince yourself that you were overreacting and that heeseung was right. 

why were you being so annoying?

but these questions only led to more questions instead of answers.

were you being annoying or were you just tired of not being heard? 

if you hadn’t been the one to constantly ask him to clean up after himself would he have done it on his own? 

why were you trying to come up with reasons to talk yourself back into his arms when you truly knew deep down the answer you were looking for…

you just weren’t ready to come to terms with it. 

so here you were, hurriedly packing what you could before heeseung could come home. and just to your luck, he had arrived much earlier than you anticipated. “yn?” heeseungs says, shock painted across his face as he sees you standing in the hallway with a box of your things. 

“wh- what are you doing?” he asks, eyes falling on the box in your hands. 

both of you knew the answer to that. 

“i think- i can’t do this anymore, hee… 

i did a lot of thinking these past fews days and everything i thought of i found myself trying to make excuses for you. trying to figure out why i was acting this way and why i was going out of my way to make it seem like i was the one causing these issues and stressing myself out and then i realized… 

why was i trying to compromise my own happiness and well being for someone who didn’t care about me? 

for someone who couldn’t simply understand where i was coming from and couldn’t even listen to me when all i would ask for was something so easy as to clean up after yourself. 

heeseung, you’re grown and so am i and i’m done acting like your words and actions don’t hurt solely for the fact that i don’t want to lose you. 

we’re over.” your eyes had tears pooling in them but you refused to let them fall in front of heeseung. 

“what?” heeseung asks, slipping his shoes off and running over to you in an attempt to stop you, reaching for the box but you move out of the way before he can. 

“yn.. can we please talk about this? don’t jump to conclusions just because you’re hurt. this isn’t what you want, what about us? 

are you willing to throw us away because of some petty fight?” and that’s when you knew that you and heeseung weren’t on the same page… at all. 

“that’s what you have to say?” and at this point you had lost the fight to stop the tears from falling. 

“you haven’t even apologized? and now you’re here trying to gaslight me into thinking that what i’m feeling is just the result of a petty fight? 

hee, you never listen to me. you dismissed my feelings and all i asked was you clean up our bedroom because i was tired. i’m sorry but if that was such a hard task then i don’t know what to tell you. 

i’m not jumping to conclusions. heeseung, we’re done.” you say, pushing passed him so you could leave and move on. start new and heal from this pain. 

“really? you’re just going to walk away?” heeseung asks, still refusing to take accountability for his actions. 

“i’m not walking away… you pushed me away.”

“bye, heeseung.”

jongseong ⋆˚ʚɞ

jay hadn’t been able to pick up a bottle of alcohol since that night… 5 months ago. he hadn’t realized he developed a bad habit of drinking all because he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his loving girlfriend, the one who took care of him, who loved him, who fought for him to make things right, was slowly becoming someone he didn’t love anymore. 

so why was it that now that you two were broken up, he wants nothing more to get back together with you? 

he thought about the day you finally came back. after you ran out in the middle of the night jay didn’t see you for a whole week and by the end of that week, you would be gone for good. 

“is this what you really want?” jay had asked you right before you left. 

“its not what i want… but it doesn’t seem like what i want would be something that could ever happen if i stayed with you. 

you hurt me, jay. all i ever did was care for you and love you and it made me realize i hadn’t felt care or love from you for a while now. 

i truly hope that you get help for your drinking problem but i’m sorry i’m not going to be the one to fix it for you.” and with that you were gone. out of jay’s life and although you had said that you weren’t going to be the one to fix his drinking problem, in a lot of ways; you did fix it. 

he hadn’t drank since that night and vowed to himself that he wouldn’t drink ever again and 5 months after, he’s kept that promise. 

jay wished that he did keep his promise to you. 

when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he had promised to hold your heart close to his and to never break it. only to find himself distancing his heart from yours and eventually shattering it into millions of pieces when you got into a fight that night. 

but he was now forced to face all of this all over again as you stood in front of him, mirroring the same shocked face he had as the two of you run into each other at a mutual friends party. 

you hadn’t seen jay since that night and although your heart ached for him, you had to choose yourself. you couldn’t stand being with someone who saw you as overbearing when all you did was care for and love them. 

you truly had been worried about jay ever since his drinking habits had gone worse and maybe you could’ve gone about it a better way and not made him feel attacked for his actions but he didn’t have the same consideration for you so why should you do the same… right? 

“h-hi.. yn. you look good.” jay stutters. 

“you do too, um.. i–” you begin to say but he cuts you off. “look, i know we didn’t end on the right foot and these past five months have been hard for me so i could only imagine how hard they’ve been on you. 

i wasn’t right to treat you that way and i’m sorry i’m only realizing it now. i miss you so much and i spend countless nights thinking about you. reminiscing on the good times and how i let myself ruin all of it. 

i’m sorry, yn.” it all comes out like word vomit and quite frankly, you weren’t prepared to hear any of it. you also hadn’t expected him to have this much of grasp on your relationship five months after, but it was all too late. 

“i’m sorry too, jay– but i can’t keep doing this. i think you need to move on. i know i will…” you muttered.

“for what it’s worth… you did help me… i’m five months sober.” he confesses and you give him a tight lipped smile. 

“take care of yourself, ok?” you say before turning around to leave and although jay wished that he could’ve said all of this five months sooner in hopes that it would’ve fixed your relationship, he respects your wishes and just hopes that the next guy who comes around would love you the way you deserved to be loved. 

jaeyun ⋆˚ʚɞ

in the time you’ve dated jake or quite frankly, anyone, they had never raised their voice and spoke to you in that way. jake seemed so angry and upset that it scared you. you knew that jake would never hurt you but his words pierced your heart in ways that caused you pain you had never felt before, especially from someone you love and was supposed to love you.

it always hurts more when it comes from someone you love right? 

you had come home the next day and found jake sleeping on the couch, hugging the plushy that he often said looked like you. 

you’d be lying if you said that seeing him like this didn’t make your heart hurt… but it did. 

it seemed like jake had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for you but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

the feeling of being unwanted, unloved, undesirable, and not enough for someone who is supposed to love you. 

but if jake had loved you he wouldn’t have raised his voice at you.. let alone speak to you in that tone and used language that was meant to hurt someone. 

“yn? is that you?” he says, stretching on the couch and rubbing his eyes, causing you to snap out of it. you quickly wipe away the tears that had miraculously appeared. “um, yeah. i just came to grab some things. you can go back to sleeping..” you explained as you made your way to your shared bedroom. 

“baby? can we talk?” jake says, peering into the room as he sees you packing your things inside of duffel bag. “wait- what are you packing? are you leaving? baby, please don’t do this, can we talk this out?” he was now on his knees in front of you, clutching onto your sweater while he begged. 

“jake, get up.” you say, rolling your eyes at him. 

“its just for a few days, i need time to myself- i need to think, ok?” you said and even now, even when you’re still hurting because of him from the night before, you were here trying to comfort him. 

jake stands up with a sniffle and he attempts to link your hands together but you pull away to continue packing your bag. “when are we going to talk about this? i love you, i don’t want you to leave… please stay.” he continues to beg and although its working, you needed to stay strong. 

“if you loved me you wouldn’t have spoken to me like that. people who love each other don’t speak to people they love that way. 

jake, you hurt me… and i don’t know what i did to deserve that treatment but i just wanted help. i spent all day running errands despite feeling like shit because of my period and you dismissed my feelings like it was nothing. 

that blanket meant so much to me, you knew that it was from my late grandmother yet you tossed it aside for your own accord because you didn’t have the same care for me and the things i love the way i do for you.” you said with a huff as you stuffed the last of your things into the bag. 

“when will you come back?” was all jake asked and all you could muster up was a shrug, because you weren’t entirely sure when you would be back. 

needless to say, a few days turned into a few weeks, and a few weeks turned into a few months and at some point you found yourself not having the need to come back. 

you wished you could get the closure you wanted from jake and you were sure he also wanted that, but walking away was something you needed to do. even if it was just one instance where jake spoke to you that way, it was enough for you to leave because you weren’t going to allow yourself to be with someone who found it in themselves to speak that way to someone they supposedly loved. 

not then, not now, and not ever.

sunghoon ⋆˚ʚɞ

sunghoon hadn’t known what he was doing, it was like his body was moving before his brain could think because he was running back inside and grabbing his car keys to drive after you. 

he wasn’t sure where you were headed off to but he had guessed that you were most likely going to stay with your mom. you were always close with your mom and she often was the person you went to when you were having troubles if you didn’t go to sunghoon. 

sunghoon knew he fucked up and he shouldn’t have treated you that way let alone let some strangers treat you that way. he didn’t know what let him get to the point where he was allowing these men to speak about you, the girl that he loved, in a way that made you feel small. demeaning and degrading you in a way that he hadn’t realized and even if he did, he chose to look away instead of defend you all because he was filled with the greed of wanting this promotion. 

was it even worth it anymore if it meant losing you? 

sunghoon was speeding at this point and although you hadn’t left much before he had went to follow you, there was no one else in the streets as he sped through to catch up to you. 

in a short amount of time, he’s turning into the street that your mom lives on and sure enough, he sees you just about to walk up to the front door. he hapazardly parks the car on the side of the street and stumbles out of his car to get to you. 

“yn, please. wait, lets talk about this!” he says and you’re startled at sunghoon suddenly appearing and you wipe the tears from your face and blink a few times to make sure he was actually there. 

“hoon? what are you doing here?” you ask, stepping down the small stairway that led to your mom’s home. “i couldn’t just let you leave like that, we need to talk-

look i’m sorry for the way i treated you and even more sorry that i let them treat you that way. i love you so much and i couldn’t imagine the amount of hurt i caused you for making it seem like i was okay with letting them say those things about you all because i wanted that promotion so damn bad. 

i was selfish and greedy but those are the things that make me want you more. i don’t want you to leave and walk away from me because i am selfish and greedy and i want you all to myself. 

i’m sorry that i didn’t defend you and i made you feel small…” he says and at this point sunghoon is crying. his voice breaks with every other word and you truly hadn’t seen sunghoon in this much distress, ever. 

you didn’t know how to respond but the longer you looked into sunghoon’s bloodshot eyes, the more confused you became. 

you could tell sunghoon was sincere but you didn’t think this was something that could be fixed right then and there. your sensitivity was always something you struggled with and sunghoon knew that yet he brushed off your feelings like it was nothing. 

“you shouldn’t have driven out all this way… 

because although i appreciate your apology i don’t know that i’m in the right place to accept it or to forgive you. 

sunghoon you hurt me and you let others hurt me. 

i’m selfish too, i want you all to myself too and i wouldn’t have stayed so long if i didn’t love you and want to be with you… but-

i don’t know if i can be with someone that doesn’t see me in the way i deserve. 

and i certainly know i don’t deserve any of that.” both of your attention is drawn to the sound of the front door as it opens, revealing your mother in her nightwear and arms crossed; a displeased expression on her face. 

“i’ll reach out to you when i’m ready.” you say and without another word you’re retreating into your mom’s home, hiding away from sunghoon and preparing yourself to have to face the inevitable one day. 

sunghoon on the other hand, drags himself to his car, head hanging low as he has to come to terms that his own selfishness and greed for the one he loved was also what caused him to lose the love of his life. 

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[cherrysolo]

I knew it, I know you.

yall have asked for a longer fic of this request, so here you go <3 instances where the reader comforts lu because of his back pain.

warnings: a wee bit of smut maybe angst too

you had been dating luigi for a couple of years now, you knew him better than anyone else. you knew all of his behaviours, every time he was frustrated and had a pout on his face, or when he would use his hands to talk during arguments. you could read him like a book, which was handy when he didn’t want to communicate. especially after having a rough time with back pain and surgery complications, you wanted to be the best partner you could be.

for instance, you guys were hiking together in hawaii, and halfway through the hike you could tell the mood completely changed. every couple of steps, lu would kind of stretch his back, or even let out a groan. it was obvious he was struggling, “baby is everything okay?” you questioned quietly, not sure how to approach this. “all good,” giving you a shy smile. you could tell he was in pain, but trying to pull through. you guys have been wanting to do this trail for months but never found time, until today. “why don’t we just go home and rest, it’s getting kind of hot out here anyways,” you suggest trying not to pry. you were already breaking a sweat and luigi was shirtless, so maybe this was a good excuse to leave. you wanted to take care of him but not baby him either. “but we made it this far, why give up now?” he snaps back. “yeah, but you’re in pain, let’s go, if we don’t stop now you’ll regret it later,” you snap right back because you want him to take care of himself, and sometimes that includes rest. “I’ll be fine,” you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “fine, let’s go, it won’t change anything though,” he sighs grabbing your hand to walk back to the car. “I know you’re pissed at me lu, but you need to take care of yourself. I worry about you,” pleading with him to understand your side. he squeezes your hand, knowing that he does care what you say. “thank you, baby, I know you care, sometimes I do push myself too much,” he leans over to kiss your forehead. you two end up cuddling on the couch for the rest of the evening, sometimes rest is not a bad thing.

another time is when you two are intimate, it can complicate how a night can play out. communication is everything to you guys when you’re together. sometimes you could tell instantly from the way luigi moves or his face twitches that his back is starting to bother him. you always motion for him to lay back and you take charge. straddling him and grinding your hips onto him. “hmmm why don’t I take care of you lu?” you smirk down to him. lowering yourself onto him, he groans out as if it’s a sense of relief. his hands immediately fall onto your hips, gripping onto you as you bounce up and down. “you’re such a good girl, taking care of me like this,” he’d moan out. attacking your neck with kisses, pleasure taking over the room. as you guys both reach your peak, a sense of gratitude fills luigi’s heart. even though you’re showing love (literally) switching up positions or doing things for lu’s comfort makes his heart swell.

the most common thing is showing small gestures of pda. if it’s small back rubs in public, lingering kisses of comfort, or just simple whispers of “are you okay?”. you’d hug lu from behind, and ask him how his back is feeling, if he needed any ibuprofen, or wanted to go home. you were scared of overbearing him, but your affection and worry made him feel loved. he loved the way you always looked out for him even in simple situations. after a long night out, or a workout that didn’t help, you’d give him a massage or cuddle with him to relax. it was just the little gestures that meant the most. you just wanted him to be happy and healthy, without the worry of his back pain.

[ashtxrie]

summertime (jeongin)

PAIR. musician!jeongin x reader GENRE. angst, right person wrong time, missed opportunities, pianist x violinist, reader fumbling, jeongin deserves better WORD COUNT. 2.1k WARNINGS. mentions of drinking NOTES. oh yeah it's the post-finals ash comeback !

i think i’ll miss you forever  like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky 

june 00

summer had begun. 

sunlight draped through the windows in veils of liquid bronze, winking off of the steinway in the center of the room. yang jeongin sits at the bench, fingers flitting across the monochrome keys. he locks eyes with you momentarily, your violin on your shoulder. you both exchange one of your secret smiles. we’re doing well. 

yang jeongin was only supposed to be your accompanist for one concert, a little over a year ago. it was his first time; his mentor had called in sick that day, so he — a novice of age eighteen — was called on to play with you for your concerto. you were also eighteen at the time — a violin prodigy, a local legend. 

it only took that one concert to note that the chemistry was undeniable. instead of one instrument line chasing another, it was as though time itself warped to fit your tempo. the pianist, no matter how skilled, was never to distract the audience from the soloist — but together, both of you shined the brightest. and so he was called on for your next concert, and the next, and the one after that — until the two of you became some sort of a package deal, where one was never in a concert hall without the other. 

tabloids called it a dual sensation, a collision of harmonizing colors. later, you’d jokingly call it fate. you’d miss how elated jeongin was from your statement, eyes squinted in crescents for the rest of the day. 

“you’re a star,” jeongin smiled one time, after a particularly successful performance. you had received a standing ovation. 

“if i’m a star then you’re the sun,” you replied, expression mirroring his. “just look at the way everyone gravitates toward you.”

even you? jeongin wanted to ask, but he swallowed the question. 

june 01

at nineteen, summer had arrived again. jeongin was going to confess today. after a year of nearly blurting it out loud, he hid flowers in the corner of the room, waiting for the end of this rehearsal. you were shining, as always. 

you reached the end of your cadenza. suddenly, you turned around. “i’m not sure if i told you already, but i’m moving to the states in three months. i was going to tell you earlier, but couldn’t really find a good time to,” you breathed a little laugh. “it shouldn’t really affect you though; you’re really famous around here already anyway.” 

jeongin’s eyes shifted to the corner of the room, where he could barely make out the pale pink petals. he waited too long. he had smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “that’s such a great opportunity, i’m so happy for you.” 

“i’ll keep in touch,” you assured. words thrown out, haphazardly. it wasn’t a promise, and jeongin knew it. but in his mind, he hoped it was. 

you picked up your violin, and jeongin faced back toward the piano like you always had before. you both didn’t say a word for the rest of the rehearsal. 

july 01

one month had passed since then.

somehow, the two of you have gotten closer than ever before. jeongin seemed to find himself going to the cafe with you after practice, texting you late into the night, and running useless errands together. 

“i’m going to get new strings. come with me?” you ask. jeongin knows you just changed it two months ago, far too recent to need a replacement. but he doesn’t dare ask you about it and agrees to go with you anyway. 

maybe another version of yourself would have loved him. and maybe he would have been brave enough to ask you on a proper date, if he was a better man. but he isn’t, so he hopes and dreams and damns himself. 

august 01

two months in. one month left.

jeongin gifts you a music box: a delicate wooden contraption of two figures dancing, lacquer smiles plastered on their faces. he’d spent his month’s paycheck on the custom-made design, and even more on the musical mechanism. 

“play it,” he smiles eagerly. he leans forward, clasping his hands. 

and you do, using both hands to wind it up. it plays a sweet melody, one you recognize instantly. the woman and the man, spinning around and around. you play it again after the song is over. 

later, as you’re cleaning up your sheet music, you find the find the first piece you and jeongin worked on together. the same score that you both had used for that very first concert, the one he landed by chance. 

“let’s play it again? for old-times’ sake?” 

of course he agrees. jeongin could never say no to you, always a call away. 

now you’re sure that you’ve heard that song before, the one in the music box. it’s playing now, after all. 

september 01

your last performance. jeongin would never forget it. 

maybe you both were good, really good, or maybe you were terrible. jeongin doesn’t remember, and he doesn’t care, because he’s playing to your cadences, and you’re playing to his tune. 

after the encore, you rushed over to hug him, thanking him for the past year. 

“do you ever have dreams?” you looked up at him, eyes glistening.

“dreams?” he laughed. “well, i’m in one right now, aren’t i?”

october 01. 

it was no longer summer when you left. 

without the sun, jeongin’s days are dimmer. he runs through his warm-ups in an hour, sitting through a limbo between consciousness for the other twenty-three. 

in the morning he’ll call you, and that is the only time he feels alive. 

you talk about places, and things. sandy beaches and wide roads, skyscrapers and subways and neon lights. jeongin says to wait a few more years, when his brother moves out for college, and he’d fly over too. 

he hangs on to the sound of your voice, ever a hoper, a dreamer, and imagines hearing it for years to come. 

december 01. 

the last day of the year. an almost-snow crowds the corner of his window. jeongin gets to stay in his apartment for half a week. 

his neighbors are more festive than ever before. he hears the sounds of plates clambering, eager footsteps, and a steady drum. 

jeongin calls you, the line connecting on the second try. there’s the faint sound of a piano playing in the background, of you laughing at a residual joke that someone made. he’s alone in his apartment. 

“hello,” he smiles. 

“hello jeongin,” he imagines you smile back. 

“it’s new year.”

“sure is.”

“what are you doing?”

“talking to you.”

he laughs. you smile.

“did you hear the news?” you ask. 

“what news?”

“orpheus’ orchestra is coming around. they invited me to play a concerto with them. i just met my accompanist today, he’s really nice.”

“oh.”

was that who she was laughing with before? he wants to go. with you. you should go together. 

“i’ll buy your tickets,” he starts. you both know it’s impossible. 

“front row seats, i hope?”

“whatever you’d like.”

his neighbors change the channel. sometime, sometime, it sings. 

long after you hang up, jeongin leans against the wall closest to the radio. phone leaving red imprints on the side of his face. 

“happy new years, darling,” he says, softly.

the radio plays. aren’t you a little in love, too?

march 02. 

you don’t pick up jeongin’s calls much these days, and when you do, it’s always brief, ended abruptly. you’re always busy, always needing to go. 

the walls are thin. jeongin thinks of calling you. 

half of the time you don’t pick up, but he likes you, and he wants you to like him too. 

so what if he stalls a little on your calls? two minutes into three, three into four, four into five–

he squints his eyes against the sun. 

he dials your number, and he hears the piano again. a two-minute reverie before you have to leave again — the shortest call yet. you hang up mid-goodbye. 

you don’t call again for a while after that.

october 02. 

it’s been six months since he last heard from you. his neighbors had moved out not long after, and a young man around his age had moved in. his name was kim seungmin — the vocal protege who was relocated here for a local tour — and he was desperate for a piano accompanist. they bonded quickly, and a little part of jeongin reignited at playing an accompaniment part for someone again after so long. 

tonight, in particular, they had decided to grab a drink together. mid-way through the fourth shot, jeongin’s ringtone suddenly plays. 

yang jeongin’s eyes wander over the foreign digits on his phone. an incoming call from an unknown number. he excuses himself and goes outside; he picks it up anyway. 

he hears a familiar voice from the other line. “hello?” 

“sorry, who’s this?” he wonders if he’s drunk already. 

“oh shoot, sorry wrong num– wait. jeongin?” 

“yes?” realization hits him. he calls out your name softly, apprehensively, afraid of it sounding foreign on his tongue. it’s been so long, after all. 

all the walls he’s built for the past six months break, going back to the dreamer of a boy he was one year ago. maybe it was the fact that he missed this sound for so long, or maybe it was the alcohol, but he asks the person on the other line to stay just a little longer. 

“okay,” you say, and it’s silent on both their ends. 

don’t let it end this time, he says to himself, when the line dies. don’t let it end. 

october 05. 

it’s been three years. jeongin’s gotten into fashion, met friends who he regards as family, found a love for diabolical footwear. his days are a lot less lonely now, with him performing with a full-time ensemble with seven other members. they were touring in america, for god’s sake! he finally got to visit the place he wanted for so long. 

he’s known as another name now, remembered as the artist “i.n” instead of jeongin, the one who accompanied you all those years ago. but he never forgot. 

jeongin walks into a thrift store on one of their tour stops with hyunjin, tasking the older to “rate the fit” as he looks for what he describes as “peak vintage sustainability.” 

browsing the aisles, he pauses at a familiar object. a music box, with two figures dancing. 

“you can go ahead actually,” he says to hyunjin, waving him on. “there’s just something i want to look at.” 

he takes a while staring at at his own reflection in the figure’s glossy face. twenty-four, he counts out. he’s almost twenty-four. that means you are too. 

hands shaking, he twists the handle of the music box. he closes his eyes, and lets the familiar melody play until it unwinds completely. he wished it never ended. it would make it all too real. 

jeongin wonders if this is yours. he wonders if you still think about him from time to time, like how he does of you every day. 

he pays for the music box and leaves. 

in the morning, on the train, there’s a woman sitting across from him. she looks to be about the same age as him. the same age as you. he’s in america now, after all. she smiles down at him, hands clutched above at the handle. he’s holding the music box. 

a second, then she is gone. jeongin looks into the sea of people of wherever he’s arrived, when the train’s stopped and he has to leave. 

jeongin wonders if he would still recognize you on the street if you walked by. he’s scared. he’s afraid that his memory of you is becoming hazy, and replays your voice in his head until your last half-assed cut-off goodbye is all he can hear. 

and he finds you, in the girl with a red scarf and the lady with polished fingernails. the musician with a violin case and the girl with a dog. 

maybe you’re not in this city at all. maybe you’re out, in the streets of another foreign town. 

under the roof of a korean cafe.

at a cheap motel, payment upfront. 

it doesn’t matter who you are. he’ll find you everywhere.

in a broken-down apartment, at the last stop of the train. 

he’ll be yours for all of them. 

TAGLIST : @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic @mygnolia

*tagging my previous gen taglist for this one but from now on the ppl i tagged above will only be tagged in my enha-centric fics! if you'd like to be added to the general taglist (which is everything!) or the skz-focused taglist, please lmk with an ask or comment <3

[vampworks]

At Last

Pairing(s): Caleb xreader (platonic) Sylus x reader x Zayne( love triangle)

Caleb chooses the worst way to announce his homecoming or in other words, that one scene in Deadpool and Wolverine. "He has rising, baby girl." "Fuck!".

w/c: 3k

a/n: hours of dying inside and here we are. I want to thank pinterest, my cat, and the monster I drank. This game has me in shambles and I will never recover.

warnings: angst, comfort, trauma, pet names, intimacy, profanity, mentions of death, mentions of medication.

To the family of Josephine and Caleb Yizhou, we regret to inform you that, per verification process conducted by Linkon City Government. Both Josephine and Caleb have been officially recorded as decreased due the accident on the date of xx-xx-xx. We kindly request you to-

You could barely stomach reading the rest of the text. It has been nearly 3 years since you lost it all. Only now had they finished their investigation. How long did they take to realize what you had years ago. That your family was gone. Caleb was gone. With a new gift of nausea, you felt the numbness crawling back up again. The dread you thought you had grown customed to.

On the way to city hall, you cancel tonight’s date with Zayne with a text of your own. You didn’t even think of your promise to let him in more. Something came up, will explain later. Far too short for casual. It didn’t have the usual warmth you had when you spoke to him. You knew he would suspect something.  Hell, not even a heart at end of it. He probably thinks the world was ending for you. Maybe He’d be right. You have the spent the last 3 years trying to cope. Trying to rebuild any semblance of happiness. All of what. All it took was one text. One mention of their names for it to come crashing down. Congrats, you were still the hopeless kid thrown onto you ass from the blast. Staring at the burning remains of everything you’ve known.

Two weeks of haunting the earth with each step you took later. Everyone could see you hurting, it had made you numb to anything but work. Old habits die hard as they say. You took far too many missions only to burn through with berserk-like brutality.  Captain Jenna would have congratulated your latest efforts if it wasn’t for the thousand-yard stare you had with the floor every time you spoke. “Go home, y/ln” You couldn’t even muster an argument, so you packed your bag and trudged back to your empty apartment.

Finally, at your door, the sick feeling you had feeling eased for a single moment. A pair of strong arms had engulfed you leaving no room for escape. The familiar scent of gunmetal and rich cologne filled your senses. “Sy-“ you managed to let out in a huff. “Hello to you too, Kitten.” Normally you’d return his hug but once again the strength never came. With a huff of his own, the giant of a man lowers himself to his knees. Dark red eyes bore into e/c, so he looked for any signs of life, but you stared right back with a cold expressionless glaze. Still lost in the haze of it all. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, sweetie but please tell that you’re all right at leas.” He pleaded, his voice losing the honeyed sound for a much softer tone. “Please, y/n.”

After agonizing over trying to make any noise at all. Something rancid leaves your lips. “I’m fine, just leave alright. I can’t do this right now.”  You bite. The pleading eyes beneath you once again shift with a tired furrow in his brow. “You can’t do what? I came because you’ve been blowing off my calls. Zayne told me you skipped picking up your medication and the date that you planned with him.” You weakly pushed him away, reaching for the lock. His hand takes hold of your wrist. “Y/N”, more than a little stern. It was like talking to child, but it finally caught your attention. “What Sylus. I’m tired and I just want to sleep. I will get the damn pills in the morning and you’re both busy anyway. Just please let me go before I-’ The irritating chime of your phone cuts you off before you ruin the delicate facade of control. Another sigh and a painful glance up at him, you answer the call. “Hello” The hunter in you came out and sound just as cold as before. “Hello, am I speaking with Y/LN. Apologies of the late hour, but I called to deliver a message from Farspace Fleet command center, are you available at the moment?" The man asked, his chirper tone made you even more nauseous, but you agreed without a second thought. It was probably just courtesy since the investigation message you received. The man explained that fleet FSCV-001 would be returning to Sky haven soon and your presences was requested by a colonel by the name of Caleb Yizhou. The second shoe drops. Blood rushed to your head. The air ripped from your lungs.

Sylus caught you as your legs gave out from beneath you and brought you inside the apartment. It took every once of strength in your body to keep listening. “Ma’am, he also recorded a voice memo for you, I’ll play it for you now.  You shook away the tears that threatened to fall but it was too late. “Hey, pipsqueak. You’re not dreaming. Looks like you ‘ve been holding up well since I was gone. That’s precisely why I had to hurry back. Can’t give you a chance to forget about me. Don’t worry, I won’t disappear on you again- “You were now clinging to Sylus. Your nails are crawling against his back. The silky fabric bunching and wrinkling in your grasp but neither of you care. Gasping for breath as you hung on every word your lost friend spoke.

“Oh, one more thing. Don’t be afraid, I’m back now.” End of recording, Thank you for your time, Miss. You heard the bleep after he hung up. You were still fighting back the urge to scream. Sylus held you tighter, still on the floor barely past your doorframe. “Y/n, its ok. Let go.”  He coaxed. Perhaps that’s what you were waiting for because you finally sobbed. You broke down the way you’ve wanted to for years now. Never allowing yourself to truly to feel what you had so tightly tucked away. He held you there till you fell asleep from exhaustion, gently soothing you while running his left hand up and down your back. His right found its way into your hair, pressing your head further into the crook of his neck. “It’ll be alright, my love”. He cooed, carrying you off to bed. He had watched you through Mephisto’s eye the whole time like he always has.

It was torture for him to listen to your voicemail while you threw yourself at wanderer days in and day out. The jokey and joyful tone hurt like knives knowing you probably hadn’t spoken like that to anyone in weeks. “Hey, you’ve reached my phone. Now come and find me. Heh he. But seriously sorry I missed your call. Leave a message and I’ll get back to ya.” You seemed so happy before. Of course, he knew of Caleb’s whereabouts. He had been subtly preparing you for the blow with lines like ‘careful who you trust from now on’ and ‘sometimes the closest to us may do the most harm’, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Here you were hurting in a way he couldn’t solve. With a heavy sigh, he called Zayne (his so-called rival) for help and your comfort. Zayne knew Caleb personally, he would soothe both of your worries.

 “Fuck”, Zayne hissed in response to the news over the phone. He was headed home after a long shift but made a very sharp U-turn back towards your apartment. “I’ll be there in a moment don’t alert Xavier." Sylus’s eyes grew wide at the responsive but quickly recovered. After 15 minutes of almost speeding, Zayne arrives in your apartment with an anger never seen before. “Is she alright. How long before that bastard arrives.” Zayne scans over the apartment for you while glancing back at Sylus for his answers. Sylus falls back into the much too small sofa letting out the sound of a sore old man. “She’s not well but she’s sleeping in the back. From what I heard, there’s five days before the fleet lands. He asked her to meet him in Sky haven. He sounded genuine but it’s still suspicious. Why wait til now.” Zayne nodded, busying himself in your kitchen. Tea would do little to calm them, but it was something. Anything to keep him from going over there himself and picking up a fight he knew only would hurt you more. “What was he like, when you knew him. Perhaps he’s had a motive this whole time?”

“Obsessive.” The doctor snorted. “The poor girl was smothered with him, but she saw nothing but her protective best friend. Pushed me away any chance he could.” It was now Sylus’s turn to laugh. “So, playing house never-ending well, I take?” The dark-haired man sighed into his mug. “Y/n had proudly declared me as her husband since she was 9, but Caleb said I should stay in my place as the friendly neighbor or the dog. You might be right. Any evidence pointing to Ever in this.” “Nothing concrete yet, but I’ll have something clear soon. He says checking on Mephisto’s camera feed from Sky Haven.

“I want to see” You croaked, voice still hoarse from crying earlier. Both men are up and near you in an instant. You wobble toward them light-headed and on bare feet, before nearly falling again. Zayne wins the ‘race’ this time, scooping you and bringing you to the loveseat to sit in his lap. Sylus follows the two of you back and pulls the screen again for you to see. The crimson-tinted screen shows gleaming city streets filled with lights. In the distance, silver towers glow like Christmas up above. Misty fog covering it all making it look like a hazy dream. “Lovely, do you think you should wait til you’re feeling better before you see him again?” Zayne asked you, his voice losing the bite it had just a moment before. “No, I won’t feel better til I see…him. I want to know what happened.” You said, eyes with tears welling up again. “Why he left me alone” The last part of that sentence was muffled into Zayne’s turtleneck. “I’m proud of, y/n” Zayne whispers into your hair. “You’ve been so strong through it all but its ok if you need more time, that’s perfectly fine.” “He’s right, Kitten.”

“Thank you, both of you. I would love to go back to thinking  he was gone and moving on, but I really need to see him. Maybe punch him a few times for pay back but still.” You attempt to joke but a few good hits would definitely help your feelings if you’re being serious. The rest of the night was spent with Zayne and Sylus doing their best to distract you by any means necessary. A silent truce leads to them teasing each other and doting on your head and foot. Two movies, a pile-it-up competition, and half a Hershey pie later, the three of you were tucked into your far too-small bed. But for two giants and you, you were more than happy to be squished.

One day before Touch Down

“Ok but if they ask me to sing, I’m gonna ugly cry.” You said finally grocery shopping again. Sylus had come along. After last time, He seemed the domesticity of it. “I would love to hear you sing again, sweetie but you aren’t capable of “ugly crying”. He jested, tossing another steak cut into your cart. “I’ll have you know y rendition of ‘At Last’ in college choir could kill a man, I won't even start about ‘Sweet Love’. Tears and all, mister.” “Oh, I’m sure.” Maybe everything will be okay after all. Watching you prepare for a dinner date like nothing occurred at all was nice but the sight of you breaking down like that would always be burned into his brain. He vowed that he’d always be there for you through good times and bad while you scanned the aisle for sweets. He heard you mutter something about deserving a cheat day more than anyone right now. You were right.

Moments Before Touch Down

The cold wind blasts through the fog ridden streets all around you. The taxi had let you in front of the command center as you requested but it was the long dreadful walk to the carrier bay that was miserable. The cruel fabric of your own dress blues did against the freezing air. The hunter dress code at its finest, the dark blue pencil skirt, blouse, and jacket was awful, Tara had always questioned what you had against the usual dress code, seeing your custom uniform outfitted with leather and pants no less. But you was right in end. This sucks ass.

The air was far too thin for your heart’s liking and the eerie glow of tech through the fog lighting on your way did little to comfort your nerves. Soon enough, the clearance stall was in sight with a man waiting with your name on a sign. He wore the same dress as blues Caleb used to when he first enlisted. “Hello miss y/ln, correct?” You gave a curt nod before putting on a smile. You were trying your hardest not to go numb again. You promised yourself and the boys that you would be ok and present. “Great, the colonel did make a last minute request of you.” You sighed, mentally prepared for whatever he could’ve thrown you now. “The colonel spoke about your singing to the higher ups and you’ve been invited to officially welcome the fleet home with a song.” “Shit” you mumbled beneath a cough saving to save face. If the officer had heard he played no mind. You had definitely jinxed it in the store, Sylus’s bad luck had rubbed off on you once again. Plastering a big smile, you spoke, far more chipper it was painful. “It would be a great honor, thank you.” You say through gritted teeth. “Wonderful, follow me.”

You now found on the highest step leading to the stage, highest seat on the bay as the ship finally touched down. Every bone in you body shivers and shakes. The breathes you now halted as they all file out by rank. Each group called out by squad name led by their colonel. A drone of names and codes you couldn’t hear above the sound of your own racing heart. None of the breathing exercises practiced with Zayne could help now. Only pressing on and waiting for the man who haunted you for years would bring any type of solace.

Once they had all stood in formation, a general comes and gives a speech about unity, the future, and whatever else is on his messy que cards. “And now a song from the Hunters associations’ very own, Y/n Y/ln to welcome us all home. You shot up scanning over the crowd. Suddenly your college recital was nothing compared to this. ‘Just another obstacle before I get to see him.’ You thought. The music starts and so do you.

At last, my love has come along

My lonely days are over

And life is like a song

This was cruel. Sickening. He had to have known.

The skies above are blue

My heart is wrapped up in clover

The night I looked at you

A man pushes through the crowd towards the stage. His medals glimmering was he moves with fevor.

Oh, and then the spell was cast

And here we are in heaven

For you are mine

At last

Cheers and clapping filled the air and just as you said. Some of the officials are sobbing. You paid no mind as Bright purple eyes gleamed up at you. He stares at you in awe. As if you had put the clouds into skies that he had flown through for too long. He smiles the same grin he did back then. It was him. The colonel reaches out for you, eager to have you in arms once again. You jump without a second thought. God how you had missed him. How he had missed you. He needs you like air in his lungs. The tight embrace is bone-crushing on his part, but you could’ve asked for tighter. Anything was fine as long as he never let you go again. “Hello again, my little love” You smiled and giggled at the line. Cheeks are growing hot despite the cold chill around you. “Is it really you, Caleb?” You asked, hoping to stay in this blissful dream even if it wasn’t. “Of course, y/n. I’m back. Good luck getting rid of me now.” He laughs. The sound is heaven to your ears. Memories of a childhood together you had buried now come flooding back. “Ugh finally, as if I’d let you go. I might just kidnap you and take you home back with me.” You hiccup. And now it’s his turn to hang on to your words but he snorts and tightens his grasp. “You’ll never hear me complain about it.”  You shove a hand into your pocket to pull the silver chain. It shines between you two as you gently push him back earning a pout from him. The apple-accented dog chain would be united with its owner once again. “Tryna collar me, Princess?” He says already bending down for you. “Yup, then you’ll never run away again.”  You say, hooking the chain around his neck. “Lets get outta here, coffee?” Tears of his own threaten to fall as he speaks.

This was going far better than Caleb ever imagined it would. He’s sure you’ll knock him on his ass later and he sure as hell deserves it but for now, he’ll wrap you in his coat, scoop up and carry you off somewhere warm.

At last, both of you were finally had a home again.

[hinamie]

quick itfs sketch page

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: 2/3

-> Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: more head trauma/concussed!Steve discussions.

Steve hears Eddie call after him, but he doesn’t stop—he can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. Not when his eyes are stinging and his heart is pounding in his ears, each pulse more painful than the last. His legs take him to the building he’s supposed to go into, fueled purely by muscle memory. Not brain memory, of course, because nothing up there works properly anymore, apparently.

The Brain Injury Recovery Center.

It’s where Eddie expects him to go. He’ll catch Steve if he goes in, or he’ll wait for Steve by the doors until he comes back out—both options involve facing Eddie after Steve had made a total idiot of himself. Both feel utterly mortifying.

So he ducks into the alleyway beside the familiar brick building instead, just to catch his breath. It takes Steve longer than the average bear to sort out his feelings now, after all. Jesus, who’s he kidding? Everything seems to take him longer.

Steve feels hot tears streak down his cheeks before he angrily scrubs a sleeve over them. Of course Eddie isn’t his boyfriend. Eddie’s funny and cool and he’s in a band and he lights up every damn room he walks into—and Steve… well, maybe Steve was something a few years ago when he was in high school, and maybe he was even something before his accident, but now…

There’s a sharp clapping noise that sounds like thunder. A door slamming, Steve’s brain sluggishly supplies. It’s followed by shouting.

“Steve? Steve!” Eddie calls from somewhere on the street.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his ass. His face is probably still blotchy and wet, his breathing hasn’t evened out yet and his eyes are still leaking like a goddamn faucet. He’s pathetic.

Can’t let Eddie see him like this…

He ducks behind a metal garbage bin, careful not to let anything but the bottom of his sneakers touch the sticky looking surfaces around him. It stinks, like rot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoes off of the alleyway walls. Steve claps a hand around his mouth to muffle out any of the pathetic sounds that seem determined to escape from him. So much of his body just does whatever the hell it feels like now. Out of Steve’s control, like everything else.

For a few, tense seconds, there’s silence. Eddie’s listening for him, maybe. Steve shuts his eyes and waits him out.

It feels like an eternity before he hears Eddie’s hurried, retreating footsteps, continuing his shouting for Steve. He sounds almost as panicked as Steve feels. Almost.

Steve gives a noisy, wet sniff and does one final scrub of his face before getting to his feet. He starts walking.

As he goes deeper into the alleyway, he thinks back on all the things he’s been wrong about. The fact that Eddie had some of his band t-shirts mixed in with Steve’s clothes… well, that was because they were both guys who wore about the same size, and Eddie left his shit everywhere. It’s no wonder some of his stuff got mixed into their laundry. And the times Eddie’s driven him places? That’s just… what friends do, Steve supposes. And all those times Eddie made Steve laugh? Made him feel like the center of the universe? Well, that’s just… Eddie. He must make everyone feel that way. It’s like his super power. But it isn’t romantic… It doesn’t mean anything more than Eddie being a magnetic person.

Steve is just so stupid. Painfully so.

He blinks as the sun hits him. He must’ve reached the other side of the alleyway.

Steve cups a hand over his eyes and grimaces. His migraine wasn’t backing down. He sighs. Time to head back.

Steve turns back into the alleyway he’d emerged from, only he’s about halfway through when he realizes the color of the buildings on either side of him are wrong. They’re brown on one side, painted green on the other. That isn’t right…

His heart jackrabbits in his chest, but he keeps walking forward. Maybe he’ll recognize the street once he’s back on the other side.

But when he gets there, it’s as unfamiliar to him as the alleyway. Steve turns, looking up and down the road to see if he could spot Eddie, or his van, or the Center. But there’s nothing.

And when someone shoulder checks him, Steve supposes he was sort of asking for it, standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that. He apologizes, but it’s too late. The person’s already out of range to hear him.

It’s as if everyone else is on fast forward while Steve’s stuck on pause. The world keeps moving along while all he seems to be able to do is watch it go by.

Why would he ever think someone as dynamic and spirited as Eddie would hitch his horse onto Steve’s busted up, barely mobile cart?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wills himself not to start blubbering again like a goddamn baby. His life is already one big, painful lesson in humility as it is, he doesn’t need to wallow in it.

Steve keeps walking. Figures he’ll spot something, or someone familiar to him eventually. The pounding in his head’s eased off to a dull ache, at least. Maybe there was something to this exercise and fresh air thing the doctors were always going on about, after all…

The thing is though, Steve doesn’t spot anything familiar. Not even vaguely so, and it’s not until the streetlights turn on that he realizes he’d spent the majority of the day wandering around the streets like some lost dog that managed to slip his leash.

It’s cold too, and all he’s got on is jeans and a polo. It’s October, isn’t it? No wonder he’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms.

Then, he finally spots something familiar; a phone booth. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He’d just call his parents. They’d come pick him up.

He gets the booth and lifts the receiver before he blanks. A quarter. He’d need that. Duh, Harrington. So he hangs up the phone and pats his pockets until he finds a wallet, but all that’s inside of it are a couple of crisp bills. He’d need to break one.

Steve turns, scans the street until he spots a well lit, invitingly warm looking diner. The joint looks so damn cozy that he forgets to make sure the street is clear before he steps out into the middle of it.

Tires screech, harmonizing with the horn that’s blasting at him—Steve flinches, reaching up to cover his head and braces for impact.

To his great relief, the hit never comes. Which, thank fuck. He can’t afford anymore accidents. As it is Robin’s threatened to make him wear a helmet full-time.

Steve doesn’t listen to whatever the person yells at him, he just hurries to get the hell out of his way of the other moving vehicles.

“Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.” He mutters to himself as he catches his breath.

He pushes the door to the diner open with shaking hands, but it’s blissfully peaceful inside, and he can actually feel his insides unclench as he stands inside of it.

“Sit anywhere, hun, I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice tells him. Steve nods and slips into the nearest booth overlooking the street. Watches the cars go by. There’s even a couple of cop cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Steve wonders briefly what sort of emergency they’re rushing off to when the waitress comes to his table.

“What can I get you, handsome?” She asks, cheery and warm like the rest of the diner.

“Uh…” Steve frowns, taking a few seconds to process the question, “nothing. I’m just waiting for my parents to come pick me up.”

The waitress taps the side of the notepad. “Well you gotta order something, hun, or you can’t stay here.”

Steve wants to stay here. It’s warm and smells fucking amazing, like “pancakes?”

She waitress smirks. “Yeah, we got those. You want a stack?”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiles back, laughing along with the waitress like he’s in whatever joke that’s currently so amusing to her. “I’m starving.”

“You want some coffee too, to help you sober up, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk.” He huffs out a little self deprecating laugh, “I wish. No, I—uh, my meds, they’re the kind that you can’t mix with alcohol. Coffee too. Bummer, right? Yeah… But, uh, it is what it is, I guess—so…”

He can feel it. The way his mind so often wanders. He’s lost his train. His track. He frowns, eyes drifting towards the street again, watching the headlights zip by.

“…so just the pancakes then?” The waitress asks, jolting his train back onto its rails. His attention snaps back onto her.

“Yeah, pancakes. Sure.” Steve flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile.

She returns his smile and leaves him be, and he lets himself relax. Props his head up on a fist and watches life go on for everyone else but him.

He gets his pancakes, and some juice too that he doesn’t remember ordering, but hey, that’s nothing new. And damn, the pancakes taste even better than they smell. He needs to remember the name of this place so he can come back with everyone. What did the doctors say? Repeat something in your head over and over until it sticks. Repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

It’s around the time his fork hits an empty plate that one of the police cars stops in front of the diner window, lights on, but the sirens are off now.

Hopper steps out.

Huh. That’s weird. Steve wonders what sort of emergency he’s here for.

When Hopper enters through the glass doors, the bell hung over the entry way rings out pleasantly. An angel getting their wings.

His eyes land on Steve and the older man sighs, shoulders falling. Relief, Steve recognizes. Hopper pulls the radio from his belt and says something into it before stomping over.

Then it clicks.

Oh. Steve’s the emergency.

He feels his face heat up. The handful of other patrons scattered across the diner are all looking at him.

“There you are.” Hopper sighs, gruff and exasperated.

Steve sinks into his seat, just a little. “Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Just a little.” Hopper chuckles dryly. He takes off his hat and slips into the booth across from Steve, apparently not in any sort of hurry now that he’s found the runaway dog.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’s developed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Just strangle Munson for me when you see him next, will ya?” Hopper drops his hat onto the table and waves the waitress down. He orders a coke.

Munson. Eddie.

The memory of how he made a total and utter fool of himself comes rushing back, slamming down onto him like one of those cartoon anvils. Jesus, how did he forget that..?

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t sitting so good in his gut. Feels like he’s gonna ralph.

“Was he freaked out? Eddie, I mean.” Steve asks, cautiously approaching the question. Did Eddie say anything about why…?

“Yeah, him and Robin both. Then the kids found out too—don’t ask me how. I suspect the curly-haired one has an illegal transmitter.” Hopper leans back in the booth as the waitress drops off his coke. He takes the straw out and drinks it right from the glass. Steve waits for him to finish, doesn’t say a word.

When Hopper puts the glass down, Steve just sits and watches the way the drops of condensation run down the cup, distorting around the fingerprints Hopper’s left. “Anyway, they’re all out on their bikes looking for you too.”

Hopper smiles fondly, like it’s something charming and not… pathetic. “You got a lot of people that care about you, kid.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods. Tries for a grin, but it’s weak. Probably wouldn’t fool anyone, much less a cop. “Yeah, I’m a real lucky guy.”

Hopper looks like he wants to say something else, but he just takes a breath and nods. Steve’s grateful he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t think he has the energy in him right now to fend off the ‘but look how far you’ve come!’ ‘Your speaking’s gotten so much better!’ ‘It could be a whole heck of a lot worse!’ comments.

“What do you say we get you home? Unless you want dessert? My treat.” Hopper offers with a grin.

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” he says, before remembering his manners, “thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Hopper glances down at the cleared plate of pancakes and the half finished coke before sliding out of the booth, followed by Steve. He takes out wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He tosses down a few bills, hoping it’s enough. Hopper doesn’t comment, so it must be.

The drive back to his and Robin’s apartment is a solemn one, but it’s strangely peaceful. Hopper’s got the heat on full blast due to Steve’s lack of coat, and the motion of the vehicle along with the darkened sky leaves Steve feeling wrung out in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

In fact, when they finally arrive, Hopper’s gotta shake his shoulder to wake him up.

“We’re here.” He rumbles out in his gruff baritone.

Steve lifts his head from his folded arm and looks up at the modest building. He wonders how far they live from the pancake diner. If they could walk there, sometime, him and Robin and Eddie.

But then Steve realizes he never got the name of it. He feels his insides sink. Another thing lost to him.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve gives Hopper a nod and what he’s sure is a tired smile. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try not to run off again.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Hopper says, diplomatically. “Let me walk you in.”

Steve cringes at the idea. He’s grateful for Hop and all he’s done—especially the part about not making him feel like a complete dummy—but he just wants this all to be over and for things to revert back to how they were. And at this point he’s so close he can taste it.

Steve busies his hands by undoing his seat belt. “No, it’s okay, really—“

Hopper looks like he’s about to argue but Robin damn near crashes out through the building’s illuminated front doors. She makes a b-line for Steve, who’s just barely gotten out of the cruiser.

She wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. “Steve! Holy shit, you scared me so bad. I’ve been out of my mind!”

Steve’s arms are trapped at an awkward angle, but he reaches around her as best he can, arms like flippers. “I’m okay. Seriously. Look, not even a scratch.”

She doesn’t laugh. Just squeezes him harder. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know if he’s okay, but it’s what everyone always seems to want to hear from him, so he says it often.

“I’ve already killed Eddie like three times.” Robin murmurs into Steve’s chest, before finally pulling away. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose stuffy, like she’s been crying.

“It’s not his fault, Rob.” Steve’s brows pinch together as he frowns, “is he…”

But when Steve looks up towards their building, he can see Eddie standing in the doorframe, his dark silhouette illuminated by the entry way lights. He’s still as a statue, holding open the door for them, arm extended out into the cold autumn night. Steve’s insides squirm.

“You got him from here, Buckley?” Hopper calls from his cruiser and Robin ducks to meet his eye before giving him a thumbs up. She loops her arm around his waist and they start towards their place—towards Eddie.

Before they reach him, Steve keeps his voice down as he asks, “Can I just go to bed? I don’t—I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She nods, “I get it.”

But she doesn’t, not really.

Steve avoids eye contact with Eddie when they finally reach the building, and before he can say anything, Robin interrupts. “He’s going straight to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie says in a small voice. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even follow them back up to their apartment. Maybe Eddie’s even relieved he doesn’t need to confront it tonight. Maybe they won’t ever confront it… maybe he’s hoping Steve’s brain will take care of everything and make him forget. Make it like it never happened. Part of Steve wishes—

No. He doesn’t wish that. His brain’s already functioning at half capacity, he doesn’t want to thank it for fucking up, even if it might make Steve’s life easier.

Whatever Eddie’s expression is, Steve doesn’t look back to find out. He keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on putting one step ahead of the other.

When they finally arrive at Steve’s matchbox sized bedroom, he doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas, or even out of his jeans for that matter. He just falls into his bed, pulls a pillow over his head and wills himself to let go of the day and surrender to the sweet pull of blissful unconsciousness.

🫣 Oops, I made it worse. But I promise the Eddie and Steve confrontation is in the next part! 🙏 This is tagged angst with a happy ending for a reason.

Tag List: (message me to add or remove yourself.)

@morallyundefined @estrellami-1 @ollieolive @mugloversonly @wheneverfeasible @steddiefication @what-if-a-dragon @wrenisfangirling @yesdangerpls @flustratedcas @scarletyeager @snowstar2368 @starxlark @sofadofax @lawrencebshoggoth @stevesworldxx @jizzing-bastard-600and69 @bambibiest @queenie-ofthe-void @lilpomelito @bananahoneycomb @kaspurrcat @deadwhiterosesstuff @dame-zoom-a-lot @3vilpurpl3d0t @loudmariachibands @steddieislife

[xxplastic-cubexx]

sorry just got reminded of the entirety of uncanny x-men #309 and how it's charles having a therapy session with himself about his love life and desires and how he kept sacrificing himself and his wants for The Cause and the whole time he imagines erik to represent his innermost thoughts in the form of a therapist to have him unravel all this

[a--a---a]

buddie fic set to "New York" by Snow Patrol about Eddie leaving for El Paso but it's angst with a happy ending and Buck is mourning the loss of Eddie, who returns and they live happily ever after

[skitskatdacat63]

His bullfighting days aren't over quite yet.

+

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s5 episode 2 thoughts

i wrote the following episode writeup two days ago, and still, there is so much to process. but let past me take over as we begin our adventure into some DELICIOUS angst with a happy ending content:

i wasn’t going to watch this episode tonight because i am feeling tired and sick, but then i scrolled down a little bit and read some of the next episode’s descriptions, and boy. i want answers. which i will not receive if i do not watch the episodes prior to them. so. here we are.

i’ve also heard that this episode is really good, so i’m excited to dive in, even if i have a headache while watching it. usually i try to preserve my watching experiences for when i don’t feel ill, but sometimes you just have to push through it.

(it WAS really really REAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLY GOOD. my sickness was not fixed but some other part of me was)

okay. the description... mulder is looking for a cure and the FBI snitch. and he receives help from an unlikely source…. is it krycek??? let us see

(it was not krycek)

we begin with the recap, and again, the combination of skinner’s gruff “call a doctor” while holding scully's limp body and mulder’s defeated face at hearing the vial just has water in it is crazy 

mulder is at the hospital at 5 am!!! he’s looking for scully :( no one is helping him!! he is getting maaaaad omg

“i’ll calm down when i have a REASON TO CALM DOWN!!”<- OHHHH he is always going to cause a scene in a hospital. someone please pair up this scene with one breath to make a nice matching gifset thank you <3

the doctor wants to know who tf he is when skinner comes out of the room!!! OH FUCK, I FORGOT SKINNER THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD LMAOOOO “you move pretty good for a dead man” <- well yes he does! 

“i’m only half dead” now what do you mean by that… is he saying that without scully he is only half alive.......

oh skinner is PISSED! he is following him into scully’s room… please save the fighting for when she is not trying to get rest, thank you very much

oh my GOD, mulder sees her in the room and he literally has to put his hands on his knees and breath, and he cannot do it… holy fuck… he asks skinner what happened, and when he doesn’t answer right away he asks “DUE TO WHAT?” again, and skinner has to say she’s dying

(i immediately hit replay to watch him collapsing in on himself and gasping for air again. pain. pain and angst. feels good. like pressing into a bruise)

SKINNER AND MULDER START FIGHTING???? throwing hands. “don’t make me put you under arrest. DON’T” <- this is escalating. very quickly. we haven’t even had the intro yet. holy fuck.

(my skinner and mulder angst heart is deeply satisfied)

oh my god… how he’s watching her through the window……………..

the intro was cut short, but i expected this 

ohhhh no, mulder is here before section chief blevins… he’s in troooOOooOouble!!!

“the fact of you being here alive, it gives the effect of shaping this investigation into something altogether different” <- well yeah. that is very much the case. let's all state the obvious together.

blevins and the squad seem to be surprisingly patient with him as they explain they need to know who the real dead guy found in his apartment was. they say, well, you know, this is going to be a murder charge. so please say something to help yourself out here. and he says idgaf bye <- LEGENDARY!!!

ohhh skinner is following him out… skinner says he has been withholding evidence. he knows mulder shot the guy, killed him, then shot him again to hide his identity!!!! woahhhh!!! this is huge!!!!

skinner tells him to admit why scully lied on his behalf, and he says that her disease was given to her by someone at the FBI. he takes a moment to process that, then asks who, and there is a whole lotta guilt in mulder’s reply: “i failed to find that out, sir” <- NOOOOOOO i’m sad :(

oh mulder, and your intrinsic, ancient guilt.......

“you don’t want to forget who your friends are, agent mulder- to remember who you can trust” <- oh my god oh my gooooood. you KNOW i am a SUCKER for the whole mulder/scully and skinner dynamic, and he knows that skinner made the deal with the devil for him but scully doesn’t know that and she doesn’t trust skinner and oh my goooosh

mulder nods, while skinner watches him leave. i hope he has taken this talk to heart.

section chief blevins is at the racetrack again with CSM?? and he’s watching senator kennedy speak about human cloning. which seems random. how is he even watching that while at the racetrack? they didn't have ipads

CSM points out he said mulder’s not to be underestimated <- haha yeah THAT’S my boy!! 

ohhhh, but blevins knows CSM let him escape…. and CSM isn’t alarmed by this! he’s all smirky, even as blevins says their FBI man has been exposed.

“mulder’s in trouble. he needs help. we can give it to him” “in exchange for?” “his new loyalty. to us” <- WOAHHHH

some dude was behind blevins the whole time and he says “you can proceed now” so is he off to go get mulder???!?!?!

scully is waking up!! OHHHH look at his smile when he sees her…. oh somebody kill me. he loves her SO much

(author's note: tearing up just thinking about this as i make these notes readable. goddddddddd)

she’s so worried that someone is going to see him, but OH MY GOD he grabs her hand, sits on the bed, tells her it’s okay, and kisses her cheek “i’m officially among the undead” <- WAAAAAAAAAH I LOVE HIM

(and while in the moment this only inspired the deepest of affection, i now find myself thinking of a vampire au, and who would be the vampire... but let's get back on track)

she asks what happened, and he says he didn’t come there to talk about that <- YEAH THAT IS WHAT I WANTED TO HEAR!!! you tell her not to worry sweet girl

but she won’t take it, says he doesn’t need to protect her!!! and that is just like her, to die arguing. so he fesses up that he will have to testify everything that he knows 

he does NOT want her to worry oh my god “it doesn’t matter” “yes it does” (gently) “hey scully, how about those yankees?”<- OHHHH MY GOD i cannot stop saying oh my god, but what even is there else to say?

i just. he loves her so much. he wants her to relax and be calm and be okay even when she would never let that happen in a million years. and the fact that she is worried about HIM while she is literally dying… bro. i’m emo.

scully is trying to warn him that skinner is the mole, and he’s touching her face, saying no, it’s not him, and oh, i’m melting. my heart is melting. 

WOAH WHAT??? she is saying to tell the committe he has to testify before that SHE KILLED THAT GUY??? to keep him safe???

he smiles and shakes his head, saying he can’t do that, but she responds with “mulder, if i can save you, let me” oh my god???

“let me give at least some meaning to what’s happened to me” <- OH MY GOD??????? no no no no no no no. 

(the implications here... trying to find meaning... nobility in sacrifice... the religious imagery it inspires....... we need to unpack this at length someday)

OH enter maggie and bill scully, watching as mulder sits on her bed holding her hand, smiling like the dutiful son-in-law he appears to be, which is especially crazy, when you consider the whole “and where has this mulder guy been” thing bill had going on when we last saw him. but mulder says he was just on his way out. 

AND he kisses her hands as he leaves… the tenderness which i feel towards this man is so sensitive and indescribable

and oh my god, mulder introduces himself to bill. he says he’s sorry about his sister… but bill has something else to say- WHAT IS IT??

“mr. mulder… i know something about you, about what dana’s been through with you, so… let’s leave the work away from here, okay? let her die with dignity” <- OH MY GOD????? WHAT THE FUCK???????

bill you literally SUCK what the HELL?? you don’t know ANYTHING about what they have been through!!! 

he looks like he was just slapped :( and bill goes in and holds her hand while mulder is there just standing opened mouthed, unable to believe what he just heard :(

what the fuck.

bill count ur days.

so now the guy from the racetrack that was with blevins seems to be on the loose with a sniper gun!!

ohhhh, mulder is leaving the hospital when he sees CSM!!!! “please tell me you’re here with severe chest pains” <- JHDJSJDJ okay yes i laughed.

OHHHH he says that the water he got in the facility is essential to scully’s survival???? and that he’s here tonight as a friend?? so they go outside to talk about it… but the sniper, isn’t he loose????

cutscene to the lone gunmen’s headquarters, where mulder is emptying the water vial into a little dish, saying CSM promised him something would be in there. and there is some… thing?? a microchip??

OH! he says that maybe it has to do with when the chip was removed from her neck!! because she got very sick shortly after it was removed!!! woah... that is wild to think about. so maybe if it had stayed in there this wouldn't have happened??? but she would have kept getting abducted because they would have known her location? but earlier someone said it was the procedure that takes their eggs that makes them sick. but how does that involve the alien? who knows. probably not chris carter.

kritschgau is here now; he’s been summoned before the committee

he confesses to giving classified information because he knows what the government is hiding from the people!!!! developing a moral compass late in life

but he denies knowing who killed the guy found dead in mulder's apartment, whose name is scott…

“i’m aware of one connected death, though” <- is he going to say scully???

NO!!! his son, who died that morning!!!!! oh no :( i feel bad now 

he says that part of his work comes from a congressional lobbying firm?? called “roush”. blevins and some other guy exchange looks but skinner asks what it means. and kritschgau says idk. well. me neither 

back in scully’s room, mulder is being yelled at by bill as he tries to explain the microchip from the tube might make her better. maggie seems to want bill to settle down, while scully is staring hard at it.

she says that everyone has their heart in the right place, but it needs to be her call… oh, so diplomatic… and she decides to try it

bill looks like he wants to kill mulder, and mulder tries to dodge his eye contact. it was very emotionally charged.... but also a little bit funny 

so now the sniper guy is back. he’s setting up the rifle, but where???? and to shoot which of our characters???

bill comes out of the hospital room and mulder is working overtime to try and avoid his gaze until he realizes it is impossible.

“see, she’s your big defender, but i think the truth is, she just doesn’t want to disappoint you” <- bro WHAT?? how fucking infantilizing can you be??? just because she’s your little sister doesn’t mean she can’t make her own informed decisions about living and dying??

bill, we are GOING to throw hands at some point 

OHHHHHHHH bill blames MULDER for all of this AND for missy’s death……… again…. not very fair…. scully made her own decisions… but if i were bill, i might feel the same if it were my family….

ohhh my god this whole exchange needs to be on my blog:

“has it been worth it? to you, i mean, have you found what you’ve been looking for?”

(mulder pauses, before answering in a whisper) “no”

“you know how that makes me feel?”

“in a way, i think i do. i lost someone very close to me- i lost a sister, i lost my father- all because of this thing i’m looking for”

“this what? little green aliens?”

(mulder looks down, before smiling) “yeah. little green aliens”

“you’re one sorry son of a bitch. not a whole lot more to say”

holy FUCK

1. i love a man who loves so unabashedly and so unapologetically. i love a man with his heart on his sleeve, and i love mulder for this reason, even if he is terribly stubborn and often infuriating. look at him. look how dedicated to the truth he is. look at how much he loves her.

and 2. for their own sake, i hope they elope when they get married, but for the sake of pissing bill off, i hope they get married in a traditional fashion, and he has to sit there and watch and regret everything he said when this inevitably saves her life and they get to grow very old and happy together because of his quest for aliens. and then they say their vows and kiss and bill writhes in the knowledge that he is a mean person. that is all. for now. because i will probably have more to say later.

fuck you bill. all my friends hate bill. 

mulder's phone rings… he answers it, saying “one sorry son of a bitch speaking” and it’s CSM??? asking how’s our patient? well. i guess he can take some credit here for the potential recovery, but “our” feels strong.

he says he’s arranged a meeting he will want to attend??? hmm. hmmmmm. hmmmmm. much to ponder here. mulder do NOT make any deals, CSM is a NASTY FUGLY SLUT!!

so mulder’s sitting in a diner, sipping coffee, when someone pulls into the parking lot??? it’s CSM himself. 

WITH THE CLONE SAMANTHA FROM BEFORE???

“you know 'em or something?” “i think that’s my sister”, he says to the waitress <- WHAT??

obviously though, he realizes it’s the fake samantha, right? like this trick won’t work on him twice... right?

she looks at CSM and says “my father” <- HUH??

nah, i do not believe it’s her at all. she says she was frightened, and she tried to forget everything from that night. she was told she was going to see her father. and CSM said basically that she was an affair baby and he's the bio dad. and he took her in and was so kind.

nah. i’m not buying it at all….

but mulder is crying……….. he’s had a rough go of it though these past few days, okay?!?!?! so don't be mean to him for believing what HAS to be an obvious lie

he tries to explain that CSM is probably lying to her about many, many things, because he has obviously known mulder’s whereabouts for a very long time, and has never told her

he says that she should come see their mom… but she says she can’t do it, she needs time, she has children of their own, and she won’t tell him where to find her. I DON’T BUY IT i’m glad she left before her mom could see her, because she doesn’t deserve that heartbreak AGAIN.

he assures her they will reunite on her time and he lets her go. even though he very much does not want to. which is a lot for his character. how he lets go of the iron grip he had on her arm...

i wonder if he doesn't believe it, deep down.

she says she’ll think about it, and she leaves, getting into the car with CSM. mulder is utterly gagged. 

hmm. HMMM. CSM is trying HARD to get him to pledge to the dark side. but will the same tricks work again???

meanwhile, scully is being injected with something. but she looks so sad as her doctor doesn’t seem hopeful. 

she asks if he’s ever seen a miracle, and he says he’s seen recovery from the brink, but he won’t dare call them that

sniper guy?????? has his rife aimed at CSM??? or mulder??? or both???? because they are standing next to each other

they’re meeting up. “you give me these things- the only things i’ve ever wanted- and i can’t think of any reason for you to do so” <- HE’S LYING ABOUT THE SAMANTHA STUFF, HE HAS TO BE. WE SAW A WHOLE CLONE ARMY OF PEOPLE WITH THAT FACE. IT CANNOT REALLY BE YOUR SAMANTHA, MULDER.

but he says he will offer him the truth, about the project. mulder says he knows the truth. CSM fires back that kritschgau was the one lying!!! 

“in exchange for what?” “quit the FBI, come work for me” <- WOAH he was shockingly forward there. i can kind of admire that. now please say no, mr. mulder. 

AND HE DOES SAY NO!!!!

“what have you given me? a claim of a cure for scully? is she cured?” (oh the way he said that was SO sassy, it felt like a read)

“you show me my sister, only to take her right back” <- again. DID he do that, though?

“you murdered my father. you killed scully’s sister, and if scully dies, i will kill you” TELL HIM BABY!!

“i don’t care whose father you are, i will put you down” OUGHHH GET HIM 

sniper guy puts his gun away when mulder leaves!!! so must be it’s mulder he’s after!!!

cut to scully cam… it’s her mom!! she called to see her and gives her a big hug.

“i fight, and i fight and i fight… but i’ve been so stupid” hey what do you mean. hey sweetheart what do you MEAN by that.

OH she is having a crisis of faith…. she feels guilty for being closed off to father mccue. ohhhh....... is the blaming herself for being too scared to turn to god??

she tells maggie she has no improvement, and they hug and they cry; “i know you’re afraid', maggie says, "i know you’re afraid to tell me, but you have to tell someone”

blevins is watching more press about human cloning. is that why they do these experiments with the women? for cloning purposes? is that what i am supposed to believe from this?

blevins calls someone, and sees skinner in the background of the hearings on cloning… now what is he doing there. blevins says their colleague was supposed to fix the FBI problem, and then he will fix it for good… is he talking about the sniper?????

back to scully’s room, where she is sleeping, and mulder is entering. he’s watching her sleep, then laying his head next to her and SOBBING. WHYYYYY???? OHHHHH....... he couldn't bear to wake her up. someone please hit me with a hammer.

then he is here at a meeting with blevins, who says something urgent has arrived. it’s the analysis that shows he fired the shot into the dead guy!!! from an undisclosed source!!! and unless he offers someone else up, all evidence points to him being the killer!!

is he bluffing??? did skinner sell him out?? no, that cannot be it...

blevins claims that scully was going to name skinner as the mole, and that they have found substantial evidence against him, which mulder refuses to believe. well… he is A mole, but not THE or THIS mole!!!

he’s basically saying name skinner and you walk free????? mulder doesn’t answer, just says he’ll see blevins at the hearing. verrrrry shady

he goes back to scully, who asks why he’s here, he has a hearing!! this has never stopped him in the past. and he confesses to having stopped by last night, but not having the heart to wake her up :( she’s asking why…

he says he was going to take the deal with CSM, but changed his mind after blevins tried to get him to implicate skinner!!!

(skinner being his grounding force to returning to his sense of morality... no no no it's fine i'm definitely super cool about that)

scully offers again to take the blame, but he refuses, saying he couldn’t do that to her family or live that lie (the truth motif)

“we all have our faith… and mine is in the truth” <- YESSSSS the comparison to religion in his dedication… everyone has been saying and observing it for the past 4 seasons, but now HE has!!! 

“then why’d you come here if you’d already made up your mind?” (laughing) “because i knew you’d talk me out of it if i was making a mistake” <- OHHHH to be known is to be loved…. <3

and father mccue walks in right then!! she says “you’ll be in my prayers” and he kisses her cheek, saying “have the father say a few hail mulders for me, okay?” <- LMAOOO AWWWWW BABY

she’s crying as father mccue walks in and mulder walks out…

and her honesty in telling him that she will pray for him, after running from her own belief for so long; it was as if she thought praying would be a declaration of weakness, and maybe it is, to submit yourself to something higher, to ask for a mercy you cannot earn... but she is going to, and not only for herself on the brink of death, but for her best friend who is going through his own turmoil..... oh scully........

now for the hearing. he's late! fashionably so!

they’re setting the stage- we know that man was killed with your weapon- and mulder says he wants to set the record straight.

skinner asks for a break??? but mulder says he’s ready to proceed….. oooo what are they each getting at…. skinner looks stressed af

he says he was assigned to work with scully, who he thinks was to spy on him…

“that agent scully did not follow these orders is a testament to her integrity as an investigator, a scientist, and a human being” <- YESSS 🔥that is my girl who is motivated by the eternal burden of doing the Morally Correct Thing :,)

he’s explaining that she lied about his death because he asked her to, because she was a victim of the grand conspiracy that is killing her (this is cut with footage of the sniper looking at CSM through the scope of his rifle, and scully praying with father mccue)

he’s saying he will name the people responsible for this tonight!!! but they just want to know if he shot scott!!!! it's getting more and more tense and loud, before we boil over to a yell:

“i can’t do that sir, because the section chief is the man i’m about to name!” (murmuring) <- OHHHHHHHHHH HE DROPPED A BOMBSHELL ON THE VILLA

(we enter slo mo) (sniper fires at CSM) (blevins is shot by some other guy, who puts the pistol in his dead hand) (CSM lays on the floor, bloody, holding the picture of baby mulder and samantha)

DID CSM JUST DIE????? i refuse to believe it. that bitch can’t be killed……. nope nope no way. unless i see his corpse (NOT his headstone or his funeral, his actual CORPSE) i shan’t buy it.

so much just happened????

the next morning, skinner is with mulder at the hospital. who, as if just hearing me, tells mulder that CSM is dead, shot holding the photo of him and samantha

NO BODY WAS FOUND??? but it was too much blood loss for anyone to have survived. so someone took the body?? OR someone brought extra blood to dump on the ground and fake a death!!! makes you think!!

mulder claims he just guessed it was blevins behind it all- do i believe it? or do you think it was his years of solving crimes that allowed him to pick up on it subconsciously? i'm going with that interpretation

and blevins had been on roush’s payroll for four years!!! a biotechnology company!!! for cloning??? for aliens?? and of course all connections are now being erased.

BUT NOT EVERYTHING…. SCULLY’S IN REMISSION!!! skinner is shocked and mulder says it’s the best news he’s ever heard 😭🥺 my BABY

when skinner asks what turned it around, he says he doesn’t know, and they’ll never know…

oh my god, i love that their beliefs combined to cure her… his obsession with the Truth and her literal coming to God, and which of them was actually responsible is entirely impossible to tell. oh i actually LOVE THAT SO FUCKING MUCH. RAHHHHHH THAT IS SO POETIC. their guiding forces in life, and we have no way of knowing which is responsible for her life being saved. but it happened.

and skinner wants to see her!!!! leaving mulder to hold the bloody photograph of his baby self… and he’s crying… it’s been a very long few days for him 

oh my god… i need some time to think on this all….

so, 2 days have passed since i watched this episode, and i still have SO many emotions. in no particular order, some things i am dwelling on: bill's cruelty to mulder; mulder smiling as he held scully's hand, trying to distract her; him unable to hold himself up as he sees her in the hospital room; skinner telling mulder to know who his friends are; skinner trying to pause the meeting before it even began so he could offer some sort of advice to mulder; scully crying into her mom's arms, surrendering to god; scully, who knows that mulder is not a believer, and has ridiculed her for being so in the past, telling him that she will pray for him; scully worrying about him when she is the one who is dying; scully reclaiming her agency when she decides that she wants to use the microchip; mulder saying that her remission is the best news he could ever have possibly heard; and skinner going in to see her while she was still surrounded by her family

WAAHHHHHHHHHH

so. a lot on my mind. a very, very, very good episode. i thought the blevins reveal kinda came out of nowhere since he has mostly been a set piece rather than a real character, but honestly, that wasn't the heart of the matter here, so we can disregard it.

i'm not sure how i feel about the potential samantha reintroduction. actually, i do know how i feel: i just didn't much care for it. frankly, i just don't buy it at all, and it felt like a lot to cram into one episode, especially since they've used the whole "is it really her?" plot point before. so it felt like a bit much on top of the already incredibly high emotional stakes.

but other than these thoughts, the episode was fantastic. finally, we get something happy! the potential end of scully's illness! mulder and skinner basking in her presence as she recovers!! her surrender to the omnipotent! his surrender to the truth, but not at the extent of his morals!!! everyone is so happy and the wedding is tomorrow!! i will see you there!!!

(what did you think?? did you like this one as much as i did?? did any moments make you tear up?? anything you noticed that i missed? please tell me!!! i'm really excited and want to chat on the subject :D)

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

3l!grian is frequently depicted as a tragic figure and sometimes i wonder if we even watched the same series

[rainintheevening]

Not Dead

(A Saving Grant Ward AU)

"Come on, Hill." Grant's face hurts, and he's tired. "Why'd you pull me out of the field? I mean, it wasn't for a history lesson."

Maria Hill looks away for a moment, takes a deeper breath than maybe necessary, says quietly, "You'll have to ask Coulson."

Grant stiffens, the cold finger of her words tracing still-tender scars, and he thins his lips, answers sharp. "Phil Coulson is dead."

Her gaze drops, and so does his stomach. A breath, as if to speak, before she sighs, shakes her head.

"Actually, no."

It isn't Maria who speaks, no, it's a voice he knows, the voice of his conscience and his comfort, a voice he's not supposed to be hearing, and he's on his feet before his training takes hold, keeps him from backing away.

There's a ghost in this room, stepping out of the shadows, Coulson looking him in the eye.

"I'm... not dead."

For a moment the world turns upside down, he can't breathe, his vision greys... Before he catches himself, turns away sharply. "Don't," and no matter how dead he tries to keep his voice, he hears the tremor. "Don't do this to me."

Maria avoids his gaze, crosses her arms over her chest, glares at the man who can't be Coulson. "Coulson! You were supposed to let me ease him into it."

Coulson sighs, like he used to sigh when he'd forgotten to buy the right kind of hot sauce on wing night, and was about to go get the keys and drive to the store right then, because Grant wouldn't eat his wings without it. An apology. "Sorry, I just couldn't wait to see you again. Also I think there's a bulb out back there. I wasn't trying to be that dramatic."

Grant snorts, he can't help shaking his head as he looks back at the man whose response to finding out an angry customer had hit Grant over the head with her purse was show up at her house and tell her she'd go to jail if she ever shopped at Walmart again. "Even got someone who talks like him," he says, anger starting to smolder in his gut. He was done, done his grieving, he'd sworn to live and look forward, to honour his dad's Coulson's legacy.

Phil is worried. He's been worrying over how to tell Grant since... Tahiti, he thinks, but, no, it had been too peaceful there to be worrying. So, at least since Fury had lifted the lockdown on him.

He remembers the day Lady had been killed by a car, the limp body in Grant's arms, and how Grant had screamed for him, called him 'dad' for the first time.

"Try to go easy on him," Maria had said.

He'd raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

She'd stopped in the hallway, frowned at him. "Coulson, he had to bury you. The only person he cares about, and he had to bury you. He took two weeks' vacation after the funeral."

Phil had frowned then too. "He took time off?"

"Yes! Two. Weeks. Disappeared, off the radar. No one knows where he went, or what he was doing. He's never said."

So yes, Phil's worried, watching the tense line of Grant's shoulders, the way his eyes say he doesn't believe yet, and he's getting angry about it.

"Grant," he says, and the other man startles. "I'm sorry. But it is me. No tricks, no lies."

Phil moves forward slowly, as if trying not to frighten a skittish animal. Grant says nothing, watching him with those burning eyes, until he reaches out, grips Grant's upper arm gently but firmly. The other man flinches, hard enough to make Phil's hand slide down to his elbow, but just as quickly he's bringing his own hand up to grab Phil's sleeve. His grip is fierce.

"See?" Phil says, trying to smile. "Real."

"You're dead," Grant says, firm. He can feel the warmth in the hand on his arm, pain gathering in his throat. "You died." And his voice cracks.

He wants to believe, he is believing.

"I was. I did. For seven minutes." Tiny uncomfortable shrug. "Didn't stick, I'm afraid."

Grant blinks in the face of a tombstone (PHILIP J COULSON) chiseled with words he'd agonized over, how to sum up the man who had saved him long before saving the world (A HERO GOING HOME). He'd run his fingers over sharp-edged epitaph (PSALM 91:4), glad when it cut, when cold stone drew warm blood.

He blinks again, stares into worried hazel eyes, grips flesh and bone, and oh...

"It's been seven months!" Anger, fresh pain erupting through the layers of cooled magma. "What the hell, Dad?!" He rips away, stalks across the room, turns back to glare. "You couldn't be bothered to call, to tell me?! In seven months? I thought– I thought I meant something to you!"

"Grant, you do, I swear." Guilt settles heavy on Phil's heart as he steps forward, reaching. "Fury had me on lockdown, and then you were in the field, and I didn't want to do this until I knew we'd have time."

"I buried you!"

Maria was right, Phil thinks. Grant stalks back toward him.

"And you wanna know what I did after? I put a gun in my mouth, because of you!"

Grant's in his face now, and Phil's stomach drops like he's just been pushed out of a plane.

"You know that place where we used to go fishing? That creek? Yeah, that's where I went. And I put a gun to my head. Because I couldn't– I couldn't– I didn't want to live without–"

There are tears in his eyes now, dampening the fire, and Phil reaches up, lays hand gentle on muscled shoulder.

"But you did," he says softly. "You did live. I'm proud of you, son." He puts special weight on the last word, deliberate. "And now we get another chance. I doubt I can make it up to you, but I want to be here for you. Will you let me at least have that?"

Grant's always been tall, chin up, spit blood, graceful in a cold sort of way. Phil thinks Rose is the only other who has seen that guard truly come down. It's falling now, Grant's head dropping to hide welling emotion, shoulders slumping under Phil's hands, and then it's as if Grant himself is falling, falling and reaching, but he's already caught, and Phil pulls him in, holds him tight as he crumbles.

Grant's grip on him is painfully fierce, but he takes it, he'll take anything for this man he'd watched grow up, from a messed up kid, to a hopeful young agent, to one of SHIELD's best.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm here."

Tall man, bent and bowed into his dad's embrace, Grant hides his face against Coulson's neck and sobs.

Maria slips out, leans back against the door, knuckles a few tears out of her eyes. She still thinks Coulson is making a mistake, selecting someone he's so close to for his new team; he's always avoided working with Grant for that reason. But any man would be changed by facing death, she figures. Not to mention facing things he didn't even remember. A wince at the thought of Grant finding out what had been done. Well, as long as all went according to plan, neither of them ever would.

Grant doesn't cry for long; that's never been his way. He lifts his head, eases back, takes Phil's offered handkerchief.

"You still carry these?" he asks hoarsely, blows his nose.

"What do you think I mop the blood up with?"

The same pointed humor, the way they always joked about close calls, and Grant's lungs feel like they have more room in his chest. He hands the crumpled cloth back, smirks at Coulson's little nose wrinkle. "And that's what saved you."

Coulson chuckles, the air in the room lifts. Grant's still unsteady, still taking it in. But he believes now.

"So how much time have we got?" he asks, sticks his hands in his pockets.

"Plenty." Phil smiles up at him, sun coming out to warm him again at last. "I'm putting together a long-term team, and Fury, well, he owes me plenty. So I get to pick anyone I want."

"Except her." Grant jerks his head toward the door, and he's grinning like an idiot, but he can't help it. On a team with Coulson? For the foreseeable future? Oh, he is so ready.

"Anyone I outrank," Phil corrects himself, eyes laughing back. "You'll be getting a promotion to Level Seven—already have actually since you know about me."

"I'm in."

A raised eyebrow, and Grant tries to settle, temper the excitement in his tone. He's supposed to be cool, after all. "Sure. Count me in. And don't worry," he adds, "I'll make sure not to call you 'dad' in front of the team. Don't want to ruin that cold-hearted reputation."

A full on chuckle from Coulson, and Grant can't help it, he steps back in for one more hug, to feel the solid flesh and bone and beating heart against him.

"Yes, that reputation," Coulson mutters, hugging him back.

When they emerge, all banter and business, Maria lets herself relax. Maybe some things can be normal again.

[the-oracle-of-the-lost]

i'm actually pretty far into my Picard-era Voyager reunion fic (about 6k out of.... probably 9k or so) but i'm a bit insecure about it because every other longer fic i've written has been a little more insightful & deeper whereas this feels too surface level for my tastes. like i enjoy writing it. and i'd enjoy it if i was just a reader rather than a writer. it's fun to catch up with these characters and figure out how their relationships have changed and write some banter but idk it's just not clicking the way my other recent published fics have.

[shivunin]

If you had to pick 5 fics you’ve written to make a “crash course” and sum up your writing personality, which would they be?

Oooh thank you so much for asking! <3 I had to ponder this a bit, but here's what I think:

I love angst/confronting your feelings at the moment your loved one faces mortal peril so Only Ghosts (4,267 Words). It's all the tasty Zevran/Wen feelings after she takes a deadly wound in the Deep Roads.

I have to include As Two Reflected Stars (12,429 words) because I also love hurt/comfort and tracing the role a specific habit or occurrence has in character growth over time. In this case, healing.

Internal conflict is (I think!) one of my specialties so I offer up Only a Kiss (1,215 Words), the first thing I ever wrote for Wen and Zevran. Wen is always such a treat to write because so much goes unspoken with her, but I feel like this is a peak example of her warring with herself.

I also consider tropes I don't love a little puzzle to unwrap for myself, so next is Search Your Hands (13,581 words). I wrote it as a silly little story about cultural misunderstandings between Cullen and Lavellan. It wound up being a more well-liked fic than most of mine, which surprised me a lot!

Aaaand last but not least I will always be a sucker for unspoken feelings, idiots in love, and romantic tension, so Summer Tea (897 Words) with Elowen and Cullen. These two are the worst at making that first move with each other but it's so fun to write the lead-up.

[rockium-z]

ghost thoughts

i am. eepy ahahaha, but happy 8th 7th comic anniversary to @entityneo!! sometimes (many times.) i think about this fancomic and go a little insane

less sleep-deprived edit: i cannot count. nice

[candyriku]

I unfortunately find myself unable to work on my current Soriku fic today due to my mental state, but I was able to make a bit of a teaser for the next big Soriku fanfiction that will be coming sometime after JTSYS is finished.

You can read it under the cut, but TW for blood, death, and uh, general misery. This has been cathartic for me to write but the whole idea of this fic is that things are impossibly doomed, so be warned - this is not the happy fun zone.

Blood. There was so much blood.

He had smelled it before even seeing it, the metallic scent thick in his nose before he had even rounded the corner. He had tried to convince himself that it was his own bleeding wound that he smelled, or maybe the blood of something else, someone else, but in his heart, he knew the truth. He picked up his pace, sprinting at top speed now, his sneakers splashing through shallow puddles on the wet pavement. 

When his eyes finally came to rest on the crumpled form at the end of the alley, the breath was knocked out of his chest as though someone had taken a baseball bat to his sternum. He knew, of course he knew, but he had hoped-

No. It didn’t matter what he hoped for. Hopes and wishes weren’t for people that walked his path. He had been denied the right to hope for anything ages ago. When he had signed that contract, signed away his soul, he forfeited all the cushy pleasures of a normal life. He had given up his chance of knowing peace.

But it had been worth it. If it was for Sora, anything was worth it.

Standing over Sora’s blood-soaked body, Riku tried to remind himself of that truth, the one thing that he had tethered his heart to all this time. It was worth it. Even if the chance of Sora making it out alive were next to none, there was still a chance. He could still fight.

One of these loops, Riku would get it right. He would figure out how to keep Sora safe, how to protect him from this accursed dimension where everything was designed to end his life. They would break out and live a normal life together, just the way they had always planned. 

There was a happy future waiting somewhere for the two of them. There had to be. Riku had gambled everything on it.

He crouched down, his shaking fingers gently brushing Sora’s tear-stained cheek. He could hardly stand to look at his face, but the sight of his broken, bleeding body was no better. The wounds were precise and lethal, and Riku was far too late.

No matter how many dozens of times he had watched Sora die, it never got easier. It never stopped feeling like his chest was a black hole caving in on itself, his heart squeezed until it was nothing more than dust. 

He couldn’t look. He couldn't look away.

Riku kneeled and placed both of Sora’s hands over his heart. He was about to speak and begin the incantation that would throw them both back to the starting point again, but Sora suddenly stirred, weakly reaching one hand up towards Riku’s face.

“Riku…” his voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“I’m here,” Riku said, the words catching in his throat. “Don’t speak. You can rest now. It’s okay.”

He hated to say it. He wanted to plead with Sora, wanted to beg him to stay. But if Riku had learned anything throughout the loops, it was that nothing came of begging. There was no one to answer his prayers; benevolent forces did not dwell here. At best, all it would accomplish would be making Sora sad in his final moments. At worst, future loops would be impacted by Riku’s words to Sora, twisting the knife further. He had seen it enough to know what to avoid now.

“I don’t want…” There was a weighted pause. “...Don’t want to leave you.” The pool of blood continued to grow. Riku knew - though he wished that he didn’t - that Sora wouldn’t be able to maintain consciousness for much longer at this rate. He could hardly believe Sora was awake even now. 

“We’ll meet again.” he assured Sora softly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Don’t worry. It'll be okay.” 

“You…” This pause was longer, much longer, and Riku was all but sure that Sora would not speak again. Finally, with a wet cough, Sora continued. “You promise?”

“I promise.” Riku lied. He leaned forward and kissed Sora’s forehead, his lips lingering there for several long moments as he took steadying breaths. 

“Mm… ‘kay.” Sora managed. “Love you… so much.” 

“I love you too.” Riku said, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw popped. He wanted to scream. After taking a moment to compose himself, he sat up and offered his best imitation of a smile to Sora. Better for him to see that than to see how broken Riku really was. 

The all-too-familiar faraway look settled on Sora’s face as the last of his breath left his body. Riku collapsed over him, the tears finally coming, the weight hitting him all at once with the force of a tidal wave. Even knowing that he would see Sora alive and well again in mere moments did nothing to comfort him. 

It didn't matter how many times Riku had seen it. It never got any easier to watch Sora die.