#i did Not cry necessarily but my sister cried the entire time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gretagerwigsmuse · 2 years ago

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every single time i read about darcy and bradley i get this little rumble or buzz in my chest! mila i simply cannot believe this is the end of their story! but it’s such a perfect and lovely end and i cried so much because it was so lovely and sweet and real and human and nothing went right but at the end of the day everything actually did? darcy and bradley are my absolute favorite bradley x oc couple like they feel so unbelievably real to me and you’ve done such an amazing job with this entire series, it makes me so happy every single time i see a new chapter or fic about them and i just want you to know how that i’m going to read this so many more times and have a good happy cry because they’re my sweet boy and sweet girl, my taylor swift ‘peace’ couple and they’ve finally gotten to the ‘give you my wild, give you a child’ phase x

“No, Dr. Bradshaw still works in the Pentagon archives, sir.” That might be too petty. - get fucking WRECKED cyclone! and then cyclone just going on about his book with bradley (and later darcy) had me in stitches! oh that man has no tact. you totally nailed cyclone here, like he’s such a fucking suck up and has his head shoved so far up uncle sam’s ass (“to the next generation of top gun graduates” PLSS STOP). i can just see the tension in bradley’s jaw throughout the entire conversation

You have every checklist memorized, a birth plan written up, an overnight bag packed, baby clothes, and diapers by the stack. Baby nail clippers, snot suction thingamajig, stroller, car seat, and an assortment of stuff your sister convinced you were essential. Bradley wisely didn’t comment on the parade of delivery people dropping off packages almost every day, tacitly accepting that this is just who you are. You have everything. You think. - i love love love this because it’s so darcy. like she knows all of this stuff is kind of ridiculous, but she’s Darcy so she needs to plan for every inevitability. which is ironic because nothing about her birth plan went…well, to plan. also they have so many thingamajigs now that like they Def didn’t have when i was a baby and i turned out fine, i can totally picture bradley not necessarily saying anything about the volume of packages, but like late at night going into their nursery and going through all the stuff and being like wtf is this???

That sunny Monday in May, the night after Bradley made you throw up (which he never stopped bringing up), you promise you will call the doctor first thing. - first this was so funny in part 1. and second i love how nonchalantly she brings it up? and the fact that it’s discussed frequently? like it’s absolutely hilarious

Bradley doesn’t get annoyed easily with you, but you know you have the tendency to push his limits with your rather blasé attitude to things you don’t like—like doctor appointments—and cruising along on the insistence it’s fine. You’re fine. - i feel like i always say this anytime i read a chapter with them, but i just love that not everything is perfect for them? and they both Know this? they’re just a real couple? like this is something my parents do? like darcy knows this annoys bradley, but she still continues to do it because she can’t get out of her own head about it? and then later she texts him that she made the apt because she knows he cares about it even if she doesn’t necessarily? ditto with the stereo system later? like darcy does not give a fuck about it, but bradley cares? idk those seem like small things, but it makes them seem so real and fleshed out to me

“Just Bug then.” He says fondly. “Just Bug.” You agree, not even questioning that it took Bradley less than 5 minutes to come up with a nickname for your unborn child. You feel giddy, strangely light, as a warm feeling spreads through you. Is this what it feels like to be pregnant? - this is so unbelievably sweet and gave me butterflies! oh i want to call my baby this one day, it’s absolutely adorable

Against what is your better judgment, you pick up. - famous last words, i knew how this was gonna end the second she picked up that phone, poor poor darce! birch being too much of a wimp to talk to her himself was pretty funny ngl. and darcy losing her shit, yet still being darcy enough to apologize to the assistant was perfect.

“Daddy will be back soon, Bug,” You whisper softly as you button the shirt up, feeling the baby move. “We just have both hold out a little longer.” - this KILLED ME! KILLED! ME! it was so cute! wearing one of his shirts! talking to bug! calling bradley daddy to bug! my heart melted!

And right now you are terrified that if you argue with him, that your stupid mouth will say something horrible, something you can’t take back, something like “well, you left again” because he did, and he’ll look at you again with that crushing guilt overshadowing him—and it’ll be because of you because and because you don’t actually deserve him. You hiccup as tears fill your eyes. - sweet girl no! 🥺

“What the fuck, Beth?!” You suddenly screech, ripping your hand from hers. Fuck staying calm. You need to urgently throttle your younger sister. - i always forget beth is younger! and i get what she’s trying to do, but ma’am! pick your moments! your big sister is really going through it right now! wait wait wait is beth actually ‘elizabeth?’ are they elizabeth and darcy a la pride and prejudice? was that mentioned previously? because i totally could have forgotten until right now

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He is supposed to be there with you. Bradley knows how scared you are and how much you tried to hide it. He is not supposed to be here. - this part didn’t make me cry the first time i read it, but i did the second time

The moment his feet reach the ground, he hasn’t even unclipped his helmet yet, Cyclone is yelling at him to hurry up as he is making a beeline towards him. Hurry up? For what? - and then he comes into the hospital room, hours and miles later with the helmet still in his hands? oh sweet boy! oh bradley!

“She sounded fine.” The assistant butts in. - i love her so much. darcy gives me amy brookheimer from veep energy with work stuff in the best possible way? like kind of terrifying, but you’re still so in awe of her? she’s amazing

Exasperated and in pain, you promised you would look over his writings at the earliest convenience, spelled out your email address between gritted teeth as a contraction thundered through your lower body. - this whole scenario of cyclone and the book is so fucking funny?!! i can picture darcy gritting out her dod email address while beth tries to feed her ice chips or something and she just keeps pushing her away

A warmth fills you. You missed his voice, and he sounds so close, like he can come in at any moment. Soon, another contraction will pull you away from his voice. You try to direct your sleepy brain to focus on Bradley to bring him closer. It’s working. His voice is becoming louder—he’s talking to someone. He sounds annoyed. There’s no reason to be annoyed, babe, you think. It’s all good. You’re here. Come here. I need you. - this also made me cry (but both times). ‘come here. i need you’ really got me and just the warm feeling of knowing he’s nearby and close and that everything is going to be okay? oh she must be so tired, sweet girl

Because in the doorway is Bradley, still in full flight gear—g-suit still zipped over his flight suit and helmet in his hand. His hair is messy and flattened at weird angles, like he only just pulled the helmet off. He’s towering over the strict nurse and arguing with her. - MY SWEET BOY! oh i love him so much it’s unreal

He’s half-sitting next to you on the bed when you collapse back on the pillows behind you, and he whispers to you how much he loves you, how proud he is, and how well you did. - stop stop stop this is so sweet pls i can’t take it! and him saying darcy could’ve done it without him??? sweet boy no! she could’ve, but she didn’t want to!

You feel like you’ve fallen in love with him for the first time, over and over again today. - girl me too the fuck

Bug is under his blanket, sleeping on Bradley’s bare chest, his fight suit tied around his waist. The blanket that had been draped over them has fallen off one of Bradley’s shoulders, revealing his muscular chest and the subtle movement of his abdomen as he breathes. - this is so hot yeah i’d be one of those nurses too wow

Wish You Were Here [2] | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | Some things you’d rather not face alone.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings | swearing, explicit smut / 18+ only

Words | 9.4k

Note | Can be read as part of One For The History Books (takes place post-epilogue—chronologically the final part) but also works as a standalone. Read part 1 here.

Library

He shouldn’t be here.

For years, Bradley simply accepted that being shipped around the globe was part of the job and never complained. But now, the one time he really didn’t want to be away from home, he received special orders. The Navy required him, him in particular, to lead specialized training on low-altitude maneuvers. And when you get orders like that, directly from an Admiral, you can’t really say no.

Standing at parade rest, staring straight ahead, Bradley can’t help but notice it’s annoyingly hot in vice-admiral Beau Simpson’s Florida office, despite it being late January and not at all that warm in Pensacola. Bradley is itching to get out of there, but the admiral is taking his sweet time leafing through his file. It’s bordering on the absurd.

“You know I like to get to know the aviators under my command, lieutenant commander. Understand what makes them tick.” He begins, without looking up from Bradley’s file. “It’s important for team building and trust, even if it’s just a temporary assignment.”

“Yes, sir.” Bradley replies out of obligation rather than interest.

“I see you finally got hitched?” Admiral Simpson finally looks up from the file, smile on his face. Bradley, however, is in no mood to discuss his private life with Simpson. His home life with you is off limits as far as he’s concerned—especially since that’s where he should be, and not here at the behest of Simpson no less, hundreds of miles away.

He still likes keeping some aspects of his life private. Bradley proudly wears his wedding band everywhere he can, only slipping it on the chain with his dog tags when he’s out on the tarmac or in the air. But that doesn’t mean he wants to talk about everything that is going on the home front with everyone.

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s been a while since I saw you at TOPGUN - how long are you married now?” Simpson continues conversationally.

“Just over a year now, sir.”

The admiral nods, studying the page with Bradley’s personal information.

“Spouse: Mrs. D. Bradshaw - Williams, Ph.D.” He mutters, before looking up again. “That wouldn’t be the Miss Williams that was at TOPGUN then, is it?”

“Yes, sir.” There’s no reason to hide it, although Bradley has to strongly fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“I remember her fondly, she did great work.” Simpson nods, and Bradley just about stops himself from shifting on his feet uncomfortably. “And I’ve read some of her articles from the senate committee—fascinating stuff—but is it true she hasn’t published anything lately?”

“That’s possible, sir.” You hadn’t mentioned writing new articles in a while, working on smaller projects instead.

“Miss Wil - that is, Mrs. Bradshaw hasn’t left her position at the DoD, has she?”

“No, Dr. Bradshaw still works in the Pentagon archives, sir.” That might be too petty.

“Of course.” Simpson just smiles, probably happy he got more than a two-word answer out of Bradley. “I’ve been thinking about putting my thoughts about leadership and strategy to paper for a while now,” He leans back in his chair, pressing his hands together. “For the next generation of officers, you understand, lieutenant commander?”

What the fuck?

“Anyway, I’d like to ask mrs- Dr. Bradshaw if she would look over some of my drafts.”

“You’d have to ask her directly, sir.” If this conversation was absurd before, it’s straight-up insane now. “But she won’t be available for the coming months.”

“Oh, how so, lieutenant commander?”

“She’s on maternity leave.”

Simpson narrows his eyes, before turning his gaze back at the file. Bradley already knows what’s coming: there is no mention of children, which means Simpson will put two and two together pretty quickly.

“How far along is Dr. Bradshaw?” Simpson’s tone conveys not casual interest, but purely a request for information —personal chat is over.

“38 weeks.”

“Will that pose a problem for your focus during these two weeks?”

Bradley’s fingers flex behind his back out of frustration, but he keeps his features neutral. He shared with his commanding officer he was not keen on leaving so close to your due date, but was told Simpson requested him personally, and not going was pretty much not an option.

Still.

He shouldn’t be here.

“No, sir.”

“Good. You have singular experience in low-altitude maneuvers, which is why you were selected.”

Bradley doesn’t say anything, but Phoenix and Bob, Payback and Fanboy—hell even Hangman—all have similar experience. Minus being shot down over enemy territory, he thinks bitterly. However, he is under strict instruction from his CO not to bring that up to Simpson. Part of him is itching to do it anyway and get sent home for it.

But that would be veritable career suicide.

“I appreciate it, sir.”

“Anyway, I suppose congratulations are in order, lieutenant commander.” Simpsons grins up at him. “To the next generation of TOPGUN candidates.”

Bradley has to actively stop himself from cringing. It’s probably meant well by Simpson, but can’t shake the intrusiveness of it all. He’s here to train recruits for two weeks, and that’s it. He’ll be on the first flight home, back to you, as soon as this assignment is over. In the meantime, he has zero interest in discussing this—if only for the guilt weighing on him for having to leave you and Bug now.

You took it well. Of course you did. You smiled up at him and said you would invite your sister to keep you company, so you wouldn’t be alone. But your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. This was the one thing you admitted actually terrified you. But you put on a brave face for him. And Bradley so desperately wished he didn’t have to leave you now.

“Thank you, sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are alone. Again.

Your sister left for a day out in D.C. with her family. Bradley is gone. Hell, if you could leave you, you would probably do so too.

Miserable doesn’t even begin to describe it. Irritable. Anxious. Fucking furious.

Your body barely feels like it’s yours anymore; it’s unwieldy and everything hurts. You don’t fit into any of your clothes, and your feet are so swollen you are relegated to wearing slippers most of the time.

The worst thing is since you’re on maternity leave, you are bored out of your skull. You thought it would be nice to actually relax, and catch up on your nonwork reading, all the shows on your to-watch list, but you had enough of it after one long weekend. Years of having your brain constantly engaged has worn you out—do you even know how to take it easy?

Even if you wanted to do more research, double, triple check anything, every time you sit down at your laptop, Bug quite literally kicks up a fuss.

Your poor ribs and bladder usually bear the brunt of the assault.

You smile despite yourself as you grab a handful of honey-nut Cheerios. Bug.

That sunny Monday in May, the night after Bradley made you throw up (which he never stopped bringing up), you promise you will call the doctor first thing. But when Bradley brews coffee for you both that morning, and you throw up from it again, he practically threatens he’ll call you in sick and drag you to the clinic if he has to, despite you insisting you are fine.

You insist it’s a stomach bug. You insist it all the way up to the doctor’s office.

“Do you think…?” Bradley is leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, watching over you as you brush your teeth.

“Nah.” You practically cut him off, knowing exactly where he’s going with that question. You’re absolutely refusing to even start to entertain alternatives because if you let yourself believe for one second that it might be something else, you will be utterly crushed if it isn’t. You rinse out your mouth. “It’s just a stomach bug.”

You’ll probably get some antibiotics or something, a few days of prescribed rest and you’ll be right as rain. But Bradley is looking at you penesivly, like he’s trying to figure the meaning behind your reaction. Except there’s no meaning. It’s just a stomach bug, and it’s really nothing to get bent out of shape about.

But because even brushing your teeth doesn’t help settle the queasy, churning feeling in your stomach, you decide to call in sick. Bradley leaves you on the couch with a mint tea and a kiss.

“Let me know when you have the appointment.” He pulls the fleece blanket over you as you lie back. You nod. First you just want to close your eyes for a few minutes. Just to rest. You feel like you haven’t slept in days, even though you got up just an hour ago.

No. Call the doctor first.

As someone who takes health quite seriously, he has admitted it grates on him because he worries about you, and doesn’t quite understand how you can worry about so many things in your life, sometimes to the point of tears, but when it comes to your health you take it all in stride.

Embarrassingly, you don’t really have an answer for him either.

Pushing yourself back up, you dial the doctor’s office—they can squeeze you in at 3 in the afternoon that day, which gives you plenty of time to rest. You text Bradley that you have the appointment, knowing it matters to him.

That afternoon you walk out of the doctor's office, thunderstruck and with a stack of papers and pamphlets in your hand. Bradley calls you shortly after. He mentioned he would try to check in with you if he had a moment after your appointment. It shouldn’t still give you butterflies when you think about how Bradley prioritizes you even on busy days, and you feel a little bit guilty again as it’s your fault in the first place he’s worried.

“So, what did the doctor say?” You can hear by the cadence in his voice he is walking somewhere, and he sounds hurried.

You open your mouth, thinking of how to explain it, how to somehow bring this life-changing news gently, in a way that reflects the gravity of it, the strangeness of it, the joy. Or should you wait until he gets home?

“Darlin’? Are you okay?” Bradley’s voice is urgent.

Shit.

“I’m pregnant.” You blurt out sheepishly. So much for subtlety.

“Come again?” Bradley has stopped dead in his tracks. He must have misheard you. Yes, he did seriously consider it an option, it made sense in his head, but you seemed so adamant that he never really allowed the thought, the dream, to fully take hold.

“I’m pregnant.” You repeat, more self-assured this time. “They’ve timed it around six weeks.”

“Wha- I mean, fuck -” Bradley is stumbling over his words, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “That’s great! Amazing even. Fucking hell, I’m so happy right now.”

You laugh, although you feel like you’ve barely had time to actually grasp that you’re pregnant now. But Bradley accepts it so readily, making it sound like the most obvious thing in the world, that—yeah, of course. It’s what you both wanted, what you talked about, and you agreed on doing. And now it’s happening.

“Me too.” You smile.

“So really not a stomach bug?” Bradley can’t help but tease you.

You laugh again, despite yourself. He’s never going to let you live this down. “No, very much not.”

“Just Bug then.” He says fondly.

“Just Bug.” You agree, not even questioning that it took Bradley less than 5 minutes to come up with a nickname for your unborn child. You feel giddy, strangely light, as a warm feeling spreads through you. Is this what it feels like to be pregnant?

If only. You shove another handful of honey-nut Cheerios in your mouth. Nothing and no one quite prepared you for the perpetual discomfort of pregnancy—it comes in many forms, but there’s always a new goddamn thing aching, a new way to feel sick, or just the plethora of tears you’ve been shedding because you feel like you’ve been losing your sanity at times, barely having a hold on your emotions.

Bug is especially restless today, like he’s picking up on your mood. You want Bug to be born already, but you don’t want to go into labor without Bradley by your side. Of the many things you accept, you’ll have probably to face alone in having a naval aviator for a husband, giving birth is just one thing you desperately don’t want to go through alone. It terrifies you beyond belief, almost irrationally so.

Music usually helps calm Bug down. While you try to stop yourself from building up unnecessary expectations in your head of what your child will be like (god knows you know what it’s like to grow up like that), you do allow yourself that Bug might take after Bradley that way. It would bring him a lot of joy, you know that for sure.

Scrolling through your Spotify, you rub your belly. “What would make you happy today, Bug?” You wince as Bug squirms. “Some Rolling Stones?” Quickly selecting She’s a Rainbow and connecting to the sound system Bradley had painstakingly installed, you gently sway to the music and start walking around. You smile to yourself as you think back about how Bradley had explained all the details and exact science behind the music setup he was getting, and how he measured every angle and talked excitedly about every aspect. You love him, but goddamn, you cannot tell the difference. It all sounds great to you, so you happily nod along and agree, enjoying his absolute passion for the subject more than anything coming from the speakers.

Bug is finally chilling out too. Closing your eyes, hands resting on your stomach, you feel the anger and anxiety finally ebb away. This is not so bad. It’s just you and Bug for now, and you’ll be fine. In a week Bradley will be back, your sister will be back in Colorado, and you can welcome Bug together, just as you planned before he was ordered to Florida.

You love your sister, you really do, but if she drains the blood from you under normal circumstances, she's insufferable now. Or you have become insufferable. It’s honestly a toss-up at this point, but you’ve been at each other’s throats even more than usual. You feel sorry for her husband, who probably thought he was coming over to Fredericksburg for a nice break, but instead has been trying to run interference between you two.

But they’re out for today.

You get to enjoy some peace.

Of course, it could never last long. The music cuts out harshly as your phone starts ringing.

Well fuck.

When you see the number, and you recognize it as coming from the Pentagon, you strongly consider just not picking up. But. You are also curious. Who is looking for you? What do they want? Did someone fuck up? Your brain is itching. Maybe it’s something you can kill time with. But you really shouldn't—you’re on maternity leave.

Against what is your better judgment, you pick up.

“Darcy Bradshaw-Williams speaking.”

“Good morning, Dr. Bradshaw,” A nervous voice starts at the other end. “I’m calling from Birch’s office.”

Why isn’t he calling you himself? Since when does Birch contact you through an assistant?

“Uh, okay.” You reply, not unkindly. “What is this concerning, as I am currently on maternity leave?”

“It’s uumh - well, there are some papers that you need to sign before the senate committee report can get archived.” The poor girl on the other end sounds terrified. You don’t think you’re particularly intimidating, but you don’t recognize her voice, so you surmise she must be new.

Patience. You were once the new girl doing the shitty jobs no one else wanted. Like calling the pissy pregnant lady on leave.

“Oh, well, email them to me, and I will sign digitally,” You reply easily. “That’s not a big deal.”

“It, uhm, can’t be signed digitally, it needs to be done by hand.”

“Then… what are you suggesting exactly?” You keep your voice light, but quite frankly, you are gobsmacked. Out of all the bureaucratic bullshit…

“So I’ve been asked to- well, ask you,” Her voice wavers. “If you’re willing to come in to sign those papers.”

Really?

“No.” You can’t keep the annoyance out of your voice. “Look here, miss…?” “Brown.” The reply comes in a half-whisper.

“Look here Miss Brown, I know you are only relaying the message, so please put Birch on the phone, I know he’s there.” Keeping your voice level and professional is becoming harder by the second.

“He can’t come to the phone.” Miss Brown supplies hurriedly.

Coward.

“I’m 39 weeks pregnant, are you actually suggesting I come down all the way to the Pentagon?” You ask much louder than is probably necessary.

“We-, I suppose, we could also fax you the papers?” Miss Brown tries.

“Where the fuck do you think I live? 1992?” The words come out of your mouth faster than you can bite your tongue. Oh no, you didn’t mean to have an outburst like that at the poor assistant. It’s all just so fucking absurd because of course, what does the digital era mean in the DoD? Showing up in person. Jesus Christ.

“I’m sorry Miss Brown,” You apologize, cringing at yourself. “That was not meant for you.”

“It’s okay.” A small voice on the other end replies.

“By when do you need this?” The wheels of the DoD turn slowly, after all. Maybe you can push it back until Bradley is at least back so he can drive you. Worst case scenario until your sister is back. But right now, you are standing in your living room dressed in Bradley’s old Navy shirt covered in Cheerios crumbs and a pair of old sweatpants. You’re really not wanting to go out today.

“Today,” Miss Brown informs you. “As soon as possible, really.”

“Today!?” You yell, knuckles white as you clutch your phone. “You have got to be kidding me!”

You take a deep breath. You have to keep your cool. Be professional about this.

“Put Birch on the phone.” You grind out, fist balled at your side.

“He - he says he can’t come to the phone…”

“Then I’ll come to see him in person.” You bite out, acid dripping from your words,, hanging up angrily. They want to play like that? Fine. You’ll play along, you fume as you stomp through the house up to the bedroom. You’ll go to the Pentagon, you’ll sign the stupid papers, and you’ll lob the whole packet at Birch’s head while you’re there.

Shit. Do you even have anything nice to wear to the office? Maybe you should just show up like this—although funny, you’re too self-conscious for that. Also, you still want to have a job to return to eventually.

Bug is mercifully calm, unlike you, as you dig out a knee-lenght skirt with an elastic waist. Shimmying it on, you’re glad to find out it still sort of fits, the waistband rest comfortably under your stomach. You end up slipping on a pair of nylons with it, not quite convinced you be able to pull up a pair of tights and afraid they might be too tight anyway.

Now for a top. You won’t try one of your regular button-up shirts, even as a joke. Even the loose-fitting ones won’t close over your stomach anymore.

That leaves Bradley’s closet.

You rifle through the shirts he neatly hung up on clothes hangers, taking care not to pick one that belongs to one of his uniforms. Settling on a soft dark blue one, you feel a pang of sadness when you slip it on. It smells of him. He’s only been gone for a week and will be back so soon again, but that doesn’t take away that you are alone right now.

“Daddy will be back soon, Bug,” You whisper softly as you button the shirt up, feeling the baby move. “We just have both hold out a little longer.”

Fixing your hair and doing minimal makeup, you quickly text your sister you have to run an errand and you’ll be back later, just in case she beats you home. You doubt she will reply to you any time soon though, she’s probably busy taking pictures or videos. For as much as you don’t understand how much your sister shares online, you are happy she’s doing something she enjoys and she’s good at it. Sometimes she even takes a nice picture of you.

You don’t text Bradley. For one, he’s probably busy, and two—you have a nagging feeling in the back of your head—you shouldn’t be doing this. Bradley would be rightly unhappy if you were driving yourself an hour up north, by yourself. But you don’t want to argue right now—you’ll argue with anyone, but you desperately don’t want to lose your temper with Bradley.

You said you were fine when he told you he had to leave. He was so unhappy, the pain in his eyes was burning a hole in your heart. So of course you said you would be fine. But you aren’t. And right now you are terrified that if you argue with him, that your stupid mouth will say something horrible, something you can’t take back, something like “well, you left again” because he did, and he’ll look at you again with that crushing guilt overshadowing him—and it’ll be because of you because and because you don’t actually deserve him. You hiccup as tears fill your eyes.

Shit.

Get it together.

The quicker you leave, the quicker you’ll be home and there won’t be anything to argue about.

Now. Is it a horrible idea to wear ballerinas in the middle of D.C. winter? Yes. But no other shoe will fit you, and your fluffy slippers are arguably an even worse choice. God, you can’t even button up your nice coat anymore either. Better wrap up thick with a good scarf.

You heave yourself into Bradley’s Bronco—you promised you would only use his car if you really needed to go somewhere—but it’s so goddamn high.

“I can’t wait until you can climb in yourself, Bug.” You joke. Adjusting the rearview mirror, you catch sight of the baby carrier affixed in the back seat, and your heart jumps. You pestered Bradley so much to put it in already.

“I fly million-dollar fighter jets for a living, darlin’,” He told you smugly. “Don’t you think I’ll be able to figure out a car seat?”

“Do it then.” You smiled back, handing him the manual, knowing he won’t back down from you goading him.

It took him a good twenty minutes and a lot of colorful swears to figure out how to affix the base properly, so it wouldn’t move. You didn’t say anything, just smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek as he shot you a venomous look when he was finally done.

Pulling out of the driveway, you turn on a calming playlist, hoping Bug will not decide to tap dance on your bladder while you’re driving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is all then, boss?” You groan as you sign the last of the papers. They could have really mentioned on the phone you had to initial about 50 pages too. Your hand is cramped, and the chair is uncomfortable and making your lower back hurt—you don’t even have the energy to give Birch a piece of your mind. You just really want to go back home now.

“Yes, Dr. Bradshaw.” Your boss nods curtly. “And thanks again for coming in on such short notice in your… condition.” He adds carefully, avoiding looking at you.

You wonder if your hardened former marine boss is scared you’re going to go into labor on his watch, because you have never seen him so awkward.

“Yeah, of course.” You reply, trying your best to conjure up a polite smile, but wincing slightly as you get up. “I’ll be taking my leave now.” You joke poorly, waving your hand trying to get the cramp out.

You bid goodbye to your boss and a few of your colleagues, but your prime motivation is to get out of the Pentagon right now and get home. You’re starting to feel weird, not in your stomach, but in your gut.

You shouldn’t be here.

As fast as you can, which is not very fast all things considered, you try to make your way back to the car. The pain in your back is getting worse, shooting down your sides. You need to sit down comfortably, you tell yourself, and then it will get better.

Why is the parking lot so far away? You waddle miserably. Your feet are hurting too now, your soles burning at every step in your too-tight shoes. Finally, you reach the car, panting by now. With a grunt, you clamber into the driver’s seat.

Finally you can relax. Bug is not having a good time anymore, squirming, probably as uncomfortable as you are currently. It’s making your stomach hurt.

“We’re going home.” You mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Just let me catch my breath, Bug.”

After a few minutes of sitting in the comfortable seat, the pain finally starts to subside. Starting the car, you hum to yourself to keep calm. Just get home.

You barely make it out of the city before you realize you need to pee urgently. There’s a mall just off the main street, as you remember, so you’ll just take an early exit there. You are nearly shaking in your seat as you park and snatch your purse out of the car.

You really think you’re about to burst, and it doesn’t help your feeling increasingly anxious.

You shouldn’t be here.

You need to get home.

Coming out of the bathroom, your back hurts worse than before, and it’s starting to spread to your stomach. Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. You try not to swear out loud and grimace too much as you wash your hands next to an elderly lady.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” The lady asks, her pearl necklace glimmering in the stark artificial light of the bathroom. Her light gray hair has a faint purple sheen that you are not sure you are imagining. From the corner of your eye, you can see your reflection—you look pallid.

“Ye- yeah, all good.” You force a smile on your face. At that moment, pain suddenly shoots through your abdomen with such severity, you nearly double over. It’s not even the worst of your problems, you realize quickly, as you feel a trickle run down your leg.

No.

Absolutely fucking not.

This is not happening.

Breathing rapidly, you grind your teeth helplessly.

“Oh dear,” The lady immediately grabs you by the elbow, helping you upright again. “I think the baby is about ready, sweetie.”

“No.” You utter softly as tears spring in your eyes. “Not yet.”

“Come, let's find you a place to sit and clean up.” She probably didn’t hear you as she starts leading you outside to a bench by the bathroom entrance. “Where’s your husband, sweetie? He should come get you now.”

At the mentions of husbands, you just start pathetically sobbing. “H-he’s not here.”

“Oh dear.” The kindly lady hands you a tissue to dry your eyes.

“He’s in the navy, and he’s in fuck-fucking Florida until next week.” Your words are coming out punctuated by sobs. “S- so the baby can’t come yet.” You add, urgently, trying to dry your eyes.

“Who can I call for you?” She asks gently, as she rubs your back. You wince as another wave of pain shoots through you.

“My sister.” You say weakly, reaching into your pocket to dig out your phone. No matter how much you want to call Bradley right this minute, you also know that there is very little he can do all the way from Pensacola. Beth needs to come to get you. So she better pick up.

Every time the phone rings and Beth is not picking up, your anxiety ramps up further. The bench you’re sitting on is uncomfortable, the wooden slats digging into your sore back and you’re having trouble catching your breath as your shaking fingers nervously pluck at your unbuttoned coat.

“Why isn’t she picking up?” You breathe, bending your head forward. Black spots are appearing in your vision.

“You need to calm down.” A kind voice is telling you. You know. But you can’t control it. There is one thought permeating over everything else.

Not yet.

The lady’s voice sounds far away, as you clutch your head, trying to desperately not have your vision go completely black on you. But you don’t know how to reason yourself back from the edge at this point, not seeing a solution to your predicament or grounding yourself in logic and pragmatism to deal with the problem at hand.

You need Bradley.

“Sweetie, I’m calling you an ambulance.” The voice sounds like it’s on the other end of a bad connection. But you manage to nod.

You only sort of remember flashes of everything after that. Another person talking to you, laying down on a stretcher, clutching your bag, more voices, and then a silent room.

Bug is okay. That’s all you really remember, and it’s all you really care to remember right now.

If you just lay here, and wait, Bradley will come for you. You hope he won’t be mad at you for going to work so close to your due date, and then having a panic attack when your water broke. You’re already mad enough at yourself.

You asked to nurses to try and call him, but they keep telling you no one is picking up. They reached your sister at least. Oh, joy.

Beth of course comes in all guns blazing. You see her husband scurry away with little Emma in his arms after he says hi to you. Smart man. You wish you could hide under the bed.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Beth seethes. Jesus, why is she so angry? You sit up, sending her a withering look.

“What?” You reply curtly. The nurse implored you to stay calm so your blood pressure wouldn’t rise too much.

“What? What?” Beth stalks up to the foot end of your bed, pointing her finger at you accusingly. “Darcy, have you gone completely insane? Can you not be left unsupervised for one afternoon? Seriously, who are you, and what have you done to my sensible sister? Does Bradley get custody of your brain cells when he is deployed or something? Jesus Christ.”

You’re not going to get in a word edgewise right now, so you don’t even try.

“You nearly gave me a goddamn heart attack. What the hell am I supposed to think when the hospital is trying to urgently reach me? But what a fucking surprise! It’s a hospital in D.C.! A place my dear darling sister has no business being.”

Still not saying anything, you avert your eyes.

“What were you doing in D.C.? And I swear to fuck, Darce, if you say it has anything to do with work, I will not hesitate and burn your book collection.”

At that, you choke back a sob. You feel so guilty, it’s starting to consume you. If you had stayed home and relaxed like you were supposed to, you probably wouldn’t have gone into labor yet. Beth is right to be angry with you. Bradley will probably be. You promised you’d be careful, you promised you’d take it easy, you promised yourself you would hold out until he would be back.

“No, but seriously, have you lost all common sense? Do you need a -” Beth finally stops her tirade short as she sees you cry silently, not even bothering to defend yourself. She’s seen you cry plenty of times before, hell, she’s made you cry a lot of those times. But never like this. Never like you’ve given up. You always fight back, you are always doing something. Usually, it’s Beth who tries to stop you from completely overdoing things. But now you’re just sitting there crying.

“Darcy- Darce, what the hell?” She walks around the bed and sits down next to you. “You are freaking me out now.” She tells you seriously, as she grabs your hand. You just shake your head as tears stream down your face. “Have you reached Bradley yet?” She asks, her voice a lot softer.

You shake your head. “He’s still not picking up”

“And?”

“And what?” You sob softly.

“Since when have you ever given up at the first hurdle?” Beth pushes. “Really, you got married, knocked up and now you’re going to sit pretty? I’m disappointed, honestly.”

Something dangerous flashes in your eyes as you turn to look at her, drawing a shuddering breath. Gotcha. She’s going for the jugular now.

“No, really, I mean—you’re just going to wait around for your husband like this? I’m sure he’s appreciating all your efforts to get in touch with him as soon as possible.” Beth sneers at you.

“What the fuck, Beth?!” You suddenly screech, ripping your hand from hers. Fuck staying calm. You need to urgently throttle your younger sister. “You’re supposed to be on my side here! Can you for once in your life not antagonize the ever-loving shit out of me? I’m in pain, I already feel like shit, and I’m alone here! I know—I fucking know—it’s my screw-up.” Your voice is raw from crying. “Why are you so fucking hell-bent on kicking me when I’m down? Can’t you just be here for me, for once—just this fucking once?”

“Because you are being ridiculous, and no one but me will tell you that!” Beth matches your volume easily. “You don’t sit here just because Bradley’s not picking up his phone. Do what you always do. Do what do best, you dumb bitch. Organize a fucking solution.”

With that, she snatches your phone from the table next to the bed and pushes it into your chest. “I’m going to get a coffee. Let me know if you need help.” Beth cuts at you with an eerie calmness as she gets up and walks out the door without as much as a look back at you.

You sigh heavily, rubbing your stomach. “Let’s figure out a way to let daddy know you’re early, Bug.”

There are many things you didn’t anticipate about going into labor. How long it would take, how painful it would be, to name a few. But mostly, you didn’t anticipate having to argue and beg your way up your husband’s chain of command before you reach someone that could actually reliably relay the message to him, urgently.

For the last ten minutes, you’ve been arguing with Simpson’s assistant, who seems deeply unwilling to either put you through or to confirm he will forward the message to the admiral.

“He’s supervising training maneuvers now.” He tells you in a bored tone. “So it will have to wait.”

You push yourself off the bed, and start pacing. “Lister here -” you stop yourself before you call him a little shit. “Lieutenant.” You add after a suspiciously long pause. “I know he’s supervising the maneuvers. My husband is the one flying them.”

“Well, I can’t patch you through to the jet, not from a civilian phone.” He replies in the same bored tone.

“I’m not asking for that, am I?” You grind out as a contraction stops you dead in your tracks. Your face twists in pain and anger. “Tell admiral Simpson Dr. Bradshaw needs to speak to him urgently. He knows who I am.”

You are banking on Simpson actually taking the call based on what Bradley told you. If he actually gives Bradley the message, you will willingly edit any brain fart Simpson puts to paper for publication. You swear under your breath.

Finally you hear the hold tone. You let out a deep breath as much to steel yourself for hopefully the last leg of this telephone journey, as well as to help abate some of the shooting pain.

“Dr. Bradshaw!” Simpson is entirely too jovial for the current situation. Calm. You need to stay calm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rooster, Rooster—this is tower, come in.”

“Come in, tower.”

It’s been an absolutely grueling day of flying. Bradley is tired and in pain and glad to be on the way back. He wants a shower, bed, and you on the phone.

Cyclone better not have him on paperwork or other stupid errands today.

“Rooster, this is Cyclone from tower.”

Fuck. Cyclone only calls in to complain or heap on additional bullshit to his day.

“Copy, Cyclone.” Bradley tries to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“Your wife called, Rooster. She’s in labor.” Cyclone’s message is wholly unemotional like he’s simply updating Bradley on changing weather conditions.

“Copy that.” It’s almost comical that that’s the only thing Bradley can come up with to say, more because it’s second nature, rather than him acutally parsing what was just said to him. But how do you react in a moment like this?

He needs to call you.

He needs to talk to you.

If he can’t be there physically, which pains him more than he cares to admit right now as his hands tighten around the steering, he wants to at least to be able to talk to you.

Shit.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He is supposed to be there with you. Bradley knows how scared you are and how much you tried to hide it.

He is not supposed to be here.

“Rooster, return to base urgently.” Cyclone orders him. Bradley replies affirmative, breaking formation and speeding up. He has no idea what is going on right now. A million things are running through his head, but most of all he wants to turn his jet around and blast north toward Virginia. Rationally, he knows that it’s out of the range a fully fueled F18 can fly, and his tanks are running near empty.

That feeling of powerlessness is creeping up on him again. You are almost a 1000 miles away, and he has no manner of reaching you, despite sitting in a fighter jet. The clock is running, you are alone, and he can’t do anything.

When Bradley touches down, he’s a good ten minutes ahead of the rest of the squadron, who were ordered to stay on speed and formation. As he taxis into the bay, he notices, to his utter confusion, Cyclone jogging across the tarmac followed by his sour-faced assistant.

Bradley has a sinking feeling in his stomach. This can only mean Cyclone is pissed about something that happened in the training, and Bradley is about to be dragged into a painfully long debrief. It’s just his luck today.

He shouldn’t be here.

“Rooster!” Cyclone is hollering at him and waving his arm frantically the moment the canopy lifts.

Bradley starts climbing out of the cockpit, bracing himself for the inevitable dressing down. The moment his feet reach the ground, he hasn’t even unclipped his helmet yet, Cyclone is yelling at him to hurry up as he is making a beeline towards him. Hurry up? For what?

Is there something wrong with you? Is that why he was ordered to land? Is that why Cyclone is running across the tarmac yelling? Is it something he absolutely could not be told in while in the air?

Bradley stands rooted to the ground as he watches Cyclone approach, who is now gesturing wildly at him to also start running.

“Rooster, move your ass already!” Cyclone yells so loudly, that several engineers look up in surprise.

Almost automatically, Bradley starts running in the same direction as Cyclone and his assistant, his muscles protesting heavily against the sudden motion.

“What the fuck is going on?” He blurts out, adrenaline rushing through his body, every sense in overdrive.

“There’s a transporter leaving for D.C. in -” Cyclone quickly looks at his watch as he tries to catch his breath. “Two minutes.”

The assistant trusts a paper in Bradley’s hands. “Emergency 48-hour leave.” He deadpans.

“Wha- what is going on?!” Bradley exclaims angrily, clutching the paper forcibly as he slows down his run. Emergency leave? A plane to D.C.? However, instead of answering, Cyclone grabs him by the elbow and practically starts dragging him along to the second taxiway.

“Your wife is in labor. You’re getting emergency leave.” Cyclone grinds out. “And a “thank you sir” would be nice.”

“Is she okay? Is the baby okay?” Bradley asks hurriedly instead, completely ignoring Cyclone’s comment about showing respect, because his need to know that you are both okay is really the only thing he really cares about right now.

“She sounded fine.” The assistant butts in.

Cyclone is now practically pushing him up the ramp of the transporter plane. The loader is waving at Bradley with hurried motions to get in.

Over the sound of the roaring engines, he hears Cyclone yell: “She’s at The Virginia Hospital Centerl!”

Bradley puts up his thumb. “Thank you, sir!” He yells back.

“And kindly remind Dr. Bradshaw she owes me one!” Cyclone adds, grinning, as the ramp is closing.

Owe him one? What? Bradley is even more confused than he was less than a minute ago. Why are you not at the hospital you had picked together in the first place? Isn’t VHC in D.C.? It doesn’t really matter right now. At least he knows you and Bug are okay, and he’s on his way to you.

However.

He doesn’t have his phone, he doesn’t even have his wallet. All he has on him right now is his military ID. How the fuck is he supposed to get to the hospital from the air base?

As he straps in, Bradley can’t help but wonder: did he just get washed up by the Cyclone?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You shuffle around your hospital room miserably, while your sister chills in one of the chairs playing with her phone. The nurses have been checking up on you regularly, but your blood pressure is pretty steady now and everything seems to be progressing normally. A particularly strict-looking nurse reprimanded both you and your sister quite harshly for making such a scene in the maternity ward. Honestly, she was right to do so.

The contractions are coming more often and more severely. Your lower back is killing you, but you’ve been told it’s still too early to give you any medication.

After you managed to get through Simpson, he was quick to promise to inform Bradley about your condition, but then promptly went on to ignore you were in labor and talked your ear of about something he wanted to publish.

Exasperated and in pain, you promised you would look over his writings at the earliest convenience, spelled out your email address between gritted teeth as a contraction thundered through your lower body. At this point, you would have probably promised your firstborn—well, no, not that, but anything else—so you could at least talk to Bradley.

So now you are desperately waiting for Bradley to call you. It’s been almost two hours since you’ve spoken to Simpson, surely he’s not still flying? When you try to call him, his phone just rings and rings before switching over to voice mail, like it’s been doing all day. Where is Bradley?

Unhappily, you push yourself to accept he won’t be here with you, but that you won’t even be able to talk to him? That’s cruel.

Waddling back to your bed, you slide in, pulling the cover over yourself. The nurse mentioned she would get you a hospital gown soon, since you had absolutely nothing with you. There are so many things you have to think about, but your brain is not cooperating anymore. All you can think about is how miserable you are—in pain and lonely. Beth keeps telling you to suck it up, but you don’t want to. You get to be sad if you want to.

Of course you are happy that Bug is coming. That’s not the point. But there are so many things running through your head, it’s hard to focus on the positive side of it all. You should ask your brother-in-law to drive down to your house and get your overnight bag. You need to figure out how to get back to the Bronco too, as that’s the only car with a baby seat. Personally, you think your brother-in-law is kind of a shit driver, so you’d rather not resort to him picking the Bronco up. Then there’s paperwork. Forms, informed consent, insurance—if you have to sign one more fucking thing today you will scream.

It’s too much.

Pulling the blanket over your head, you curl up, trying to stave off the pain in your lower body. Bradley’s shirt still smells like him. Sadly you consider if this is the closest he is going to be here today.

“Beth?” You mumble from under the blanket, voice thick with tears.

“Yeah?” Beth finally looks up from her phone. It’s concerning her how much you seem to be suffering from Bradley not being here—you were always independent, on top of everything, and you sure as hell didn’t mope around this much. You told her you were scared of going into labor alone, and Beth understands that. And she feels sorry for you, but never has she seen you behave like this, and it’s actually kind of freaking her out.

“Can you please ask Erik to get my overnight bag from home?” Your voice is quivering. “Everything is in there, it’s right by the door.”

“Yeah, of course.” Beth gets up and walks up to the bed. She gently lifts the cover to look at you. Your bloodshot eyes look back at her. “Do you need anything else, Darce?” She asks as she squats down, so she’s at eye level with you. You shake your head.

“We’re in this together, okay? I know I’m not the person you want here.” Beth tells you gently, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “But you can do this, I know you do. And I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.” You whisper. “And you are a close second, don’t worry.” You try to joke through your tears. Beth laughs softly.

“It’s okay, I’d pick your hot husband over you too.” She winks at you. You groan in disgust.

“I’m telling Erik you said that.”

“Too late, I already texted him to go get your bag.” Beth waves her hand dismissively. “He’s taking Emma with him, hopefully she falls asleep in the car for a while.”

It’s getting dark outside already. You sigh. This morning at home feels like a distant memory already.

Still wrapped in your blanket cocoon, Beth continues stroking your forehead and talking you through breathing exercises. It’s helping you relax finally. You close your eyes and just focus on Beth’s gentle voice. It feels like you're falling in and out microsleep, Beth’s voice becoming so distant at moments you cannot make out the words before a contraction pulls you back to the present. As the pain ebbs away, so does your consciousness.

It must be the third or fourth cycle of micro sleep you fall into, Beth softly humming now, when you swear you can hear Bradley’s voice. You cannot make out what he is saying, because it sounds like he’s in a different room, but it’s unmistakably him.

The door clicks open. It’s like the floodgates open. You can hear Bradley’s voice clear as day now—and he’s really annoyed. Seriously, the best your brain can come up with when you miss your husband is him being annoyed? Sad.

“What the shit?” Beth utters in disbelief, as she suddenly gets up, waking you up fully. You finally open your eyes, only to see Beth staring at the door behind you.

You can still hear Bradley talk, although you are now sure you are awake.

Shooting up, arms flailing, the covers slide onto the floor. Beth grabs your arm to steady you.

You’ve lost your mind.

Your brain is 100% broken now.

Did they give you morphine anyway? Are you fucking hallucinating?

“She needs rest! You can’t just barge in like that.” She’s admonishing him, pointing her finger in your general direction. “And only one visitor in the room!”

“I know she needs rest—that’s why I’m here.” Bradley bites back. “And I’m not a visitor, I’m her husband, and that’s my child.”

“What the fuck.” You don’t realize you say it so loudly, every falls silent and looks at you.

“I’ll wait in the hall.” Beth says hurriedly as she scurries away to the door, followed by the strict nurse, that throws one final venomous look at Bradley who is completely ignoring her now.

So others clearly can see him too, right?

You start clambering out of the bed as fast as you can, padding over to him barefoot, needing some sort of confirmation Bradley is really, actually here, and you’ve not finally and definitively cracked.

Your arms snake around his neck as you pull him close to you. He feels so real, he smells like jet fuel and winter air, but his skin is just as warm as you remember. Bradley doesn’t say anything, just wrapping you in his arms and pressing kisses along your jaw.

“What are you doing here?”

Bradley stops dead in his tracks. Not the question he was expecting. He pulls back, so he can see your face, but you cling to him, your fingers digging into his arms like you’re scared he’s going to turn to smoke in your arms.

“Didn’t Cyclone tell you he gave me 48-hour emergency leave and practically threw me onto a transporter headed to D.C.?” Bradley asks with a slight chuckle. “I had to pull rank on some poor private to drive me here from Anacostia-Bolling airbase—I don’t have my phone, wallet, nothing.”

You’re looking at him completely slack-jawed, blinking rapidly. Finally, the neurons in your brain start firing again.

Fucking Simpson. Figures.

“You know what?” You sigh, before smiling up at him. “Tell me another time. I’m just glad you’re really here. I need you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bug is born just after midnight. A healthy baby boy with all ten fingers and ten toes.

Bradley doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to hear a baby cry. And he’s never been so goddamn proud in his life: of you, of the little life you both created, and again of you because you did all the hard work. He’s half-sitting next to you on the bed when you collapse back on the pillows behind you, and he whispers to you how much he loves you, how proud he is, and how well you did.

You open your tired eyes for a moment. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” You breathe.

“Yes, you could have, darlin’.” He counters with a smile as he wipes the fresh sweat off your forehead.

“And here’s baby boy Bradshaw!” The nurse announces happily, as she gently pulls the top of your gown down and puts the baby against your skin before covering you with the baby blanket you and Bradley bought months ago.

You feel your heart soar. So small, so warm, and finally here. You tear your eyes away from your little Bug just for a second to see Bradley’s reaction. He looks completely awestruck, tears forming in his eyes. Tears spring in your eyes too as you watch his index finger run over your son’s cheek in a feather-light touch.

“Hey Bug.” He whispers. You never felt like your life was incomplete. But in a certain way, it feels like it’s naturally more complete now than it was before, like more puzzle pieces are sliding into place around you. “I’m so glad to see you.” You add softly.

It’s hours later when you are sitting up in bed, across from your sister, sharing a pile of snacks from the vending machine. Only the bedside lamp is on. You are not only starving, but also wide awake, hyper-aware of every sound and move Bug is making. Bradley is getting some much-needed shut-eye in the recliner with Bug sleeping on his bare chest.

You honestly didn’t think you could fall in love any more with that man, but the way he is gently cradling your son in his large arms, the way he looks at him like he’s the most special little thing in the whole wide world and how he keeps repeating how you made him and how proud he is of you is honestly messing with your head in the best kind of way. You feel like you’ve fallen in love with him for the first time, over and over again today.

“So, do you think all these nurses coming to check up on you all night are here because of your fancy insurance,” Beth asks, grinning as she pops an M&M in her mouth. “Or they’re just coming to gawk at him?” She jerks her head to the side where Bradley just fell asleep.

You snort.

“Well, he’s a good-looking daddy.” You shrug as you take a sip from your Fanta.

“Jesus Christ, Darce - TMI.” Beth guffaws. You shush her, unable to keep yourself from laughing too. There is something strange about having a girl’s night with your sister in a hospital bed when you’ve given birth just hours ago. But here you are, giggling like teenagers.

Bug starts squirming and softly crying, and while you both quiet down, Bradley wakes up right away. He starts shushing and rocking Bug, who’s not having it.

“He’s probably hungry, babe.” You say, wiping your hands on a tissue before reaching out to him. Carefully Bradley places Bug in your arms.

“How are you two not tired?” He asks, rubbing his eyes. You shrug, you are too full of wonder, too full of love—and actually just way too wired—to go to sleep.

“I have a toddler.” Beth laughs as she gets up from the bed to give you some privacy. “Do you really think I’ve had a full night’s sleep in the last three years?”

“Now’s not the time to regale us with your horror stories with Emma.” You warn Beth, still laughing lightly as you try Bug to latch onto your breast. Bradley sits down close to you on the bed.

“You want anything else from the vending machine?” Beth asks from the doorway.

“Nah, we’re good.” You reply absentmindedly, still focussed on Bug.

“We’re good, right?” You ask fondly, meeting Bradley’s eyes. You’re not even really asking about the snacks anymore.

“I think we’re great.” He agrees, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

note | oh damn, it's actually really done now :( I have no more stories to tell for these two. I hope you enjoyed this adventure, and that the ending didn't disappoint! (I tell myself it had to age a bit like a wine). If you'd like to read more of my stories, I'm currently working on a WWII AU called Of All The Stars In The Sky.

#bradley fic #i’m really emotional about this and them and first read it hours ago and thought about it for my entire trip to the grocery store #so much so i forgot to buy bread #god i want to love someone the way they love each other #my peace couple! finally has it!

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decentficsokay · 4 years ago

Text

Dancing, Dinner and Drinks Tommy x Fem Reader

Pairing: Tommy (Fionn Whitehead) x Fem Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and war

Word Count: Unknown

I sighed as I swished the water in my cup lightly. If it weren't for my brothers I wouldn't be sitting here, wishing them farewell. That’s a lie. I would be here. It wasn't just them here, there were others with their loved ones.

Dancing, dinner and drinks; a night they'd surely remember in the dark days that followed. Everyone here could feel the tension. There isn’t a knife strong enough to cut through the pain this room was feeling, because there was more than one feeling. Despair, love, hope. But through this pain, some people let their emotions run wild and cried into their loved ones shoulder as they danced the night away, while others smiled and put on a strong face. A lot of people coming here this evening had silently made a promise to send them off with a smile. But, in the end that promise was broken and they cried. No one blamed them though and none of them judged.

We were sending our husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, our men to war in a week; without any idea if they were coming home alive. So to those who were spilling their emotions out on the dance floor, we let whoever they would be sending off comfort them.

I took a small sip of my water “I can do it, I can hold it in. (B1/N) and (B2/N) as well as the rest are gonna come home safely. We just can’t think of the negatives.” I repeated to myself for the umpteenth time.

I heard someone clear their throat, breaking me free from that little voice inside my head. I turned to see a man standing with a slight unsure emotion. It was obvious that he was one of the soldiers this night was dedicated to, so seeing him as the only one not dancing was a little unusual.

"Yes?" I turned more towards the soldier.

"Do you mind if I sit here for awhile? You seem a bit--".

"Lonely?" I finished his sentence as I ushered him to sit with me - which wasn't entirely true, I was a tad bit lonely but it was more by choice. However the thought of having company was nice, maybe it'd take my mind off things for a second.

He chuckled a bit as he made himself comfortable, "I wasn't going to be so blunt about it. If you don't mind me asking why are you alone? You should be dancing with someone". The soldier looked to the sea of people on the dance floor. He seemed almost lost looking at them or as if he was looking for someone.

I leaned towards him, "My brothers are dancing. One is dancing with our mom and another is with his wife. So here I sit".

He stared at me for a second as if he was thinking of something to say. He didn't necessarily look worried but it was a little obvious that he felt like he was walking on eggshells. But I will admit he was cute and was kind enough to take the time to talk to me. It could be out of pity or he was simply alone himself, either way it was enjoyable.

"I'm (Y/n)" I say trying to break the ice.

"Tommy. Pleasure to meet you".

I looked around the crowded hall, "Likewise. So why did you decide to sit here? Don't you have someone to dance with?". Everyone was swaying to the slow rhythm of the band playing, the emotions still the same, some laughing and some crying. Despite the mood, they still followed the music.

"No. My friend just left with her daughter, and my father left while I was in the bathroom. Then I saw you sitting by yourself and now we're here" he said with an empty smile. It tugged at my heart strings. How could you leave some so easily, knowing they may never come home? Some things you have to leave for but to get up and walk away without a goodbye is just heartbreaking.

I gave him a weak smile, "If it makes you feel any better. I'm glad you came to sit with me, it's nice".

I see his smile turn slightly more genuine as he gave me a slight nod. I bit the inside of my tongue not knowing what else to say. There was tension between us, the silence we shared had put us in an awkward position. Plus being after what he said about his dad and friend, I felt like I could end up walking on eggshells if I asked any other questions. The silence had gotten the best of me and before I realized it he was scooting the back of his chair out.

"Do you want to dance?" he held out his hand, looking between me and the dance floor. I glanced at the floor and spotted my sister-in-law with my brother. They swayed back and forth, they were smiling, they were enjoying themselves with the little time they had left for who knows how long.

I chuckled before standing up, "I'm not the best dancer in the world so I apologize in advance if I step on your toes". Tommy said “I don’t mind”. I gently placed my hand in Tommy’s before we found our own spot on the floor. As he placed his hand respectfully around my waist, I placed my hand on his shoulder, our hands switching to the correct position but our hands never pulled away. We found the rhythm of the song and began to join the rest of the dancers.

His eyes were beautiful, a perfect mix of hazel and green. It almost seemed as if Tommy’s eyes were pulling me into this world where everything around us just seemed to fade away.

It’s nice here… Before I knew it my warning to him had come true as I felt my foot step on his shoe. “I’m sorry!” I say quickly, pulling my foot off. God, I should have been paying closer attention!

Tommy laughed, “You’re okay. It didn’t hurt”. “Really?” “Yes, really.” I smiled in relief, for a second I thought this was the end of our dance because I might have stepped too hard. “Plus you did warn me” Tommy chuckled before taking the lead of the dance once again.

I giggled “Yes, yes I did”. I nodded my head in agreement, “My dad passed away and I don’t have a boyfriend”. “And you?” I asked, before looking down at our feet, making sure that I wasn’t about to step on his toes. “Not much different. My mum passed away when I was little and I don’t have a girlfriend,” Hearing he didn’t have a girlfriend seemed to be a bit of a shock. Tommy was a good looking guy and so far he seemed polite as well and kind. Any woman would be more than lucky to have a take-home guy like him. Without thinking “Guess the girls around here must be blind” I stated. My face quickly began to heat up as I heard Tom huff out a laugh. I twist my head “Just ignore you heard that”. “No, I could say the same thing for you,” he said with honesty, a smile playing on his lips. Before he could finish his sentence we saw the dance floor heading towards the dining area. The song had stopped and we meshed in with the rest of the people returning to their tables. When my table came into view I remembered… Tommy was alone. “Sit with me again?” I swirl in front of him with hopefully eyes. Tommy glanced at his table before looking back to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he would decline but to my surprise, “If you have enough room, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you again.” Tommy smiled as we headed back to the table. I wonder if his heart was beating fast just as mind was...

#dunkirk x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #fionn whitehead x reader #fionn whitehead imagine

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ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

some nessian fics i really like + why i like them;

this coincidentally went along with @anidealiveson's thanksvember idea, but it's a little different. these are either my favorite nessian fics ever or fics that i thought did something really well so im gonna put them in the hall of fame anyway :)

(also im sure most people have already heard of most of these but idc)

***

Sympathy for the Devil by @saphie3243: ACOTAR series told from Nesta's POV; maybe the best and most comprehensive take on Nesta's thoughts, inner workings, and emotions. It gives such an honest glimpse into her character that it feels like canon. Would recommend if you love reading longass essays on why Nesta is the way she is.

POETRY by @sayosdreams: short oneshot where Nessian are assigned to a creative writing project together that was just tender enough to imprint on my mind forever; on this list for the line "I think I just fell a little bit in love with you."

Drops of Sapphire by @sayosdreams: open for a surprise :)

Like Pristine Glass by @ladynestaarcheron: I only read one chapter of this fic and it was the last one, which meant I cried all night and refused to read it from the beginning b/c it hurt (also great writing). Features Nesta running away from the Night Court, Nesta with kids, and Cassian being forced to face his mistakes.

Tidal by @flowerflamestars: No thoughts all I know is that Pacific Rim sexy!!! The aesthetic makes me feral and jaeger-pilot Nessian make me feral!!

Love Her Like She Should Be Loved by @julemmaes: This fic is so crucial for anyone who's ever wanted to slap the IC around or see Cassian stand up for his girl. I wish there was a word for this specific trope b/c it's my favorite trope ever, but for now I call it romantic-partner-goes-feral-when-people-are-mean-to-the-love-of-their-life. Also Nesta being treated like an outcast will never not make me cry.

Sister by @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter: the same trope as LHLSSBL! Newly mated to Nesta, Cassian's temper is hanging on by a thread when he has to be around Rhys and the IC, remembering how they treated Nesta when she was depressed and alone. Very angsty and dramatic ficlet; 5 stars. (this person has a lot of amazing nessian fics this one is just my favorite)

Under The Weather by @thewayshedreamed: my favorite take of the many Cassian-taking-care-of-sick-Nesta fics out there. It feels extra special when Nesta and Cassian are barely acquaintances but he'll drop everything to take care of her anyway. Also caring Cassian>>> cocky Cassian.

Hellhound by @thewayshedreamed: more caring Cassian! He intervenes when Nesta is on the verge of a panic attack and helps calm her down and it's all very sweet and soft. (oneshot)

Mad Woman by @smallerinfinities: this fic is fairly new but it instantly grabbed my attention; it has escort Cassian providing Nesta with ~therapy~ which I didn't know I needed until I read it for myself. (multipart)

What's Wrong With A Good Story? by @maastrash: I can't believe I forgot to add this the first time around but this fic is a Nessian staple! Other than Nesta in scrubs and terminally ill Cassian (crying), the relationship development in this fic is adorable and makes me not care if the ending is tragic or not.

A Court of Fever and Frustration by @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter: nesta takes care of cassian this time, and it's PERFECTTT. romance has always been about the little details to me, and this fic is full of little details: rubbing someone's back, knowing where they're hurting without asking, soothing touches. i also think being sick makes characters vulnerable in a way that physical injuries just can't and i love seeing cassian absolutely wrecked in front of nesta. ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

some hand-picked faves from @lady-therion's masterlist (these are the five-star comfort fics for when i'm really missing nessian):

Close Quarters: snowed-in-a-cabin fic that is soft, warm, and ~tender~

The Warrior's Heart: mostly smut, but like poignant smut? it's not necessarily emotional but it makes me emotional, and it's entirely because of the writing.

Entirely My Own: more of the same type of smut that makes me feel the same way as TWH. i think the word i'm looking for is "intimacy", and it's my absolute favorite thing to find in a fic.

Honorable mention goes to Her Dark Affection: dom!Nesta, enough said.

this is definitely not an exhaustive list and im sure i've forgotten a lot of wonderful fics, but i will be updating this as i find/remember more fics i love! also make sure to check out the complete masterlists of all these writers bc there are definitely works not on this list that i think people would enjoy the hell out of.

#ficrec #nessian #ncssian recommends stuff #nessian fic #nesta archeron #cassian

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panda-noosh · 4 years ago

Text

the normal one {Leo Valdez x Reader}

Words: 14k

Summary: Your sister is the demigod. You’re just the unlucky one who got dragged into her mess.

Genre: angst??

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - omg happy first day of nano y’all.

---

You never knew your sister was a demigod.

Of course you didn't; it's not the kind of thought that crosses the mind of a logical individual, though it seems obvious now that you're being greeted with the proof.

Emma has never been particularly normal. She's three years older than you, and yet she carries herself like she's been through years upon years of unforgiven trauma, glaring at anyone who dares even speak to her. You used to just describe her as grumpy, not-a-morning-person, just leave her alone and you'll be fine.

Now, you're beginning to think it might not be as simple as all that.

Your day starts off pretty normal; you wake up, greeted by the sunlight streaming through the curtains you once again forgot to close over the previous night. You look down, not surprised to see you're still dressed in a pair of jogging bottoms and a loose white shirt instead of the pyjamas your sister has been trying so desperately to make you wear at night. You got ready, brushing the knots from your hair before marching downstairs.

Your mum is in the kitchen, whistling to herself, frail hands forever trembling around the pot of boiling oatmeal; you and your mum don't really talk that much. She favours Emma over you, and she's never found much point in wasting breath on the child she doesn't necessarily like. She'll smile, feed you, let you have a roof over your head, but neither of you pretend like your relationship with each other is permanent. One day you're going to move out, and your mum is never going to contact you, never going to step foot in your house, never going to give you a house-warming gift.

You're fine with that.

Emma is sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. It's not even that weird of a sight, considering you've always known Emma to be into the dramatics. You sit across from her, folding your arms over the table before whispering, rather loudly, "Rough night?"

Her head jerks up, revealing her wild, bloodshot eyes. "What?"

You laugh, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl in the centre of the table. "You look like shit, Em. Where have you been all night?"

Her jaw twitches, and she doesn't respond, which is a pretty normal reply for her, especially at this time of day.

"Whatever," you mumble. "Can I borrow that fancy deodorant you bought back from that summer camp you go to?" Emma nods. You grin, banishing the conversation all together as you stand and skip upstairs.

So, yeah. The day was starting off pretty normal. Not a single worry in sight. You would go to school, mope around classes for a few hours, come home and stress eat over a pile of unfinished homework that was probably due multiple days ago.

Instead, you have to deal with the boulders being thrown through Emma's bedroom window.

The first one hits just as your grabbing Emma's fancy deodorant from her bottom drawer. There is no warning, no low whoosh sound that would give you a chance to step away and make a run for it - no. Instead, it goes straight to the shattered glass and bloodied arms. Instead, it goes straight to the boulder smashing against your hand, crushing your fingers against the wall.

You are stuck, legs crumbling beneath you. You should be slipping to the floor right now, probably unconscious, maybe dead, but your hand, trapped between the biggest rock known to man and the wall, keeps you upright. Blood leaks from gashes forming on your fingers, dribbling down your wrist, your arm, dripping onto your knees. You stare at the scene in shock for a moment, unable to register what on earth has actually just happened.

And then Emma is screaming your name, thundering up the stairs, and you're crying out, trying to form words but they get lodged in your throat, replaced by the overwhelming pain and realisation that you're going to die, you're going to fucking die on your sisters bedroom floor because there is so much blood, and there is no way in hell you won't be drained before the end of this day, probably within the next ten minutes, probably within-

The door opens. Emma barrels inside, wielding a golden sword that honestly just makes you think of course she has a golden sword.

"You son of a bitch!" she cries out, darting to her bedroom window. She stands upon the sill and waves her arms at the sky. "You got the wrong L/N, you idiot! Get back here and finish me off if you're so tough!"

"Emma," you croak, tears flooding down your cheeks. "Little help here."

"It's the giants." She leaps off the window sill and swivels round, darting to your side. Something has changed in her, something you've never seen before; she seems stronger, her eyes a little brighter yet still eerily dark at the same time.

She crouches beside you and begins manoeuvring your trapped hand back and forth. You hiss, throwing your head back as blood spurts down your arm, staining your shirt. Emma grits her teeth, keeping her eyes peeled on her work. "They've found me," she continues muttering. "We need to get out of here - all of us. You, me, Mum. They know where the house is. How did they find out where the bloody house is?"

"Can you shut the fuck up talking crazy for one second?"

Emma pays you no mind, taking a tiny knife from her back pocket and wriggling it between the wall and the boulder. "I'll have to get in touch with Chiron, tell him I'm bringing a few mortals with me to camp this summer."

You grunt. "I'm not going to some hippy-Christian summer camp with you."

"It's not a hippy-Christian summer camp." Emma swats your head, forcing you to look away from the blood dribbling down your arm. "It's a place that will keep you safe, alright? So don't argue."

"Don't tell me what to - AH!" The boulder falls, crashing to the floor. Tables rattle, things tumble off shelves, and your hand is freed. You pull it to your chest, but Emma doesn't let it go unaided for long - she grabs your wrist and tugs it back, examining the damage; your nerves have clearly been ripped, fingers cold from lack of feeling. Gashes have been made into the back of your hand, fingers torn to shreds.

She shakes her head. "I'll get Will to have a look at this."

"No, you idiot, you'll call 999 before-"

"We have to go now. That giant will be back soon enough, especially once he realises I'm taking you guys with me." Emma doesn't even give you a chance to respond before she's grabbing your good hand and dragging you from her bedroom. You hiss in pain, stumbling behind her, but there's really no point in arguing. When Emma has her mind set on something, she goes for it no matter what objections people put in place. Mum always said she gets that from her dad, but you've never met the man, so you wouldn't know.

Speaking of your dear old mother, the woman doesn't even give you a second glance when Emma drags you into the living room and shoves you onto the sofa next to her; she's frozen in fear, fingers pulled to her lips as she bites on the nails, a habit she's had for as long as you can remember.

She shakes her head, dazed. "He's coming back to me. He's sending signs."

Emma groans. Looking over, you see her with a phone pressed to her ear, big and bulky with an oversized antennae peeking from the top of it. "Mum, that wasn't Dad sending signs. That was a giant trying to kill me."

You blink, certain your blood loss is contributing to this wild conversation somehow. "A giant? Your dad?"

Emma raises a finger, telling you to be quiet. Mum whimpers at the movement and goes back to chewing her nails, gazing steadily out the window. She looks terrified, but her knee is bouncing in that way it always does when she's excited. You've given up trying to understand her. In fact, you've given up trying to understand your entire family.

So you just sit there, trying to fight off the black spots dotting your vision and the blood dribbling through your fingers; you don't know why Emma hasn't called 999 yet, considering you're basically on the verge of unconsciousness, but your throat is too dry to ask. Instead you listen as she says, "Leo! Where are you? Are you close?" and then she sighs in relief, and within three minutes, there's a knock on the door and she's barrelling out of the living room to grab it.

You look up, dazed, when she returns with a small curly haired boy in tow. He's a bit scruffy, you have to admit, but in a cute way, like a bunny with a bit of dirt on its nose.

"Not really the time for guests, is it, Em?" you grumble, before falling face first into the floor.

---

You wake up, and immediately wish you hadn't.

Emma always messes things up - always.

Her life has to be so damn dramatic all the damn time, and you're getting pretty damn sick of being dragged into it. All you want to do is sit in bed with a nice blanket and a cup of tea, maybe practice a bit of witchcraft, maybe sink into the dirt and become one with nature.

You don't want to be hunted down by rabid, murderous giants, that's for sure.

You also don't want to be trapped in a hospital bed at some hippy-Christian camp you don't even know the name of. But that's exactly what has happened.

When you open your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of white, cloth walls and multiple eager faces gazing down at you. Most of them have blonde hair and the brightest eyes you have ever seen, and then there's that curly haired boy, and Emma herself, and there's a guy who is half horse-

"Oh god, this is death. I've died."

"She's awake!" the curly haired boy - Leo, you remember - cries, throwing his hands in the air. "Good job, Apollo kids! Another point for you!"

"Shut up, Leo." One of the many blonde haired kids steps forward and places the back of his hand against your forehead; in any other situation, you might have pulled away and told him to step back, but the feel of his skin against your own is surprisingly soothing. It's almost against your will when you melt into it, eyes gliding shut. Your hit with images of you and Emma as children, running through fields, her punching that guy in the nose because he called you short that one time, and-

He snatches his hand back, startling you back to reality. "The fevers definitely going down," he says, turning to Emma.

"Uh, excuse me," you chirp, raising a timid hand. "She's not my legal guardian, I'll have you know." You glance at Emma. "Where is my legal guardian, by the way?"

Emma rolls her eyes, and that's answer enough.

"Ah. Frollicking in the leaves again?"

Emma hums. "I left her to it; we have bigger things to worry about than her love life."

"That's a bit morbid, Emma," says Leo. "Love is a magnificent thing."

"So is me not dying," you say, before turning back to the blonde haired boy. "Can I leave?"

The boy blinks, staring at you like you have two heads. It almost makes you uncomfortable, but his eyes are so pretty, and the way his palm felt against your forehead-

Leo shoves to the front. "Will here is gay, Y/N. Stop staring."

You look away, flustered. "I wasn't even staring."

"Yeah, you were. I see that look of lust on people all the time - I get it a lot, to tell you the truth."

You look at his curls, the oil on his tattered overalls, the dirt smothering both his cheeks, nose and hands.

"I'm sure you do, big guy. I'm sure you do."

Will sighs, shoving Leo out the way again. "I'm gonna do a final check up before I let you leave; I can't give mortals any nectar or ambrosia, so the healing process might take-"

Awkwardly, Emma coughs. The entire tent goes silent, turning to her with raised brows and narrowed eyes, but all you can focus on is Will's strange choice of vocabulary. Nectar. Ambrosia. Those don't sound like common prescription pain meds.

"Emma..." Will drawls. "What have you-"

"I'll talk to them," Emma mumbles. "Can you guys just give us a minute?"

You grab Will's hand. "Please don't leave me alone with her."

Will gives you a timid smile, squeezing your hand gently before he, Leo and all the other blonde haired strangers exit the tent, leaving just you and Emma to your own devices.

And honestly, Emma's your best friend. She means the world to you. She's the one person in that god forsaken house that actually pays you any attention, and it doesn't even matter that she's the favourite, that Mum basically licks the ground she walks on for a reason you have yet to pinpoint. You love Emma with all your heart, but right now, you would rather be anywhere but in her presence.

You pull the quilt up to your chin and say, "I'm very confused."

Emma pulls a stool over and takes a seat. "I know. I should have explained. I need to explain."

"Yes, you do."

She hollows out her cheeks, which only makes your fear spike - you've never seen Emma act like this. She's usually so brave, bold, confident. She doesn't do a single thing without planning it out perfectly beforehand, and yet here she is, looking completely stumped. You almost feel bad for her until you remember the way she completely ignored your pleas for her to call 999 when you were fairly certain you were bleeding out.

"Well?" you push. "Go on, Em. I'm listening."

Emma sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face. "Do you have any idea where we are right now?"

"Absolutely none. There was a guy with a horse body-"

"That's Chiron. He's a centaur."

You blink. "Okay."

"This place is called Camp Half-Blood; it's where I go to every summer."

"Well, I assumed."

"It's a camp for Half-Bloods. Demigods. People who are half-god, like. . . like me. Like Leo, and Will, and probably loads of other kids, too."

It's starting to get jumbled now, a string of words that don't form to make a coherent, sensible sentence.

You don't even respond, simply staring at Emma until she is forced to continue.

"It sounds insane, I know, but I'm not lying. I'm a demigod, Y/N, daughter of Ares."

It goes silent, because of course it does. What are you even meant to say to that? The logical part of you says to just call her out on her lies, ask her where the hell you actually are and where Mum is and why she brought you here in the first place. But the other half recognises that Emma being the daughter of a war god kind of makes perfect sense.

In your conflicted state of disbelief, you say neither of those things. Instead, you look at Emma and say, "Mum hooked up with a god?"

Emma breathes a laugh, closing her eyes. "Yes, little one, she did."

"And she couldn't have done the same thing when she was conceiving me?"

Emma winces. "I don't want to talk about Mum conceiving either of us, thank you very much."

You shake your head. "So that's why she's always hated me."

"Mum doesn't hate you-"

"I'm the repair kid. I'm the one who-"

Leo pops his head in the door. "Did someone say repair kid?"

Emma looks up, giving Leo a tired little wave. "You can come back in now. Y/N's all caught up."

"Oh, happy days!" Leo marches in and reaches for your good hand, giving it a vigorous shake. "Leo Valdez, son of Hephaestus. Nice to properly meet you."

"Y/N L/N, child of - uh - that guy from McDonalds.

Emma stands up quickly, grabbing Leo's shoulders as his eyes narrow. "Alright! Now that we've got the niceties out of the way, I think it's time we let Will back in here so he can do his final check up. Sound good?"

"Sounds fantastic," you mumble, sinking down into the pillows. "Bring the nice looking blonde boy to me now, please."

----

Camp Half-Blood kind of looks like a dream scape. But a really bad one.

A nightmare-scape.

There's sword fighting, and teeny tiny girls in green dresses that get wildly offended when you call them Tinkerbell. There's people riding around on winged horses like it's no big deal, and you're almost certain it was raining when you left the house earlier, so why is it sunny and warm right now?

Leo is the one who greets you when you're finally allowed to step out of the tent - the infirmary, apparently, run by the kids of Apollo. All of them were really nice. They all had really nice hands.

"You're looking fresh," Leo says, tucking his hands in his pockets as the two of you stroll across camp together. "Will and his siblings really know what they're doing, huh? I had my doubts, with you being a mortal and all. I don't know how often they work on people like you."

You shrug. "It was just a bit of nerve damage in my hand."

"You passed out."

"I blanked. It happens to the best of us."

Leo's lips twitch. It shows you just the briefest hint of dimples, and you hate that it immediately turns your tough-guy demeanour to mush. It seems like you have a soft spot for demigods. You look away quickly, tucking your hands - bandage and all - into your pockets. It's this movement that seems to tilt Leo's attention to the clothes you're wearing, all of which are smothered in your own blood.

Pleasant.

He grimaces, stopping dead in his tracks. You would continue walking, being an independent mortal and all that, but you don't know your way around this place, and you'd rather not accidentally walk into a fighting arena. So, you stop and look back at him. "What's wrong?"

"You need a change of clothes, my friend."

You blink. "No, I don't think-"

"They might be a bit big on you, but I have the perfect pair of overalls you could borrow. Come on. To Bunker 9 we go."

He starts walking away before you even have a chance to protest. It really puts the fear of god - gods? - in you, because at that very moment, a winged horse slams into the floor at your side. You squeal, immediately sprinting after him, and the bastard doesn't even turn back to look at what has just startled you. He merely grins, cocky and annoying, and says, "Yeah, stick with me and that won't happen."

You grunt, knowing he's right.

The two of you arrive at Bunker 9 in no time. It's like an old bomb shelter, with tin walls and a door that looks like it's about to fall off it's hinges. You make a joke about why Leo can't just fix the hinges, considering he's a machine expert and all that, and Leo rolls his eyes and says, "I'm busy enough as it is."

The room lights up without a switch needing to be flipped, which you think is pretty cool.

"My school used to have lights like that," you point out, gazing up at the ceiling. "They were motion censored."

"Mm. They're handy little things until you haven't moved in fifteen minutes and they switch off whilst you're still standing there. The amount of times I've nearly put a screw through my finger." He shakes his head, tossing aside discarded tools in his search for the overalls he promised you. "Mental."

You pluck at a random copper wire hanging out of a drawer. "So, is this like. . . your dorm room?"

"Hm?" Leo looks at you. "Oh, no. I don't sleep in here - I sleep in the Hephaestus cabin. I'm the head counsellor, so I have to keep an eye on things, you know."

You raise a brow. "Is your bed more comfy in the Hephaestus cabin?"

"That, too." He blushes, lowering his eyes back to his search. "But honestly, my job is pretty important. I've got to keep that place running, keep all my siblings in check."

"I'm not being funny, if Emma tried telling me what to do, I would tell her to piss off."

Leo scoffs. "Yeah, I got that vibe off you."

"So how do you do it?"

Leo pauses, glancing over his shoulder."How do I do what?"

You push yourself up onto the counter, ignoring the saw dust that now litters your hands and the back of your already ruined jeans. "How do you get them to listen to you? You don't look to be much older than I am - surely you have older siblings in that cabin of yours. It can't be easy getting them to fall into line, too."

Slowly, Leo turns. He leans against the chest of drawers he has been digging through, regarding you with a single raised brow. His gaze is hard, but you keep the eye contact, smiling just the tiniest bit.

He doesn't respond with words. Instead, he stretches his hand out, palm towards the ceiling, and uncurls his fingers, revealing a bright orange flame dancing in the centre. It doesn't make you jump as it probably should have; instead, you are mesmerised, caught in the slick movements of the tiny ball of fire.

You slowly reach out. Leo slams his hand closed and pulls back. "You can't touch it."

"I wasn't going to."

"You were fully going to touch it."

You scowl, folding your arms over your chest. "What was the point in showing me that?"

He turns on his heel, going back to digging through the chest of drawers. "That's why I'm head counsellor - no other child of Hephaestus can do that." He glances at you. "You don't think it's weird?"

"Well, yeah - very weird." You shrug. "But who am I to judge? I can do this thing where I dislocate my shoulder, and that's pretty weird, too."

Leo blinks, mouth opening like you've caught him off guard. He swipes his tongue along his lower lip before he turns away and mumbles, "Yeah. That is pretty weird."

Bunker 9 is doused in silence after that. Leo rummages through his drawers as you inspect every nook and cranny of the place, running your fingers along the tin walls, picking up tools you have never seen before; you can feel Leo watching you from the corner of his eye, probably making sure you're not stealing anything. Honestly, the golden screwdriver set is pretty tempting, but you wouldn't want to risk getting on a demigod's bad side.

Finally, after what feels like far too long, Leo pops his head up, grinning broadly with a set of overalls in his hands. "Found them!" He tosses them at you with no warning; you just barely manage to catch them. "They got shrunk in the wash, so I was gonna rip them up for hand towels in here, but I'm sure they'll be more useful for you."

You pull them into your chest. "They smell like oil."

Leo spreads his oil stained hands. "Yeah, well, that's how life is, love. I'll let you get changed - I promise I won't peak!"

Laughing, he leaves Bunker 9; his footsteps stop there, though, and there's a glimmer of relief when you realise he isn't just walking away and leaving you to your own devices.

You get changed quickly, bundling your blood stained clothes into a ball and shoving them beneath your arm - you don't know where you can possibly wash them, but you refuse to leave this camp in Leo's old overalls. First of all, they're much too big on you, pooling over your feet despite Leo's own small stature. The striped shirt he gave you to put underneath it has oil spots embedded in it, too, which just makes you look like even more of a slump. Nonetheless, you throw open the door to Bunker 9 with your arms outstretched and call out, "How do I look?"

Leo peaks his head around and freezes.

You drop your arms, rolling your eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. This isn't a romance movie."

His nose erupts into flames. He yelps, swatting the fire away before he awkwardly coughs and says, "Good. You look good."

You grin. "Thank you. Do you have any idea where I can put these?" You offer up your pile of clothes. Leo takes them from your hands and tosses them over your shoulder, back into Bunker 9. You frown. "Do you have a washing machine in there?"

"It won't take me long to rig one up. I'll have them washed before you leave, don't worry." He offers his arm, grinning yet again. "Now, how about we go up to the dining pavilion and get some food? I'm starving!"

----

Leo did not know one of his best friends was related to such an attractive individual.

It wasn't really that big of a shock when he walked in and saw you sitting there in the living room, looking dazed and out of it with blood dribbling from some pretty severe cuts in your hand. Emma had rang him and filled him on all the details, so there was no surprise at the scene. And plus, Emma's not exactly ugly. She has that rough look to her, sure, but Leo would probably date her if she asked him. Again, it wasn't much of a surprise when he walked in and saw you there, all pretty with the innocence only a mortal could have.

But then he got a glimpse of your personality.

No. Scratch that. He got an entire bucketload of your personality, and he was still craving more by the end of it.

He tried his hardest to fight off these feelings, because he's felt them before - with almost every person he finds attractive, in fact. He gets it lodged in his head that he can impress them, that this is the one and he can make it work if he just tries hard enough. It's kind of hard not to think that way - hopeful, desperate, almost - when all his friends are hooking up and getting boyfriends and girlfriends, generally just having the time of their damn lives. And Leo is just. . . making machines.

But then the two of you went and had dinner together, and he found himself asking if you wanted to go for a walk along the lake before you would have to go to bed. You had agreed, and the conversation had continued, and Leo has never laughed so much in his entire life.

You tell stories of these little memories you have with Emma, enjoying the embarrassing little details you add in whenever you can. Leo struggles to imagine the daughter of Ares being anything close to the Emma you're describing, but he can tell in the passion of your words you're not telling lies.

"What about you, though?" he asks.

Your hands drop to your side, smile curving. "What about me?"

"Well, you're going on about Emma and all the cool stuff she used to do - what about you, though? What have you been up to?"

It's a pretty simple question in Leo's mind; with his ADHD brain, he is able to come up with a million different answers on the spot.

You, however, look at him with a raised brow. He stares right back.

Finally, you crack and say, "Uh. . . I've been doing some school work, I guess."

Leo blinks. "You go to school?"

"I do indeed. I'm studying psychology, but it's really difficult, so I might drop it."

Leo nods like he understands, even though he doesn't. All he really remembers of his school days is him sitting in the back of the classroom plotting his next escape. "Interesting," he says. "Does Emma go to school?"

"She's doing an apprenticeship at some mechanics place. She dropped out when she turned sixteen."

"Naughty."

You shrug. "She does what she wants. I would love to drop out, but Mum would flip." Leo glances at you; the mention of your Mum seems to be something a little heavy, as your smile immediately dips, your shoulders slumping. Leo knows he probably shouldn't pry, but he's Leo, so he does anyway.

"Is your mum tough on you?"

"No. She's not tough at all. She's not light, either. She just. . . lives with me, I guess."

"She just lives with you?"

You inhale, looking out over the lake. For a moment, Leo thinks you might start crying, but then he shakes that thought out of his mind, because you don't seem like the type to cry in front of a stranger, and that's really all Leo is, which is why he shouldn't expect you to open up to him right now, not if this is something you don't want to-

"Mum only had me because she wanted to see if she could get over Emma's dad." You wince. "Ares, I guess."

Leo pauses. His fingertips start glowing, a sign of his anger, but he shoves them in his pockets and dispels the flames before you see them. "That's horrible."

You shrug halfheartedly. "It's fine. She was crazy about the guy from what I've heard - it's why Emma's her favourite. She's the only piece of him she has left, really."

"But that doesn't mean-"

"You don't have to tell me she's a bad mother, Leo. I know. I've known from day one; I've just gotten used to it." You pick up a rock and toss it into the lake. "Honestly, we're better off out of each other's hair anyway; put us in a room together and make us talk, we'll probably burn the house down."

Leo doesn't know how to respond; he's never felt like that. Ever. Even with his dad, there's always been some level of affection there, even though his dad is a Greek god who only pops in when he wants something; Hephaestus has never straight-up ignored him, never made his favouritism clear.

Leo finds he wants to punch something, and not even the steady whisper of the lake can calm him down. He walks a little bit behind you as the silence settles, you picking up random rocks and tossing them into the water, apologising profusely when the eighteen tentacled octopus pokes its head up and yells at you.

Your calmness makes it even worse, though, because that lets Leo know that this treatment is something you've grown used to. You've never known any different.

----

Three days in, and Emma still insists on keeping you at Camp Half-Blood.

"You're not leaving until that giant is dead, and that might take a while."

You drape your arm over your forehead, still sprawled across her bed in the Ares cabin. It's a pretty musty cabin, to be fair, but you won't mention that when all of Emma's siblings are glaring daggers at you. "Do you have any idea how many assessments I'm missing? Mr Wrightchuck is gonna be furious with me, and I do not have the mental energy to deal with his shit right now."

Emma throws a pair of shorts at you. "Shut up and fold those for me."

You grunt, sitting up and getting to work; you've decided to make yourself at least a little bit useful around here. These people were nice enough to offer you accommodation, even though it's clear being around mortals isn't exactly their everyday routine. The amount of times you've hissed in pain because of your hand and been offered a chunk of ambrosia is uncountable.

"So," Emma starts suddenly, taking you by surprise; she hardly ever initiates conversations, preferring to brood in her own head when she can get away with it.

You look at her, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the bright pink laundry hamper she stole off your Aunt Grace. She's not even looking up, lips pursed, eyebrows raised as if expecting you to fill in the blanks from that single word.

"So, what?" you push. "What did I just say, Emma? I don't have the mental energy-"

"You and Leo have been hanging out an awful lot these past few days."

You pause. That certainly wasn't what you had been expecting to hear.

"Uh. . . I suppose. He's a cool guy. Cool fire, and stuff." You wriggle your fingers, imitating flames, though Emma's sideways glare makes you mumble an apology and drop your hand to your side. "Is there something wrong with Leo and I being pals?"

"Leo's a very. . . hopeful boy," Emma replies. "He tends to get lost in his own fantasies sometimes."

You blink. "What, like kinks?"

Emma groans, throwing some socks at you. "No, you idiot! When he likes someone, he tends to get a little carried away. It's quite sad to see, actually."

"What does that have to do with me and him being friends?"

Emma glances at you; you recognise that look. It makes your stomach curl, heat rising to your cheeks. You look away, coughing awkwardly into her shirt before you mumble, "No. No, absolutely not. Leo doesn't like me that way."

Emma shrugs, grin spreading across her face. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm just saying, if you don't like him that way, try and break the illusion as soon as possible. It's easier to just rip the bandaid off."

"You're heartless."

"I'm a daughter of Ares, Y/N. We don't bullshit people. We say it how it is."

You scowl, snatching another set of trousers from her wash pile and getting to work, trying to ignore the thump of your heartbeat, which suddenly seems to have sped up a fair bit.

----

You lose track of how long it has been since you last saw your mother.

This happens sometimes, these long stretches of time when neither of you will acknowledge the other person; it's easier that way, just pretending she doesn't exist, just pretending the house is empty besides you.

You've been caught up in camp activities these past few weeks. Your hand is starting to heal, the nerves tingling, which Will says is a good sign. You've been talking to other campers, learning more and more about the world Emma has kept hidden from you for so long, a world that fascinates you, a world you will never want to be properly part of.

Now, however, you see her. Sitting on her own by the lake, knobbly knees pulled into her chest, dazed eyes locked on the swirling water in front of her. The little sea creatures have long since hidden, probably put-off by the presence of a stranger, but your mother doesn't seem to care. She just sits all on her own, long hair billowing out behind her as the moon begins to rise in the distance.

You lean against a tree just a little bit behind her and say, "Are you not cold?"

She doesn't even flinch, like the voice of her child has no effect on her whatsoever. Instead, she digs her fingernails into the dirt and grabs a handful of stones, lobbing them into the lake.

You sigh and crouch down next to her; she smells of sweat and dirt, a sure sign that she hasn't been taking much care of herself these past few weeks. "Let's go back to the Big House, Mum. You're gonna get hypothermia out here."

"He will protect me," she replies. "He's always protecting me."

"You mean Ares? Emma's Dad?"

"He's protected me from day one; he loves Emma and I. He's just busy."

You swallow, staring at the side of her face. "I'm sure he does, Mum. But he's clearly running a little late right now, so he's asked me to come make sure you get wrapped up before the wind eats you alive." You gaze at the trees. "Which I'm pretty sure is a thing that actually happens here."

Finally, your mum gazes at you, lower lip trembling. "I just want him to talk to me."

You freeze; it's most unlike your mother to talk like this, especially to you. She rants and raves about Ares to Emma, but she barely pays you any attention when it comes to things like this. You don't really know how to handle it, whether you should comfort her and tell her Ares loves her - this Greek god, surviving somewhere on Mount Olympus, overlooking the entire world. Yes, of course he still loves her. Of course he does.

But the other half of you just doesn't want to lie. You don't want to get her hopes up any more than they already are, because anyone with a brain will be able to see that Ares has long since forgotten about the mortal woman he apparently fell in love with, and the daughter they created together.

So, you grab your mum's hand and drag her to her feet. She slumps against you like a child having a tantrum, and you have to basically lift her off the floor to get anywhere. Nonetheless, you eventually have her standing, and together, you walk up the hill, back to the main camp.

It's dark, probably past curfew, but campers are still walking about. Mostly the Apollo cabin, never off their feet with the casualties they have to tend to in a day, though there are other campers enjoying a late night cup of hot chocolate by the fire, laughing merrily. They don't notice you walking up the hill, don't notice your mum mumbling to herself, words you can't even grasp being right beside her.

"The Ares cabin," your mum suddenly blurts.

You pause, nearly stumbling over your own two feet as your head whips around to the direction she is now staring, eyes wide.

"Yes, Mum," you grumble. "That is the Ares cabin - now, can we keep moving before my fingers fall off?"

"Is that where you've been sleeping these past few weeks?"

You narrow your eyes. "What? Yes, Mum, it is; Emma lets me sleep with her, now can we please-"

"He isn't your father."

You stop dead in your tracks; oh no. You've heard this line of speech before, and it's never pleasant. Mum gets angry, enraged, when she thinks you're trying to take on the same status as her beloved Emma, daughter of the war god. She likes to keep you in your place, which is a good few tiers below everybody else, apparently.

"I know that," you say quickly. "Emma was just nice enough to lend me her bed so I didn't have to sleep in the Hermes cabin - you know I don't know my way around here, so-"

"He wouldn't like you sleeping amongst his children. He told me."

"He what now?"

She shakes out of your grip, gritting her teeth. Her eyes are wild, dilated beyond anything you've ever seen, and when she next speaks, the words are a cry. "He told me!" She shakes her head, gripping the strands of hair between trembling fingers. "He's so mad at me, Y/N; he told me it was disrespectful to have a child with another man. He said he would burn you to the ground if you stepped out of line. He said he would kill you, just to teach me a lesson for going behind his back!"

You blink. You're used to this. You're meant to be used to this, but holy mother of god - gods? - you don't know what she's on about. You've never heard her talk like this. You've never heard her speak of your death before, and the words coming from her mouth are so eerie, so fucking terrifying that you stumble back, hands trembling, tears rushing to the surface.

"You crazy bitch."

She laughs, loud and clear so the entire camp's attention turns directly to her. "That's what he said! He called me insane, and then he said he loved me and gave me a child - and that child certainly wasn't you."

"Mum, what are you-"

"He talks to me sometimes, you know." She nods, hands still buried in her hair, tugging her eyes back so she looks demented. "In my head, he talks. We have little conversations, but he's been so much more talkative since we arrived here, like this place really is my home." She releases her hair, eyes dimming. "But you're not meant to be here; he told me that, too. He said Emma and I were welcome amongst his kind, but not you - not a bastard like you."

You look around; all the demigods are on their feet now, staring at the scene in confusion. It's embarrassing, absolutely mortifying to suddenly be the centre of their attention, especially under such circumstances.

"Okay," you croak out. "Okay, that's fine - I'll go, then. Leave you and Emma here. I don't mind, Mum. You don't have to get angry."

Mum's nostrils flare. "It's not me who's angry - it's him-"

"Well, tell him that he doesn't have to get his godly bollocks in a twist, because I'm leaving." You raise your hands in faux surrender, taking a few tentative steps back. "I'm leaving, and you'll never have to see me again."

The words hurt, but they're the truth - especially now. Mum doesn't respond, merely stares as you take a few more steps backwards, turn on your heel and dart towards the Ares cabin, fighting desperately to push the tears away, because crying is stupid.

This is just your mum being. . . your mum, just as she's always been. Sure, her words tonight were a little harsher than you're used to, but her neglect has given you thick skin, thick enough to take her words on the chin.

You see the Ares cabin, and run right past it towards the lake. You nearly slip in the mud on your way down the hill, catching yourself before finally crumbling to the floor against a tree by the lake side.

You'll take her words on the chin, but you'll cry over them first.

----

When Leo hears the news, he's pretty sure his blood turns to fire.

He's half-asleep, but that doesn't stop his understanding of Will's words, his descriptions of the scene he just witnessed at the camp fire.

And the thing is, after hearing all the things your mum has done to you, Leo isn't even surprised to hear it's finally boiled over.

Doesn't make him any less angry.

He storms out of the Hephaestus cabin wearing nothing but his pyjamas. He feels the heat beneath his skin, threatening to break the surface as he forces it down, gritting his teeth. He's half tempted to turn to the Big House to give your mum a piece of his mind, but his main concern at the moment is you, and where you've gone, and where you plan on going, because according to Will, your last words to her were "I'm leaving, and you'll never have to see me again." That's a horrible thought. Leo doesn't want to think about that.

He heads to the lake, because according to Will, that's the direction you were running, and Leo knows how much you like the lake; it calms you down, you said, and he stored that piece of information in his brain for weeks, as if in preparation for this very moment.

He stops at the top of the hill and gazes down, lighting up the darkness with a ball of fire cupped in the palm of his hand. You don't flinch at the sudden intrusion, instead curling into a tighter ball against the roots of a tree, burying your head in your knees. The sight breaks his heart. He swallows, slowly waddling down the hill, careful not to fall in the dirt.

You don't look up when he finally arrives at your side. "Y/N."

"Who told you?"

Leo crouches. "Will. He said you seemed upset."

"That's literally nobody's business."

Leo sighs, slumping against the tree beside you; his shoulder brushes your own, and for a moment, you stiffen against his side. "You don't have to tell me what happened if you're not cool with that," he says. "I'm not being nosy or anything."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm really not. I just wanted to make sure that witch didn't hurt your feelings too bad." He pauses. "What did she actually say?"

Your head snaps up, eyes blood shot, lips dry. "Ah, see! You are just being nosy!"

He swats your arm, scowling. "Be quiet, no I'm not; but how am I meant to help you if I don't even know what happened?"

"I never said I wanted help, Leo. My mum not caring about me isn't something that can just be helped." And you didn't even realise those were the words you were going to say, because they sound so heartbreaking, so self-pitying, even though they're the truth. You've always just brushed your mothers behaviour off as normal, the only hand you've ever been dealt, but phrasing it in that way, claiming she doesn't care . . . something about that makes your heart break.

Your lower lip trembles before you can stop it, fresh tears springing to the surface. You remember holidays, catching Emma wrapping up gifts of her own to give to you, just so you could wake up to something on Christmas morning. You remember making your own Halloween costume because your mother spent all her money on Emma's. You remember thinking it was okay, because it was all you ever knew.

You're older now, though. You can recognise mistreatment when you see it, but it's still a blow to the chest realising that you were on the other end of it, that you're a victim, whether you want to deny it or not.

Leo notices your sudden change of emotions and immediately lurches forward. His fingers are hot, almost scalding when they make contact with your arm, his brown eyes burning holes into your own. His eyebrows are furrowed when he says your name in a whisper, just your name, like nothing else needs to be said.

You close your eyes. "I'm fine."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. It's starting to grate on my skull, and I can't afford that kind of damage."

You let out a breath of a laugh, just because you think it's appropriate; in truth, you find none of this funny. You want to curl up and cry. You want to leave Camp Half-Blood and everything it stands for, start a life away from demigods and Greek gods alike.

What's stopping you?

Leo's hands heat up on your arm, forcing you to look at him again. He's closer now, head tilted, all amusement flushed from his features, which is a sad enough sight on it's own. It's been two seconds, but you already miss that sparkle in his eyes.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Talk to me."

And you do. You don't know why, but you do. The words pour out like a broken faucet, a complete mess of incoherence's that Leo - and only Leo - would ever be able to understand. He nods along like the words are making sense, like these sentences aren't just complete gibberish.

When you finish explaining everything that happened down at the camp fire, you gasp, starved for air. Leo grabs your hand and tugs you forward, cupping your face in his attempts to calm you down; you didn't realise the tears had started pouring, didn't realise you're breathing heavily, totally lost, unable to catch a breath.

"Calm down," he mumbles. "Y/N, calm down. I'm here. I've got you, pal, I've got you."

You close your eyes, leaning into his palm. He traces his thumbs along your cheeks before slowly, slowly, slowly running his hand over your ear, tucking a strand of hair back. His eyes never leave your face, despite the state you know you are in, how awful you must look.

"I'm sorry," you choke out. "I didn't mean to. . . to get so worked up."

"Don't be stupid," he replies. "Did she really say all that to you?"

"She's not in her right mind out here. She thinks she's one of you guys, that she can be part of the group just because-"

"Because she slept with Ares?"

You laugh, exhausted. "Yes, exactly."

Leo rolls his eyes, finally letting his hands drop back to his sides. "Honestly, everyone and their grandfather has probably slept with Ares. She's nothing special, and she needs to get that through her head." He pauses. The air crackles. "But - uh - you're, you know, special. Very special."

You blink, certain you heard him wrong. The words don't really make sense in this context, so you're trying to disentangle them.

Finally, you crack and say, "What?"

Leo rubs the back of his neck, glancing awkwardly over his shoulder. Over the hill, everything is silent as Half-Bloods sleep, unknowing to the panic attack that has just captured you, unknowing to the magic Leo has just cast to calm you down.

"I said you're special," he mumbles. "In a good way, I mean. Like, a really good way."

Your heart thunders. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome." He looks at you then, chirping up. "But seriously, don't let her get to you. She's just a love sick psycho who doesn't know when to back down. Clingy ex-girlfriend and all that."

He changes the topic so swiftly it nearly gives you whiplash. You stare at him for another moment, and just when you're about to open your mouth to continue the previous, deserted conversation, Leo stands and reaches his hand out. "Shall we go before Hedge thinks there's some funny business going on?"

You nod dumbly, taking his hand only because you don't know what you want to say in response to what he has just said - he called you special, and he said it like it was just. . . normal, like it was something you could slip in without any further questions being asked.

You try and let the subject drop as Leo leads you back into camp. He walks you to the door of the Ares cabin, and it is there that he turns to you and says, voice low, "You can sleep in my cabin if your mum is in there; Chiron won't mind, and I won't either."

"No, it's okay," you reply. "Mum's staying in the Big House; I'll just slip in next to Emma." You glance at him, his eyes meeting yours because he never looked away. He looks so sweet beneath the lantern light, flames dancing across his skin like they were always meant to be there, like Leo has lived his life in fire and came out smiling every time. "Thank you, Leo; you really didn't have to help me tonight."

He scoffs. "Don't be daft. Next time you have any issues, I want you to run to me instead of the river naiads, you hear?"

You smile and nod. "I hear."

And so, Leo and you bid each other goodnight, and you watch as he walks across camp, past the Hephaestus cabin, right in the direction of Bunker 9. Half of you wants to go after him, question him on his use of the word special earlier on, but you don't. Your limbs are heavy with exhaustion, and so you turn on your heel and head into the Ares cabin, unable to stop the tiny smile that forms on your face.

----

Bunker 9 looks very nice in the morning.

"Oh, the tin is just glistening!"

Leo yelps, dropping a spanner on the ground as he whirls around. His overalls are covered in oil, along with his face, arms, legs, and every other body part that is presented to you on this fine Monday morning. In your hand is a plate of steaming cinnamon buns that Leo's eyes immediately fix upon, his startled expression quickly being replaced by one of pure hunger. You're almost certain you see his mouth salivating.

You tug the plate back, holding one arm out. "Not so fast, Fire Boy."

He frowns. "What did you just call me?"

"No cinnamon buns for you until you tell me how many hours of sleep you got last night."

Leo raises a brow, a tiny smirk making an appearance. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope. I want the details, Valdez, or these cinnamon buns are all mine."

"That's really unfair, and very unnecessary. A body like mine was made to work off two hours sleep."

Your eyes widen. "Two hours? Leo!"

"Can you just hand me my breakfast already?"

You groan, but a promise is a promise. You set the plate down on a nearby toolbox before pushing yourself onto the counter, legs swinging. Leo dives for the plate, nudging your knee with his hip as he grabs the first cinnamon bun he can see and stuffs it in his mouth, nearly swallowing the thing whole.

"Watch you don't choke."

"Why are you so protective this morning?"

"Two hours sleep, Leo? That's awful."

He shrugs, fingers hovering over the plate as he searches for his next victim. "I'm used to it. I'm not even tired! It was a really refreshing two hours."

"You get worse, you know."

Leo rolls his eyes, looking up at you. "And how many hours of sleep did you get, Sleeping Beauty?"

"More than two hours."

He clicks his fingers. "I want the details."

You roll your eyes, swatting his hand away. "I had six hours, if you must know. I'm refreshed and ready for my day!"

"So am I."

"Liar."

"And what?"

You laugh, and Leo smiles, making the noise louder than it really is.

"But no," he continues. "Don't you go worrying about me, dear. Ol' Leo Valdez can handle himself."

"Ol' Leo Valdez needs to take a nap."

"A nap? Sounds cowardly." He grabs the spanner from the floor, spins it in the air, catches it with an ease that makes your breath catch. "How about I show you the new updates I've made to Festus?"

Festus, Leo's pride and joy, the one thing in the world he will talk about for hours upon hours on end; you've sat there and listened to him every single time, absorbing every word, even if you don't understand it. He talks about circuits and updates and tools you have never heard of, but he says it all with such enthusiasm it's almost impossible not to get involved. And even though you know you should be stubborn, insisting on him getting into bed right this instant, you want to see him in that state again. You always want to see him in that state, eyes glittering with passion, hands moving all over the place, smile brighter than anything.

He doesn't need an answer. You simply smile at him, slightly exasperated, and he says, "Alright!" before spinning on his heel, the very beginning of his lecture.

You listen to him talk like how you would listen to lo-fi music. Your legs swing back and forth, back and forth, a tiny smile gracing your features. Leo shows you different parts, illuminating the inside of Festus's new helmet with fire ignited in his calloused palm. It makes his grin impossibly brighter. It makes his curls that little bit darker. It's him.

Finally, he spins and says, "Cool, right?" and even though you were mildly distracted the entire time, you nod and say, "Very cool. As always."

"What are you doing here so early, anyway?" He strolls over, casually plucking another cinnamon roll off the plate and taking a bite.

"I saw you heading to Bunker 9 last night and just assumed this was where you slept. I thought you said you didn't sleep in here?"

He shrugs. "I sleep in here when I'm stressed; gets me away from the ruckus of everyone else, you know."

You raise a brow. "You were stressed?"

"Of course I was stressed." He looks at you, exasperated. "Do you not remember anything we discussed last night?"

You blink; it's not that you had forgotten - there's no way you'll be forgetting that night any time soon - but you thought for sure Leo had. Yes, he'd been there to help you through it, and he was the reason you went to bed smiling, but you were still a mortal, and your problems surely could never be as big as his. You genuinely sat in front of him and cried about feeling neglected by your mother when his own mother is dead, and his Dad doesn't even talk to him, too busy producing other godly children. But here he is, head tilted and eyes slashed with worry. You almost want to look away, but the colour in them has become so noticeably entrancing these past few weeks that you find it nearly impossible to do so.

"I didn't mean to stress you out," is all you can manage. "I was just ranting."

"You were crying."

"I was - I mean - like - yeah, I guess, but you don't have to stress."

Leo narrows his eyes. "You really are dense, aren't you?"

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him for saying such a thing, but your words are swallowed by the loud clang clang clang of the door opening. Leo stares at you for a second longer before glancing over his shoulder, sharing your shock at the sight of Will popping his head in the door. His lower lip is pulled between his teeth, movements slow and timid.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," he says. "But we kind of need Y/N up at camp."

Those words are terrifying. They jolt you and Leo into action almost immediately; you slip off the counter, stumbling over a few discarded wrenches and old toolboxes. Leo catches you before you can fall, but neither of you comment on your suddenly linked hands before following Will out the door, curiosity getting the better of you.

You hear the commotion before you see it.

The sound of your mothers shrill voice is all-too familiar, and it echoes now. Bouncing off trees, sinking into the dirt, giving you a blistering headache that immediately makes you want to turn around and pretend you never heard it. But there's a crowd, an ocean of demigods, all with weapons and angry expressions trained on the woman who raised you - the woman who tried raising you - and despite the anger you once felt towards her, you pick up your pace, rush into the scene and say, "Ay! Get that spear out of my face!"

The demigod - you don't even know who she is - stumbles back, gaping at you. You don't give her the time of day, instead pivoting on your heel towards your mother.

There she is, stood in the middle of the clearing with her arms above her head, screaming up at the sky. Blood coats her elbows and knees. Chiron and Emma are beside her, but it seems like both of them have given up trying to make her see sense; they simply stare, Emma with tears in her eyes, Chiron looking like he's on the verge of booting her out of camp right this instant.

Leo stumbles to your side and grabs your arm. "What's wrong with her?"

You touch your mum's arm. "Mum, you're being proper embarrassing right now."

She spins. Her hair is matted, the product of having not been washed in weeks. Her eyes are dark, lips chapped and bitten, utterly destroyed. You've seen her when she's having one of her episodes, but this is worse. This is the worst you've ever seen it. It breaks your heart, even though it shouldn't. It was only last night she was basically calling you worthless, a mistake, the reason her little affair with a Greek god didn't work out.

You swallow. "Mum. . . It's me."

"Emma?"

You bite your lip, trying to ignore how much that hurts. "Uh. . . not quite, but nearly. Emma's over there."

"Don't get me involved in this," Emma spits, roughly swiping a hand across her cheek. "I don't want anything to do with her."

Your heart judders. Your mother's eyes narrow, like she's taking a little longer to process her first childs words. You decide to step in before she has a chance to.

"No, Mum, I'm not Emma, I'm Y/N. I'm here to - uh - take you home."

As soon as you say it, you want to curl in on yourself. It's a truth you've been trying to avoid these past few weeks, the idea of finally breaking away from camp and heading back to your shitty apartment with your shitty mother to live a shitty life of online classes and pretending everything is normal and okay. Behind you, Leo mumbles, "Sorry, what was that?" which hurts your heart even more. "Yeah," you continue, taking another timid step towards her. A branch cracks beneath your foot, and your mother flinches, looks up into the sky like the sound of a god appearing will be nothing more than a simple crack.

"Yeah, Mum, we're gonna go home, and you're gonna get some rest, okay? You look exhausted."

"Exhausted," she mumbles. "Home."

"Home, yeah. Remember home? We liked it there. Things were normal there."

Mum's nostrils flare. "Normal-"

"But our house is also where Ares thinks we are right now!" you barrel on. "He's got our address in his little address book - he doesn't actually know we're at Camp Half-Blood right now."

Her shoulders deflate, eyes brightening. "Oh. You're right. He's probably visited so many times and we haven't even been there! He's going to be so angry!"

"So, so angry." You wrap your arm around her shoulder, gently drawing her away from the crowd of angry demigods, of sobbing sisters and confused centaurs. You meet Leo's eyes only once, and it's enough to shatter your being, enough for the burning of tears to erupt through your senses. You want to turn and run to him, tell him you're sorry, promise to never leave him, but the feelings are so extraordinary and so weird, unfamiliar, that you can't.

You turn your gaze to the floor and guide your mother through the crowd towards the Big House, uttering words about home and comfort, and going back to a life you want to abandon for good. You pretend it's all okay, because that's all you've ever known.

----

Leo finds you that same night.

You left your mother in Chiron's care. She fell asleep immediately, and you were free to do what you wanted after that, but the thought of parading through Camp Half-Blood after being in the centre of such a weird scene made your stomach curl, so you stayed by her side until you were positive most of the campers were in bed, sleeping.

Except Leo, of course.

He sits down in the grass, shoulder brushing yours. You don't look over; you know it's him just from the scent of oil, and the way he cracks his knuckles, and the way he awkwardly coughs into the darkness. These are all little things of him you have memorised. Each one makes your heart ache.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "You don't have to do all that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Stick up for her. Make her comfortable.

" You shrug. "I know I don't."

"So why do you do it?"

"Because she's my mum."

"She's barely your mum. She doesn't even do the bare minimum for you."

True. Painfully, awkwardly true.

You shrug again. Leo sighs, tilting his head back. When you glance over, you see him gazing up at the stars, jaw clenched in a way that throws off the soft features of his face you have grown so used to seeing. You don't like it.

You reach over and poke his cheek in an attempt to make him loosen up. He closes his eyes. "I don't get it."

"What?"

"Why you have to be the one taking care of her when she's never taken care of you."

You swallow thickly. "I'm not. . . I'm not taking care of her. I'm just-"

"Then what was that back there?"

"That was me trying to make sure my mum didn't get a spear shoved down her throat. It's basic human decency, Leo."

He purses his lips, like this is something he has never heard of.

You sigh, slumping back against a tree. "I don't hate my mum, you know; she's done some fucked up stuff to me, but I don't hate her."

Leo stares at you. His eyes are lazors, flames, beams pouring into the side of your head, and you want to look at him, but you think it would be a very bad idea right now.

Neither of you say anything for what feels like forever, which is a big deal when sitting with someone like Leo Valdez. The only noise filling in the silence is the steady drip of rain drops rolling down the leaves, bouncing against the lakes surface. A few ocean creatures peak their heads up, examine the scene, duck back beneath the water.

And then, "Are you actually leaving?"

You bite back a sob. "You didn't expect me to stay here forever, did you?"

Leo doesn't respond.

"She's not well here," you continue, tilting your head back. The moon waves at you. The stars smile. "She was bad at home, but being here - around this kind of thing - it's going to drive her insane."

"She's a grown woman."

"Ares messed her up." It's the first time you've said it out loud, the truth. Your mother was okay before she met that man. You've heard stories from your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, of the days when your mum was winning medals for her skills in ballet, the days she was getting awards for her academic success, the days where she played mediator in a house full of people who could never see eye-to-eye on anything. You listened to them with only half-interest, because you never fully believed them. You had lived with the crazy side of her for too long by that point.

But it's true. Ares waltzed into her life, promised her the world, gave her this child with skills beyond human comprehension, gave her a taste of real love for the first time in her life - and then he left.

"Why do gods think they can just get away with that?" you find yourself asking before you can stop. "Mess with people's lives like that. Why do they think that's okay?"

Leo sighs. "They run the world. They can do whatever they want."

"That seems really unfair."

"Yeah, well, it's also unfair that you have to give up your own happiness for your mum."

You close your eyes; there it is again, the topic breached. Leo doesn't understand that this is all you've ever known - caring for her, making sure she's okay, being ignored and neglected because you're not the gods child. He doesn't understand that this has been your life from day one. You were never given a chance to mind it. You were never given a chance to know anything else.

"You know, I think this place could really benefit with someone like you."

You look at him. "You're just saying that."

He shrugs, picking up a pebble and lobbing it at the lake. Always keeping his hands moving, never being still. "Maybe. Maybe I'm just a little desperate for you to stay." He looks at you. "Is that weird?"

You swallow, unable to respond, because you want to tell him no, no of course it's not weird, please keep talking and I'll stay, I'll stay here with you, I'll never leave, I never wanted to leave in the first place.

Leo looks down at his hands, fingers fiddling with the threads dangling from his overalls. "Sorry. I - I didn't mean to - like - put you on the spot or anything. I just care about you. A lot. And I hate seeing you upset. It bothers me."

The way it says it, words spoken through gritted teeth, makes your heart stutter. Oddly, it reminds you of those days spent laughing in Bunker 9, calling him stupid as he tried so hard to keep you amused, like he wanted to keep your attention as firm as possible so you wouldn't get up and leave. For once in your life, someone wants you to stay.

And it's sad - heartbreaking, even - that you have been cursed with these circumstances, that the mere notion of staying at Camp Half-Blood is so beyond reality; you're no demigod. Even if your mother were to head home on her own, do you a favour for once, the chances of Chiron being allowed to let you stay are incredibly, incredibly slim. You won't entertain the idea. You won't get your hopes up like that. You won't play to your own feelings, because that has never done anything for you, nothing but leave you in a state of despair.

And so, you keep quiet, staring out over the lake with Leo by your side, his hands working, his mind probably racing, your heart a steady thump in the distance.

---

The next day, you are ready to leave.

You packed all your things the night before. You said all your goodbyes the night before. You and Emma got into a brutal argument the night before, and now you're stood before her, trembling from head to toe as you patiently wait for Chiron to lead your mother to Thalia's pine tree so the both of you can finally be let go.

Emma stares at you. She's been doing that since last night, her hands balled into fists, jaw strong, so she looks a little bit like her father; you can say that now. You hate him. You think you'd punch him in the face if you ever saw him.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this for her."

"I never understood why you hate her so much - you're the one she actually cares about."

Emma grits her teeth, looking to the ground in that way she so often does when she's trying not to punch you square in the face. "That's not the point."

"You don't even deny it any more," you scoff. "You've just come to terms with the fact that she basically worships the ground you walk on. How about you start understanding how lucky you are rather than giving me grief for taking care of her?"

"Taking care of her?" Emma bursts. "She's your mother! She should be taking care of you!"

"Right, but that's not the way things have turned out, so we might as well cut the shit now before-"

"Leo spoke to me, you know." You freeze. Your mouth stays open, eyes widening; Leo is the absolute last thing you want to talk about right now, not after last night, not after hearing the hint of heartbreak in his voice when he realised it was too late, you were too far gone, there was no keeping you.

Emma nods, even though you haven't said anything, even though you can do nothing but stare at her in complete shock and bewilderment. "Yeah, Leo Valdez, the boy you're head over heels in love with."

You splutter. "What?"

"Oh, don't play dumb! I've seen the way you are with each other. I've seen the way you look at him. I've seen the way he looks at you, and for fuck sake Y/N, you shouldn't have to give all that up for someone like her!"

"That person you're on about is our mother!"

"And what? That means you have to put your entire life on hold for her?" Emma drops her sword in a move close to desperation, startling you when she barrels forward and grabs your shoulders. She holds you at arms length, eyes like fire. "You're my only little sibling, Y/N; it's my job more than anything else to look after you, and I'm not going to sit back and let your selflessness ruin your whole life."

You blink, and only then do the tears make an appearance. You think of Leo, even though you hate it, even though you've already said your goodbyes to him and you should just leave it at that. He hugged you, and you hugged him, and you apologised and he told you there was nothing to be sorry for - it was the perfect potential ending, but you don't want it to be over.

Emma is right; you're jeopardising your own happiness for this woman.

Emma stares at you, the tears leaking from your eyes. Her own lower lip trembles, but she's Emma, so she won't start crying. Not properly.

You inhale shakily, ducking your head down. "I can't let her go home on her own, Em. She'll never make it. She'll never agree to go if she doesn't have someone with her."

"So I'll go."

You freeze. "What?"

Emma tilts her head forward, catching your eye. "I said, I'll go. I'll take her home, get her settled, and then I'll get someone to come take care of her - a professional. Someone who should have been there for her a long bloody time ago. You can stay here for a while."

Your heart thunders. You're certain you've heard her wrong, because this isn't right - none of this is right. Emma's the demigod. She should be the one staying here whilst you get shipped off back home with your mother. That's how things have always been, how things were always meant to be. But when you look back at your older sister now, there is no glimmer of amusement in her eyes; she's being serious, more serious than you've ever seen her before.

She squeezes your shoulders, curling her stubby nails into the fabric of your hoodie. "I mean it, Y/N. If you want to stay here-"

"I do," you croak out. "I really, really do."

"For Leo?"

You blink.

Emma grins. "For Leo." She pats your shoulder, nearly knocking you off your feet. "Go, before her and Chiron make an appearance. I think Valdez is-"

But you don't let her finish. You know where Leo is even without her input, and so you throw yourself into her arms, squeal a thank you in her ear before sprinting off down the hill towards Bunker 9.

The gods should be yelling at you right now, casting lightning and rain and every other deadly element down upon you, because this must be so far out of the rule book. This must be going entirely against everything they have ever set up, every rule they have laid out - a mortal in one of their demigod camps? A mortal hanging around their children like their even close to being equal. Complete blasphemy.

But you don't care. Not when you round the corner to see the door to Bunker 9 already wide open, little flashes of Leo Valdez skimming past the entryway.

You pause in the trees, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of what he is doing, and it is only then do you see the spanner smash against one of the windows. The glass doesn't shatter, but it shakes and it makes a loud noise, and it's followed closely by Leo yelling out a curse that would get him blown to smithereens if his father were to hear it.

You sprint towards the door. "Leo?"

He spins around, eyes widening. He grips his hand, blood seeping from one of his fingers, dribbling down his wrist and landing upon his boots. He doesn't seem to care, though, simply staring at you in shock.

And then, "Y/N?"

You throw yourself forward, grabbing his wrist. The blood from his gets caught beneath your fingers, but you don't care. You stare at it, shaking your head, whispering his name over and over, and all he can do is stare at you, dumbfounded, before he exclaims, "Hey, wait!" and stumbles back, yanking his hand from your grip in the process.

"Leo, let me have a look at that-"

"You shouldn't be here right now!"

"Okay, Leo, yes, we'll discuss that later, but please, let me look at your hand. What the hell did you even do?"

You reach for him, but he's like a wild animal, startled and afraid. He stumbles back, nearly tripping over a toolbox discarded on the floor. You notice the mess that wasn't there this morning, the tools laying everywhere, sheets of torn paper thrown left, right and centre, broken glass littering the hard floor.

"Jesus, Leo," you gasp. "What have you been doing in here?"

"Why are you back? Why aren't you away yet?"

You lift your gaze, narrowing your eyes. "If you want me to go, you can just say so." And right now, looking at the scene around you and the state of Leo's hand, and his startled expression, you don't even feel bad that he very well might just ask you to turn and leave. Your mind is preoccupied, wanting nothing more than to grab him and force him to shut up so you can pay some attention to the gaping wound on the tip of his finger. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. He's staring at you, unable to move, small of his back pressed against the workbench. The blood welling in his fingertip looks to only be getting worse.

"Leo," you say softly. "Please, can we talk about this later?"

He doesn't respond, but he doesn't run away when you take a step towards him, either. His eyes never leave your own as you reach for his hand and pull him towards a chair in the corner, slowly pushing him into it. You softly ask him to reach into that magic toolbelt of his to pull out some medical supplies, and he does so with trembling hands, never saying a word, never really needing to.

You get to work in silence, trying to ignore the thumping of your own heart, the tremble of your own hands, the desperate need you have to just apologise over and over and over for scaring him so bad, for startling him to the point where he can't even form a full sentence, to the point where he was willing to run away from you.

You clean the wound and bandage it the best way you can, remembering all those times as a child when you would cut yourself by accident and your mum would be too dazed or too neglectful to take you to the hospital or do anything about it herself.

Leo watches your hands working wonders until it's all finally complete and you step back, admiring your handiwork with a pleased grin on your face. "Not too shabby."

Leo swallows. Finally you take the time to look at him, his pale face and startled eyes; he looks like he's on the verge of tears, which really isn't the reaction you were hoping to receive when you walked back into Bunker 9.

You fold your arms over your chest, nibbling your bottom lip as you say, "I'm staying."

Leo exhales shakily. "I don't get it. Last night you were so adamant-"

"I know. I know I was, but I never wanted to go in the first place."

"So why-"

"Emma made me realise some things." You push yourself onto the workbench behind you, the very same spot you always found yourself sitting when Leo is working away on one of his projects. You used to sit with your legs pulled beneath you, watching him work in silence.

He stares at you. "I fully prepared myself to never see you again."

You wince. "I'm sorry."

And then he's scrambling out of his chair, stumbling between your legs, grabbing your hands, tugging them into his chest, all in that order. You gasp at the touch, the rough fabric of his plaster rubbing against your wrist, the forever warm touch of his skin so familiar yet you crave it so badly.

He's shaking his head, mumbling "No," on repeat beneath his breath

. "Leo. . ."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad," he says. "So don't apologise to me again, alright? I don't want it. I don't need it - all that matters now is that you're here, and you - you said you're staying." He looks up, almost timid. "Did I hear that right?"

You nod, dazed; he's not mad. He's happy. He's smiling, and his eyes are doing that thing again where they glint and they crease into crescents, and he looks so cute, so happy, so like the Leo you've come to know and love so deeply. It makes your heart stutter. It makes this entire thing so, so worth it.

He grins. "Oh gods, Y/N, you scared the shit out of me. I nearly tore this place to the ground-"

"I can see that," you croak.

He winces, glancing awkwardly over his shoulder. "I didn't mean to - It was honestly an accident, but-"

"It's okay, Leo." His head snaps back round.

"It's okay?"

"It's all okay."

You reach forward, winding your arm around his neck, dragging him closer. His curls flood through your fingers, his eyes fluttering closed for a split second before he opens them again and says, "Can I kiss you?"

You nod, because of course he can. He does just that, pressing his lips to yours delicately, so, so delicately, like he's afraid you'll shatter. His hands are tender on your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle, mindless circles into the fabric of your shirt, and it's all so slow, all so gentle, but your heart is exploding into constellations, sprinkling over your being in a way you have never experienced before.

For someone who is never still, never calm, never quiet, his kisses are like a warm summer afternoon spent wading along a beach. They are aquamarine waters and birds chirping around a morning sunrise. They are everything and nothing and more than enough but never enough all in the same breath.

He pulls away first, uncertain, glancing nervously into your eyes as he slowly releases you. He takes a steady step back, rubbing the back of his neck, and it takes everything in you not to pull him back in.

Instead you laugh, swinging your legs back and forth like a giddy child. "Don't look so sheepish or I'll think you've poisoned me."

"I'm not very good at that," he mumbles. "Machines don't usually need kissed, so I don't tend to do it that often."

"I'd hope not." You grab his hand, pulling him back between your knees. "I'm sorry for scaring you earlier."

He opens his mouth, ready to protest your apologies once again, but you cut him off with five fingertips pressed to his lips. His eyes cross over as he glares at them, making you giggle. "I know you said I shouldn't apologise, but I shouldn't have been so. . . hasty. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you. I should have let you speak-"

"I don't say very interesting things."

"You say the most interesting things." You drop your hand, intertwine your fingers with his. "But I'm staying, Leo. I promise." He exhales shakily, like this is what he has been waiting to hear for a while now; it breaks your heart, rejuvenates you at the same time, and you realise suddenly just how awful it would have been to pack up your stuff and head home, to live a life without Leo Valdez in it.

---

Your mother looks a little better. A little healthier. A little happier.

Emma sits beside her, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, a denim jacket over the top. She looks happy, too, a little exhausted, but you never expected anything less. She's still smiling, though, and when her face appears in the Iris message, she lets out a happy sigh of relief.

"I thought you two would fuck it up."

"Go to hell, Emma," says Leo.

You chuckle, leaning back in your seat; it's been two weeks since Mum and Emma went back to the flat together, two weeks since you agreed to spend the rest of your summer at Camp Half-Blood, working on a relationship with Leo Valdez. It's been a grand two weeks, yes, but you still have responsibilities back in the real world.

"So, how's it going?" you ask. "Mum, you're still going to therapy, aren't you?"

"Yes," Mum mumbles, sounding more like an anguished teenager than anything else. "I've told you both already, I don't need it - I got over Ares years ago. I have my own family now - he can go to hell."

"Tartarus," Leo corrects.

"Whatever."

You grin. It's been so long - so long - since you've heard your mum mention you in the same context as Emma, including your name in the same sentence as the word family. Leo must notice your sudden shift in mood, as he chuckles, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back. He does that sometimes, letting you know he's there, like you'd ever forget. You reach behind you and tangle your fingers with his, subtly placing your joined hands in your lap.

"A few more weeks," you tell her. "That's all you have to endure, and then they're putting you on that trial, aren't they?"

"Apparently," Mum replies. "I was thinking of coming to visit you."

You and Emma share a look - the last time your mother was at Camp Half-Blood, things didn't exactly go well. The energy of this place drove her insane, reminded her of days with Ares, reminded her she'd been abandoned by the one man she ever loved.

Leo cuts in. "Oh, no! I was hoping Y/N and I could come out there and visit you guys for the week!"

Your head whips round. "You were?"

"Well, yeah." Leo rolls his eyes, faux exasperation. "I did tell you about it. I haven't been back to your house since the giant threw that boulder through your window." He rubs his finger along your scarred, damaged knuckles, forever torn from the boulder that destroyed all your nerve endings. "I think it would be a grand old time, personally."

"I agree," Emma chimes in. "And it would be less stressful for us - we can just wait here for them to arrive, and you still get to see Y/N!"

Mum hums, thoughtful, and for just a second, you're certain she's going to revert back to her old ways. She's going to call you scum, pretend you don't exist, make you feel like shit all over again; judging by the sudden grip Leo has on your hand, he thinks the exact same thing. You thought this was over with. You thought your Mum had gotten better, that she finally realised you are her child, too, and-

"I guess it would be a lot less hassle."

Leo exhales. "Great! It's a date."

"For you two, maybe," Emma grumbles. "Look, we have to leave in two minutes, so this is goodbye."

"Jeez, Em, tell us how you really feel."

"See you in a few weeks, assholes!" And before you or Leo can respond, the Iris message is flickering to a close, leaving you and Leo alone in Bunker 9.

It's silent for a few seconds. Leo grips your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles, and it suddenly feels so, so hard not to cry.

"She's getting so much better," you choke out.

Leo's head snaps round, eyes widening at the crack in your voice. "Hey, no. Don't you start crying on me, okay? This is a good thing! Good!" He cups your face, forcing you to look at him. He has that goofy look, his eyebrows stitched together, his lips pursed; it makes you laugh every time.

You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists just to keep the feel of him against you for a little longer. "I'm not going to cry. I'm not a bitch."

"It's all good here, Y/N," he says. "I always told you it's all good here."

And with his hands on your face, his eyes gazing into your own, the sweet weather of Camp Half-Blood flourishing outside, you know he's telling the truth. It's all good.

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lavenderek · 4 years ago

Note

Why were you disappointed by the Howl's Moving Castle movie? I think I read the book years ago, but I don't remember much about it

i'm gonna critique the gibbly movie and it's my understanding that it's a special movie for a lot of people so if that's you feel free to skip this one

so i was delighted and enchanted by the book, which has only twice to date not made the movie a devastating letdown, so my dear friend sending me this book was pretty much signing a contract in her own blood accepting that i would be cranky about the movie. i'm not really a ghibli person either, like i can appreciate the artistry and value in them, and i'll watch it if the people i'm with really need to watch princess mononoke or whatever, but i just don't go out of my way to watch them. (i like reading meta about spirited away, though.)

i did go out of my way to watch this one because i loved the book so much.

it's important to remember the culture in which the movie was made as opposed to the culture in which the book was made. howl is welsh, if that says anything to you. (his name is howell, and he adopted the name howl to run from himself and seem more magical. i love him and movie howl had none of those elements except for when he told us he was a coward and i was like. ok lol, i'll jot that down because i didn't see it in the text)

so i'm not necessarily surprised by the creative changes they made, but i am confused, because those changes drastically affect the characterization, the character motivations, and the pacing of the story.

(i also was only able to get my hands on the dub and i loathe and detest christian bale as howl lmfao but that's subjective)

so first of all, does movie sophie, like, want anything? she's flawless as a character. even though she has a completely different personality as an old lady than she does as a young lady, there's nothing wrong with her. everybody is fond of her, she's shy, she's gentle, she's beautiful, and she's kind, and her only motivation in the whole movie is this vague desire to cure the curse, but even then she doesn't work on it much at all. her life before howl is about being buffeted around like a leaf in the wind, and her life after howl is about being buffeted around like a cow in a twister. sophie in the movie is a blank slate. she is insecure about her looks (seriously, they couldn't even give her like a crooked nose or something, only doll-faced, thin, pale women over here), and her confessing this and crying about it for about four seconds was the first truly deep emotional response i had seen of her. i cried when she cried, who doesn't grapple with feelings of inadequacy? then the kid came out and she was like, okay, i'm done being upset now :)

second of all, howl is a little eccentric, but mostly he's just a glorious gentleman who has a messy room and one (1) overly dramatic depressive episode. it was disturbing to me as a viewer because it was violent and came out of nowhere, and it never comes back again lmao. it was so bizarre, he's introduced as this suave, debonair man in a cape, and he stays that way the entire movie, except for a weird moment in the middle where he screams at sophie naked and then lists the character flaws that we the viewers have never witnessed. why does he like sophie? why does sophie like him?

why did they turn michael into a child? i just don't see what that added to the story lmao. i get them taking out the complexity of secrets involving sophie's decidedly interchangeable sisters and their mystery beaus, it's a lot to fit into a little movie; but like, why did they turn him into a child though lmao

there's a lot of fatphobia in the movie too.

the change that upset me the most, though, was that the element of sophie having the ability to influence things without her knowledge was totally abandoned. like i said, things just sort of happen to her. in the book, her hats are the most lovely because she's inadvertently cast spells on them to make whoever wears them seem alluring or mysterious to people. the witch curses her because she recognizes these little spells and believes sophie's trying and failing to trick her (and also because sophie snaps at her lmao, why is movie sophie only an asshole when she's old? leave my daughter alone).

book sophie unknowingly protects howl by worrying over his cape (which she previously shredded because she got mad at him, i love her), she unknowingly enchants the scarecrow by helping it stand and complimenting it. she does that the entire book. she also starts the book already feeling sort of dull and trapped, and spends the story trying desperately to solve mysteries and protect loved ones. movie sophie doesn't like, sit around and knit demurely, don't get me wrong; but all the major plot points are things that howl makes happen to her lol.

i think the scarecrow is an excellent representation of book sophie's inner struggles. it's something she inadvertently enchanted, and she doesn't understand it, so she runs from it. she's terrified of the thing. in that way it kind of stands in for her own agency: only when she was forcibly in disguise did she feel free to find out what she wants her life to look like, and that kind of power is foreign and frightening to her. i loved that for her.

and very late in the book, howl reveals that he knew all along she was under a spell, that he tried to get rid of it out of curiosity (book howl doesn't seem to notice that he's just as imperious and nosy as sophie is), but she resisted it. he couldn't get the spell off. so he assumed she wanted to stay that way and let her be about it. so basically it's very huck finn on the raft, she realizes that in running to get away, she was already away. she had that agency all along.

all of that was missing from movie sophie. the idea of her inadvertently hanging on to the curse is still there, we see that she sort of fades back to her young self while she's asleep (not the case in the book, we know this because howl doesn't know what she looks like until she turns back in the end); but she doesn't seem to gain any knowledge about herself because of this. the only time she seems to have any personal drive, it's to learn about and help howl. her inner struggles are about howl. and i hated movie howl lmao, i hated his design and i hated his voice and i hated how like, patronizing he was to everyone around him. book howl was a condescending dick at times and just weird and distant at others, but he never came across like he was absolutely positive he was seducing sophie at any given moment. it was clear that he was the star of the movie and sophie was just the audience stand in to be like 🤩🥸🧐

the scarecrow who is a prince was the most hilariously egregious moment in the entire movie. in the book, the missing prince is introduced as a plot in the beginning and is referenced repeatedly throughout. and he's a major player in the climax. in the movie, it's the last like five minutes of the film and the scarecrow turns into a dapper boy with bread for hair and is like, "you've cured me! i'm a prince who went missing from a nearby kingdom and i was cursed but now i'm free." and i was like NICE, so we just found out there's a nearby kingdom that has a prince who's been missing. love that for us

the book had a lot of themes that i don't often encounter in fantasy novels - themes of female agency, of disguise, and of chaos. the chaos is my favorite part, every chapter is equally chaotic at various levels. you'll have michael fretting over some spell, sophie fretting over her own spell, howl trying to get someone in disguise to fall in love with him, THAT someone pining over michael, and all the while sophie and howl are bickering because she is cleaning (it seems like she cleans to clean up her mind) and he doesnt want her to (he is afraid of change and of reality), and he needs a huge favor of her, and she needs to wheedle out of it, and she promised calcifer she would free him, and calcifer is repeatedly promising to die of not being appreciated enough, and everybody is having three arguments at once. it's like that in every chapter, culminating in the moment howl and sophie realize they're in love, and they stand clasping hands and sort of smiling at each other in the middle of a room full of panicking and perplexed people just yelling over each other lmfao. surrounded by chaos and no longer thrown by it, rooted there in the middle of it, stabilizing each other in a way. i loved that. i actually flipped back a few pages so i could read that moment again.

and it seemed to me that the movie tried to imply that with visual chaos, but everything else was really quite linear and simple. everything was very airy. and since the conflama and the general atmosphere and character dynamics of the book is what made me fall in love with it, the movie didn't work for me.

tumblr user door pointed out that the book and the movie are extremely different and she appreciates them both as separate entities, and she's wise and correct; i knew this and i tried so hard to engage with the movie on its own terms. but i couldn't divorce them in my mind. i felt the same way about ella enchanted and practical magic. i cant stop thinking like, i wish they hadn't gotten rid of x, i wish they hadn't added this weird element of y.

also it was boring. i checked to see how much more was left three times. sorry. i can't express enough how little i cared about the plot with the witch and somebody's secretly evil boss and time traveling to yell at howl or something, because i didn't connect with the characters. and the feathers growing out of howl triggered my weird phobia about things being embedded in skin. i'm skeeved just remembering it.

anyway, yeah. the movie was beautifully animated and whatever atmosphere they were going for was pretty consistent throughout. oh and i LOVED calcifer. he was my favorite in both the book and the movie. in fact, he was the only character in the movie who they didn't really change, he was petty and bitchy in both versions. i loved him. he's like, "SHE FED ME SOMETHING YUCKY" my perfect, horrible boy.

oh and. book sophie was a redhead. that's all.

after i finished the book i tried to draw how imagined them:

couldn't finish it though, i wasn't super jazzed about how it was coming out.

she's sitting in like, a window well altering a coat of his without permission. and he's like, i guess i'll have to wear this one instead, and she's like, i guess you will

#haters #who is this even #long post #howell's mobile home #talking out of my ass

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breanime · 5 years ago

Note

I know your getting back together headcannon was a while ago, but I would die for one with Rio 😭 What did he do? How'd he get you back??

Boy, this got very long...

*gif not mine*

So Rio broke up with you

“I can’t have you fucking with my money,” he hissed at you

“All I did,” you argued back, “was try to help you make more money! How was I supposed to know it would end up like this?”

This, by the way, was a building engulfed in flames behind you

“I don’t need your help! I don’t need you!”

And that was that

His shit was cleared out of your place by the time you got back home

And you knew Rio, he was too pissed and too stubborn so...

...you moved on

It was hard, of course, but you refused to wallow

If Rio insisted on keeping you at arms’ length and not appreciating your efforts to help him

Then fine

You decided that you didn’t need him

(but you did)

and you decided that you didn’t love him anymore

(but you did)

And so when your sister said she wanted you to meet her new boss, you did

And when he asked you out, you said yes

He wasn’t necessarily your type

(read: he didn’t have a laugh that you could feel in your chest, he didn’t have long, nimble fingers that fascinated you, and he didn’t have a distinctive tattoo on his neck...)

But he was nice, and you had a good enough time with him

You were with him, your hand in his, when the two of you discovered his car in the parking garage of his building....

....smashed to hell

It looked like someone took a crow bar to it

And as he gaped and gasped, calling the police as he assessed the (significant) damage to his car

You sighed

This had Rio written all over it

So much so, in fact, that five days later, when two officers came to your apartment with a picture of Rio and a blurry video clip that looked like him casually strolling into the garage with a crow bar in his hands, you did what came naturally to you when it came to Rio...

... you lied

“Oh,” you laughed, “that’s just Christopher. He does odd jobs for me sometimes, in fact, he was there that morning because he was helping me fix something...”

“...at your boyfriend’s place of work?” Cop One asked drily

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you quipped back, “and yes. I’ll sign whatever you need me to sign to say that Christopher didn’t do this”

Cop One tried to poke more holes in your story, but Cop Two could tell that you weren’t budging

Before they left, Cop Two cleared her throat and turned to you

“Ma’mm, just... Whatever little love triangle the three of you got going on here, try to minimize the property damage, okay?”

And you couldn’t help but laugh

You called your not-boyfriend after they left and told him things weren’t going to work out between you two

And then you put on your shoes, grabbed your purse, and made the decision to go to Rio’s warehouse and tell him that you loved him

And that you never stopped loving him, because clearly, he hadn’t stopped loving you

But when you opened your door, Rio was waiting on the other side of it

“So I guess I was wrong,” he said casually, his dark eyes looking you up and down, “I do need you.”

He took a step towards you. “Why’d you tell the cops I was there for you? Why didn’t you rat?”

“How do you even know that?” You asked back

“Lady cop is on my payroll,” he answered easily, “She called me, told me how you gave me an alibi--even used my least threatening alias... Why?”

You frowned. “You know why.”

“Yeah...” He took another step, and now he was directly in front of you, his hand on your chin, lifting your face up so that he could look right in your eye. “...I know. But I want you to say it.”

“Because,” you said softly, “I still love you.”

Rio leaned down and kissed you then, and you knew that he would never leave you again

And you were right

He kept you at his side as his Queen, and anytime he needed an alibi--

--or a building set on fire--

--he looked to you

When You Break Up With Him

You were over it

You were over the long gaps of seeing Rio

You were over his vague excuses

You were over hearing “I had to handle some business”, “don’t worry about it”, “stay in your lane” come out of his mouth

You were over being treated like you were a child who couldn’t handle the reality of what Rio did for a living

You were over being in a relationship by yourself

So you packed your shit, tears in your eyes

The most communication you’d had with Rio that week had been a text that said: “I’ll be back when I finish here” followed by “so don’t worry about it”

And that had been it

You loved him, you loved him so much it hurt--

but you couldn’t keep doing this

You were almost done packing your clothes when you heard a creak in the floor, and you looked up to see Rio staring at you

He did that a lot--coming in quietly, his footsteps almost inaudible as he moved, but usually he scared you to make you laugh, kissing you as you whined about being startled

But now he was staring at you with wide, dark eyes

He had bruises on his face, and when you looked down, you saw his knuckles had scrapes on them, but otherwise, he looked fine

“What’re you doing?” He asked, his eyes going from the bags and boxes all over the room to you

“I...” You blinked back tears. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rio was glaring now, and he walked over to you, his steps bringing him forward quickly, and put his hand on your neck

His grip was firm--not painful--the possessiveness clear in his touch

And in his eyes

“Oh, you think you’re cute?” He asked. “Try again.”

“I’m sick and tired of being alone,” you answered honestly, “and I’m sick and tired of you always blowing me off.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Yes it is!” You pushed at his chest, making him take a small step back. “You keep pushing me out, Rio, I can’t take it!”

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he argued, “I’m out here selling Monopoly money with suburban bitches, dodging the Feds, defending my territory--I gotta keep my personal life separated from that shit!”

“There’s a difference between keeping things separate and just abandoning me!” You moved past him, bumping your shoulder against him. “Look, you want to be able to ‘do what you do’,” you imitated him, “without having to answer to anyone--well now you can!”

“So you’re really gonna leave?” He asked, his hands in his pockets. You could see him building up his walls again. “You don’t like the way I treat you?”

You sighed. You didn’t want to argue with him. You wanted to stay with him, you really did, but you refused to live like this

It was a lose-lose situation

“I just have to go,” you said, your voice tired.

“Yeah...” He nodded, his eyes hard. “...Well,” he took his hands out of his pocket, shrugging. “Don’t let me stop you.”

And you didn’t

Rio watched you leave, his eyes on your back the entire time

You spent the night at your best friend’s house, crying in her guest room

She was gone when you woke up in the late afternoon, but she left you a spare key

You got up, showered, got dressed, cried some more, and then decided to go get something to eat

When you opened the door, Rio was on the other side

He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, his eyes red

“Rio,” you gasped out

“Get in the car,” he said back

You looked behind him to see a black car, and you raised an eyebrow

“Please,” he added

You did, and Rio drove you to the edge of town, to a storage unit that you had assumed was shut down

“I want to show you something,” he said as he opened your car door, “and after I show you, if you still want to leave...” He dipped his head down. “...I’ll let you go.”

You followed him to the last unit, both of you walking in complete silence

Rio turned to you, his hand on the lock, and looked you in the eyes

“You know I love you, right?”

You nodded. “I know.”

“And you know that... all of this... The way I’ve been treating you isn’t because I don’t trust you or because I don’t want to be honest with you...” He paused. “Nah, you don’t know that... But it’s true. I love you,” he said, “and I thought the way I was doing things was what was best for you, but... It’s not. I know that now.” He reached over and lifted your chin, his dark eyes on yours. “I want us to be partners--for real. So I’m gonna show you something, and you can do what you want with it, but... I need you to know that you’re the only person I trust.”

He opened up the unit, and your eyes widened

There were pallets of cash stacked up throughout the unit and a file cabinet off to the side

Rio walked over to the cabinet, opened up a drawer, and reached in

He held out a file to you, and you took it

It was full of information on a Federal Agent, and his face looked familiar

“Who’s Agent Turner?” You asked

“Agent who was investigating me,” Rio answered, “Remember when I was gone for those few months? Right before we got the new apartment?”

You nodded. Rio had given you some vague explanation about “business” and having to do some “side job” when you’d asked where he’d been

“I had him killed,” Rio explained, “In this cabinet is information on every agent, cop, lawyer, and judge I’ve ever had killed or intimidated. Nobody knows this unit exists except me...

...and you.”

You nodded, handing him the file back. You knew what this meant, what Rio was trying to tell you

“I need to be in on things,” you said, and Rio nodded, “I need to know what’s going on.”

“I can do that, mama.”

“I want to be a part of this,” you added.

Rio nodded again, licking his lips. “Okay. But you can’t just jump in,” he said, “you gotta do something for me first.”

“What?”

“Come back,” he answered, his eyes boring into yours, “Come back to me, baby.”

Your eyes filled with tears, and you ran to his arms

Rio held you tightly, and you could feel how much he needed you in his touch

“I love you,” you said into his chest

“Love you too,” he kissed the top of your head, “Let’s go home.”

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! I’m adding my taglist because this got HELLA long

Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @charlylama @realduckvader @whovianayesha @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily @fanfictionrecommendations-com @maxslime-blog @songforhema @lucielandss @themadhatter92 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @iaintnofurry @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @leahnicole1219 @evanlys19 @binbons-is-theloml @aikeia @bitch-imma-head-out @witchygagirl @geeksareunique @sparrows-books @nyxxnoxx @justvnash @truly-insatiable

Rio Taglist: @gemini0410 @sweetybuzz25 @glimmerglittergirl @gensneverland @jamielennkeeler @angels-pie @hermionetriskatniss

#rio x reader #rio imagine #rio good girls #good girls rio

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btsqualityy · 4 years ago

Text

Second Pregnancy Series Q&A #2

Yoongi x Reader

Describe Kamryn, looks and personality wise.

“She looks a lot like Y/N, almost more than Kins does,” Yoongi smiled.

“Her personality is more like mines too, so she’s very sassy and opinionated and loud and very fiery,” you giggled.

Since Kam is a literal baby version of reader (physical and personality), what trait do you think she got from Yoongi?

“She definitely has Yoongi’s heart,” you said. “She’s very loving but just like Yoongi, she kind of has her own way of showing it.”

How was your first pregnancy different from your second?

“My pregnancy with Kam felt so much longer than my pregnancy with Kins did,” you groaned. “It literally felt like I was pregnant with Kam for forever, which is probably a result of her being almost a week overdue.”

Is Kamryn a daddy’s or mama’s girl?

“She’s definitely a daddy’s girl. She has Yoongi wrapped around her thumb too,” you snickered, making Yoongi groan loudly.

“She looks just like you and acts just like you so it’s physically impossible for me to tell her no because she always looks and acts so cute,” he pouted.

“You’re just weak, that’s what that is,” you laughed.

What was her first word?

“It was hell, but Yoongi himself is entirely to blame this time around,” you huffed.

“I was in the studio talking to Namjoon and I said ‘What the hell?’ in response to something that he told me, and Kam ended up repeating it,” Yoongi explained. “But in my defense, I thought she was asleep!”

Do they have any fixations or favorite things? Anything that they really hate?

“She loves her paci, just like Kins did,” you sighed. “We’ve been trying to wean it away from her now because we don’t want her to be three years old and struggle like Kins did but she’s winning that war, so far.”

What are the major differences between the first kid and the second kid? Any similarities?

“They are completely different kids,” Yoongi chuckled. “Whereas Kins is very quiet and laid back, Kam is loud and outgoing and very ‘in your face’“.

Was it a big contrast having Kam from when you had Kinsley?

“Yep, because they’re so different,” you nodded. “Our house was never loud with just Kins around but now that we have Kam, there’s always some type of noise happening because of her.”

Is there a habit or thing that Kam does that shows her sassiness at such an early age?

“It’s really just the way that she carries herself,” Yoongi smiled. “It seems crazy since she’s only one years old, but she’s so confident and sure of herself and she genuinely thinks that she can do anything, just like Y/N does.”

How long did it take for the kids to adjust to the new changes that came with their sibling?

“It took Kins a little bit longer than we anticipated it to,” you grimaced. “Kam wasn’t an easy baby and she cried a lot and that threw Kins off because Kins is a person who values her quiet, just like Yoongi does.”

“Baby girl definitely struggled with it at first but now that Kam has grown and can actually walk now, she feels a lot better about it and she loves playing with Kam,” Yoongi added.

Does Kam tend to be jealous with Kins? Like if Yoongi would carry Kins and Kam around, would she whine and try to get her sister off their dad?

“She’s very jealous,” Yoongi nodded. “Again, just like Y/N.”

“I am not jealous,” you scoffed, reaching over and hitting him in the shoulder.

“Whatever makes you feel better Min,” he smirked.

Does Kinsley have anything that she loves to do with Kamryn?

“She likes dancing with her, because Kam loves to dance these days so they’ll do that together,” you smiled.

How’s your sex life? Is it hard to find time to be intimate with 2 babies?

“I’d say that it’s the same,” you answered, looking over at Yoongi to see him nod in agreement.

“Can’t keep our hands off of each other, but that’s always,” he smirked. “It’s not necessarily harder though, we’ve just had to be a little more creative.”

What’s one thing about the second baby that’s surprised you most? Example- an experience that’s way different than with the first baby, or a way the two siblings are so similar, etc!

“I think Kam’s personality really surprised us,” you said. “Kinsley looks like me but she acts more like Yoongs so when Kam was born and I saw that she looked like me, I figured that her personality would probably be more like Yoongi’s too but it’s almost scary how similar she is to me.”

“Right and because of that, almost every experience that we had with Kam has been completely different from how it was with Kins,” Yoongi added. “For example, Kins barely cried as a baby if she wasn’t hungry or wet. Kam though, she would cry if you touched her too much so it was definitely an adjustment.”

How has your parenting style changed from when you had Kinsley to when you had Kamryn?

“I don’t think it really has changed,” Yoongi responded. “We still have the same fundamental beliefs that we did when we first had Kins and that means raising our girls to be whoever they want to be and supporting them in that the best that we can.”

What’s the most important thing you learned while raising Kinsley that you’re putting in place this time?

“Just remembering that our girls are kids and that our job is to help them grow into women that are comfortable enough to make their own decisions and find their own identities, and to not make those decisions for them or make them feel like they have to be a certain way,” you said.

Anything you did or would do differently this second time around?

“I definitely would’ve gotten an epidural when I was in labor with Kam,” you stated firmly. “I genuinely felt like I was dying.”

Do you two want more kids? If so, any specific number?

“Do you?” You asked Yoongi, who turned to look at you with a small smile on his face.

“You know I do,” he told you, reaching over and grabbing your hand in his. “I’d love more babies with you, if that were to happen. Give me another daughter that looks just like you.”

“Or maybe finally a son,” you suggested. “Who looks like you.”

“To answer your question, we’re obviously not opposed to the idea but we’re not actively trying,” Yoongi surmised. “At least, not yet.”

Hopes for the future?

“Just for Y/N and the girls to be happy and healthy,” Yoongi said.

“Agreed, as well as for our family to continue to thrive and for mine and Yoongi’s relationship to grow stronger as time goes on,” you added.

“You don’t have to worry about that part Min,” Yoongi assured you. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smiled, leaning over and pressing a firm kiss to his lips.

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nikkzwrites · 3 years ago

Text

(They Long to Be) Close to You | Dark Fix-It Fic Series Part 2 | Chapter 7

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so…. yeah. This is part two of the series! You can start the full series here!

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence.

Word Count: ~5.0k

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Jonas cried over Martha’s body promising that he would set everything right. He looked up hearing the explosion and then ran down into the basement to stay safe.

The older Jonas shot up in bed breathing hard from his nightmare. He must have fallen asleep in his clothes. He turned to look at the letter labeled Jonas on it. He opened it to read,

‘Dear Jonas, you promised to make everything right again. I want you to know that you will do that. You must never lose hope that there is a way out of this maze. A way to save me and you...But we will have to make sacrifices… do unimaginable things...to untie the knot at the end. Each fate in this knot is linked to the next. A thread, blood red, that connects all our actions. In light and in shadow. But the apocalypse must take place. You must let her die, so I can live. We have to let some things go before they find their way back to us. We are perfect for eachother. Never believe anything else.’

Martha cried over Jonas’ dead body clutching Annalise’s necklace in her bloodied hands. She stood and walked away from him still shaking from the shock she just received. Annalise walked out from the door and ran to Martha. She held the girl close in her arms and started to cry for her. Her fingers intertwined within Martha’s hair. Yet, Martha felt close to nothing. This is what she had always wanted, so why does it still feel wrong.

The short haired Martha looked up at the swirling God Particle in their world knowing what must be done now. Her two older selves watched it twist and turn just like their hearts. Their eyes crying from the knowledge each of them had. Mary smiled proudly at her work. She had spent years getting back to this point. Yet, her eyes still cried knowing just as soon as she was going to experience the greatest ecstasy, she was going to experience the pits of despair. Unknowing of her own fate that was just close to happening.

Silija took her rifle and shoved Martha into a cage. She locked the girl in, ignoring her cries of confusion. Adam watched on with a sigh.

The older Jonas took the letter and burned it after reading. He felt disgusted at what she was trying to imply, let Annalise die so that Martha could live as if he could possibly do that. As if he could let that happen.

Annalise and Martha walked back to Martha’s home. It was the day of the apocalypse. As they got inside, Martha started to panic about how dirty and covered with his blood she was.

Annalise took hold of her and said, “Hey, hey… shhhh… It’s okay.” She carefully walked the girl to the sink and washed her up. Her hands were gentle, yet dexterous at getting off the blood. After cleaning her hands and face, Annalise heard someone stirring upstairs so she quickly helped Martha undress and shoved the blooded clothes in the trash.

Magnus hurried downstairs after hearing the door open and close. “Martha,” he breathed relieved at his sister being back home safe. He looked between Annalise and Martha asking, “Where were you? Mom cried all night long.” Noticing that Martha wasn’t her normal self, he turned to Annalise and asked, “Is she okay?”

Annalise shook her head as Martha tried to wipe her tears away. She turned to look at her brother.

“Hey,” He spoke softly. He opened his arms to her which were gladly taken by Martha. He held his sister and asked, “What happened?”

Martha sobbed into Magnus for a second. She held him tighter than she had ever held her brother before. “Bartosz was right,” she whispered. She shook her head and said, “What he said in the woods… about the end of the world.” She started to panic. “The nuclear power plant… Today. Bartosz’s father is trying to cover up an accident. The containers… The world is going to end today.”

Magnus looked at her then to Annalise, who just shrugged and shook her head acting as if she didn’t know anything…

While in truth, she did. Annalise knew exactly what Martha was talking about and it was her job to also get to Bartosz so that way they could all go fix this mess. At least, that’s what Eve told her and her older self told her. There was no reason not to trust them.

Meanwhile in 1986, a younger Mary smiled with a young Noah. She turned to him and said, “We did it! We found the way back! We can get Bartosz and go back home.”

Magnus shook her head at her, “Have you gone crazy? When did you last sleep?” When she tried to yell at him, he shook his head and said, “I haven’t got time for your psycho crap. You can handle this, right Anna?”

Annalise nodded. She shook her head at Martha, “I’m sorry.”

Short haired Martha looked down at Annalise’s necklace and started to cry. She trembled as her fingers traced the tree of life pattern.

“They had to die,” The older Martha explained, “It’s all wrong.” They stood in the old Eris Lux meeting area. “I know what you’re feeling. But you’ll learn to let the feeling go. Everything will run its course. Just as fate determined our world and his.”

In the other world, Martha tried to escape her cage. When Adam appeared to her, she screamed, “why did you lock me up? You promised me there would be a way to change everything.” She started to cry, “So the apocalypse won’t happen. You lied to me, just like my older self lied to me!”

Adam looked down at the sphere in his hands. He spoke, “Sic Mundus. Old Tannhaus. He firmly believed he was creating a paradise where we’d all be free of destiny, and free of our pain. A world outside your world and my world. But I have finally realized what this paradise really is. Unending darkness, in which nothing exists. But for that...the apocalypse must happen. In my world...and in yours.” He turned and walked away from her.

“Jonas,” she roared, “Jonas! Let me out!”

There was only six hours before the apocalypse left and Aleksander was speaking to Obendorf about the containers. He had seen Annalise leave earlier that morning so he knew it would be safe to speak about it.

“Dad,” Bartosz said, walking into the room and surprising Aleksander, “Is everything okay?”

Aleksander nodded, but sadly said, “I know I said I’d stay home today...But something important came up. I’m sorry.”

Bartosz shrugged and grumbled to his dad, “It’s alright”

His father turned and said, “I have to tell you something. Someone is blackmailing me.”

Bartosz’s face turned into confusion, “What?”

Aleksander turned and showed his son, “With this. Something that happened a long time ago. Sometimes we make decisions in our lives that we can never undo.” He sighed and continued, “My name is not Aleksander. It is Boris. Boris Niewald. But it was an accident… You must believe me. I’m not a murderer.”

Bartosz shook his head and asked, “What about Mom? Did Mom know about this?”

“Your mother is the best thing that ever happened in my life,” said the man, “she saved me from all that and I never told her the truth.” He looked at his son, “Bartosz, I’m sorry.”

Bartosz threw the newspaper down and walked away from his father.

Across town, Charlotte walked to Ulrich’s house with the file to let him know what they found on the investigation for Mads resulting in Ulrich leaving quickly and Hannah realizing it was her the entire time.

Annalise sat with Matha. She tried to convince the girl to take a nap, but Martha felt too wired for that.

The girl walked over to her mirror to look at herself. “I hate this,” she sneered at herself. She grabbed the scissors from her things and started to cut.

“Hey,” Annalise said. She walked over to the girl and stopped her, “Let me do that for you. You are going to mess it up.”

“I don’t care,” Martha mumbled, but conceded giving the scissors to Annalise anyway.

Annalise smiled and giggled, “Come on. Let’s cut off all the things weighing you down.”

Martha watched as everything happened through the mirror. She just wanted everything fixed and over with.

Katharina slept on Mikkel’s bed calmly. She awoke to Martha standing over her, “You scared me. Where were you? Did you cut your hair? What happened?” She looked over towards Annalise who stood awkwardly behind her daughter. She looked back to see Martha nearly in tears.

Martha spoke, “Do you believe in fate?”

“I don’t know,” Katharina admitted watching Annalise walk out to give them some space. She spoke again, “No. I believe that we take our lives into our own hands. That we decide which road we take.”

Eve stared at the older Bartosz with a sigh. She spoke to him motioning towards the hideout and to his child Jonah. Her heart sunk, but she knew this was what was needing to happen. Everything was so so close. She needed everything to continue just as it had before. She knew what this would cause though. She knew what this part would lead. She needed it to happen. This was one of the finally domino effects needed for her plan to see him again.

Katharina shook her head and said, “I’m sure I’m the last person you want to talk to, but...If you do...I’m here.” She took her daughter's hand and held it. The woman spoke again, “Your dad and I… A lot of things maybe different now, but that’s not necessarily bad.”

Martha started to cry. She shook her head and said, “No, I’m sure it’s not.” She held her mother closely. She let go after a moment and explained, “I promised I was going to do something.” Then she walked out.

In the other world, Claudia stared at a picture of the blond boy who had started this all. Her breathing was all that could be heard in the small bunker. She sighed and looked down to open one of the journals letting her know what she was supposed to do as well. It spelled out where the God Particle was and to follow the signals to it. She found herself going to the area in her yellow radiation suit. Inside, she saw only a bright white light. Her heart pounded as she reached out to it.

“Stop,” A man called to her. Claudia turned to see Jonas.

She sighed in relief and said, “Jonas…” She looked surprised. Her voice shook as she spoke again, “You’re alive.”

Back in Eve’s world, the short haired, scarred Martha wrote Jonas a letter. She knew all of it to be absolutely true. She hated to admit it to herself, but she was doing all of this for her own Annalise as well. Something for them to be together just as Mary and Eve were. To raise this child together. She sighed and spoke, “I murdered him. Why is he still alive?”

Mary drew a diagram for the young Martha, “There is a switch point in the loop of time. The moment that causes things to run in one direction or the other. You bring him into your world, or you don’t. A line that starts at one point, then loops onto itself once more. Two possible ways on the outer edge of the line or on the inner edge of the line… yet it is the same line. Two overlapping realities happen in a single moment.” She spoke quieter, more in reflection, “In one, she goes with you… in another she’s kidnapped and trapped until she figures out the puzzle of this.” She shook her head and spoke louder again, “One, he dies...on the other road, he doesn’t.” She pointed and said, “Both realities continue from the point of the sphere’s activation, then collide on itself if it’s in the same reality. Both of your worlds continue from that point and repeat in an endless loop. One triggers the other one to happen. You two are locked in Quantum entanglement.”

Eve interrupted and spoke, “Adam has tried to sever it for 33 years. So that the thing growing inside of you will never be born.”

Mary spoke up again, “But it is impossible now. Your worlds… they can never be disconnected.”

The older Martha took the letter and folded it up to be put into the envelope as Ever spoke, “Every step Jonas takes is guided by us. He cannot escape his fate.”

In Jonas’ world, Claudia stared at the blond and asked, “What is this?”

Jonas spoke while looking at the glowing white orb flowing suspended in the air, “That is what was left over after the catastrophe.”

Claudia breathed heavily and asked, “The God Particle… and this here? What is this?” She pointed to the equipment not too far from them.

Jonas looked at her confused and explained, “I’ve seen where all this goes.” He pointed towards the equipment, “in the future. There is no way back now. The cave was destroyed. There’s nothing there anymore. The passage is completely gone. But this here… If I find out how it works, I’ll be able to go back. Then I can save them. Martha, Mikkel, and Annalise. I can save all of them.” He stared at her. She seemed off. She didn’t seem to support any of this. He spoke to her and asked, “How is it that you found me?” He waited for a moment then asked in a slightly different way, “How did you know I would be here?”

“The apparatus,” Claudia explained, “The matter it needs.”

“The apparatus,” Jonas yelled, “You still have it?! Where is it?”

Claudia reluctantly showed him to where she was keeping the machine. She knew if she didn’t he would only become more aggressive. She watched as he rushed towards it. As he toggled with some of the switches, she spoke, “It doesn’t work. Maybe this is how it had to happen first. For all the things to change for next time.” As he slowly turned towards her, she explained, “The substance in the device. You and I brought it into the passage again. The variables in the equation were changed. There’s a chance it might work next try.”

Jonas yelled, “I can’t wait 33 years to try!” He growled as he walked towards her, “I’m supposed to just hope this won’t happen again? Maybe next time I’m on the other side of the bunker door?!” He sneered, “She didn’t say anything… Your older self. She knew Annalise was going to die. That Martha was also going to die. How they would die.” Tears dripped down his dirty sweaty face, “Why should I trust you now?”

Claudia felt a pain in her chest hearing about Annalise. Yet she pressed on, “The material in the plant. I know what it is. I can assist you. I can help you save them. To save all of them.”

In Eve’s world, there was only three hours left before the apocalypse. Martha stormed to Bartosz’s house with Annalise behind her. She screamed, “BARTOSZ!”

He very quickly went to the glass door as if by instinct. He opened it for her and asked, “Martha?” He looked at her then saw Annalise not far behind her. He bit his lip hoping this wasn’t going to affect them then turned back towards Martha to listen to what she had to say.

“Can we come in,” the short haired girl asked him. She stared up at him pleadingly. It was the least he could do now right? After stealing the girl she loved, the least he could do was let her inside.

“Eh,” Bartosz shifted uneasily. He swallowed and nodded, “Yeah. Come on in.” He moved out of the way for the two girls to rush in.

Martha shakingly explained, “33 years ago there was an accident at the plant. Somehow the accident caused some strange matter to form… and your father helped cover everything up.” She started to breathe heavily. Her eyes flickered between Annalise and him, “And everything we heard in the caves. It’s all the same… The substance… It starts the end. Today. We have to talk to him.”

“Starts what end,” Bartosz spoke calmly.

Martha’s voice shook as she said, “The apocalypse.”

Ulrich stared at Mads body in disbelief. There was no way any of this was happening. He’s heart raced as he realized it had to be. He unlocked the jail cell and stared at Helge. He lifted him up and asked, “The Kid in the bunker. You said it was you who killed him. But you didn’t mean him. You meant Mads. The boy in the bunker looks just like Mads. How did you do it?”

Helge shook and said, “They...They both said that I must do it.”

Ulrich growled, “Who? Do what?”

Helge swallowed and explained, “To help send him to the future. To fill the gaps.”

Ulrich let go of him and took a step back in disbelief. He took the pennies out of his pocket and showed it to the man, “The pennies… What does this mean?”

Helge looked up and said, “I must stop him.”

“Stop who? Who will you stop?”

Helge swallowed and spoke softly, “You.”

Ulrich pulled back and looked down before looking out the door. He said, “You can go now.”

Helge hurried out to go on his own mission to stop the man.

“And this Jonas guy,” Bartosz asked, “He’s dead now? And you killed him there. Well it’s not you… It’s...another you?” He looked at her completely confused. This sounded a lot like how Annalise was trying to describe being in two places at once just the other night. He ran his fingers through his long hair thinking about everything.

Martha nodded and explained, “I was there. In the future. There’s nothing left.” She shook her head. “Nothing.” She sighed and stated, “It all has to do with your father. He can’t be allowed to open those containers.” Watching his thumbs rub together and him look down then back at Annalise, Martha knew he was deep in thought. “Bartosz,” she tried to reach out to his mind to pull him back to her. She pleaded with him, “Please.”

Bartosz reached for his phone and called his father. He didn’t get an answer due to his father looking at all of the sins of his past and what they lead to. Aleksander called Charlotte now knowing what he must do to make amends.

The Unknown looked up at the sphere. He turned it on and watched it descend. The youngest walked in first, then the oldest. The middle one took out the ball and held it in his hand.

In Adam’s world, Silja let Martha out of her cage and at gunpoint led her to where Adam wanted her to go. She explained that all she was here to do was to help fill the gaps for everyone so that everyone could reach salvation.

Adam stared at the swirling mass. He spoke to himself mostly but turned to see the ghost of Annalise standing there with him, “We have waited a long time for this moment.” He turned towards Magnus and Franziska and told them, “you know what to do.” He nodded to them to leave him alone with the ghost of the girl he loved.

Magnus and Franziska swallowed. They shifted and took hold of each other’s hands not sure if they were really ready for the other world yet and to see their long dead best friends.

In Eve’s world, Magnus and Franziska sat at the edge of the pond unknowing of the apocalypse about to hit them in just one hour.

Franziska turned to him and signed, “What do you think it means? The birds? The light? The boy in the bunker?”

Magnus shrugged a bit then signed back while mouthing, “Martha has lost it. She thinks the apocalypse will happen today.”

Franziska shook her head at him. She could tell without words that he was nervous. She smiled a bit to comfort him and slid her hand into his. She signed to him and mouthed, “If we die today, then at least we are together.”

Magnus smiled and signed back, “Together.” He leaned close to her so that they could kiss all his troubles away.

Bartosz and Annalise rode their bikes down to the powerplant. Martha sat behind Bartosz looking up at the boy. They tried to ride as quickly as possible to stop the canisters from being opened by Charlotte and Aleksander.

Helge waddled through the woods muttering to himself the sounds of the clock in his mind. He walked toward the cave knowing exactly what he was going to try to do.

Ulrich called Charlotte trying to get a hold of her to let him know of what was going on as he tried to follow the man.

Adam’s world Magnus and Franziska stood in the road and stared at the group on the bikes. Bartosz and Martha stopped smoothly while Annalise crashed Martha’s bike trying to avoid them.

Martha stood up and walked towards them, “Who are you?”

Magnus chuckled, “You can’t take a few guesses?”

Annalise groaned on the ground causing Bartosz to run towards her side, “Anna!” He looked over her and caressed her face, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Where does it hurt?”

Annalise reached her hand down towards her side. She groaned as he touched it, “Ow...Ow. Ow.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

Mary screamed as she walked into her family’s part of the hideout. There her older Bartosz, her husband, held their dead baby in his arms crying. He looked at her pleadingly, “Please, Annalise. Forgive me.”

Mary screamed at him, “What did you do?!”

“I had no other choice, Annalise please.”

Martha stared at the man and whispered, “Magnus?” She gasped as he stared at him, “You’re from the future.”

Magnus nodded, “But not from yours. They lied to you. Your older selves. They want the apocalypse to happen. They’re the ones responsible for it happening in the first place. But there is a way to change everything.”

Annalise struggled out, “Liar! You’re just working for Adam.”

Bartosz cooed at her, “Shhhhh. Anna… Please. You’re hurt. You are only going to keep hurting yourself. Shhhh.”

The older Bartosz looked sadly at his wife, “Please don’t look at me like that. She said I had to or else he’d die anyway.”

Mary rushed at him and started to hit him, “Liar! She would never do this to me.. MARTHA WOULD NEVER!” She stole her dead Jonah from him. She cried over his small body.

Franziska looked from the couple on the side of the road then looked at Martha and said, “But you have to choose our world and trust in him. Jonas.”

Bartosz started to question them as well. Annalise could see it on his face as Martha asked, “Jonas? He’s alive?”

“In our world,” Franziska nodded, “And he knows what the origin is.”

Mary trembled as she realized, no. Eve could, and Eve would. She started to realize everything was just Eve’s fault. She had been using her just as she used Jonas, but to what end. Mary sneered at him and said, “Of course in the end you would choose her. I hope you rot in the hell you both made.” She walked away from him to go to Eve’s office.

Franziska continued, “But before that, you must save Jonas from the apocalypse in his world and bring him into your world.”

Bartosz stood up and growled, “All of you are crazy, you know that?!”

Magnus stepped towards the girl and said, “You can’t stop what’s happening now, but...if you come with us, you can prevent it. Another time.” He took out the orb and held it towards Martha.

Bartosz helped Annalise up and asked, “What is that?”

Martha stared into her other worldly brother’s eyes. She panted as she tried to figure out what to do. What was the best step. Who should she trust? What should she do?

Bartosz’s voice cut through the noise in Martha’s head, “Martha what’s going on here?”

Martha walked towards them and turned towards her two closest friends, “you have to come with us.”

“Come with you where,” Bartosz asked.

Franziska spoke up as Magnus got the orb ready, “They aren’t one of us. They work for the others. She will save them.” Franziska nodded towards Annalise.

Martha looked between the two groups unsure of who to go with or who to trust. She looked at her friends and whispered, “I’m sorry.” She disappeared in a cloud of ashes and ember.

“It’s time,” Eve spoke to her group, “Adam has moved each of his tokens into position. It is time that we do the same.”

Mary burst into the room angry with her Bartosz trailing behind her, “You MONSTER! You LIED TO ME.” She growled and launched herself at Eve.

Eve laughed as everyone else left the room to leave them alone. She shook her head, “I did no such thing. This was all just a test for you, don’t you see that?”

Mary screamed, “You killed my son!? After everything I had done for you! I made your damn machine for you! I traumatised myself for you. I worked years and years for you. Blindly trusting you. You separated me from Bartosz for years to motivate me to make the machine work! I helped convince someone I was an angel with the son you had my husband have after me so that we could have your dad’s brother killed! Who even does that?! Why me?!”

Eve sighed, again, she chose Jonas in the end just like every cycle. Annalise chose Bartosz. As her heart slowly broke, she spoke, “I am so sorry you see it that way, but I want to hear it from you. Say what you are truly feeling deep inside your heart. Tell me.”

The younger Eve took over speaking to the rest of the group, “This knot has given us all life and we are its keepers. In both worlds. He’ll never be able to untie this knot. In all these years, he’s never understood how everything is connected. How it all ends and begins. Not only in our world, but in his as well. We are destiny. We raise the walls of this labyrinth. Each of us shapes the paths and extend their hand. Bartosz, you must help save yourself and Annalise to save our lives. Claudia, you must guide yourself to be our eyes in the other world. Egon, you must create your past to preserve the family tree. Noah, you must bring love and friendship... To start everything anew. Every darkness is followed by light. With every death comes life.” The younger Eve opened the portal for them.

In Adam’s world, Martha pleaded with the scarred man, “You brought me into your world. You promised me we could change this. Why are you doing this?” She struggled against her chains crying. She sobbed and asked him, “Where are the others? Where did you send them?”

Adam’s raspy voice grated in the air, “They are all fulfilling their destinies. Magnus and Franziska. Charlotte and Elisabeth. Silja and Agnes. They’re sustaining the cycle’s life. So that you and I exist here, now.”

“What are you saying,” She shook her head in confusion.

Adam looked at the ghost of Annalise dancing around them and looked back at her, “This is the end we’ve reached. What’s growing inside you, the origin, must die. But it can’t be killed by normal means. It’s born of both worlds and so the energy of both worlds is necessary to destory it. The apocalypse in my world...and the apocalypse in your world. This here is the end. A machine that crosses not only time, but space as well. Which then focuses the energy of both apocalypses on one concentrated point. This spot. Your son only exists because the matter exists. Now, through it, he will die, and all of us with him. None of this will exist anymore. Both worlds will erase one another. Absolute annihilation.”

Martha shook her head. She looked at him with sorrow for him, “You’ve gone insane.”

Adam slowly walked towards her, “There is no hope. No salvation. No paradise.” He took Annalise’s necklace from her, “We were wrong. You and I. In your world, and in mine.” He walked away from her.

“Jonas,” She called out to him, “JONAS! Jonas, please don’t do it. Jonas.”

Adam closed the door to prevent him from still hearing her call his old name. A name he had not associated with himself in a long time. A name when he was still Annalise’s. As she cried, he sighed knowing what he had to do. He turned it on and watched her struggle.

The beginning is the end and the end is the beginning. Every connection in one world must also be closed in the other world. Everything is interconnected. In the light and in shadow.

Slowly, all of Eve’s foot soldiers reached where they were to go. Older Noah to Sylvie and Elizabeth, Helge and Egon back to the past, Claudia to her other self, and Older Bartosz to Annalise and his younger self. Ulrich going into the past to stop Mads from dying. Older Jonas creating the machine while young Eve went to place the note. The Unknown going to help create the end.

Mary screamed, “ADAM WAS RIGHT. There is no salvation! You are the monster and this should end. All of this should end. There is no paradise! There is only pain!”

Just as a gunshot rang out deep in the cavern walls, The Unknown all yelled out desperately, “MOM!”

#(they long to be) close to you fanfic #yesterday once more fanfic #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #dark (netflix)#close to you fanfic

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