#i didn’t like the life and death epilogue so i ignored it

[stormhearty]

Pushed to the Edge

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Trigger: angst, cheating, suicide, death

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You were the official seer of Night Court for nearly 500 years. the Inner Circle had always listened to you and your visions; however, when the Archeron sisters came and Elain started to show her powers, your family started to shift their attention to her visions. When you try to voice your warnings about the death-lord’s resurrection, everyone gave you the cold shoulder, ignoring your prophesies — this included your mate.

Note: no hate to Azriel or Elain, it just helped with the plot. and Also, I know it's completely unreasonable for Azriel to not have the Truth-Teller be with him at all times, just go with it for now. And I am working on “Reach Your Voice” Series, I’m still trying to figure out how to make sure each of our boys spends quality time with the reader.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“That sounds absolutely absurd… How many times will you try to warn about something that will never happen?”

Your voiced died in your throat as you watched Rhysand look at you with apprehension before focusing on the paperwork in front of him.

You had ran into his office, waking up in cold sweat after another vision of another Death God crawling it’s way back into Prythian. You had tried to forewarn your High Lord for weeks on end ever since you first saw that vision. However, your warnings had been ignored by Rhysand. You knew that it sounded impossible, you knew that, Prythian had just finished a war — one that almost destroyed the world.

After the war with the King of Hybern, Prythian was slowly returning to its normal … well, attempting to fix what was broken by the King. The Night Court was healing, trying to rebuild itself again to its glory, helping other Courts to fix the damages that the war caused. Rhysand had been through an ordeal, losing his life to save Prythian and you knew that your High Lord was still recuperating from that tragedy. You knew that your High Lady was as well, almost losing her mate.

They didn’t need another war to happen when peace had barely returned.

But you also knew there was another reason your High Lord had been ignoring your for forewarning. You looked to the side, one where the rest of the Inner Circle was watching the confrontation. Cassian and Nesta, sitting close to each other, a glass of wine in their hands, whispering to each other, mostly likely about you and your vision. You could barely pick up with your keen Fae hearing on what they were saying.

“Do you think what she’s saying is real? That Koschei is trying to come back?”

“Elain hasn’t seen it though…”

The whisper of the middle Archeron child echoed in your ears as you looked at the Made Fae. She sat next to the window, brown eyes that seemed to sparkle like the sun rested on you before turning over to the male that she was sitting with. Your gaze followed hers to Azriel — your mate— but you can see that he didn’t bother to glance in your direction, only to focus on the delicate female next to him.

It hurt. You watched as the two of them conversed, glancing back in your direction before focusing on each other.

It was no secret, not for you, on Elain’s growing infatuation for the Shadowsinger, and in turn his own growing affections for the middle Archeron child — and in turn, losing his love for you.

You woke up in an empty bed, your mate missing from his side. You tried to talk to Cassian about how his day went, on if he would still train you with the Valkyries if he had time. You tried to converse with Rhysand and Feyre, seeing if they were healing properly after the war, wanting to make sure your High Lord and Lady were safe. You sought after you mate, wanting to spend even a second with him.

But they disregarded you so easily. Especially after they had found out that Elain had similar powers to you, one that was gifted to her by the Cauldron — one that was deemed more powerful than your own.

Your role as the Official Seer of Night Court was granted to you after Helion had sent you as an emissary for Day Court. Helion had found you wandering around Day Court lands. You had been a wandering child, with no real attachment to any Court, abandoned in the streets by your family at the age of five when your seer powers started to come into light. Helion had taken you in when you were ten, helped you hone your powers. Being a seer had been a mystery, no one in your heritage (that you were aware of) was a seer. And it baffled Helion on why such a remarkable gift had been casted aside.

You had stayed with the Night Court, gaining their trust and friendship for five centuries, gaining your own little foothold in their family. You had been a pillar when Rhysand had been trapped Under the Mountain for nearly fifty years. You helped Mor and Armen with the official Night Court Duties, trained with Cassian to ensure you were strong enough to fight when neither he nor Azriel was there.

During your time protecting Valeris from the eyes of Amarantha, your mating bond with the Shadowsinger snapped. It had been difficult at the start, both of you were still struggling with the disappearance of your High Lord, along with the weight of protecting the very city he hidden from view. But during that time, you became each other’s pillar, each other’s comfort in such a dark time. Falling in love with Azriel wasn’t difficult.

But keeping his love, apparently, was the most difficult.

When the Archeron sister’s came into everyone’s lives, it caused a tip in the scales. You loved Feyre, you loved your High Lady. You would do anything in your power to ensure she was safe and well cared for. But for the Cauldron-Made sisters, it was difficult for you to accept them.

They were different. You couldn’t see anything about them, as if the Cauldron had masked them from you powers. It made you terrified of them. Feyre and Rhysand had tried to assure you that the Archeron sisters deemed no threat to the Night Court. And you trusted them — trusted your High Lord and Lady without a blink of an eye. And yes, while their words deemed true, you did not realize that they were a different type of threat. One that would eventually lose your foothold in the Night Court.

You swallowed, your throat parched as you glanced from the sight of your mate and Elain speaking to one another to Rhysand and then to Feyre who had stood next to him. She gave you a worried look, wondering what you were wanting to tell them.

The air was tense, the declaration from your High Lord seeming to echo in your surroundings — he had deemed your vision to be false. And he had never done that before.

“… But…” you whispered, your voice nothing but wind in such a large room, “… I’ve seen it so many times, Rhys. Someone is trying to resurrect him. That they need a piece of something from the Cauldron — -”

“The Cauldron is with Miryam and Drakon… in Creta. There is no way that anyone would be able to use that power again,” Rhysand’s tone was taut, as if trying to drawn a line between the truth and your vision, “Your vision must be wrong, (Y/N). There is no way that Koschei can be resurrected from that lake.”

Another swallow, “But what if it doesn’t have to be the Cauldron itself. It could be something that was Made from the Cauldron.”

Rhysand’s eyes snapped up from his desk, up to you, eyes darkening at the words you were insinuating, “—- What are you trying to say, (Y/N)?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes shifting down to your hands, fiddling with your fingernails — a habit that you’ve had ever since you were a child — one that would leave your hands raw from removing skin, ‘… Nesta and Elain were Made from the Cauldron. If it were to get word to the followers of Koschei, they… they could be in danger. The power that resides in them is the Cauldron… Nesta took something from the Cauldron and did not return it… They could be looking for that.”

It was already bad that you were trying to suggest a return of a Death God, months after a war with Hybern, but it was worse that you were even implying that the sisters were the center of being in danger again.

A dark shadow stood in front of you and you looked up to see Azriel. The golden string that connected the two of you sung, it had been weeks since Azriel went near you, but you knew that his side of the bond was shut, enshroud by shadows, completely shutting you out.

“Az—-” you said his name, as if it was a prayer, hoping he’d be the voice of reason. That he would back up you and your visions. As he always had in the past.

“How can we know that your visions are truth, (Y/N)? There are two Seers in the Night Court now, and yet you are the only one who sees this.”

Your ears rang, a high pitch noise echoing through them as disbelief shook your body. Azriel never distrusted you, never doubted your visions and your forewarnings.

The bond in you ached, as if it was burning you on the inside. Tears lined your eyes as you looked up at your mate, brows furrowing, “…How could you, Azriel?” you muttered, the pain lining your tone, “How can you not trust me?” your voice small.

“Because Elain hasn’t seen it,” was all he had to say.

Hot tears ran your cheeks, as you shakily stepped back from the male that had towered you. You glanced at Cassian and Nesta who looked at you, their eyes inattentive to the pain that you were feeling. You glanced at your High Lord, who looked at you with disinterest. You looked at your High Lady, the only person in the room that seemed to have noticed your pain and anguish, as she took a step towards you way, only to be stopped by Rhysand, his hand around her wrist.

“… So, just because the Cauldron-Made Seer hasn’t seen it, doesn’t mean that it is going to happen?” you asked, your question in the air for everyone to think, “… Just because I wasn’t a Seer Made by the Cauldron, that my visions and my words are not real? That I am a lesser of a Seer than her?”

“(Y/N)—-” Feyre, the voice of reason, called our your name.

You took a step back again, head shaking at them, “I’ve worked my life off for the Night Court. Ensuring that your city is safe, making sure that any danger would never step past the wards that you have put up. I have never hidden anything from any of you. I used my visions and my powers for all of you. And yet…” your voice shook at the end, not believing anything that was happening in front of you, “You disregard me… the moment a better Seer shows up. One that is Cauldron-Made… one that you…” eyes shifting to Azriel, “Deems more suitable for you.

“I’ve seen it. Not only in my visions but here with you all. You have decided to all turn a blind eye to it, decided not to tell me about it. Three sisters for three brothers, isn’t it, Azriel?”

Azriel’s form stiffed in front of you — he did not think that you would have heard that.

You were done, you were tired. You were tired of the lies and the deceit from whom you thought were family.

Feyre’s brows furrowed as she looked at you and then her elder sisters before the back of Azriel. Rhysand stood up as well, standing next to his High Lady at your declaration.

“… What are you talking about, (Y/N)?” Feyre asked, watching your form shake.

“Don’t you lie to me…” you muttered, glaring at your High Lady, “Don’t you dare lie that you have not seen it. Don’t you dare tell me that you have not noticed that Azriel and Elain have been together all this time. That you have turned a blind eye that a mated male would be infatuated, would fall in love with someone else that was not his Cauldron-bound mate. Don’t you dare lie to me you have not all seen it, and have ignored it and not tell me about it.

“You also have all disregarded me and my visions, ever since Elain started to show her own powers. You have all deemed, even without you telling me, that my powers are not worthy enough. That you all would listen to her cryptic visions rather than my own.”

Your words were rushed, you were hyperventilating to the point that your visions swam, but you shook your head, focusing on the scene unfolding — Feyre’s surprised look, Nesta and Cassian staring wide-eye at Elain before glancing at the Shadowsinger in front of you and your High Lord gripping the edge of the table, his violet eyes clearing as if he was in a trance, as if his mind has been cleared and he realized what he has done and what was unfolding with his family.

“No, (Y/N), that’s not what we meant…” he tried to reason, try to gain back your trust in the found family you had with them.

You scrunched your face, shaking your head as you looked at your High Lord before back at your mate, “…That’s what you have meant for the months you have been ignoring my forewarnings. Been ignoring me. Because Elain’s powers are better than mine, you have casted me aside…” Another step back, glancing at the grand door behind you before you glanced back at the family who had lost you, to the mate that had broken your entire being, “You had decided, to your own conscious, to fall in love with someone else, who is bound to someone else, just because you deemed that the Cauldron was wrong. I don’t understand what I have done to you, Azriel… when I have spent nearly five-hundred years with you, fifty years with you as your mate. And you, knowing Elain for a mere five minutes, throwing all that away…”

Azriel looked at you, his chest rising and falling quickly, his eyes staring you down. He watched as tears continued to flood down your cheeks, your form shaking even further. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t just stand here and be the object that they throw away.

So, you ran, ran out of that room, your name echoing behind you as your dress swirled behind you. You climbed up the spiraling stairs to your shared room with Azriel, throwing up the strongest ward you can muster behind you and around you. You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the echo of the bond in your chest, you couldn’t handle the empty stare of your mated looking at you. You couldn’t handle the thought that you were so easily replaceable. A sob escaped your lips as you rummaged through Azriel’s drawer of weapons, pulling out the one weapon that he never is without — Truth-Teller. Dark tendrils of shadow gripped your wrist as you looked around you, Azriel’s shadows surrounding you.

That was where his shadows went — they had always disappeared when he was around Elain, yet they were here with you.

Frantic knocks startled you as you grasped the weapon close to your chest, your head whipping around towards the door. You heard them — Feyre’s panicked voice, Rhysand’s apologizes, Cassian yelling your name. But you didn’t hear that one voice that you had loved — you knew Azriel wasn’t there.

That had pushed you. Gripping the weapon, you moved to the bathroom, the shadows following your every movement. As you kneeled down on the marble floor, you felt the tug of the shadows against your hand, trying to will the weapon out of your grip — attempting you to stop at a take of your life.

You had always loved the shadows that surrounded Azriel, both physically and metaphorically speaking. They had always comforted you, protected you, always had been there for both of you when times were tough. But this was one of the times that you didn’t want them protecting you, comforting you.

“Please..” you begged at them. Whether or not they would listen or sprint off to their master, they backed off, though a few tendrils stayed behind, slithering around your wrist, holding Truth-Teller, as if a reminder not to do it. But you had made your mind — you couldn’t stay and be pushed to the side. Not anymore.

And with a last breath impaled yourself with your mate’s beloved knife, the very knife he had handed Elain during the war, was the last thing you remembered. As your body fell against the marbled floor, your soul leaving your body, you felt the tendrils of shadow frantically skim over your body, as if to try to find a piece of life still clinging onto you. Eyes looked and watched as the ward was broken and your High Lord and Lady skidding towards your body as your soul left for the skies above, the cool feeling of shadow never leaving your body.

A gasp escaped your lips, the dull ache on your chest making you rub at it.

“— - What…” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as if not used for a century.

“That Shadowsinger did not know what he had decided to let go, huh…” A voice, one so dark and so familiar echoing.

You knew that voice, that voice that haunted you in your visions for weeks — the same voice that you tried to warn your family about. Eyes opening, you were surrounded by the dark, the voice of the Death-God echoing around you.

“I should have died…” you voiced to no-one.

A laugh echoed around you, “You did, (Y/N), but you forget that I am a Death-God… And I can resurrect anyone I wish. Now, that your family has abandoned you, why don’t you join me. Show them what happens when a Seer of your capacity has been cast aside. I should have had you when that original family of yours stranded you, but that damn High Lord of Day found you first. Anyway… come child…”

You laid there, in the darkness, before you shakily reach out a hand, before spiny fingers grasped onto yours and pulled you out of that darkness.

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (13)

ー☆ Chapter 13: You Know Me Too Well

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing, usage of the word 'bitch' ー☆ Word count: 6.5k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Well, well, lovelies...new chapter is up and maybe I'm kind of kicking my feet??? Who knows, we'll see what y'all think of this chapter hehe. Also, happy birthday to Song Mingi?! I actually didn't mean to post the new chapter today, but today was the only day I had enough time to write it sooo, yeah. Tmi, but MC's mother is exactly like my mom, so maybe I drew inspiration from real life lol, I love her to death but sometimes I really wish SHE DIDNT SPEAK lol. Also, I'm so obsessed with today's song for the chapter; I'm screaming, crying, throwing up over it LOL. Just a heads up, next chapter is the last like actual chapter of the series and then I decided to add an epilogue lol cue the sobbing. As per usual, listen to You Know Me Too Well before or while reading the chapter! I hope you enjoy and let me know through feedback hehe <3 Enjoy your weekends! divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss

@catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            Saturday (2:55 pm)

Me: mingi can we talk?

Saturday (8:30 pm)

Me: i am free whenever you say so just let me know and i’ll be there

            Sunday (9:15 am)

Me: we need to talk, mingi.

            Sunday (12:08 am)

Me: please hear me out im sorry

Monday (current time)

            “Do you think he’ll slam the door in my face?” The hallways were buzzing with life as I tried to veer my way around the crowd of students without running into anyone. Today, out of all days, I just so happened to have my last class of the day in a completely different building and at least a good five-minute walk away from the arts building.

“It’s what you’d deserve, to be fair, but—” The was a gasp on the other side of the phone and my eyebrows furrowed as Seulgi muttered something to someone, muffled, “sorry, Wooyoung almost dropped my mother’s favorite vase, I told him to take off that blindfold.”

Eyebrows furrowing even deeper, I abruptly stopped walking, making a girl give me a heated glare that I didn’t care for, “Why is he blindfolded? Wait! I actually don’t want to know.”

“We were playing hide and seek with his niece, you idiot, but I got bored and sneaked away when I saw you calling.” Seulgi’s voice was exasperated and I chuckled as I took off again, leaving the science major’s building as I nuzzled further into my thick scarf. Some days it was warmer, but most days it got really cold and I hated it. I couldn’t deal with the freezing weather, perhaps it was my biggest enemy after Jeong Yunho, “Anyways, as I was saying, you deserve to be ignored by Mingi, but knowing how big of a sucker he is for you, he’ll probably give in before you can utter a single word.”

My heart jumped at the thought as I gnawed on my bottom lip, cutting off the path as I hurried through the grass, uncaring that I was probably destroying the work of the gardener. Besides, the grass had barely just started growing out again, it would be fine, “You think so?”

“I know so.” I heard Wooyoung’s high-pitched voice shouting from the distance and my eyebrows furrowed as I realized Seulgi had probably put me on speaker. Now that was a bit awkward, “He’s an idiot, but he’s in love. Now that I come to think of it, you two are a lot alike, two idiots in love—”

“I believe your niece is looking for you, babe.” Seulgi cut her boyfriend off and I was thankful because I don’t think I could’ve handled hearing him say the words ‘in love’ again. That was scary, even just the thought of it. I was barely coming to terms with liking Mingi, but hearing the word love sort of made me want to turn back around and abandon my whole plan of trying to make peace between the two of us. And Seulgi knew this, thankfully, because she didn’t say anything about it again, “Are you on your way to his studio right now?”

I hummed and curled my fingers tighter around the thermos bottle, my nose cold from the weather as the arts building finally came into sight, “Yeah, three minutes and I’m there.”

“Good.” Seulgi sounded content and I sighed as I tried to ignore the dawning anxiety that tried to crawl through my body and make me abandon my well-thought-out plan. I had to do this. Seulgi and my mom were right, I couldn’t mess this up again. I liked Mingi, a lot. He is a good guy and I shouldn’t let my past and my fears dictate my life. Yes, Mingi is Yunho’s best friend, but Mingi isn’t like Yunho. Hopefully, “Update me later then, I love you Y/N, I hope you know that.”

I chuckled and nodded at the security guard as he was out of his cubicle, standing at the bottom of the steps, smoking his cigar, “I know, thank you for knocking some sense into me.”

“We’ll see about that later.” Her snort was amused and I shook my head as we said our goodbyes, the warmth of the building making me sigh out in relief as I entered through the front doors. I pocketed my phone and unwrapped my scarf from around my neck, greeting the familiar people I crossed paths with. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling nervous at all, after all, I didn’t know how Mingi would react. If he was anything like me, he wouldn’t forgive me so easily. Not when I’ve hurt him again and in the worst way possible.

As I ascended the marble stairs, I found stability in the thermos bottle clutched firmly in both of my hands now, its weight helping me to keep my determination and focus on going through with my own plan. When I woke this morning and went to take a quick shower, I was surprised to hear my mother’s singing and smell the delicious waft of pancakes, making my stomach growl loudly as I didn’t have dinner the night before. It seemed like my mother had taken a day off, grumbling something about her deserving a day to rest after she was almost choked out by one of her mentally ill patients. I couldn’t help but agree with her as we sat at the table in silence, enjoying our breakfast, that is until she cleared her throat loudly and stood up, fetching a mug and a cup from the counter next to the sink. I froze when I realized she was handing me the cup Mingi had designed with funny looking chicks on it, and I was even more confused when I realized it wasn’t coffee I was drinking, but hot chocolate.

“So, what are you going to do about that handsome fella?” I tried not to groan or regret the fact that I told her everything about Mingi. I took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate and realized it wasn’t hot before taking a bigger gulp as I enjoyed its sweet taste.

“I’ll talk to him today—”

“Great!” My mother didn’t even let me finish as she sprung up from her seat again to fetch something from a cupboard, “It’s amazing how strong our maternal intuition is, I swear my starlight, you should make some babies soon.”

“Mom.” I groaned as I watched her curiously as she took a blue thermos bottle from the cupboard and filled it with hot chocolate from the kettle, “We’ve had this discussion many times before, I’m not having children so young.”

“You’re not that young though.” She sent me a sheepish smile as my eyes widened, feigning hurt.

“I’m turning twenty-three?! How is that not young?” She cleared her throat as she sealed the thermos and walked back to the table to sit down.

“I’m just trying to inspire you, anyways,” She huffed and then placed the thermos on the table and pushed it towards me, “Bring this to him as peace offering, he’ll love it. Trust me.”

“I don’t think what Mingi needs right now is hot chocolate—”

“Finish your breakfast and shut up.” My mother didn’t let me finish as she cut off a thick part of the pancake with her fork and forced it inside my mouth, making me groan, “Mothers know best when it comes to stuff like this, be thankful I’m saving your relationship and be back before lunch. I’m ordering take out, and I certainly am not waiting for late your ass if I’m hungry.”

I knew fighting my mom was fruitless, so I just grumbled an okay as I tried to chew the pancake she had forced in my mouth, my cheeks all puffed out. My mother seemed content that I finally wasn’t talking back to her and I shook my head as I pulled the thermos bottle towards me, reminded of the time when Mingi had brought me tea knowing that I would be feeling probably a little sick after getting all soaked in the cold rain and harsh wind.

So, now, with Mingi’s clothes in my tote bag and the thermos filled with hot chocolate in my hands, I couldn’t help but feel optimistic despite the anxiety gripping at my thoughts. If my mother, Seulgi, and even Wooyoung—who knew Mingi like the back of his hand—were convinced that everything would work out just fine, then why would I not believe that? Sure, Mingi was probably still annoyed at me, but I didn’t think a few apologies and even more explanations couldn’t fix the issue at hand. All I had to do was be honest and come clean with my feelings and he’d probably do the same and then—that’s where anxiety stepped in. Then what? Was I ready to pursue a relationship? Did Mingi want to date me? Did I want to date him? Why did it have to be Jeong Yunho’s best friend I was into? Why could I not move past my fears and stop associating Mingi with everything I was wounded by, when he never once made me feel like Yunho did? I could dwell on these thoughts for an eternity, I fear, but I didn’t have that time right now. And to be fair, I didn’t want to think of such things right now because I could feel my determination wither the closer I got to the music majors’ floor, heartbeat loud in my ears.

I stopped at the end of the hallway and took a deep breath, eyes settling on the studio I knew now was used by Mingi only. Wooyoung was nice enough to tell me the number of his studio—not that I had forgotten since the last time I was here—and he also let me know that it was used by Mingi only, the teachers having granted him full access, even at hours when students were supposed to be at home. It seems so Mingi was a favorite amongst the teachers, and I could see why. He was diligent and hard-working; his lyrics were beautiful and nothing would stop him from fulfilling his dream of becoming a well-known rockstar. I couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of that, and hoped that I would be part of his journey, that he’d let me back into his life.

Steeling my nerves and trying to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I knew there was no turning back. I wanted to do this, I had to do this. I had to stop sabotaging myself, and so, I marched down the hallway towards Mingi’s studio with a newfound hope and determination. Which lasted about five seconds as I came face to face with Mingi’s studio door. There was a small window on it, which would let you know whether the room was occupied or not, and it was straight across the desk where he was sat at—with the blonde girl standing right next to him. And that should have been okay, because really, Mingi could talk to whoever and spend his time also with whoever he pleased. And it’s not like I didn’t have male friends—I didn’t, Seulgi was my only friend—it’s not like he couldn’t speak to one of his fans. After all, he’s made it clear she was nothing more than a fan he appreciated for helping spread the word about his band.

But then, why was her hand on his shoulder one second and the next second slowly trailing down the sleeve of his beige cardigan—which looked like it was messily stained with paint—and certainly the way my good disposal dissipated and was overtaken by blind jealousy and rage had nothing to do with the sudden possessiveness that shook me to my core. And perhaps the thing that bothered me the most wasn’t even her feeling up Mingi’s arm as she looked down at him with sultry eyes, perhaps it was the way Mingi leaned back in his chairs, legs spread wide, and smirk on his lips as he looked up at her with his sharp gaze, allowing her to touch him. Perhaps that’s what sent me over the edge as I barged inside the studio in the most unceremonious way, making the girl yelp in fright and Mingi flinch as his eyes widened.

『Baby, you're all that I want

I want you all to myself

Oh, but you know me too well』

And when I was angry—or panicking, or hurt—all rational thoughts flew out the window as I was led by nothing else but pure instinct and a shit ton of unclear and not so necessarily nice thoughts. Simpler put, I wasn’t thinking nor making sense, but I couldn’t care less as I glared at the both of them while I struggled to mask the fury licking at my veins. They were both looking at me wide eyed, as if I had caught them doing something I wasn’t supposed to, and that made me snap before I could think through how to proceed with this whole shitshow, “Get out.”

For a second, even I didn’t recognize my voice as it dropped a few octaves, fierce gaze set on the blonde girl as she paled, eyes scrambling between Mingi and me as, suddenly, Mingi seemed to snap out of whatever scare I had given him by slamming his door open and into the wall. God, I hope I haven’t actually damaged it, because I certainly didn’t have the money to pay for it right now. I couldn’t look at the blonde girl anymore, heart beating fast in my chest as Mingi and I made eye contact, his eyebrows set in a deep frown as he had a sneer on his face.

“Excuse me?” God, even her voice was annoying. I looked back at the blonde girl and raised my eyebrows at her mockingly.

“Are you deaf?” I chuckled, but it was humorless, “Do I need to repeat myself?”

She huffed, looking offended—rightfully so—and I gritted my teeth as I stepped inside the studio, making it pretty obvious that I wasn’t going anywhere before this bitch left. I tried not to see red as Mingi’s hands balled up into fists or the way the girl snickered, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You’re the one that’s barged inside uninvited, sweetheart,” And if I could have, I would have ripped her blonde strands out, “this isn’t your fucking studio, so, shut up. Mingi wants me here, maybe you should leave.”

I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing, somewhere deep in my mind realizing I looked absolutely psychotic and if Mingi didn’t hate me before, he certainly would hate me now. I wasn’t helping myself; I was making everything worse—just the usual, then. But this bitch wasn’t stopping me from getting what I came here for, and I hummed as my eyes fell on Mingi again, who’s jaw was clenching and unclenching. His sharp eyes were narrowed, but it seemed like he wasn’t saying anything anytime soon and that only pissed me off more.

“Sure,” I nodded and walked further inside, forcefully throwing my tote bag on the small couch against the wall on my left, making the contents of it spill out. I watched as both Mingi and the girl looked at the clothes, and Mingi’s expression flashed with something unreadable for a second, “Mingi wants you here.”

I suppose neither expected me not to stop until I reached the desk, coming up on Mingi’s left side as I slammed the thermos bottle—albeit too harshly—against the desk, a loud bang echoing in the room. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed as I opened my mouth to tell the girl to leave again, but suddenly, he was up on his feet, staring me down. The height difference wasn’t that great between the two of us, but suddenly I felt small under his heated glare and sneer that seemed to settle on his lips, broad shoulders intimidating as he lowered his head just a little bit. He looked nothing like the Mingi I had gotten to know over the past few months, and it made my heart race as I realized I might not be able to reason with him today, “What the fuck is your problem, Y/N?! You tell her to get out when you barge in unwelcomed, and then start demanding for her to leave—”

I couldn’t even let him finish his sentence before I was firing back my argument, “Oh, what’s my fucking problem?! Maybe the fact that you lied to me?”

“About what?!” Mingi snapped, eyebrows furrowed as he took a step towards me, his body big enough to make the blonde girl not be seen behind him.

“Oh, be for real.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, “You never show anyone your songs to? But you so conveniently let me listen to that unfinished song of yours and now look who else gets to listen to it? Her. If you’re so desperate to get laid, you should have—”

“I didn’t show her shit.” Mingi cut me off, voice shaking as his cheeks grew red from anger, probably. Mingi wasn’t a scary person, but he looked scary right now. There was no ounce of kindness in his expression nor tone, he looked cold and angry and like he hated me. I gulped and realized, once again, that I was digging myself deeper into the shithole I had created for myself, that I was hurting him again and again. This is not how things were supposed to go, “I only showed you. That unfinished song you’re talking about, only you know about it. Thanks for reminding me again why I shouldn’t deal with you anymore—”

“Stop it.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as I felt fear grip at my throat, making my voice sound shaky as Mingi’s expression went blank. I hated when he did that. I wanted to know what he was thinking about, I needed to see what he felt. I couldn’t do this if he withdrew himself, I couldn’t do this if I was the only one that would bare her heart to him. I was scared. He was pushing me away like Yunho had done, Mingi was abandoning me.

“Stop it?” If I wanted to cry when he laughed in my face mockingly, impassive smirk settling on his lips, I didn’t let it happen. I kept my composure, anger, hurt, desperation, yearning all mixing together as I found it harder and harder to breathe, “You want me to be nice to you after all the shit you said to me on Saturday? You want me to treat you like before after everything that’s happened? I can’t. You hurt me, made me feel like a fucking idiot, Y/N, you broke—I thought we were friends. I feel disrespected and played, and yet here you are again, acting like you have even an ounce of right to act the way you are right now, when it’s you who made it so fucking clear you want nothing to do with me anymore. Do you enjoy making others suffer? Do you want to see me on my fucking knees begging for your attention? I have enough self-respect to step back and move on with my life when someone so blatantly tells it to my face that I am nothing—”

“But you aren’t!” My tone raised without me meaning to as my heart continued to beat out of my chest so fast my ears started ringing. I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to victimize myself, I just wanted Mingi to understand I made a mistake, that I knew I did, and that I was trying to fix things. I didn’t want us to part ways, especially not like this, he made me realize this second that I didn’t want to lose him, “You aren’t nothing to me. I said those things because I’m scared. I don’t know how to navigate these feelings—”

“Save it, okay?” I was left gaping as Mingi shook his head, pushing his hands in the pockets of his light denim jeans, “I don’t want to hear whatever sob shit you have to say right now, I’m asking you kindly to leave before I call security and delete my number, like I have deleted yours.”

The silence that settled upon us was deafening and my eyebrows furrowed as a tear rolled down my cheek without warning, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to find my breath. That hurt, it hurt more than anything before, it hurt more than when Yunho left me, broke my heart. Mingi meant so much more to me than Yunho ever did, and I bit my lower lip as Mingi seemed unaffected, expression blank and rather bored. Nothing was making sense anymore. I was scared, but I also felt ready to break free of the chains of the past, I wanted Mingi. And knowing all this, I didn’t want to hold back anymore, I didn’t want to consider my next words anymore. I just wanted to speak my mind freely.

“My ex-boyfriend is Jeong Yunho, your best friend.” Mingi had almost turned away from me, but he froze, head slowly turning back to face me once again, “We dated back in high school, many years ago, when we were still some headless and stupid teenagers. But he was the first boy I’ve ever loved and he fucking broke my heart, shattered into pieces with a bright smile on his lips. He promised me many things, and I was naïve, so I believed it all. And because I did, I ended up hurt beyond fixing and I’ve never trusted a man again. He was my first boyfriend and the center of my universe, yet he never cared enough about me to properly break up with me.

“Yunho talked about you all the time. Everything you liked, everything you hated, you were part of our daily conversations and I always wished to meet you, to see what was so great in you that had Yunho gushing all the time. I was jealous, so jealous that I became bitter. I started hating even the mention of your name, I selfishly wanted Yunho to myself, and you gone from his life. I couldn’t understand what was so great about you and why I wasn’t enough. I knew Yunho didn’t love me, but I wanted him to, so I made myself believe it, believe that I was worth more to him than you’ll ever be. And in the process, I stupidly made myself believe that he’d never leave me, that he was the one for me like he has said so many times before.

“He broke my heart so fucking bad that it took years until I could say his name or even see his face again. I am over him now, have been for a long time, but I can’t help still feel bitter about him. I can’t help but associate you with him at times. He made me defensive and untrusting of men, I couldn’t help but assume you’d be just like Yunho when I first met you, at least when I finally realized who you were. I felt so guilty, I tried to push you away but you wouldn’t fucking give up. You are everything yet nothing like Yunho and that scares me, because I want you, Mingi. But I’m scared you’ll abandon me like Yunho did, that you’ll fill my head with empty and pretty fantasies and then leave me alone with them, tearing my heart apart in the process. I want to open up, but I’m scared. I think, however, with you by my side, I’d be able to do that, to let my walls down.”

The silence that settled upon us, once again, was deafening and I gulped, heart racing and making me feel lightheaded as Mingi’s face had fallen, expression finally not as void as before. He looked shocked, but surprisingly, he didn’t look hurt nor like he would hate me for ever. It made me hopeful for a second, it made me sniff loudly and blink away the insisting tears from my eyes. He gulped and took a deep breath, making me stare in his eyes, hopeful and less scared, as he sighed and rubbed at his chin; a stubble was showing. Now that I come to think of it, he looks rather tired with bags under his eyes, and his platinum hair has a blue hue to it.

“I’m sorry he made you go through so much; I know it wasn’t easy.” Mingi’s tone finally lost the edge it had before, finally it wasn’t laced with so much anger, and it almost made me cry, “I kind of—I knew. Not exactly the whole thing, but I suppose I can say I had a feeling that there was history between you and Yunho. It was too obvious whenever I brought him up that you didn’t like him, at first I was confused, but then I suppose everything just clicked into place. The drawing of his eyes, the sweater you lent me and the fact that you gave it to me in the end—I’ve known since then that it was probably Yunho. I never said anything to him, not like that at least, I wanted you to come to me on your own, when you fully trusted me with the information. And I’m sorry, but he—he was an asshole back in high school, he was insecure and he played with everyone’s feelings, he was quite good at manipulating people around him. He’s mentioned dating you, but very few times, and by the time you had broken up I had all but forgotten about you, I suppose I wasn’t much better compared to him.

“But all of this isn’t my fault in the end, and while I completely understand your reasoning now and why you often acted the way you did, I’m sorry, but I can’t just let go of things and start anew. There’s just—too many things that have happened, emotions that you stirred up in me, and I just can’t do it, I—it’s not even about you and Yunho, I don’t give a fuck about it, it was ages ago and Yunho is a changed man and I know he’s long moved on. And you too, I believe you have, you seemed less bitter lately, but I just can’t. I can’t help but ask again, what do you want, YN?”

At least he wasn’t mad at me, but I did feel ashamed that I made him piece everything together on his own, that I wasn’t capable of telling him the truth myself. I have made mistakes, sure, but Mingi apparently didn’t hate me for them, “I just want to apologize, for everything.”

Mingi nodded and I watched in despair as that cold mask slipped back onto his face, expression void of any emotion once again. It made me want to grab his shoulders and shake them, force him to look deep into my eyes and just see everything I felt for him, “That’s fine, I accept your apology. If that’s all, you can leave—”

“But that’s not all!” I snapped, having had enough of being dismissed by him. I saw the way his jaw twitched, the way his eyebrows furrowed at my defiance, at my reluctance to leave just yet. I was being pathetic and a pain in the ass, but I had to make him understand that I was ready to leave all my fears behind for him, to learn how to be a better person next to him. I wanted to change, and I wanted it to happen with him by my side, with him guiding me and teaching me how to be more like him, and less like the shitty person I was for so long. I longed to be the way I was before meeting Yunho, a lot happier and a lot less broody and hateful of the beautiful things that surrounded me, “Mingi, I cannot stop thinking about you. I spend every waking moment when we’re apart wondering what you’re up to, what’s going through your mind, whether you’re okay or not. And I’ve been drawing you, since the first time I saw you, you’ve captured my attention, you’ve made me curious of who you were the longer we spent time together. I don’t want to be like this anymore, I don’t want to hurt you anymore and shut you out, I want to fix everything. I want to—I just want you, Mingi.”

There was a quiet scoff behind Mingi, but neither one of us reacted to it as our gazes bore into each other, my eyes glinting with yearning and his façade slowly breaking down as he released a shaky breath, “Mingi, I adore you.”

“Get out.” For a second, my body froze as I thought he was addressing me, but then, he whirled around and pointed towards the studio’s still open door, “Get out, now.”

And I just realized that the blonde girl had been witness to everything, and I couldn’t help but blanch in embarrassment as she made to interject, but I guess Mingi’s sharp eyes made her reconsider her choice as she huffed and then stormed out of the studio. My cheeks felt hot and I realized the clothes were making me sweaty, so as Mingi hurried towards the door to close it, I shrugged my jacket off and placed it neatly on the back of the sofa together with my thick scarf. And as I looked up, mouth dry as the door clicked shut and Mingi turned around, it felt like time stopped, like the world stopped moving. But Mingi was moving towards me, in nothing more than three steps he stood in front of me, and before I could even as much as try to reason with him or plead more to be forgiven, warm fingers dug into my cheeks and the wind was knocked from my lungs as his plush warm lips slammed against mine, making me gasp as my eyes remained wide open.

『Filthy impetuous soul

I wanna give it to you』

I thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with me, I thought he’d tell me that he needed time to forgive me completely and for us to work things out. But I couldn’t help shudder and feel ecstatic as I grabbed the collar of his shirt and cardigan, my eyes falling shut, as I pulled him closer to my body, savoring the kiss as if it was our first. But it wasn’t anything like that one, it wasn’t soft nor careful nor slow, it was hurried and desperate as Mingi pushed me backward, pressing me against the wall, right between the small space between the sofa and the desk. My arms circled his neck as he grabbed my nape with one big hand and pressed his other into the small of my back, making it arch as my fingers tangled into his soft hair, not pulling, just feeling the need to hold onto something, to keep myself grounded.

And much like the first time, our lips seemed to fit perfectly, and I tried not to keen when he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on the soft flesh, and I tried not to turn into a puddle when he hummed lowly against my lips as my fingers flexed in his hair. Perhaps I kissed him a bit harder and more aggressively as our pace quickened, my hand holding the side of his neck as Mingi pressed his body into mine until it felt like he was trying to forbid me even of the idea of escaping from his clutches, and I had no fucking intention of going anywhere, because in his arms I felt content and safe, and perhaps a bit too hot as goosebumps covered my arms the longer our lips moved hungrily against each other. And when I cupped his cheeks and perhaps held onto them a bit too firmly, his lips parted, and I ignored my lungs screaming for air as my tongue slipped past his parted mouth. I didn’t expect him to moan as our tongues tangled together, all wet and perhaps a little disgusting, but neither one of us cared about that.

I tried to stand on my tip toes for better access as Mingi’s ring clad fingers were suddenly running through my hair and tilting my head back, making my skin tingle where he held my hip firmly. I had been kissed by other people before, but neither felt like with Mingi, neither made me crave more and more and more. But our lungs could only go on so long without air, and I would’ve been embarrassed for the loud gasp I let out when we finally parted, if it wasn’t for Mingi diving straight for my neck and finding the sweet spot that made me putty in his arms. And I tried to ignore his deep grunts as my fingers got tangled in his platinum blonde strands as he pressed open mouthed and wet kisses against my neck, his arms around my hips pulling me into an embrace that had my pulse showing through the skin of my neck. My lips were tingling and my lungs actually hurt, but I couldn’t care less when Mingi finally pulled back and blinked his dark eyes open, pupils dilated and lips so swollen he almost made me chase after them once again.

『Oh, just to see what you'd do

'Cause I'm so drunk on you』

“What’s in the thermos?” His voice was raspier than usual, and it made me bite my bottom lip as my eyes searched his face, his falling on my lips instead.

“Hot chocolate, for peace making.” I answered, sounding a lot more breathless than I actually felt, and Mingi chuckled, the sound deep in his throat. I let my arms fall from his shoulders and instead circled them around his torso, trying to fight off the smile from my lips. Mingi didn’t look angry nor dismissive anymore, but I knew I wasn’t actually forgiven just yet. And that was only fair.

“This is peacemaking, not the hot chocolate.” And there it was, the mischievous glint in his eyes and the smug smirk on his lips as he squeezed my hips once and lowered his face until our lips brushed together, “Although I do appreciate the hot chocolate too.”

“Good, my mom was rather excited when she told me to give it to you.” I pressed a chaste kiss against Mingi’s lips before he could try and say anything, and he chuckled when I pulled away, eyes creasing and crooked front teeth showing.

“What are we now?” His voice was a mere whisper, not insecure nor scared, just wondering, “What do you want?”

I gulped, but decided to be honest. No more hiding my feelings and thoughts from him, “I don’t know just yet, and that’s why I need you to take the lead, but this—I want more of this, of you.”

“Good,” Mingi hummed, lips pursed as he kissed my cheek once before slowly releasing me from his warm embrace, “because I’ve been wanting more of you for fucking ages, doll.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as suddenly I felt embarrassed and perhaps a little shy, but Mingi seemed to be unphased as he grabbed my tote bag and looked through it because his clothes were in it, “You can keep these, they looked better on you anyway. But you better not give them to Yunho if he ever happens to go over to your house—”

“Mingi.” I snapped mortified and pushed his arm as he dropped the tote bag and burst out laughing, giving me a cheeky smile.

“Want to hear the rest of the song I made for you?”

“For me?”

“Yeah, doll, for you.”

            By the time I managed to get home I might as well been on cloud nine and in so much ecstasy that one would think I was on drugs. Which, kind of felt like it after the day I have had—not that I’ve ever done any drugs. I failed to notice my mother’s silhouette in the window of our kitchen when I got out of Mingi’s car and, of course, that meant she saw him get out of his old Honda Prelude and jog after me to kiss me hard and leave me dizzy before he left. And all of that, of course, meant that by the time I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, my mother was leaning against the archway of the kitchen with the widest smirk I’ve ever seen on her face.

“So, did you have sex?”

My eyes widened in mortification and I struggled to step out of my boots and shrug off my jacket, “Mom!”

“So, you did, huh.” It wasn’t even a question, and suddenly running after Mingi’s car sounded a lot better than standing in front of my mother as she bit her bottom lip, giving me a wink.

“We didn’t!” I exclaimed, cheeks flushed a deep red as I cradled the tote bag to my chest, “He needs to take me out on a date first—many dates, actually.”

“Well, he better hurry up then cuz you’re glowing and you’re happy.” I froze at my mother’s words as she looked at me with a serene expression on her face, lips pulled into a small smile, forgetting all about her previous teasing, “He’s good for you, too good. I haven’t seen you so relaxed and happy since—since highschool.”

Since Yunho broke up with me.

“I know, and I will make sure I never hurt him again.” I told my mom and she hummed, looking down at her wristwatch.

“You missed lunch, by the way, so you’ll eat chicken tenders—”

“Again?!”

“Again, exactly. Go wash up before dinner.”

And I was out of her sight in no time, with a newfound rush in my system, skin tingling as I realized I craved to hold my pencil and my sketchbook in my hands. I couldn’t remember the last time I drew something for me and not because it was an assignment. And if hours later the sketch looked a lot like a familiar platinum blonde haired man with sharp eyes and a tall nose wearing blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a beige cardigan over it, accessories many and nails painted black, then I wouldn’t even deny it anymore. Perhaps he would love seeing my drawings. Perhaps I should finally show him.

Mings 🖤: date on wednesday? Me: but im paying this time Mings 🖤: so when we went to the pottery coffee shop it was a date wasnt it, doll Me: maybe it was maybe it wasnt Mings 🖤: no maybes this time

『Oh, but you know me too well

Oh, but you know me too well, well』

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[throneofsapphics]

the ebb and flow of fate part 5

Cazriel x f!Reader 

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (epilogue)

Summary: Everything made sense, looking back in time. The pull she felt to them, beyond the bounds of friendship. They’d be the reason she tore all of her hair out, this entire damned thing was a mess. 

Warnings: angst, illness, discussions of death, smut, minors dni

Word Count: ~3.1k

A/N: a short one, but I wanted to update this! It’s not over yet, I promise

“I thought you would’ve figured it out by now,” Cassian shot back at her. 

Azriel watched as the bond snapped. Counted the seconds it took her to reply. Fifty six. Less than a minute for his heart to crush. Maybe it was his fault, for assuming it might fix everything. Still, an angry and dangerous hurt filled him. The type of hurt that would make him reckless, that would make him say and do things he’d regret, so he left. Left her and Cassian in some kind of stand off. Did it make him a coward? To turn his back and walk away? Maybe, but it was the safe option. The option to cause the least harm. 

The weight of the last several months settled on him. 

You deserve it. 

Maybe she had a point. Even if he didn’t regret the things he’d done in the past, it had to balance out somewhere. Why would he deserve anything good? 

Azriel sought out Rhys, he couldn’t handle Cassian right now, but he needed an outlet. Some way to get all of his anger and hurt out. His brother didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry, but stayed in the ring with him until they were both covered with sweat and filled with exhaustion. 

It didn’t work. 

-

Mates. Mates. Mates. The obnoxious voice in the back of her mind repeated. She wouldn’t lie to herself, they were telling the truth. Everything made sense, looking back in time. The pull she felt to them, beyond the bounds of friendship. They’d be the reason she tore all of her hair out, this entire damned thing was a mess. 

Could fate throw a wrench in plans she hadn’t actually made? She should consider herself blessed to find two mates, but she never imagined herself mated this young. Not before her first century. They probably didn’t either. 

Her mind drifted to the state of their world, of the impending conflicts constantly around the corner. Could she forgive herself if she ignored them? Ignored herself? Only to have it ripped away unexpectedly. 

It was not the time to make a decision. A few weeks passed, and they all made careful circles around each other. Back to ignoring, thrown back to the past, and it was miserable. She was miserable. This wasn’t the past she wanted to be thrown into. 

Azriel had turned his back. Azriel walked away. Again, like a gods-damned coward. Cassian left after she kicked him out. If she accepted the bond, is this what waited for her? Constant fights, turning their backs on each other, always falling out and making up, only for everything to crash down again. 

Deep in herself, she knew she couldn’t go centuries without them, but she wasn’t sure she could handle centuries of that. Miserable with them, or without them. 

-

It started with a barely noticeable shake in her hand, followed by increased headaches. Not often, but more than usual. It didn’t impair her life, not significantly, but it was enough to bring her to Madja.

The healer looked … contemplative, and worried. She knew it would be bad news, at this point she was just waiting to hear how bad. 

“I need to look into it more.” 

That’s the last thing she wanted to hear. A few weeks passed, and it was all she could think about. Even pushing thoughts of the mating bond aside. She’d given up on bugging Madja, who said she’d call her if she had any news. Finally, she received a letter, a summons with little detail, and burst out of the library as fast as she could, winnowing as soon as she cleared the wards. 

“What is it?” She didn’t bother with a pleasant greeting, especially when she saw the look on her face. After working alongside her for a few years, she knew that one, and her heart dropped to her stomach. “What is it?” She repeated, lower this time. Madja motioned for her to sit, she obeyed, and the female took a chair across from her. 

“It’s killing you.” At least she didn’t mince her words. 

“Any more details?” 

“It could be three years, it could be three hundred, could be a thousand.” 

“Right,” she swallowed, tilting her head towards the ceiling, willing the tears away. 

“We’ll find ways to manage it, I have more contacts to reach out to.” Madja continued, gently. 

“Manage,” she repeated faintly. 

“Have you told your mates about it?” 

She winced, taking a breath to center herself. “We’re not on speaking terms.” 

Madja clicked her tongue, “it could be three years, it could be three hundred, maybe a thousand. Do you want to live the rest of your life ignoring them? Is your grudge worth it?”

No. It wasn’t. She didn’t need to say it, Madja read the look on her face, returning it with one of approval. 

Tonight. She would do it tonight, before she ran out of time. Walking back to the Townhouse, she thought of how she would do it. First step would be to get the two of them alone. Then … maybe just tell them she’s ready. She didn’t bother going back to the library, there was no way she could focus. Not now. 

-

“What if we’re not ready?” 

Each word sliced into her, carving her heart open for them to see. Her eyes shuttered closed, taking a few moments to trap the tears behind, to will them away. 

All she could manage was a stiff nod, before making a quick exit - nearly at a sprint, if she’s being honest. She made it all the way out of the townhouse, winnowing down to the sidra, to a secluded spot near the river, before she broke. 

Knees hit the pavement, gravel embedding in her skin, her hands cradling her head as tears flowed, leaving a salty taste on her lips. 

“Thought I might find you here.” 

Amren. For fucks sake. Out of everyone to find comfort in, Amren was at the bottom of her list, not that she wanted comfort or company. Right now, she wanted to wallow in herself. 

A small, but surprisingly strong hand gripped her shoulder, yanking her back to her feet. Silver eyes looked at her with a mix of distaste and pity.

“What?”

Those eyes narrowed in warning, but she didn’t care. Nothing could hurt now, not as she let numbness take over, and let herself slip into that void without feeling, the inbetween state where nothing mattered. 

“You’re all idiots.” 

A broken laugh left her, one hand rubbing her forehead. She could’ve sworn Amren’s blood red lips curved at the corners, however briefly. 

“Do you have any good advice?” 

Amren ignored the sneaky barb, tilting her head to assess her. As always, it felt like she was stripping her bare, somehow staring into the dark depths of her soul. “The three of you need to drag your heads out of your asses.” She scowled, that wasn’t much better. “What exactly did he say?” 

“What if we’re not ready?” she quoted. 

“It was a question, then.” 

“Not the way he said it.” 

“You make too many assumptions,” Amren clicked her tongue, finger running across her ruby necklace. Giant, almost gaudy, gems. But, the ancient creature managed to pull them off. 

-

Azriel was conned into picking up a tonic for Mor, who was currently acting like a child over her cough, but he didn’t mind doing it - not really. 

He startled when he scented her there. After the conversation a few days ago, a question Cassian meant rhetorically, she’d disappeared before they could follow her, and had been a virtual ghost the last few days. They were ready, had been ready, but resentment still lingered. 

Respecting her privacy would be the smart thing to do, but bits of her conversation with Madja snuck through, and his shadows investigated. They’d been restless. Wherever she retreated to, they couldn’t find her. 

“I heard back from my friend in Dawn, she said she’d be willing to take a look, but she’s not sure she’ll find anything I couldn’t.” Madja sounded a bit disappointed. To look at what? 

“It’s worth a shot.” 

“Have you told them?” 

“I did. They’re not,” her voice cracked, “ready.” 

“Have you told them about your … condition?” 

“No. I won’t, they’ll probably think I’m guilting them into it.” 

“It’s not going away,” Madja said, maybe a tad harshly. Azriel had a sinking feeling he knew what this was about. “As far as we know, we’re not going to cure it, this is about management.” 

“You’ve already said that,” your voice was dead, flat. “It would be nice to have a timeline.” 

“Like I told you before, it could be three years or three hundred. We’re in uncharted territory.” 

Azriel couldn’t handle it anymore, couldn’t handle being this close to you without speaking, and strode for the door, knuckles rapping against the wood. 

Madja swung it open, raising her brows. 

“Came to pick something up for Mor,” he said, but his eyes darted behind her - where you sat, head buried between your hands, forearms propped on your knees. 

“I think you need to talk,” Madja said, and slipped past him, leaving them alone. She didn’t look up, keeping her hands shielding her face. 

Slowly, he crossed, stopping to kneel in front of her, peeling her hands away. Eyes wide, brimming with tears slowly escaping, she asked “how much did you hear?” 

“Enough.” 

She tried to force a smile, and it failed miserably. Shock and realization set in as he looked at her, as he tried to read the swirling emotions on her face. He’d have to watch her die. Three years, three hundred, a thousand. Eternity didn’t feel like enough time with you. He’d be haunted by the knowledge that some day he’d lose his mate. As a result of all of their actions. Of something so fucking preventable, if all could’ve swallowed their pride. 

She deserves someone better. Someone who hadn’t fucked everything up. Maybe it made him a bad person, a selfish asshole, but she was his. His mate, the person destined for him - sent by the Mother, the Cauldron, Fate, or whatever. Azriel wouldn’t let go of her, wouldn’t let her slip through his fingers again. 

Cassian needed to know, but they needed to figure out a way to tell him without him slipping into a pit of misery and self loathing. 

“Might as well tell him now,” she read his expression, the unsaid words in his eyes. For once, she didn’t protest as he helped her up, tugging her to his chest and winnowing to the Townhouse.

-

Cassian took one look at her expression, at the tear stained cheeks, at the grave look on Azriel’s face and knew something was wrong. Something beyond whatever happened earlier. 

Poison. Side effects. No cure. Years or centuries. He didn’t let his eyes leave you as you explained, as tears streamed down your face - Azriel filling in the words where he could, admitting he overheard their conversation picking something up for Mor. 

Beautiful eyes stared at him as you finished, waiting for him to say something. Anything. He’d never been great with words, so he stood, grabbing her and pulling her into a tight hug. Squeezing until she said she couldn’t breathe, and then only loosening enough for her to not suffocate, not willing to let her go yet. 

“Madja’s contacting someone in Dawn,” he said, still holding on to you, “there’s still a chance.” 

“A better chance at management,” she said into his chest. Cassian didn’t want to believe it. Between all of them, with Rhys and Madja and whoever else they could get in contact with, they’d find something. He needed to cling to that hope, to hold onto it as tight as he could. If he didn’t, he’d fall deep, deep down somewhere he didn’t know he could drag himself out of. 

-

“You’ve hurt me, both of you. Turned your backs on me more times than I care to count. How do I push past that? How do I forget it? How do I trust you won’t do it again?” 

It felt like she was asking for an answer, begging for some kind of reassurance, an example that would soothe that feeling and hurt. 

“You don’t,” Cassian said. She frowned at him. “You let us prove it to you.”

“You still have nightmares, right?” She tensed, as if she wanted to avoid the question, and wanted to lie about it. Azriel raised one brow, shoulder swirling around his neck. She couldn’t lie to him, even if he tried to tell them to quit spying, they still kept an eye on her. 

A muscle in her jax flexed. “Right.” 

“Stay the night with us. Let us help.” Azriel didn’t phase it as a question. He needed to help. Every instinct roared at him to get her closer, to protect her from any threats - visible or not.

“You can come on your own feet, or over my shoulder,” Cassian threw a grin her way. 

She chuckled, shoulders relaxing at the old threat - one used several times by Cassian. “I can handle walking down the hall. If I have a nightmare, I’ll come.” 

“Save yourself the walk.” 

They had one of their standoffs, each of them crossing their arms - almost in sync. Azriel pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh. It was so normal. It gave him hope they could build back what they had before everything went to hell. 

She might accept the bond, but Azriel was smarter than to think that would fix everything. The trust they had, it might take years to build back up again. A challenge would be good for them. Sure, it might suck, it might be difficult, but he didn’t doubt they’d come out closer because of it. 

-

“If you don’t relax, you’ll never sleep.” 

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” she snipped back. It wasn’t completely true, actually it was mostly a lie. Something about sharing their bed now, with what she knew, felt different. 

“Liar,” Azriel countered. At least she could always count on him to call her out. 

Cassian ran a hand up her thigh, stopping where her night dress ended. It was a particularly short one. The first one she could grab before he showed up in her room. She’d intended to walk there on her own, but he’d come to throw her over his shoulder anyway, a playful gesture as she laughed and half heartedly hit the space above his wings. 

“Need a little … help loosening up?” 

Gods, his mouth was so close to her ear, lips almost brushing over, breath caressing her neck. She tensed for another reason. Azriel’s fingers tilted her jaw up. Hazel eyes searched hers. Do you want this?

Did she? Fuck, she really did. Yes. 

A nod, not directed at her, and Cassian’s hand drifted, fingers dragging up the hem of the silky fabric, exposing more of her skin. 

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, Azriel’s finger tugged it free, brushing over it. His knuckles ran over her jaw, Cassian’s hand made its way up. She didn’t know where to focus, not as Azriel leaned in to place a kiss at the corner of her mouth, as Cassian gripped her leg, tugging it back over her hips, dress pushed up to her hips. Exposed. Exposed and nothing worn underneath it. 

She heard them swallow at the same time, vaguely seeing Azriel’s throat bob in the moonlight. 

Being touched by them was safe. This was safe, she emphasized to her mind, not giving it a chance to take over her thoughts, refusing to let it cloud her senses.

Cassian was teasing, fingers drifting around the outsides, never actually touching her where she wanted to. Azriel traced her cheekbones, jaw, collarbone, around the curve of her breasts. 

“This is not relaxing,” she said through gritted teeth, pushing back against Cassian for emphasis. He let out a short breath, gripping her thigh instead. A low whine left her. Now he was too far. He laughed, and her cheeks flushed. “Are you going to make me beg?” 

“Not this time,” he said, just as Azriel’s hand crept under her dress, pushing back up to pinch her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Two of Cassian’s fingers ran up her folds. 

Gods, this was heaven. Why hadn’t they done this sooner? His fingers swirled around her clit, Az palming her breast now, switching back and forth between the two of them. How had she gone so long without this? 

Swirling, pinching, flicking, pressing, the sensations spreading across her body mixed into one. Just one state of pleasure, of confusion and overdrive. She wiggled, arched her back, let out moans she didn’t have time to think about. Her thighs clenched as one finger slipped inside of her. Who’s was it? She didn’t know, didn’t care, as long as it never left. 

“Good,” Cassian murmured, “let go for us sweetheart.” 

You did. You screamed - loud enough a hand clamped over your mouth, one of them laughing. 

Slowly, the one finger left her, and she missed it. Didn’t quite like the empty feeling left behind. But, she was distracted as the hand - it must’ve been Cassian then, crossed over her … to Azriel. 

He met her eyes as he wrapped his lips around it, tasting her. Fuck. Just one hit, one taste, and she was in over her head. 

“I want to … to you-” she babbled, words nearly nonsensical. 

Cassian laughed behind her, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Another time.” 

She pouted. Fucking pouted. Gods they’d really turned her into a mess. 

“We promise,” Azriel pushed some of the hair back from her face. 

“Feeling relaxed now?” Cass asked. 

If she said no, would they do it again? 

“If you lie, I'll know.” 

Fine. “I’m relaxed.” 

“Good, now sleep,” Cassian rested his hand on her stomach. Too appropriate of a place. 

“How am I supposed to sleep after that?” 

“Close your eyes, think sleepy thoughts. She elbowed him. He had some of the worst advice. He countered by pushing her towards Azriel. The male didn’t hesitate to roll her to her other side, now curving his body around hers, holding her tight enough she couldn’t escape if she wanted to. “I regret that,” Cassian muttered, but shifted closer, arm draping over her to rest on Azriel. 

The three of them, curled up together, just how it should be. Fate designed it this way, the Mother put the three of them together for a reason. No matter how limited, she’d take whatever she could get. 

taglist:  @infinitely-kate, @foreverrandomwritings, @anuttellaa, @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog, @justasillylittlegoofyguy, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @bookishdeer, @sidthedollface2, @mis-lil-red, @acourtofbatboydreams, @blessthepizzaman, @hallucynatiing, @summerloversposts, @i-am-infinite, @fanfiction-for-my-soul, @brandywineeeee, @oktievia, @inloveallthetime let me know if you'd like to be added! sorry it didn't let me tag everyone!

[alpydk]

Gone with the Weave

Took a few days off to think. Seriously considered deleting everything, Tumblr, all of it. Realised I'd become a little lost in my writing, getting jealous over other people, insecure about my own abilities, forgot who I was writing for and why. So today I sat down and actually wrote for me again and you know what? It's helped. And because I'm hypocritical I'm going to share it with all of you.

So, here we have post-Epilogue short. Hurt/Little comfort. Gale/Tav - Tav & Astarion - Word count : 2398 -

CW - PPD / Grief / Death / Dad!Gale / Scenes of child death (Hallucinations)

It was like tar. It pulled her down and filled her lungs, thick and black. Tav tried to fight against it, tried to find the light that she knew shone above it, but her limbs were weighted down by fatigue and longing. A part of her wanted to be dragged down by it, to be lost to the depths of her depression, to disappear and no longer have the responsibility that had been thrusted upon her. To sleep and never wake; to be with him.

To everyone around her, she was a natural mother, tending to her baby’s needs, a confident smile at the life she had brought into the world. Tav was proud, strong, had been through the hells and back, figuratively and literally, and survived unscathed. But as with most, her pride was becoming her downfall. She didn’t need help, didn’t want it because weakness was not the sign of a good mother. As the days passed, as sleep turned to hallucination, still she clung onto the mask of what they all wanted to see, the last remnant of a life before life.

The child cried, but she did not react instantly, a quiet hope that someone else would come and tend to its needs whilst she pretended to sleep. But she didn’t sleep. For so long, the gods of dream and nightmare alike had ignored her pleas, and she had lain there awake, watching as the infant took all from her, leaving her with nothing but guilt and misery.

She wished he was there to help her, that his weave touched fingers that brought calm to her soul could calm the one that lay in the crib. He should have been there for this, she told herself, his strong forearms cradling the baby, a soft poem uttered under starlight bringing it to soothe. If only she had known before the final decision was made; if only things had ended differently and he had stayed, then maybe there would be fewer tears shed.

Still it cried, and no one came, the silence broken by the shrieks she had come to despise. It would be so easy to just leave, to walk out and never return, but then they would all know what she was truly like. The tar that had filled her lungs and surrounded her heart, leaving her bitter and tainted, would be exposed and they would know the truth. They would hate her as she hated the innocent child in front of her. But what if…? The thought was fleeting, cruel and unspeakable, a horror even in her own twisted mind. As night turned to the day, as cries turned to coos, she watched the baby, always watching and waiting for something to change.

---

Evening had set in and though the stars shone brightly as he had promised her, the night brought Tav little comfort knowing the long, drawn-out hours that were to come. She carried the baby to the small tub, her body weary and mind wandering, and she placed it in the water, watching as the bubbles rose quickly from its soft lips, as the arms tensed and held out towards her, as the deep brown eyes she had once loved lost their light again.

A knock at the door brought her around to her senses as she sat in front of the empty tub, the baby cooing peacefully from its bassinet. This had not been the first time she had seen such sights in the weeks since the birth. At first, it had been minor things, a shadow in the room that she had mistaken for a friend, the child crying whilst it actually slept. Soon the images became darker, the newborn lifeless in her arms when she awoke suddenly during the night, a slight misstep causing her to drop it to the floor, its body like that of a rag doll as it hit the wooden floorboards. Nothing scared her more though than herself, her lack of reaction, the quiet pleasure she saw in the freedom being granted to her. Would murder or suicide be the more publicly acceptable option? Would they forgive her? Could he forgive her, should she make that choice?

Tav rose from the floor, the image shaken away, and the mask put back in place. A deep breath was released before the door was answered with a smile and the face of Astarion greeted her. She was thankful it was him and not one of the more caring of the group; it would mean fewer questions asked, less concern over her wellbeing, and a chance that the walls would remain intact for another night.

He entered without invitation, many nights like this in the last six months that had thankfully grown less frequent since the birth. “You look like shit, darling.”

She smirked at his words, fully aware that the lack of sunlight was making her as pale as him, that the deep bags hung under her eyes. “Well, we can’t all match up to you, can we?”

Astarion made himself at home. Wine was grabbed from the cupboard and his feet put up on the coffee table. He noticed the baby but chose to ignore it, instead watching as Tav quickly sorted her hair in an attempt to look less haggard. “Resident do-gooder Wyll has asked me to come and check in on you.”

“And since when do you take orders from others?” She sat near him on the sofa, the faint stirring of the child drawing her attention. All she wanted was a moment like the old times, of two friends chatting about something that wasn’t related to birth or parenting, of wine and shameless flirting that meant nothing.

He watched her, her eyes allowing him to see the cracks that lay so visibly. “Since, 1 – it’s my turn, and 2 – it’s been a year.”

Tav scoffed. “Taking turns? Is that what you all do?” She ignored his second remark, a year since the Netherbrain, since that day when everything was supposed to change for the better.

“Quite frankly, yes. It’s one thing to be holed up alone with seven thousand spawn, it’s another to be holed up alone with that…” Astarion gestured his hand dismissively to the infant.

She knew he was right, life would be better without it, she wouldn’t be alone here, needing to be checked up on as if she there were something wrong with her. “You know you don’t have to. We’re fine.” The lie slipped out as easily as it ever did, the painted-on smile meeting her dead eyes. The small cry made her bristle, made the lie falter, and she hoped it was nothing but that one whimper.

He sipped his wine, the quickening of her heart rate deceptive as it cut through the heavy silence. “Still, we should at least share in a drink, shouldn’t we? A remembrance of sorts.”

“No, that’s not needed.” Tav was quick to cut off this suggestion. It was one thing for the wall to crumble in front of him that she was tired of sleepless nights, another for the actual truth to be pushed upon her and the dam to break.

The cry could be heard again, now with little pause between breaths. She wanted to ignore it, wanted it to die down, wanted anyone else to deal with it. But no one else would come. He would not come. She could see Astarion tensing with the building noise, and she had to react to save face. She stood, approaching the bassinet, a brief flash of annoyance in her eyes as she glanced down and picked up the baby. It was as if it knew, was manipulating her and drawing her towards ruin, as if the gods were not satisfied enough with the sacrifices she had already made.

“Aww, you just want to see uncle Astarion, don’t you?” This was what people wanted, fawning over the infant, exaggerated displays of affection that she loathed to give. She carried the baby over, its cries stopping, and she gritted her teeth, knowing the moment she put it down, the noise would commence again.

“Oh, no, darling. It’s quite alright.” He pulled his legs off the table, a clear discomfort, and with it knocked over the bottle of wine.

The scarlet liquid spread across the wood, dripping quickly onto the floor, a lazy flow as it crept between the floorboards. Tav couldn’t take her eyes from it, the baby lying amongst it, the rag doll limbs amongst its own blood, lifeless brown eyes that stared back at her. Her heart didn’t beat, she stood not in panic, only a numbness lay in her mind at the sight.

Astarion grabbed a cloth and began to clear the wine, Tav seemingly frozen with the child in her arms, her mind a million realms away, a feeling he knew too well himself. “You know, they say white wine can clear out red…”

Her heart took a beat, a recollection of where she was, of the company present, and she hoped the vision she had seen had been instantaneous so as not to draw attention. The baby was thankfully silent, and she cursed herself for not feeling upset at the sights she was seeing. Murder or suicide…It would be so easy.

She sat with the baby in her arms, Astarion cupping the glass of wine as he leaned away from her on the sofa. She could see how uncomfortable he was becoming, as if looking for a conversation that was casual enough to fulfil his objective for checking in on her.

“So, Gale-“

“Is gone.” She interrupted him off before he could even start. This was not the topic she needed. He should be there with her, holding her through sleepless nights, soothing their child as it cried through the darkened hours. He should be sharing in her tears, her smiles, consoling her as she struggled with her doubts. The baby began to stir again, as if picking up on her emotions.

“Tav, it’s been a year and you’ve not spoken with anyone about what happened.”

She ignored him, his voice and the quiet cries already beginning to overwhelm her senses. There was nothing to talk about; there was only this lonely guilt filled existence. Days and nights of tar, of emptiness, of decisions she couldn’t bring herself to make. Hoping her mask wouldn’t slip, she rocked the baby in an attempt to calm it. She was a proud, strong mother. She was a good mother.

He sighed, not knowing if he should bother to help or not, but after all Tav had done for him in the past, he knew he had to do something. “Pass it here.”

She lifted her head, a defensive hold on the baby in her arms. Was it maternal love or the pride that prevented her from handing it over so freely? “No, I can handle this.”

Astarion reached over tentatively. The baby smelt odd, like spices he could not pinpoint, and his stomach turned slightly, but he would not accept what she was saying. He gently took it into his arms, Tav’s resistance minimal, as if her body was mutinying against her mind. The child grew quiet again, a small coo as its hand reached for his shirt and small pink fingers hooked around the cotton.  

Tears built up instantly in Tav’s eyes, a guilt that she hadn’t been good enough to do this one simple thing, that she had failed in being a mother. She wanted to hide it all, wanted to run away, but she also wanted to fall apart so that people knew how deep she had fallen into the darkness and could come and save her, save her just as he had done so long ago. She wiped at her eyes, but it made little difference, the sight of her friend holding her baby, a light in his own eyes she had never seen before, a moment of innocence on the face of a seasoned killer. Why could she not feel that way? What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she love…?

Her words were quiet. Astarion wouldn't care, and she knew it wouldn’t faze him. He wouldn’t coddle her like the others would. He was what she needed now that all was lost. “I can’t handle this…”

---

The night passed in a blur. He listened as she spoke of all that had happened in the last few months, of the things she had seen, things she believed she wanted, of pride and guilt that filled her heart to bursting. She spoke of the loneliness that consumed her and the child she could not connect to, of how it reminded her of the past she wished to forget, a past she longed for desperately. One life had ended, and another had begun and all she had been left with was shadows.

The baby slept through for the first time in months, Astarion having settled it in its crib as she had managed an hour of sleep. She’d waited ages in silence, listening for the sudden interruption that never came. It was as if it knew of her confession, and she hated and loved it for what it had done.

In the early hours her friend left, the rising sun announcing his need to depart, and with it she saw the light between the grey clouds, a new day ready to start again. The child stirred, and she stepped towards the crib with hesitation. She saw the purple robes that had been draped lightly at the base where it slept, the subtle scent of the library lying amongst spices bringing calm to the bedroom, and she heard the sound of the waves on docks, brushed up with the morning gale. Picking up her baby gathered with the robes, she held them both closely, the tears building, the relief, the love for her child breaking through the walls she had built.

The guilt flowed, but it was not met with a resignation; it was met with the promise to do better, to be the mother she should’ve been, to be the woman he had once loved. The child gazed at her, bright eyed, and she saw Gale once again; for a brief moment he was with her. She was not alone. She would never be alone.

[dokidokitsuna]

Our Hero

Looks like Dream Alliance is gonna win the poll-- in any case, even if it slips into 2nd place by the end, it’s the oldest AU on the list so it takes priority. ^^ The art train has already left the station~

I thought it’d be nice to start off with a picture of good old Mad Scientist Magolor. I’ve never actually drawn what he would look like after his big adventure is over, during the brief year or two when he’s considered the universally-beloved savior of the world…y’know, before Consequences™ start to muddy the waters. ^^; He’s basically the same; the only changes are his scar and Nova-freckles, updated vambraces, and of course, the wheelchair. I originally intended for his dimensional overcoat to carry his weakened body around, and I guess it could, but visually I like the actual chair better. :] It makes him feel more down-to-earth.

So, if you remember, a while back I wrote out a “bad ending” epilogue for Dream Alliance, which I admitted I didn’t actually consider “canon” to the AU. "So then," you may be wondering, "what IS the canon ending? What actually happens to Mags and Division Six after they save the world…?"

Well, I gave it some thought, and as painful as it is…I think the true ending would be very similar to the “bad” one. Hyness is the problem-- after all’s said and done, the various leaders of the world would probably want him dead for inciting a global genocide. And it would be hard to blame them…but at the same time, I simply cannot imagine a Magolor who would sit quietly and let his father be executed. Even if it meant having the whole world turn on him, even if he truly felt the punishment fit the crime, he would still have to try to save him. He just loves him too much.

There would only be two major differences, and the first would be the position of the Dream Alliance: one of the conditions of the “good ending” is that Susie discovers the truth about Magolor, but understands where he’s coming from, due to her relationship with her own morally-bankrupt-yet-loving father. She does have a talk with him, but keeps it under wraps, and generally ignores the issue until the public finds out that Hyness exists. And even then, although she’s duty-bound to respect the wishes of the rest of the world (and kinda does want to avenge President Haltmann Sr., who died during the Void fiasco) she feels bad about having to oppose Magolor on this, and holds back a bit during the final fight.

The second (even more painful) major difference would be…I think Magolor would decide to sacrifice himself to end the conflict. 🥺If the world wants a life to take, let it be his-- after all, that would be the harshest possible punishment for his father, and he knows it. Nothing would hurt Hyness more than to live out the rest of his days knowing his beloved son died for his crimes.

And it would also quell any concerns regarding all the power Magolor amassed during the story: if he dies, the Void Destroyer System dies with him. No one has to worry about the god-killing mecha or alien auxiliaries falling into the wrong hands; it will all be gone. That extra detail, I think, would be enough to convince other world leaders to accept the deal.

His angels would agree unanimously to die with their creator, because that’s how they are (Morpho might even pull a “see you on the other side”, being part death-god, after all…he knows they’ll meet again in some form~); Gryll and Adeleine would be inconsolable, the other generals would be low-key devastated too (I think MK would be hit the hardest); and Hyness would probably still be alone in his cell, able to ‘sense’ the loss of his child even without anyone telling him…and wishing for nothing more than to join him from that moment on.

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova, Kallista, and Caesarus. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Dr. Gaul informs Bellova that her rival has returned from District 12. Upon hearing this, she forms a plan to ensure that he never affects her success again.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: spoilers for TBOSAS, swearing, implications of blackmail, mentions of death, vague allusion to sexual acts

A/n: This chapter takes place a couple months before the epilogue in TBOSAS occurs.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

“That’s all for today. If you have questions for me, stay behind and ask away. Otherwise, you are dismissed.” 

Bellova gathered her books and pens, tucking them safely into her leather school bag. She nodded politely at Professor Bingley before briskly exiting the lecture hall. It was finally lunchtime, and she was positively famished, for she hadn’t had time to eat a proper breakfast. She had gotten accustomed to sleeping in over the summer break. By the time her maid woke her up for her first day of University, she only had an hour to prepare for her first class.

Over the summer, she had officially decided to pursue a career in law. Her father assured her that it was a perfect fit, saying that her academic strengths and combative attitude would make her unstoppable in the field. The idea of creating laws for the entirety of the Capitol, or even all of Panem one day, was exhilarating to her. She knew she could make the country thousands of times better if she was given the chance. 

Despite only having attended three classes so far, Bellova loved being a University student. It was much more elite than the Academy, the professors were better, and there was no uniform. She found the last aspect particularly exciting, enjoying the looks of envy and adoration she had received as she walked down the halls for the first time.

Her social life had blossomed greatly in the span of just a few months. It was solid during her Academy days, as she was one of the most popular students. But since enrolling in the University, she had gained several new companions. She still talked to some of her old friends, like Lysistrata and Persephone. She even occasionally went on dates, for she was asked out left-and-right by men and women alike. Most of them she turned down, but for those who seemed promising, she accepted their invitations. However, none of them felt like the perfect match. She didn’t let that affect her, though. 

Her education was her top priority.

She saw Persephone Price and one of her new friends, Kallista Philo, waiting for her outside of the dining hall. Ignoring the lingering stairs of some of the people passing by, she approached them quickly.

“Hello,” she said, smiling brightly. “How are you both feeling? The first day of University treating you well?”

Persephone nodded. “I love it here already. I can’t wait to start working with other people who have the same major as me.” 

Kallista, who was a year older than Persephone and Bellova, gave them both an affectionate grin. “You both will excel in your fields, I’m positive. As long as you always try your hardest, the professors will do anything in their power to help you achieve your dream career.”

“Good to know,” Bellova said. “Now, shall we get lunch? I’m practically dying of starvation.”

They made their way through the dining hall, sitting at their usual table in the corner of the room. They discussed a variety of topics, including Kallista’s brother’s annoying fiancée and Persephone’s new pet dove. 

Persephone then asked how Bellova’s date with Caesarus Nottingham went. 

Bellova winced. “It was incredibly disappointing. He talked about nothing but his mediocre accomplishments and his…bedroom skills while we ate dinner. It completely ruined my appetite.”

Kallista gagged. “Ugh. That sounds awful.”

“Oh, it was. I was tempted to abandon the date all together to humiliate him, but I was able to embarrass him enough when he leaned in for a kiss and I stepped away. I left before he could say another word.” 

The girls laughed. Bellova was ruthless when it came to almost everything, including those she went on dates with.

“Miss Reginelle.” 

A young man wearing a University identification badge approached the table. Bellova looked up from her food.

“Yes?”

“Dr. Gaul wants to see you in her lab. She said it had to do with…reincarnation.” 

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

“You wanted to see me?”

The doctor grinned, setting down her surgical scissors. “Ah yes, Miss Reginelle. Come, my dear. I wanted to ask your opinion on these new mutations I’m developing.” 

Bellova sat down next to Dr. Gaul on a lab stool. The older woman set a small glass terrarium in front of them. Inside housed what looked like normal flowers. 

“Don’t let the pretty colors fool you,” Dr. Gaul said. “They can bite as lethally as the most dangerous snakes.”

Bellova briefly thought about the snakes that she had sent into the arena a year prior. The memory was unpleasant, not because of the mutts, but because of who she associated them with.

“That’s amazing,” Bellova said. “I assume these are for this year’s Games?”

She nodded. “Indeed. And, I plan on altering them so they regrow within mere minutes if they are snipped.”

“Reincarnation…” Bellova muttered.

“Precisely.” Dr. Gaul flashed her a twisted smile. “Speaking of that, I have some other news for you.”

Bellova cocked her head. “What is it?”

“A certain young Mr. Snow has returned to the Capitol.” 

Bellova briefly contemplated jumping into Dr. Gaul’s pool of sea serpents. “You’re fucking kidding.”

Dr. Gaul laughed. “I am not, Miss Reginelle.”

“Why? How? I thought he was sentenced to be a peacekeeper for the next twenty years?”

“He was. But I negotiated for him to return. He has far too much potential to be wasted in District 12. He returned less than a week ago, and is set to study under me for the rest of his time at the University.”

“Dr. Gaul,” Bellova said, trying her hardest not to scream. “He disgraced himself by cheating in the Games - in your Games. Why would you forgive such a thing?”

“Mr. Snow’s time in the districts has…transformed him. He has finally opened his eyes to the real nature of this world, and understands why our country operates the way it does.”

Bellova felt her jaw clench. “I see.” 

Dr. Gaul grabbed a pair of tweezers and dropped a small cricket into the glass enclosure that housed the flowers mutation. The flower immediately lunged towards the insect, devouring it in seconds. 

“Do you need anything else, Dr. Gaul?” Bellova asked. “My next class begins soon.”

She shook her head. “That is all. Run along, my dear. And if you see Mr. Snow, do give him a warm welcome home.”

Forcing a smile, Bellova nodded and walked out of the lab.

After leaving the building, she let out a frustrated snarl. Just a few weeks after Snow’s departure, she had realized she was beyond grateful that he was no longer in her life. She no longer had to worry about constantly one-upping him, she could just focus on herself and her happiness.

But now, he was back. 

Back to continue tormenting her. 

Was that his only life goal? To make her existence a living hell? 

‘Stop that,’ she chided herself. ‘You can’t let his presence affect you anymore. You’re a new woman now. A woman that holds too much power and status to give in to silly things like emotions.’

Of course, the idea of messing with Coriolanus again was tempting. She could expose several of his actions that would immediately tarnish any of his career plans. 

But it was wisest to keep that information to herself. 

For now, anyway.

Bellova smiled to herself. Instead of listening to Dr. Gaul’s suggestion to give Snow a “warm welcome”, she would give him the coldest shoulder possible. She would avoid him at all costs. 

He was no longer worthy of her attention. 

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

“Bellova! Oh, it’s so nice to see you, dear!”

Bellova whirled around, about to chew out wherever was bothering her. She was not in the mood to socialize. 

She refrained from doing so when she recognized the person approaching her was Mrs. Plinth, dressed in all black. This was uncharacteristic of her, as she usually donned bright colors. 

“Mrs. Plinth,” she greeted the older woman politely, despite wanting to tell her to leave her alone. She had decided to stop by a bakery on her way home from the University to grab a fresh pastry. She had hoped that it would lighten her mood after the unpleasant news she discovered earlier. She had not expected to run into “Ma” Plinth.

She didn’t really have anything against her, but she was still district in Bellova’s eyes. The same way her son was. She liked Sejanus most of the time, unless he was spouting on a useless tirade about the unfairness of the Capitol. But he was serving time as a Peacekeeper in 12. She had heard this from Clemensia, who heard it from Strabo Plinth himself. 

Mrs. Plinth looked her up and down, and her eyes began to fill with tears. 

“Are you alright?” Bellova asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She dabbed at her eyes with a red handkerchief, sniffling quietly. “You have grown into such a fine young woman. Ever since my family moved to the Capitol, my Sejanus adored you. He always referred to you as intelligent, and beautiful, and…” She trailed off, beginning to cry harder.

Bellova did her best not to appear uncomfortable. She didn’t like having to comfort people, it simply wasn’t in her nature. After a tense moment of silence, she asked, “Mrs. Plinth, what’s going on? Did something happen to Sejanus?”

Mrs. Plinth’s eyes widened slightly. “Has nobody told you yet?”

“Told me what?”

“H-he’s dead. Hanged in District 12 for treason against the Capitol.”

Bellova’s head spun. 

The heir to the Plinth fortune, dead.

Leaving behind two vulnerable, grieving parents. 

“What exactly was he accused of?” Bellova asked softly.

“I’m not sure. I just know that someone turned him in for traitorous conspiring. Someone who probably pretended to Sejanus’s friend just to stab him in the back,” Mrs. Plinth sobbed. “My poor boy…he deserved to die of old age after a long, prosperous life. Not in the gallows.”

Bellova pulled the hysterical woman into an awkward hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Plinth. If you need anything, just call, and I’ll do what I can.” 

The woman nodded. “Thank you, Bellova. Any friend of Sejanus is a friend to my family. Coriolanus, Sejanus’s best friend, has been such a great source of comfort to us. My husband formally declared him our heir just yesterday.”

Bellova barely held back a noise of disgust.

“That’s…very kind of you,” she said instead.

After Mrs. Plinth had left with a basket full of fresh bread, Bellova sat down at a small table, processing this new information.

Sejanus was dead. And he had been betrayed. 

Betrayed by someone he called a friend.

And she knew exactly who had sent him to the gallows. Undoubtedly, he did it for his own personal benefit. And now he had taken Sejanus’s place as the heir to the massive Plinth fortune.

He really was pathetic. 

As twisted as it sounded, Bellova was glad she was informed of Sejanus’s execution and why it had come about. 

It was one more thing to add to her list of blackmail against Coriolanus Snow.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! The tension within the story will only continue to build, until it finally snaps…

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[maggiedelusional]

Let Me Go || Part 10

Pairing: Hangman x f!reader, Rooster x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST (but you knew that), minor character death, Some Fluff

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Reader is married to and shares a child with Hangman. Life and circumstances drives reader into Rooster’s arms, but Hangman isn’t giving up that easily.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Author's Note: The long awaited Part 10. So this is the final part of the story, but there is still an epilogue coming (actually already started writing it as we speak or rather type). Sorry for the long wait once again, school and law school apps really got the best of me. But I did end up getting into law school with a great scholarship so yay! This chapter was so hard to write, I really kept going back and forth on how I was gonna end it and I know I'm not gonna make everyone happy with how I ended it but I think I went the best possible and realistic way that's healthy for all the characters involved. And I am really happy with what I came up with. I also had such a bad case of writer's block but thanks to some brainstorming with one of my best friends (who I forced to listen to the plot of the story). He helped me come up with an ending I was happy with. So thank you again for your patience and I also I wanna apologize to everyone who asked to be in the tag list that I didn't add, its impossible to keep track of who asked. But without further ado, here is Part 10 of Let Me Go!

You needed a moment to gather your thoughts before responding to Jake's plea. You took a deep breath and wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Jake, of course I still love you," you said, your voice quivering slightly. "But that's not the point. Love alone is not enough to fix what's broken between us."

"I know," Jake replied, his eyes downcast.

"You also have to understand that what I had with Bradley was not the same as what we have," you continued. 

"Yes I fell in love with him. How was I not supposed to? He loved me when it felt like you could not, he loved me selflessly and loved our daughter like his own. I can’t just ignore that.” 

"You fell in love with Rooster…." Jake repeated, voice low and full of despair.

“I thought it was you and me forever Sweets. I can’t believe you’d go back on our vows and leave me for Rooster!”

“And its not just you and me (y/n), we have a daughter! Imagine how confusing all of this is for her!” Jake was fuming once again, clearly jumping from the bargaining stage of grief back to anger. 

“You didn’t think about our daughter when you fucked that corpsman!” 

“That’s different (y/n)! She was a stranger, you fell in love with MY friend. Someone I thought was JUST your friend.”

“This is different," you said, feeling a mix of anger and frustration rise in your chest. "Rooster is not just a friend, he's someone I have a deep connection with. And I know it's hard for you to understand, but I can't just turn off my feelings for him."

Jake looked up at you, his expression a mixture of hurt and anger. "So what are you saying, that you want to be with him instead of me?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying," you replied firmly.

Jake's eyes widened as he processed your words. "So what is it? You're just going to leave me here, alone and broken?"

The anger began to rise in you as you spoke. "No, Jake, I'm not leaving you alone and broken. You did that to yourself when you cheated on me. You broke our trust and shattered the foundation of our relationship. And now you have to deal with the consequences."

Jake's face fell as your words hit him like a ton of bricks. "I know what I did was wrong," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm willing to do anything to make it up to you. I love you, (y/n), and I don't want to lose you."

Your anger began to boil over as you listened to Jake's pleas. "Love is not enough, Jake," you spat out. "It takes more than love to build a strong and healthy relationship. It takes trust, honesty, and respect. And you betrayed all of that when you cheated on me."

Jake hung his head in shame as you continued to speak. "I need time to heal and figure out if I can ever trust you again. And right now, that means being on my own. I can't just forgive you and forget what you did. It's not that simple."

“And I know you said that you’re willing to forgive my relationship with Bradley, but we both know that the hurt lives in you, you cannot just instantly forget what Bradley and I shared.”

Jake looked up at you, his eyes pleading. "Please, (y/n), don't do this. I know I messed up, I know we both did, but I'm willing to do anything to make it right. Please do this with me"

"We had your chance, Jake," you replied, your voice stern. "And we blew it. I shut you out rather than figure it out with you. I fell in love with someone else.We both need time to think and figure out what's best for ourselves and our daughter. And right now, for me,  that means being away from you."

Jake's eyes filled with tears as he realized the gravity of the situation. "Please don't do this," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "I need you, (y/n)."

But you stood firm in your decision. "I'm sorry, Jake. But we can't keep putting ourselves and our daughter through this pain. We need time apart to figure things out."

Jake looked at you, sadness etched on his face. "But what if we can't make things work? What if we can't get back together?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "Then we have to accept that and do what's best for our daughter. We both love her, and we'll always be there for her."

“I love you (y/n), I always will, no matter what.”

“I know Jake.”

_________________________________________________________________________

"We need to talk"

“Can I come over?”

His heart rate picked up as he replied, "Of course”

“I'll be there in 10 minutes."

Bradley quickly got up from bed, threw on a hoodie and pants, and sat on his couch as he waited for your arrival. The minutes felt like years as he tried to control the thoughts racing through his head. Was something wrong? Was everything okay with Jake and Astrid? He had to find out.

When he heard a knock on the door, he noticed that he forgot to turn the lights on, probably a result of his distracted thoughts. He opened the front door and waved for you to enter.

"Hey," you said, walking into the living room. "Thanks for letting me come over again, for the second time tonight. I know its late"

"Of course, what's going on?" Bradley asked, concern etched on his face.

You took a deep breath before speaking. "Jake and I are separating."

Bradley's heart dropped as he heard the news. He knew how much you loved Jake and how much you wanted to make things work with him, despite everything that had happened. But he also couldn’t forget your year together.

He knew he shouldn't feel happy that your marriage was falling apart, but a small part of him couldn't help feeling hopeful for what it might mean for him and you. But he quickly pushed those thoughts aside, knowing that this was not the time or place for them.

 "I'm so sorry, (y/n). Are you okay?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "No, I'm not okay. But I need to be strong for Astrid.”

Bradley wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you, (y/n). Whatever you need."

You shrugged off his embrace, which you have never done before. This action took Bradley by surprise, and he couldn’t lie hurt a little bit. But he knew that there was a large weight you holding on your shoulders, one that you were mustering up the courage to tell him.

“I need to leave, I’m moving back to San Diego. I’m going to take Astrid with me.” 

“You’re leaving?” Bradley couldn’t believe it

“But..how about us?” 

Bradley knew it was selfish asking about his standing with you after you told him that you and your husband were separated. But the thought of losing you and Astrid left his body feeling like its been hit by a truck. 

“Roo.. I love you.”

Surprise painted Bradley’s face upon hearing your words, you finally told him those 3 little words that he’s been desperately waiting for. 

“But I can’t be with you. Jake cheated on me with another woman. But I am not innocent in this situation. I fell in love with you knowing that there was another man that I promised my life to. He hurt me, but I’ve hurt him just as much. And its not okay.”

“I am so in love with you but I need to get away from here. I don't know what I want right now, and I need to figure things out on my own.” 

As the words left your mouth, Bradley felt like the ground beneath him had given way. He had hoped that this would be the moment when you would finally see him as more than just a friend, and he got his wish.  But now, it felt like the walls were closing in on him.

He tried to keep his voice steady as he responded, "I understand, (y/n). Take all the time you need." His eyes were burning, and he struggled to keep his composure. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you now, after all this time.

You looked at him with a sad smile, and his heart broke a little more. "Thank you, Bradley. You're a good friend."

Friend. The word echoed in his mind like a taunt. He had been fooling himself all along, thinking that he had a chance with you. He couldn't help but wonder if he had missed his shot.

Before you could leave, you turned to him and said, 

"I hope that there will be a time for us but not right now."

“I promise,maybe one day when my head is less fucked up, and I can give my entire self to you and I can give you all the love you deserve. When I’m ready, I will come back for you. If you’ll have me..”

Those words left him feeling even more uncertain. He didn't know when you would be ready, or what you would say when you finally did reach out. All he knew was that his heart was breaking, and he didn't know how to fix it.

As he watched you walk out of his apartment, he couldn't help but feel like everything was slipping through his fingers. He didn't know if he would ever get another chance with you, and that thought left him feeling empty and alone.

Bradley closed the door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. He knew that he needed to give you the space you were asking for, but it felt like the hardest thing he had ever done. All he could do now was wait, and hope that one day you would come back to him.

____________________________________________________________________________

After you returned home, you saw that Jake had some of his belongings packed in a bag. You made eye contact with him as he walked down the stairs, hating yourself for hurting not just him but Bradley as well. But you knew this is what you all needed. 

“Thank you for staying with her, while I went to talk to Bradley.”

Jake felt his throat get dry at the sound of his rival’s name, biting down the bitter remark that would leave his mouth, knowing that it would do nothing to help the situation. Choosing to plop himself down on the couch.

“I went to tell Pixie goodbye but she’s still asleep. Can you tell her for me?”

You gave him a small nod in response.

“I’m going to stay at a place on base, give you your space.” 

“Thanks Jake, I promise we’ll only be here for a few more days. Until I make arrangements for me and Astrid to get back to San Diego…. Penny said we could stay with her until we find our own place.” 

“Are you sure leaving is the best thing to do right now?”

“I think its the only thing that makes sense for me to do right now.” You replied, sternly. 

Silence hung in the air as Jake stared at you, processing your words. You could see the hurt and confusion etched on his face, and you wished that things could be different. You wished that you could turn back time and make different choices, but you knew that was impossible.

After a few moments, Jake nodded slowly. "I understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't like it, but I understand."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. "Thank you," you said, your own voice barely above a whisper. "I just need some time to think things through."

Jake stood up from the couch, his eyes still fixed on you. "I'll give you all the time you need," he said. "But just know that I love you, and I'll always be here for you and our daughter."

You managed a small smile, grateful for Jake's words. "I know," you said. "And I love you too. But right now, I need to be on my own."

With that, Jake nodded and headed towards the door. Before he left, he turned back to look at you one last time. "Take care of yourself," he said softly.

You didn’t understand why but that exact moment you remembered the day of your wedding. 

The wedding took place on a the beach next to the Hard Deck, where you first met, with soft white sand and the sound of the waves crashing in the background. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the entire scene.

You wore a simple backless satin white gown with a slit and court train that flowed behind you as you walked down the aisle. Jake had never seen anymore radiant or breathtakingly beautiful.

Penny held your arm tight, as you both made your way down the white aisle in the sand. She was the closest thing you had to family since your mom died and it meant so much to you that she not only planned the whole event but also wanted to be the one to walk you down the aisle.

As you reached the altar, you looked up and locked eyes with Jake, a dashing naval aviator in his dress uniform. He wore his medals and insignia with pride, and the way he looked at you made yout heart skip a beat.

You and Jake agreed to not write vows, you knew how you felt about each other and you didn’t feel the need to have to express it with words. Which is why it surprised you when he pulled a piece of folded paper from his pocket and started reading. 

“My sweets,

I stand before you today, in my dress whites, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. As a naval aviator, I have flown through the skies and seen countless wonders, but nothing compares to the beauty of you. You are my everything, my anchor, my inspiration, my love.

From the moment I met you, I knew there was something special about you. Your spunky attitude, your unwavering ambition, and your stunning beauty captivated me from the start. I have never met anyone like you before, and I never want to let you go.

As we stand here today, I want to promise to always support you in your dreams, just as you have supported me in mine. I promise to stand by your side through thick and thin, in good times and in bad. I promise to cherish every moment we spend together, and to never take our love for granted.

I promise to be your rock, your confidant, and your partner for life. I vow to always make you feel loved, respected, and cherished. I will be there for you in every moment, whether it's sharing the highs of your accomplishments or the lows of your struggles.

Together, we will create a life full of adventure, joy, and love. I am so grateful to have you as my partner, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for us. I love you more than words can express, and I promise to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much you mean to me.

Yours forever,

Zuko

You felt tears swell in your eyes at his admission, you had never felt this much love from anyone, and here is this man promising you love and devotion forever. None of it felt real. 

“Jake… I-i I didn’t have anything prepared…” You whispered cheeks red in embarrassment. 

“You don’t need to Sweets, I wanted you and everyone here to know I felt about you.”

“You show me how you love me every single day and that’s all I could ever want.”

You nodded, tears pooling in your eyes. 

You exchanged rings, Jake took your hand and lifted it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your skin. Before he gently took your face in his hands placing a soft delicate kiss on your lips.

You smiled and blushed, feeling overwhelmed with love for your husband.

After the ceremony, both of you as husband and wife took a walk along the beach, hand in hand. Jake  swept you bride off your feet and carried her across a shallow part of the water, causing you to laugh and giggle like a child.

At the reception, You held each other tightly as you swayed to soft acoustic playing out of the speakers. You were surrounded by their family and friends, who toasted to your happiness and future together.

As the night drew to a close, Jake took your hand and led you away to a secluded spot on the beach. You sat down on a blanket and watched the stars twinkle in the sky, cuddling close to each other.

Jake whispered sweet nothings into you ear, telling you how much he loved you and how grateful he was to have you as his partner for life. You shared a tender kiss as the waves lapped at your feet, promising to love each other forever. 

That memory flashbacked in your mind, cracking your already broken heart even more that it already was. But you were set in your decision, you two were different people then. With different dreams, love untainted by time and circumstances. You don’t know if you could ever go back to the way you were.

You nodded, watching as he closed the door behind him. Alone in the quiet house, you let out a deep sigh and let the tears fall freely once again. You didn't know what the future held, but you knew that you needed to take things one day at a time. For now, all you could do was focus on yourself and your daughter, and try to heal from the pain and heartbreak that had consumed your life.

You are going to be okay. You and Astrid are going to be okay. 

______________________________________________________________

“Mom! Hurry up! I’m supposed to be at practice in 10 minutes!”

Your 8 year daughter was such a stickler for punctuality, you honestly sometimes questioned if she really was your daughter. You had the tendency to be fashionably late (if fashionably was 30 minutes), taking your time to make your way to events. 

“The field is 5 minutes away Atty, you’ll be fine.” 

“That’s what you said last week, but I ended up being 10 minutes late to warm-ups!” 

She pouted as you walked out into the foyer pulling your shoes onto your feet.

“Coach wouldn’t let me play the first half!” She continued. 

“Well don’t worry Sweetie, you make such a pretty benchwarmer.” You joked pinching her cheeks. 

You were greeted by your daughters scowl, she looked absolutely terrifying for a little (*ahem* big) girl dressed in a bright yellow soccer uniform, pastel pink cleats, and pigtails. 

Her punctuality and her terrifying glare, two things she’s inherited from her father. 

You dropped her off at a mostly empty soccer field, with only the two coaches and 2 other players occupying the area. 

“Where is everyone?” 

“Coach moved practice to 30 minutes later.” Your devious daughter smiled coyly. 

“Astrid Eleanor Seresin…did you just lie to your mother?” You raised an eyebrow at her. 

She quickly opened the car door and rushed out. 

“Omission is not a lie!” She yelled as she ran away. 

“Casey’s mom is dropping me off at home!” 

“Okay! I’m gonna see Auntie Penny!” 

“Tell her her I said Hi!”

You chuckled as you watched her retreating figure get further into the field. What kind of 8 year old knew the word “omission”? She no doubtly learned that from her father. Classic Jake. 

You put your car back in drive and made your way to the Hard Deck. 

“Hey Sweet Pea! Where’s my sweet little goddaughter?” Penny asked from behind the counter as you walked into the bar. 

It was still early afternoon so the bar was occupied by the bar staff getting ready for a night of servicing navy men. 

“Soccer practice.” You replied. 

“You said putting her in sports will tire her out but its somehow made her more energetic.” You groaned taking a seat at the bar. 

“She is her father’s daughter.” You heard a voice quip originating from the supply closet. 

“Hey Mav.” You smiled at the captain, 

“Hey (y/n), you and Atty still coming for the barbeque on Thursday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Atty says no one can grill em like you.” you responded. 

“That’s why shes my favorite.” Mav smiled with a toothy grin as he returned to the storage closet. 

“Sweet Pea, do you mind manning the bar for a second? I’m sure no one will come in, but just in case. Last time I left Pete unsupervised he dropped a whole pallet of beer.” Penny sighed. 

“It’s been a little while, but sure Penny.” 

“Anything for you.”

“Thanks Sweet Pea”

It was strange to be behind the bar, you and Astrid had been back at Fightertown for the past four years. 

It was really hard to explain to her the situation, but she was a smart child. She knew there was more going on between you, Bradley, and Jake than you let her in on. She knew that space from her Uncle Roo Roo and her Daddy was absolutely necessary for her mother’s well-being, and she was more than willing to be amenable to change if it meant you were happier. 

You eventually found a little one story house near Penny (and now Mav’s house), it was small but it was cozy and it was more than enough space for the two of you. You found a job in a nearby law firm, where you rose up the ranks and got your own corner office. 

You finally got the time to relax and breathe, to really focus on yourself, your dreams, and your daughter. And finally after 4 years, you finally felt at peace. 

The pain and the trauma will always live within but you have gotten to a place where you are content with your life and your past because it led you full circle. In Miramar, right where you belonged. 

As you stared down on the bar and wiped down the glasses reminiscing on your life, you didn’t notice the figure that walked into the empty bar. 

He plopped himself down in a stool in front of you and cleared his throat. 

You looked up and made eye contact with the figure and smiled. 

“Hey”

“Hi”

It honestly felt like coming home

Tag list below, I apologize if your tag did not work :(

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[ellemfaoh]

Pinball, Hair, and Detention Epilogue | Vance Hopper x Reader

(I’m too lazy to link all the other parts rn)

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Recovery

Content Warnings: Shitily Written Panic Attacks, Out Of Character Vance

Summary: You go back to school shortly after your discharge from the hospital but now everything is different. Classmates, teachers, faculty, and parents see you differently; but in a positive way. You’re the badass who got rid of the Grabber, the badass who escaped what could’ve been certain death, the badass that’s crazy paranoid now and behaves totally different from before.

A/N: A short epilogue to Pinball, Hair, and Detention was requested; so naturally I’d write it. The love I got for this series was crazy and I’m glad you all liked it! I’ll be working on some of my requests after this, so expect some oneshots now.

——————————————

Discharge from the hospital and adjustment into normal life again was very weird. You hadn’t seen your town in just over ten days so it couldn’t have changed much—but in your eyes everything was different. Cars parked on the street were swimming with malice, shortcuts you had once taken through the small town were traps waiting for some dumb kid to come through, and adults who stared at you for longer than a glance were people who were plotting your kidnapping. You’d started therapy with the hospital psychiatrist weekly on Friday afternoons and she was a great help in getting you started to what would soon be your ‘norm’ again.

Walking into school alongside your friends was what she had suggested and it helped a ton. Bruce kept you too occupied to focus on the attention you got in the hallway. You didn’t hear the whispers of ‘(Y/N) is actually back?’ or, ‘She actually lived? That’s crazy.’

“And then Amy threw my ball into our neighbors backyard! Imagine how embarrassed I was when I tried to quickly hop the fence and saw Mrs. Francis sunbathing.”

You laughed, patting Bruce’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you just knock on her door and ask for it back?”

The boy paused in step, his mind running because he clearly didn’t think that incident through. “Oh.”

You both walked down the hall for a little more as you waited for school to start, Bruce doing a good job distracting you while you did a good job in attracting attention. It wasn’t like it was on purpose—people just wanted to talk about the kid who escaped The Grabber and clearly didn’t think how their words might make you feel. When the bell rang and students started rushing through the halls to get to their classes, you sighed. You supposed one bonus of getting kidnapped for around a week was that you missed school.

“I’ll catch you up on everything Biology, don’t worry (Y/N).” Bruce smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a sort of protective manner as he brought you close to him. “No need to fear, the ever charismatic and heroic Bruce Yamada will be your biggest helper.”

“Gee, I’m so excited.” You said in a sarcastic manner.

You tried to ignore the prickling feeling of stares on your back. You couldn’t help but pay special attention to the staring now—all it reminded you of was the masked man sitting close or far from you as he watched you ‘sleep.’ Your hand squeezed Bruce’s a little tighter, a subconscious effort to feel close and comforted by your friend.

——————

You barely made it to lunch when Vance approached you. It was weird when he didn’t show up for all of second period, but you just assumed he was skipping or got in trouble or something. You had been walking over to the cafeteria line when the blonde put his hand on your shoulder, a gruff but gentle ‘hey’ coming from him before you swung around and punched him in the chest.

It took you a moment to stop hearing the rushing of blood in your ears and instead hear Vance’s grunts of pain, your eyes wide. “Holy shit, Hopper! Why’d you sneak up on me like that?! Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

There were people watching you both, the many conversations summing up to: (Y/N) Can totally rock Vance Hopper’s shit!

You helped Vance stand up from his place on the floor, a hand pressed over his chest. You definitely winded and bruised the poor guy. He looked at you and smacked the back of your head in revenge. You didn’t have the energy to get involved in a mini-brawl with him right now, and you thought that by the end you two would have some sort of weird tension going on. No one knew that you and Vance were kinda-sorta-seeing-each-other (though Bruce had a suspicion), so you two were keeping it kind of secret.

Everyone knew Vance had helped you get out of the basement, so when you two were with each other people seemed to go crazy. You heard whispers from kids about how you both ‘probably plotted on getting famous together so they set it up,’ or about how ‘Vance was so heroic and it was an enemies to lovers story bound to happen.’ Surprise surprise, the second person was right.

“Hey, you mother fuckers better stop whispering about that Grabber bullshit. If (Y/N) and I could kill that bastard then you guys will be cakewalks.”

Being on good terms with Vance had its perks now.

——————

When you were walking through the hallways to get to the bathroom when it happened. As you walked through the dim and fluorescent lit hallways, an eerie feeling crawled up your spine at the awkward silence on your shoes against the linoleum tiles under you. You refused to look at the floor because of that. It was the same pattern as that stupid fucking basement. Life seemed to be taunting you—especially because when you walked into the bathroom, some asshole kid jumpscared you, grabbing you by the shoulders as a loud scream echoed around the hallways. Wait, that was your scream.

A teacher ran over to you crouched on the floor, your head in your hands as you sat there rocking on the balls of your feet, thick and heavy tears dripping down your face as you whispered and mumbled to yourself. You heard quick footsteps rushing to where you were, a very concerned Vance by your side in almost an instant.

“You aren’t there anymore, it was just some dickhead (Y/N), don’t worry.”

“I hate high school.” You mumbled, your breathing finally starting to even out as you calmed down. It didn’t take long to calm down, but you didn’t exactly like yourself breaking down in the middle of a hallway in the middle of the school day.

“Woah, (Y/N) is crying in the middle of the hall.” You heard.

“Isn’t she like, hardened by that kidnapping thing? What’s up with her?”

“Some kid jumpscared her. Give her a break.”

You stood up and quickly wiped your tears, face red and puffy but your eyes were angry. What a cruel fucking joke that you’d be stuck with all these issues after escaping something. It was supposed to be a miracle. It was supposed to be unbelievable luck. It was bullshit. “I wanna go home.”

——————————————

It had been about a week since that incident in the hallway, you were sitting at your table with Bruce and a few of his friends, Vance right next to you as well. Ever since that incident you weren’t super nice or any sort of nervous. You were a little more closed off, a little more paranoid your peers were pitying you or making fun of you. Kids seemed to talk less about you openly, people avoided you a little more—not because they were scared, but because you seemed untouchable. If someone did something wrong, would you lash out or start panicking?

Being around your friends was the closest people would get to seeing you ‘normal.’ You laughed with them like you did before and seemed to be less closed off. You kept your hair the same style it had become when Vance cut it—a sort of reminder to yourself that you needed to grow before letting yourself change. It was some sort of weird trauma thing.

You were talking with Bruce and his baseball friend Jason about something involving biology when Vance noticed it. You didn’t seem to be really grounded to anything around you—more like your body was there and your mind was elsewhere. As you laughed along with the two boys, Vance’s hand slowly slid on top of yours that was resting on the bench next to you, a small squeeze coming from him. He was there for you—he just hoped you realized it. When you only glanced at him and didn’t reciprocate, the blonde knew something was wrong. He needed to talk to you privately.

——————

Nine-something-PM at night, your bedside lamp the only thing turned on, a quiet murmur of music in the background as your record played your favorite song ‘Fox on the Run.’ The ambiance was great for your mind to be a bundle of thoughts and nerves, your head on your pillow and Albert’s mask in your hand. You hated the guy, you were glad he was dead, yet in a weird way you wanted to keep the mask. The police found the other pieces to it in his house, but they didn’t find the angry eyes portion in the bush just outside of the broken basement window. You had walked by his house a few days after your hospital discharge and remembered it, so you picked it up and left quickly afterwards.

“If I could kill you again with the full satisfaction of seeing you die, then I would.” You told the mask, rolling over and dropping it under your nightstand. “Should I have died there too?”

You heard a knock of something against your window, an aggressive chill running down your spine. Who got your address? Was someone coming to kidnap you? Was someone coming to finish Albert’s job?

“Open the window, (Y/N).” Oh, it was just Vance.

You laughed to yourself and pushed the window up, leaning on the windowsill and looked at the blonde in front of you. “Oh Romeo, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

His hand gripped the sides, pulling himself in while simultaneously pushing you out of the way. When he was standing in your room he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and leaned his head against yours. “I’m afraid I’ve noticed something dreadful.” You loved when he played along with your jokes. Your grade had recently started to study Romeo and Juliet in English, and it was also the thing you and Vance had recently started to make fun of.

“And what might that be?”

“You’re different.”

Your stomach lurched. What did he mean? Does everyone think this way? Are you failing at going back? Are you never gonna be “normal” again?

“Ha…what do you mean Vance?”

He stared at you, his hands on your shoulders and eyes searching yours. “You aren’t fully ‘there’ whenever you talk with people, you seem way more closed off than you used to be, and you’re way more paranoid—which makes sense.”

His words hit you. They hit you hard. The paranoia was normal from what the doctors said, but you couldn’t explain or rationalize the other parts. How aren’t you interacting normally? How are you not fully there? You laugh when you should and chime into the conversation when you need to.

“I don’t get it.” You said, pulling away and flopping on your bed. “I’ve been trying so hard to go back to normal…what am I doing wrong?”

There was a beat of silence before you felt added weight on your side, Vance’s body pushing against yours as he grabbed your hand. For such a rough and tough delinquent, he really was quite gentle. There were another few moments of quiet before he spoke again, pressing the back of your hand to his lips. You two were slowly getting used to each other and your feelings, so it was nice to know you were a little closer now.

“This is your new normal. You’ll get used to it.” Your eyes were teary, curling into the boy. “You got kidnapped and almost murdered, your brain changes a bunch because of that.”

“Wow, are ya the new brain doctor around here?” You laughed, feeling him flick your forehead. “Alright alright, I’ll stop.”

The blonde pulled you into a hug and laid there, his hands around your waist. You were a little shocked at first, but it subsided and you started to run your fingers through his hair, laying in his arms as the song playing quietly in the background came to an end.

“I’ll help you out when you need it.”

You just mumbled something unintelligible in his chest, finally falling asleep easily against Vance. Maybe it was having him here that made you feel safe, or maybe it was that someone that wasn’t a shrink actually knew what was up with you. When your snores started up and your breathing evened out, Vance finally curled into you as well as the ever-diligent big spoon, not expecting to hear the faintest rattle of a ring. Your room phone wasn’t ringing, so what could it have been?

His hand slid under your pillow and felt the sleek plastic, pulling out the black receiver with a confused look. Why did you have this under your pillow? He put the item against his ear out of curiosity, his hand that was rubbing small circles in your back slowing down.

“Hello?”

“You clever kids really got me good.” A raspy voice called out from the other end. “You’re quite the pair, enjoy the rest of your tormented lives.”

Vance pulled the phone away when Albert started cackling, throwing the phone away from him and to the other side of the room. His heart was beating too fast for his liking and his chest was heaving, the voice of his tormentor ringing in his head. After a moment, he looked down at you and hugged you extra tight, pulling away for a moment and staring down at you. He was prepared to die just to save you when you were both locked in that shifty basement. After a moment he leaned down and pressed his lips to your own. He didn’t know why, but with the overwhelming emotions coursing through his body, this was the one that slipped out. Unfortunately, or fortunately, you were woken from your doze, smiling at the boy when he pulled away.

“Well well, thank you Prince Charming. You’ve saved me from my slumber.” You teased, threading your fingers into his hair and pulling him back down into a kiss. “It’s about time. What were you freaking out about?”

Vance looked down at you, his hands on either side of your head. Should he tell you? Nah. With a chuckle at his decision, he pressed a quick peck on your lips and stared at you. “If I said that I was so worked up because of you, would you believe me?”

You pushed him away with a squeal, rolling over onto your stomach and hiding under your covers, laughing loudly when he pounced on top of you and started tickling you.

Taglist

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[rancidpancakebatter]

Choose Me (Fix It)-[P.P.]

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: Trouble in paradise and the Green Goblin, what could possibly go wrong? (Everything...everything can go wrong)

Word Count: 5.5k words

Content: Swearing, Mentions of pregnancy, Mentions of Miscarages, Near-death experience, Hospitals, Happy ending

( Masterlist )

A/N: @thoserthebestkind I hope this is a sufficient fix-it. I apologise that it took me so long to make this, to be completely candid I forgot, lol. 

I changed the formatting a bit and there were some minor revisions to the original story. 

I added a cute text break to indicate transitions from past and present. 

I hope you like the little epilogue :))

Life was cruel sometimes. That was the only thought you could think as you felt this crushing weight on your chest. You could slightly make out someone calling your name; you turned your head around looking for the source. 

“No, don’t move, it’s okay. Just stay there. Stay right there.” His voice sounded strained, he was grunting. You saw him then. The red and blue suit and pale white eyes staring back at you. Stuck under rubble and debris. Trying his best to pull himself up was Spider-Man, Peter Parker. Your Peter Parker. 

●・��・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You thought back to just this morning. You had woken up to an empty bed, something you hated saying you were used to. You checked your phone, first checking to see if your husband had tried to reach out to you at all. When that came up empty you checked Twitter to see if there were any updates on Spider-Man. 

Anytime you saw he was trending you felt your heart in your throat. Worried that this time it wouldn’t be because he stopped some super-something-or-rather, but because it had stopped him. Luckily there was nothing there either. Just silence. 

You began getting ready, showering, brushing your teeth, and making breakfast. You were getting dressed when you heard your window open. You ignored the man and his quiet footsteps, focusing on choosing a jacket. 

You felt his arms circle your waste as his chin came to rest on your shoulder. “Good morning, beautiful.”

You felt anger burn in your chest at his nonchalantness. “Where were you, Peter?” 

He released you from his grasp, knowing that tone all too well now. “I was patrolling.”

His reply came out dry and tired. You fixed your blazer before turning to face him. He looked mostly intact, there was a small bruise on his jaw but other than that he seemed fine. 

“All night?” You were aggravated. You were tired of having this conversation with him. 

He brought his hand up to his face, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Yes, all night. Do you think I was doing something else?”

You clenched your jaw, counting to three, just like your marriage councillor taught you. 

“No,” You said curtly, “I know that’s what you were doing because that’s what you’re always doing. You’re never here because you’re always patrolling.”

Peter shook his head letting out a humourless laugh. “Yeah? Well, why would I be here? For the past three months, it’s just been this!” He threw his finger quickly between the two of you. 

You let out a dry chuckle of your own, looking up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. “Right, and that’s completely my fault, isn’t it?”

Peter didn’t say anything, just looking at you with dead eyes. Ones that used to be so full of love you almost couldn’t stand to look at them. Ones that used to crinkle when he laughed, he didn’t do that so much anymore. 

He was right, you guys had been fighting a lot. Something you never used to do. Being with Peter was one of the easiest decisions you had ever made in your life. He got you, in a way no other person could. There was no need to quarrel because you guys were always on the same page. 

When Peter told you he was Spider-Man it scared you. You had been dating for a year and studying with him for two. He had cancelled on you again. You shook with anger and confusion. Midterms were coming up and you needed to get good grades to keep your scholarship. You had been so stressed out and Peter promised to help. He promised.

“What could possibly be more important than this?” You remember shouting at him. You watched as he ran his hands through his hair before grabbing his backpack and leaving with a small, “I’m sorry.”

That night he returned to you, early in the morning. He sat you down and broke the news to you. At first, you were in disbelief but he made his point by jumping up and hanging from the ceiling by his fingertips. 

Your brain started connecting the dots. All the times he seemed to be covered in bruises only for them to disappear a day later, making you think you must have dreamed them. Peter’s absence during big events only for Spider-Man to appear, saving the day. His constant tardiness. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You had started crying and he quickly let go of the ceiling and sat next to you on the sofa. He pulled you into his lap and began caressing your hair. He wasn’t sure what you were feeling but he wanted to make it better. 

“That’s how I lost her.” Gwen. You never knew her but he had mentioned her before. He had brought her up in that first year of college. He had brought her up again before you had agreed to date him. He told you that she had died. He told you that he was scared. You understood now, of course, you didn’t have the whole picture but you had enough. 

Your worry for Peter never diminished, if anything it grew. The longer you were together the more you loved him and the more you loved him the more you saw a future with him. But it’s hard to plan for a future when your partner is mindlessly chasing some abomination through the streets of New York. And worry can be masked by many emotions, mainly anger. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You heard a sardonic cackle in the air above you. “Oh Peter, won’t you save her?” 

You didn’t like the way he said his name. That wasn’t for him to say. You heard some heavy steps, then metal colliding with something before Peter groaned. You mustered as much energy as you could.

“Leave- leave him alone!” It wasn’t very loud but the attacker heard you. You listened as heavy steps came towards you.

Your vision was blurry but you made out big blond hair, cold blue eyes, and a pale face with lots of veins. His suit seemed metallic and hefty. He squatted down, closer now, grabbing your face; his fingers digging into your cheeks. It hurt. 

“Oh, Peter dear!” He sang in a nasal tone, “Ms Lady doesn’t look too hot over here. You might want to hurry up!” He called the last part over his shoulder.  He was mocking Peter and it made you angry. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

three months ago you held a pregnancy test in your shaking hands. Your palms were so sweaty that you dropped the box twice trying to open it. You were three weeks late and you ran to the bodega down the street as soon as you realised. 

You and Peter had been married for three years now. You had made it through college, a teaching licence and many monsters together. You were nervous, to say the least. You wanted a family with Peter. You loved the man and you knew how important family was to him. You wanted to be able to give him that. 

You twisted the rings on your fingers waiting for your timer to go off. You admired the small diamond on your engagement ring. It was Aunt Mays. She had given it to Peter to propose with. He told you later that he hadn’t even considered it until she did, but then he realised that marrying you was all he wanted to do. Your heart melted at the thought. 

It was positive. 

Your anxiety grew tenfold at the realization. You were going to have a baby. You were going to have a baby with your amazing husband. You were going to start a family. But if he wasn’t more careful he wasn’t going to be around to see it. 

You told May. You had to. You were dying to tell someone but also you wanted to tell her. She had become a mother to you in a lot of ways over the years and you were delighted to tell her she was going to be a grandmother. She wasn't thrilled about Peter not knowing but also understood that you were scared. 

Now you were too busy fighting to tell him. Too scared that he hated you too much now to want you. Terrified because when you told him it would be real. 

You convinced Peter that you should do some couples counselling and he hated the idea but agreed to do it. You needed help to tell him, but it never came up. Between the therapist trying to figure out what Peter’s second “job” was and you two snipping at each other, not much progress was made. 

“We pay this guy up the ass and it doesn’t seem to be helping!” Peter once said to you. Silent tears fell down your face, unsure how to defend it without coming clean about lying to him for a month.

“It’s only, like, a hundred a session. That’s not so bad.” You were wringing your hands in the cold December air. Something Peter usually picked up on, but not lately. 

“Yeah, well so far I don’t think I’ve gotten my 300 dollars worth.” 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

“Don't fucking touch her!” Peter sounded distressed and you wanted to fix it, but you were useless in this situation.

You felt a dull ache throughout your body. You remembered then, the baby. You looked down at the debris littering your body and began to cry. There’s no way they survived this, you would be lucky to. 

Peter heard your hiccuping and it seemed that’s all he needed. He broke free from the rubble and when he saw Harry’s hands on you his vision clouded with red. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You remembered this morning. Peter staring at you from the edge of your bed three feet away but never feeling so far. You balled your fists taking a shuddery breath. “I just don’t understand why it’s so hard to choose me.” 

And with that, you grabbed your coat and walked out the door. You had been fighting about his Peter-to-Spider-Man ratio a lot lately. You wanted Peter home more, and safe. He said he couldn’t just tell crime to stop, so he had to keep going out. You were arguing in circles and it was getting you nowhere. 

Your whole day at work you were a snivelling mess. The kids didn’t complain as you declared it a video day, each class loving the selection of Bill Nye videos you had chosen. You were about to leave the campus to get some lunch when you heard a knock on your classroom door. You wiped your tears and beckoned them in. 

Peter was still in his lab coat, probably rushing over here from his day job. Usually, you would swoon at the sight of him but you were still very upset and maybe a little hangry (and quite possibly pretty hormonal as well). You crossed your arms in your chair and said nothing as he came closer. 

“Darling,” He began. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.” 

His eyes held a certain softness that had almost become alien to you. The coldness you had become accustomed to now melted into gentle, dark chocolate. You tried to keep your stare stern as he continued walking toward you. 

“You’re right, I-” He stopped abruptly, his face falling from neutral to distressed very quickly. You pulled your brows together in confusion, unable to keep your face level. 

“Have you been crying?” You looked away embarrassed. You were angry and you didn’t want him to see you weak. Suddenly, he was on his knees in front of you. 

“Oh, Honey, I’m so sorry. I- I made you cry at work. Well…crying at all is bad but this is really bad.” You refuse to look at him as you feel new tears fall. Your door unexpectedly creeps open. 

“Mrs Parker, are you in here? Mrs- Oh, sorry I didn’t know you were busy.” You look past Peter to see a student in the doorway.

Travis Deakin was an odd kid, he wore a flat cap and a Minecraft creeper hoodie every day, with his trapper keeper strap slung across his chest. He was weird and someone you would have found annoying when you were his age, but he was kind and did his work on time.  

“It’s quite alright Travis, I’m never too busy for my favourite student.” Peter shifted to sit beside you on his haunches, admiring how you treated your students. You noticed Travis was staring at Peter and decided to introduce them, “Travis, this is my husband, Mr Parker.”

You watched as the boy gave Peter a small wave and Peter returned it. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I just want to make sure you were okay.” 

You tilted your head and quirked a brow, “Of course, I’m okay.”

“It’s just…everyone’s said they’ve seen you crying today.” Travis was playing with the strap of his trapper keeper as if worried about getting in trouble for saying it.  

You gave the kid a genuine smile, “I’m okay, I promise. Thank you though. That’s very kind of you to check on me.”

You tried to ignore Peter staring at you, knowing his expression would be filled with guilt. Travis didn’t seem convinced and chewed on his bottom lip as if debating whether to say something else. You sat, patiently waiting. 

“Is it because you’re pregnant?” Your jaw dropped, your mouth flapping like a fish as you stuttered over what to say.

“I-well I- um, Trevor that’s…um” Peter cut you off before you could conjure up an excuse.

“You’re pregnant?” Peter’s face was back in front of yours. You couldn’t quite read his expression and you didn’t think you wanted to. You looked back at the kid who now seemed alarmed looking between you and Peter. 

“Um, Trevor why- why would you think I’m pregnant?” You watched as he shuffled from foot to foot, Peter unmoving and hands on your waist. 

“Well, you seem really happy, and you hold your belly a lot when you talk…and I heard Ms Kragger say you are.” You chuckled before letting out a sigh. You looked into Peter’s eyes smiling. 

“Yes, It’s because I’m pregnant.” You had never seen Peter smile so wide, you think he created more dimples. He picked you up from the chair spinning you around. You giggled in glee as he brought you in for a kiss. 

“God, I’m so happy. I love you so much.” You giggled and Trevor excused himself, shutting the door. 

“I love you too, Peter.” You ran a hand through his hair, soaking in the sweetness you had been deprived of. His smile faltered slightly as he searched your eyes. 

“How long have you known?” You looked away from him, ashamed.

“Three months,” You said in a voice so small that he wasn’t sure he would have caught it without his supersonic hearing. 

You watched in horror as Peter fell to his knees, his head carefully buried in your stomach. 

“I’m so sorry. You’ve been so worried about me and I just-” You massaged his scalp, trying to ignore his tears wetting your shirt.

“Peter, it’s okay. It’s okay, love-” He raised his head, shaking it furiously from side to side before resting his chin on your belly. 

“It’s not, but please know I choose you (Y/n). I’ll always choose you.”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● 

You couldn’t move your hands. You couldn’t feel them much either. You wanted to push the rocks off of you, to curl up and hold your stomach. You knew realistically the baby was gone but you couldn’t let yourself think that. 

Tears of frustration racked through you as you tried your best to move. You heard Peter and that guy fighting, they were talking but you couldn’t make it out. You were scared. You didn’t want to die, and certainly not like this. Peter needed you and you couldn’t leave him, not yet. There was still so much you wanted to do. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

“We should make a bucket list!” Peter chuckled from the kitchen, where he was washing plates from dinner. He stepped over to the coffee table and sat beside you on the floor. 

“Why? Planning on dying anytime soon?” You shoved his shoulder with yours.

“No, never, but I think it would be fun.” You grab a notebook and pen from your backpack, labelling it "Future Parkers' Bucket List." He smiled and you continued to scribble things down as he peered over your shoulder. 

“Hey, that one doesn’t count,” Peter said pointing to the first thing you wrote down: “Marry Peter Parker.”

“Yeah, it does! It’s important when making goals that you also have mid-goals and easily obtainable ones, so you don’t get bogged down by a lack of progress.” Peter relented and continued moving down the list, reading them out loud.

“‘Own five plants at the same time and keep them alive for at least a year’, ‘Learn to drive a manual', ‘Go on a hike’-Have you never been hiking before?” You shook your head no and Peter continued.

“‘Win one honest game of chess against Peter’. Yeah, keep dreaming, love. ‘Vacation on a different continent’, ‘Own a pet named Pancake’, ‘Learn the Footloose Dance’” Peter’s smile doubled as he read the last one. 

“We can get this one done now,” He said with a wolfish grin. Peter ran to grab his laptop and set it up on the entertainment system. He then turned to grab your hand and lifted you from the floor. Your chest blossomed with love as he brought your ringed finger to his lips, giving you a soft kiss there. 

One hour and three dance tutorials later you had both mastered the moves, you continued dancing around your living room when Peter declared, “We should play this at the wedding!”

You laughed but it was still played. You let Peter lead you to the dance floor once again as he now placed a kiss on your wedding band. You and Peter were the only ones there that knew it besides Aunt May and a few of your uncles. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You cried harder as you realized your life was flashing before your eyes. That wasn’t good. Neither was the coldness you felt seeping into your bones. All you could do was lay there…and die.

There was no second wind, no sudden powers coming, no way to pull yourself out, no chance. Your eyes felt heavy and you knew what that meant. You closed them smiling as your memories continued to bring you peace. 

Your wedding vows came to mind: 

“Peter Benjamin Parker, I promise to love you and cherish you every day. I promise to support you in all your endeavours. I promise to be the love of your life for the rest of your life. You have been my best friend for these past six years and I couldn’t imagine anyone taking your place. When life gets hard I promise to be there. When money gets tight I promise to make you fancy ramen. With kindness, selflessness, and trust, I will work by your side to create a wonderful life together.”

Had you done that? You had loved him for sure. Did you cherish him enough? Were you supportive and kind and selfless and trusting? You did your best. You worried now that it hadn’t been enough. And there was no time to fix it. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

Four hours ago Peter returned home early from patrol. You were grading papers and distracted. Suddenly your vision was filled with roses, and you turned to see your adoring husband behind you. 

“Roses? For me?” You held your hand over your heart and released a dramatic gasp. 

“But of course!” He leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead. You began tearing up. 

“Oh, baby, You shouldn’t have!” Peter, confused by your sudden tears, squatted beside you in your chair to move some hair out of your face. 

“Oh, I definitely should have. It’s the least I can do for my darling. You deserve much more than twelve. More like a hundred, a thousand!” You chuckled at his dramatics. 

“Sounds expensive,” You joked, bringing a hand up to hold his cheek. He leaned into it, pretending to consider it. 

“Hmm, would you settle for five hundred?” You giggled pecking him on the cheek, before getting up to put them in a vase. 

Peter trailed behind you as you made your way to the kitchen. 

“I wanna take you out to dinner tonight.” You placed the vase down and looked at him carefully. 

“Peter Parker, are you asking me out on a date?” One thing that had never changed was how much you guys loved to tease each other. You imagined that you would be in a nursing home swapping quips and the thought warmed your heart. 

Peter walked to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Will you make me the luckiest guy in the world and say yes?”

An hour ago you were sitting at a nice restaurant. You hesitated when getting dressed, your baby bump becoming a little harder to hide. You settled on a dress that didn’t hug you too tightly and greeted your husband in the living room. 

Peter assured you that you could have anything you wanted. You had ordered dessert first and when the waiter offered you wine Peter shooed him away so quickly you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Peter he’s allowed to offer, it’s his job. I’m pretty sure you scared him.” Peter was still glaring daggers at the poor server who had made his way to a different table. 

“Good! You shouldn't offer pregnant people wine, is he crazy?”

You reached across the table to grab his hands, bringing his attention back to you. After hearing what your student said today, Peter realized he was the dumbest person in the world. All the signs were right in front of him, he was just too blind to see them. He would spend the rest of his life making it up to you. 

“I love you (F/n) (M/n) Parker.” You felt pride and love blossom within you, warming your cheeks. 

“I Love y-”

An explosion went off and Peter was quick to his feet. He gave you a look and you nodded knowing what he needed to do. Everyone began to evacuate and you got lost in the sea of people. Once outside you saw the fire in the distance. Suddenly all you could think of was Peter. You ran towards the building seeing Peter battling some dude on a hoverboard. 

Everything happened so quickly. He was thrown to the ground and you heard a snap. You yelled for him and then you heard another explosion, and another, and another. Before you knew it the building in front of you was falling. Coming directly for you and Peter. He was trying to push himself off the ground but he wasn’t moving fast enough. You began to run towards him, to use your body to shield him. You couldn’t lose him, not after everything. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You felt a hand on your face, wiping at your tears, “Hey, hey! (Y/n) look at me. Open your eyes, come on look at me!” 

You tried your best, but your head hurt and your vision was cloudy. You could make out the soft umber eyes of your lover, filled with tears. His face was covered in grime. You felt enormous pressure taken off of you as you heard rocks tumble to the ground. 

You took a deep shuddery breath, your lungs felt like they were on fire. You tried getting up but Peter gently pushed you down. “No, no, stay there it’s- it’s okay.” 

You tried moving every muscle in your body, but the only one that could move was your left hand. You brought it up to cradle his face. Peter gripped it so hard you thought it might snap. There was blood on his hand and you began to panic. 

“You- your bleeding?” It came out more of a question. A sob racked through his body as he looked at you. You followed his gaze seeing a piece of steel rebar cutting through your stomach. 

You started crying again, “The baby…” 

It was too much. You had a whole future ahead of you. One filled with laughter and Peter chasing around your toddler and Aunt May spoiling them with gifts. One filled with dogpiling in bed because of a nightmare. One filled with you and Peter. 

You heard sirens in the distance. And Peter looked up, a small smile on his face, “It’s gonna be okay, they’re coming.” 

You felt bad leaving him like this but you couldn’t keep fighting to stay. You were tired, you felt heavy, and you wanted to rest. 

“I love you, Peter Parker” Your head rolled to the side too tired to keep it upright. You felt his hand rush to your face lifting it for you. 

“No, no, no! (Y/n)! (Y/n) look at me!” You couldn’t, not anymore. 

Your eyes were too heavy. You gathered everything you had left and squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry.” 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

The first thing you remember feeling was a deep pressure in your head. It felt as if your brain had quadrupled in size and now was splitting your skull. Then you felt an itch in your nose, an irritation in your nostrils. Your entire body felt sore but as you focused you felt them moving and contracting, so that’s good. 

You brought a hand up to scratch your nose and felt hard plastic against your fingers. You went to move it but a hand stopped you. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t move that, let me get a doctor.” Her hands were soft, and her cadence was one you recognised well. 

You tried to open your eyes but everything was too bright. You groaned as the fluorescent beams attacked your retinas, bringing your arm up to block them. You felt a twinge in the crook of your elbow and were able to make out an I.V. in your arm. You looked to the door and saw May smile as she flicked the lights off for you, before assuring you she would be right back. 

You took a moment to take in your surroundings. By your bedside table, there were many bouquets of flowers in all shapes, sizes, and colours. As you took around the rest of the room you realised flowers were everywhere around the space. You were surrounded by a small garden, and it brought a small smile to your face. 

Behind the jungle of flora, there was a chair and a small couch made up like a bed. Neither of them looked particularly comfortable. There was a book resting atop the messy sheets but from here you couldn’t see what it was. 

You didn’t get to dwell on it long. You heard a commotion in the hallway. Fast, heavy footsteps approached as several people exclaimed for the offender to slow down. You felt panic rising as you heard the EKG machine beep faster. Your brain conjured up a terrifying scenario in which the ghostly man from before had come to finish you off. 

A silhouette entered the door frame and froze. You both locked eyes, in a state of disbelief. As he stepped closer your heart rate continued to gallop, but instead of fear, you felt love. 

“(Y/N)?” He sounded broken, desperate. You could hear the rasp in his throat and you wondered why his vocal cords were in such a state. 

He moved to your bedside before falling to his knees. His hands wrapped around yours before burying his face in them. You felt the wetness on his face and watched as his shoulders shook. 

“You- you woke up. We didn’t know if you would. I- I thought I lost you. Fuck, I thought I lost you. The doctors said they didn’t know if you were gonna wake up. I thought you were gone.” Words fell from Peter’s mouth like a waterfall. You tried to pull him from the waters before he drowned. 

“Pete, I’m right here.” Your voice was just as wrecked as his, but you knew yours was due to inactivity. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

You squeezed his hands as he continued to sob. Your heart shattered seeing him like this. Peter had been through so much, experienced more loss than any one human should. You felt almost guilty for making him face that fear once again. You brought his hands up and held them to your lips, trying to piece him back together as best as you could. 

May returned with a doctor and Peter refused to step away, forcing the doctor to do his examination around him. You had broken a few bones and you had a concussion but that was expected. They had to perform surgery on your wound, though with rest and plenty of pain meds, you should be fine. 

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but unfortunately, due to the nature of the trauma you endured, your baby did not survive.” Peter held you as you cried together. You knew it was ridiculous to hope that they might, but you couldn’t help it. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

“Peter! Are you almost ready?” You called across the house. 

“Yeah! Just a second!” You heard him call back from the bedroom. 

You were setting up a camera in the living room when you heard him emerge. You gasped as you took in his costume. He was dressed as Jack Sparrow, complete with a wig and hat. 

“Oh, Pete you look great,” You said as you walked over to your beloved husband. He pulled you in close as your hands came up to cradle his face, gracing him with a loving kiss. His grin was blinding as he pulled away. 

“Just wait till you see Benny’s.” He moved to stand beside you as he called out to your son. 

His small frame emerged from the doorway with a dramatic jump and pose. He really was his father’s son. His face was twisted into a silly sneer with his finger curved in the shape of a hook, “Arg!”

You clapped in glee, then bent down with open arms. Ben ran to them and you rested him on your hip. “Oh wow Benny, you look so cool!” 

He had declared that everyone would dress as characters from Pirates of the Caribbean after watching it for the first time a few months ago. Your boys had wanted to surprise you, which meant they had to elicit the help of Aunt May for their costumes. Benny was Davey Jones because he thought he was cool. He wore a beard of stuffed tentacles on his face but you could tell by the scrunch of his eyes he was beaming underneath. 

“You too, Momma!” You tilted his hat up to place a kiss on his forehead. He places his small, gentle hands on your cheeks and you let him angle your head down so he could leave you one there too. 

He wanted Peter to hold him for the photo and reached out for him as you stood in front of your mantle. The camera flashed as you all posed. You pressed the shutter another time as you and Peter smooshed your son’s face with your lips, Ben’s giggle ringing through the air. 

Peter set down Ben and told him to get his candy basket. As soon as Benny made his way down the hall Peter grabbed your waist and the back of your head and dipped you. He brought his lips to yours and you heard the camera shutter go off again. You looked into the eyes of your husband and saw nothing but pure adoration. 

“I love you (F/n) (M/n) Parker.” You grinned. 

“I love you, Peter Benjamin Parker.” He pulled you into another kiss. 

“Ew!” You broke away from each other, laughing at your son covering his eyes.

Peter lifted you back up before crouching low and scooping up your child, hanging him upside down as he tickled his sides. “No, you’re ew!”

You chuckled as they seemed lost in their own little world for a moment. You hated to interrupt it, but you caught a glimpse of the clock. 

“Alright boys, we have to leave now if we wanna catch May before she goes to sleep.” Peter sighed setting down Ben. 

You watched as Benny put his pudgy hand in Peters, “Come on, Daddy. I wanna see Gamma.” 

Peter smiled wide as he allowed his son to pull him to the door, “Yeah, let’s go see Gamma.”

They took a few steps forward before Peter stopped, extending his hand to you. You placed your hand in his as you walked to the door. You rested your other hand on your stomach, wishing the little one inside you could hear this. That they knew they would be loved, so loved. You hoped they knew how amazing their father was. 

Tag List: @andrews-lovr, @heejinw0rld, @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

I think I finally got all of my tags sorted but if you think a mistake was made please dm me or fill out the tag list form linked in my masterlist. (I really suggest you look at the masterlist bc it sorts it easier and you get more options)

[is-on-its-way]

In the name of the Father, the Skeptic and the Son

Episodes: One Son/ Two Fathers

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

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Chapter 6: You've already won me over in spite of me

She sighed “I have showed you evidence that if it related to anyone else you’d have thrown the bathwater and the baby out by now.”

An exploration of themes, in which Scully feels uncomy and scared at the seriousness and intensity she had with Mulder. She has never had a relationship that wasn’t superficially based in the familiarity of her childhood trauma. Mulder is her equal and she must decide what to do.

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It was never a choice. 

Diana was never a choice for him because he had already chosen her. She knew that. She’d known that for a long while. He’d said as much so often, he’d shown her with actions even more. She worried about him though. His heart was more open than any man she’d ever known, maybe any person. He was filled with such guilt and remorse over not saving his sister he never let anyone who might be in need of saving feel like he could abandon them. But it left him so dangerously exposed sometimes. 

It had never been a choice for her either. 

Since the day she’d met him. Since that trip to Oregon, standing in the rain with him laughing, sharing his deepest personal story in that hotel room in awe of his beautiful mind and wild passion for something she had never felt for anything. 

Since she had been faced with death and the only fear she’d had was not of dying; but of leaving him alone to his despair and to the world that would swallow him whole. His sweet and gentle nature ignored, without anyone seeing him how he should to be seen. 

It had never been a choice.

Since she had gotten so blinded with fear he would leave her, and each time, he was utterly flummoxed she’d even considered that an option. 

Since he had gone to the ends of the earth for her. Literally.

The blood ran down her arms and fingers splashing big pinkish brown drops onto the white porcelain of the tub. It flowed into the drain in swirls.

There was something the matter with her. She always avoided feeling. Was terrified of that wild and reckless thing of opening up to someone. To herself even. 

That she recoiled so fully from feeling anything painful or difficult. Forced it down behind that closed door in her head. Locked away with things she didn’t feel like facing. She held so painfully onto the order and safety of shallow living. she felt in the long run the stress of keeping those things at bay would crack her apart more fully than if she just gave into the chaos. 

That chaos was beckoning her now and there was such a warm comfort there. She could feel the wall cracking apart ready to fall down finally. She had a sense of calm about it that would’ve perturbed her if she had any ability for reflection at the moment. Instead she relaxed into the oblivion of pain.  

She sank to the floor of the tub taking great gasping breaths trying to stay as quiet as she could, pressing her hand tightly against her mouth. She folded over her knees and rested her face in her arms. The water ran down her back around her ribcage and legs as she sank into the comfort of being free.

She felt like she was loosing something as she was gaining something else. Like a boiled frog she had just looked up and realized what she’d been longing for had already happened. And with it came a whole host of feelings that were unexpected in their despair. She felt like she was suffocating and being resuscitated at the same time. Scared and comforted all at once. 

She and Mulder, Dana and Fox. They were intertwined. And had been for so long. There was no fleeing this. She was his life and he was hers. 

Her tears had run out and her breathing was slowing, her ribcage ached from holding her silent sobs at bay. Her head ached from where Lucia had pushed her. Her arms ached from performing CPR for as long as she had. Her mind was a mess of thoughts. She pushed herself up with an effort and resolved to find a bed as soon as possible. 

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She was just in jeans and sweater now but when Mulder saw her he gave her the same look she had caught on his face when she walked out in the black dress earlier in the evening.

He whistled a low wolf-whistle.

She shook her head and said “shut up Mulder” automatically.

He smirked as he turned away from her and she could see the blood covering his neck dry mow.

She gasped “Mulder your head”

He turned to her “Oh… yeah she got me good.”

“Come here.” She took comfort in the business of treating her patient. The only live one she’d had for seven years.

She tried to pull the hair away from the lump to see how bad the cut was but the hair had dried.  “Hold on, let me get a towel.”

She got the first aid kit and a warm wet towel from the bathroom. And sat on the bed behind him. 

“This is going to sting.” She said as she held up the towel to his head

He sucked in a breath in pain. “Fuck Scully, cant I just…”

“No mulder this might be a severe wound you need to go get stitched and I need to see it, so stop being a baby and suck it up.” 

“Well watch your hands will you?” He said annoyed

She smiled at this, he was such a baby about the small wounds. Leave it to mulder to ignore things like being shot in the head but sink into childish complaining with a splinter or cut. 

“I’m being gentle.” She said softly.

“Debatable.” He returned sullen

“It’ll be over in a minute.” She said softly.

When she had finished he turned around on the bed to face her content with her work and smiled at her. 

“Not too bad”

She let out a snort and tucked her damp hair behind her ear,

She could see his face change as she did. If she didn’t know any better she’d call the look one of pure love. “You’re right, I like you better dressed like this.”

She smiled. Then something inside of her rose up in feral dread. She was a child in the middle of a vast forrest lost, alone, terrified. She stood up and shrank back from him. choking sobs, erupted from her, body shaking.

He crossed the room to her, and wrapped her up in his arms. She didn’t protest at his embrace

“Did I say the wrong thing?” He sighed gently into her hair.

“I can’t” she managed and sobbed into his chest

“You’re scaring me Scully, whats going on? Was it something I did?”

She shook her head gasping choking sobs. 

“Was it the guy with his eyes turned to pudding?” He said semi sarcastically. 

She shook her head again and hiccuped a laugh.

“Are you…” He swallowed “Are you thinking about leaving?”

She shook her head “I couldn’t, I can’t.” she said voice wavering.

“Is it because of that?”

She tried to get a hold of herself and she could feel him agonizing as he waited for her to answer.

She shook her head again “I want to be here with you” She found the front of his jacket with her hand and held on as if she would float away otherwise.

He breathed deeply in relief she could feel his tense shoulders relax. “Thats good because I want to be here with you.”

She turned into his chest wracked with more sobs. He looked down at her and held the back of her head in his hand stroking her hair. 

“Was it pretending you were madly in love with me when in fact you are hanging on by a fine thread of your sanity because I’m an ass?”

She laughed at this and sniffled. Pulling back looking up at him. She wiped her nose on the back of her sweater

“Its.. me. Im not. I don’t know how… Its me.” Was all she could manage.

Mulder put a hand on her cheek

“Well whatever it is I’m here, okay?” He whispered.

Tears streamed down her cheeks she nodded and her chin dimpled as her lip quivered

“Dana” he said voice wavering in emotion. He pulled her by her head into his chest and she felt comforted in her discomfort. 

She closed her eyes at the kiss to the top of her head, listened to his heartbeat until her breathing matched its steady rhythm. She sighed and pulled away from him, wiping her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. 

He brushed at his cheek quickly and she was sorry she’d made him cry.

“Im sorry that wasn’t right to do at work.” She said glancing up at him.

“Fuck professional Scully. Its me.”  He said seriously. 

She nodded at him.

“I only seem to do this in front of you.” She attempted a laugh.

“You can do anything you want in front of me.” He said, pushing the hair that fell as she touched her face, behind her ear. 

Then, as she raised her eyebrow at his suggestive choice of words, he laughed softly. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“You never make me feel like I should be ashamed. Its why your opinion of me means so much.”

He nodded biting his lower lip.

“Im too inflexible.” There she’d said it. Admitting her own biggest disappointment.  

“Thats one of my favourite things about you.” he nudged the bottom of her chin and gave her a small smile when she met his eyes. “You’re my one in six billion.”

Always words of understanding. It was why she had felt so lost when he had taken that away. Instead she swallowed and looked up at him, feeling a desire to be reckless against his unchanged support.

“It feels like everything is falling apart, like my world is upside down.” She hiccuped. “I’m not good at change.”

“Whats changed?” He searched her eyebrows knitting.

“Mulder, I…”

The door banged open. And Scully dropped his hand, and walked away from him to the desk by the window to gather her bags and hide her puffy face.  

Agent Thomas came in and grunted a “Hey” as he got his belongings, from the desk. 

She heard Mulder mutter something. 

She went to the bathroom and put the rest of her things in her bag.

She heard Mulder say “We’re going to head out.”

“See ya” Agent Thomas said from the closet.

She met him at the door of the bathroom, he had the rest of her bags and his, he placed his hand on the small of her back as he lead her out the door.

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The moment had gone. Whatever she had wanted to tell him had evaporated through that door when it banged open. What remained was a relaxed and comfortable silence as they had ridden the elevator down to the car and drove back to the FBI parking garage.

Just when he thought he had her figured out she did something to catch completely off guard.

Sometimes she unraveled but it was in such a way that he always could sense the sense of irritation and control still gripping her. This felt like she had lost even that. Like he could feel the strict control she held over her life and psyche falling apart. And despite her reassurances he felt acutely at fault.   

He thought about telling her he wouldn’t ever speak to Diana again. But it felt childish. Immature in a way he recoiled from. He had once heard his father shouting at his mother telling her not to speak to that man again. Now he could guess it had probably been CGB. 

He’d gone through the same with Diana when she’d asked the same of him about a colleague he’d have a drinks with when they’d teach at quantico. At the time he felt she had been within her rights as his newlywed wife. But look at how that had turned out.

But being a partner to Scully was something different. He knew if he offered that she would be offended he’d even suggested it. She had wanted him to listen to her and acknowledge what she was saying. He had heard ‘chose between her and Diana’ again and again instead of what she had been saying. Scully wasn’t someone who had ever tried to coerce him with forced promises and ultimatums, even if she was a bit threatened by Diana. He had made a mistake to think so, because thats what he was been used to.

Wasn't it his father who had drilled into him loyalty above all else. Above whether you like them or not that week or month above whether they make mistakes or cause you pain?  

Thinking back now, the way he felt he could breath when he was with Scully was unlike any relationship he’d ever had. The support she gave him, choosing to live this life with him, listening to him always as if he had something that mattered to say. 

Feelings of gratitude that had always simmered for her, grew so that his lungs swelled in his chest, and he had to blink rapidly to keep his eyes clear on the road. 

He pulled into the designated spot and turned off the car. They sat in silence neither of them even unbuckling. He started as she said “Mulder”.

They both looked at each other and laughed.

“You go” he said.

“I’m sorry for what I said” she said looking in her lap.

“Which part?”

“Before, what I said by the car, that you didn’t care about this partnership, about me.”

He nodded “I do care about you.” He could see her breath catch in her chest. “I know we have the x files now… but I want this part of our partnership to be okay.” He said as she met his eyes pushing her lips together in a small smile

“What were you going to say?” She asked.

“I made a mistake with you. I learned how to relate to people, from people who used favors and coercion as proof of affection. But you’re not like that. You’re concern for me doesn’t come with strings attached. Im sorry I didn’t realize that sooner.

She swallowed. “I know it sounds like I’m just jealous, but its not that. Its a feeling…” 

“When was the last time you believed me over an intuition? When was the last time you didn’t ask me for evidence first?” He said gently.

She sighed “I have showed you evidence that if it related to anyone else you’d have thrown the bathwater and the baby out by now.” 

They were talking so calmly now, sorting it all out like they were discussing a cancelled flight. How uniquely easy this was with her.

“Circumstantial evidence is not enough for me to turn my back on a friend.” 

She pursed her lips and nodded. “Well just be careful. Diana is the type of women to use your care for her to her advantage in any way she can.” 

Mulder thought on that.

She said “She’s openly and unabashedly manipulated you, for whatever reason, especially when you tell her information she otherwise wouldn’t know. Just… just be careful Mulder.” 

“Okay Scully. I will.” Mulder said earnestly, looking at her searching her face. 

She bit her lip and looked at him. So many unsaid things shed wished she could say.

“I’ll see you Monday Mulder.” She said instead.

He smiled as he said “Im glad to hear that Scully. Hey,” He touched her arm as she pulled the door handle and she turned back to him. “Skinner thinks he’s found us an interesting case. He called while you were showering. He says we might need to do some light undercover work, nothing as mortifying as dancing in public Im sure.”

She gave him a small smile and raised her eyebrow, then got out of the car.

Mulder locked the company car and watched her retreating figure. He noticed that imperceptible sway in her hips he’d seen earlier. 

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Notes: Honestly idk with this one, if anyone has thoughts let me know Im am not opposed to editing.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

@today-in-fic 🔆

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: This one is LONG. A lot of action and fighting n shit like that lol. Also, trigger warning for the reader because she has a panic attack later in the chapter. Enjoy!! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen PT I & PT II. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

SEVEN: HIT ‘EM UP!

You arrive in the tiny, dusty, damn-near abandoned town of Bull’s Creek by the next morning. 

You three didn’t stop for a night of rest, only taking breaks to feed the horses and let them rest their hooves before continuing on your journey. Most of what you do is on Reneigh’s back: brushing your teeth; eating your snacks; power naps. You now feel sweaty and tired, but not exhausted, only happy to finally be at your destination. 

Bull’s Creek is as depressing as it is quiet. Nothing moves but a tumbleweed that noisily rolls across the dusty road among the disturbingly quiet shops and boutiques that you’re sure once were brimming with life and vibrancy, but are now dingy and sad-looking. “Beauty, ain’t it?” Gojo sniggers as he and his horse totter beside you. 

“Where is everybody?” you question, feeling eerily uncomfortable with the silence. You half expect to be ambushed because of it. “Most of ‘em moved because of Benji’s crew members takin’ over,” Geto explains. “Sad. Most of the civilians had been here for years, but couldn’t take the terror anymore.” 

“Buuut,” Gojo interrupts with a grin, “lucky for the ones who stayed, we’re here! And we’ll make sure we send the baddies on their way.” You continue to look around for someone, anyone, in this ghost town. “So how are we supposed to find these guys?” you ask. “Just ask around?” 

“Exactly that, little miss,” Geto chuckles, suddenly coming to a stop in front of you. “And we’ve found just the spot.” You and Gojo stop your horses in front of a small saloon where you can just hear the sound of music and chatter. Gojo hops off of his horse first and goes to help you down, but you ignore him, choosing to get down yourself. 

You walk by, ignoring Gojo’s pout, and look up at the bar’s sign coated in dust: “Bull’s Bar,” you read, hearing Gojo giggle.

“That’s so original,” he comments as he pats the holster carrying Hollow Purple. He goes in without even waiting for you or Geto, but his partner doesn’t seem to mind. “The woman who wrote us asked us to meet her here in her letter,” he explains as he walks you inside. “So she should be…” 

His words die when he opens the wooden doors and lets them swing shut. The sound of them creaking is the only sound among the silence in the bar. The bar is small with tables covered in cowskin, bullheads mounted behind the bar, and every eye in the place on you, Geto, and Gojo, including the piano player in the corner. 

It’s beyond uncomfortable and you feel your face prickle with nervous sweat beneath your bandana. But Gojo and Geto are immune to discomfort as they confidently walk towards the bar. “Rough crowd,” Geto mutters under his breath. You nod in agreement, keeping a close hand on your hip. 

The bartender watches you come to the bar and sit, slowly wiping off a glass. He is tall and burly with unruly, spiked brown hair and a lollipop sticking out of his mouth. “So what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here, mister?” Gojo kindly asks. 

The bartender doesn’t say anything at first; just continues to stare you all down. The music hasn’t resumed yet and that makes this moment even more tense. “Kusakabe,” he says, his voice smooth and rough. “What will y’all have?” 

Gojo’s smile widens, pleased. “Jack n’ Coke for me and my partner; Sherly Temple for the lady.” You shoot him a look that could kill. “All Jack n’ Cokes, please,” Geto sighs, passing Kusakabe a couple of coins. He takes them and nods, still giving you a suspicious look that has your skin crawling. 

“U-Uh…excuse me?” a small, feminine voice asks behind you. You turn, finding a young, petite girl with long, sky-blue hair cut into a bang standing there, looking nervous. “You’re Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, right?”

The duo turns to face her now, making her face go beat red. “That, we are, ma’am,” Geto says, tipping his hat at her. “And you’re Miwa, I’m presumin’?” 

The girl damn near pops a blood vessel. “T-That’s correct, yes!” she stuttering replies.

Another young girl with two blonde ponytails comes up beside her. “You ain’t ask ‘em to sign your book, Miwa?” she snorts. “That’s all you’ve been talkin’ about since we showed up here.” Miwa gapes at the girl, mortified. “Momo!” she shrieks. “That was private!” 

“Miwa!” a male voice calls suddenly from across the room. A young man comes hurrying up to the two girls, tall and handsome with a spiked, black ponytail and a scar on his right cheek. “Are you alright? Who are they?” He ticks his eyes between you three suspiciously.

“Mechamaru, it’s okay,” Miwa soothes him, gently stroking his arm. “They’re here to help us.” 

“Friends of yours?” Gojo chuckles, not at all phased by this. Mecamaru glares at him. “I’m her boyfriend, actually,” he sharply corrects the gunslinger. Miwa nods at Momo who barely even smiles. “This is Momo. She’s a Bull’s Creek native, just like me. She told me not to write you guys!” 

Momo narrows her eyes at her friend. “Way to throw me under the bus,” she huffs. “It was only because I didn’t want more trouble comin’ into this town!” Geto nods understandably. “We ain’t here for trouble, little miss…well, not the kind that’ll get y’all killed. We just want the four we came here for.” 

“And who would that be?” Kusakabe asks suspiciously. “Who the fuck are y’all to come into my place of business askin’ around like y’all own the damn place?” You go to put your hand on your glock, but Gojo stops you, shaking his head at you. 

“We don’t mean no harm,” Geto gently says, “but we’ve got business in this town and with her.” He nods at Miwa. “She wrote a letter to us askin’ for help to save you from the four takin’ over this town.” 

The three younglings share a wary look with each other. “Don’t say their names,” Mechamaru warns. “They’ve got a tight hold on this town already. Last I heard about them is that they’re livin’ up in the mountains beyond the creek among the riches they snatched from the town.” 

“We’ll take you to them!” Momo excitedly announces. But Mechamaru shakes his head. “No,” he firmly says. “You two are stayin’ right here. I’ll take them.” While Momo tuts in disappointment, Miwa looks damn starstruck by her boo. 

Gojo gulps down his drink, finishing it off with a burp. “Fine with us, just as long as we get to where we need to. But before that…” He takes an ink pen from his pocket, smiling at Miwa. “Who wanted an autograph?” 

But before Miwa, who has now turned red, can hand over her book, Kusakabe stops her. “Hang on.” He leans over the bar toward the three of you, his eyes deadly and intimidating. “You get them and then you get the fuck out of my town. We don’t need no more trouble here.” 

With a silent nod, you three agree and Mechamaru guides you into the mountains.

*********

The creek is quiet when you make it up the hill. 

Too quiet. Though the soft sloshing of the water should be comforting, it’s damn disarming to you as you walk with the duo and Mechamaru along the creek yards away from Bull’s Creek (funny enough). The air is sweet, the sky is blue, and you know danger lurks. 

You finally come to a shabby-looking house up on a grassy hill yards down from you four. The roof is missing some tiles, one wall is caging in, and it looks abandoned.

“They should be in there,” Mechamaru says, pointing at the house. “They stay there because there are trails in the woods to escape through if the law ever happened to sniff ‘em out. But they haven’t for months because so many people are too scared to speak up for fear of being killed.” 

The young man stares you all down as you silently examine the home. “You gonna get them out of here?” he asks, hope in his eyes. The duo doesn’t answer, so you do, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Mechamaru,” you gently say. “We’ll take it from here.” ‘Yes, we’ll get them out of here for you.’ 

Mechamaru seems to be happy with your words. Meanwhile, Geto is stringing up the horses to a nearby post while Gojo spits his cigarette out of his mouth and crushes it under his heel. This is just ordinary work for them. “Go on back to your girl,” the white-haired outlaw says with a wink. “She’s a cutie.” 

Mechamaru narrows his eyes, but doesn’t say anything back. Instead, he backpedals and hurries back the way he came towards town. Once gone, you follow the duo up the hill to the small house, the grassblades tickling your ankles as you move. Finally, you come to the wooden front door padlocked shut. “So how are we doin’ this?” you ask. “Do we just bust in there and–” 

You’re rudely cut off by Gojo’s foot smashing into the padlock, forcing it open. The door opens with a long creaking sound like in a horror film.

The way this house looks feels like a horror film too: stained, old furniture in the living area; dishes in the kitchen sink and rotten food on the counter down the long hallway leading to the back door; ripped curtains covering the stained windows, making the entire downstairs dark and dreary. The smell in the air is rotten and rancid like something died. You cover your mouth despite the bandana covering your lower face. 

As you creep inside with the duo, your hand on your holster, your eyes shift from left to right, top to bottom. You look for a shadow; some slight movement from around a corner or behind something. The floorboards ominously creek under your boots, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “There’s no one here,” you whisper. 

While Gojo stays behind, Geto walks ahead of you towards the circle of furniture, his gun hanging from his hand. He places a hand on one of the leather armchairs and shakes his head. “No,” he protests. “There is. Feel the chair.” You carefully walk over and place a hand on the seat, your hear thumping wildly. “It’s warm,” you gasp. “Someone is–” 

“Y/N, look out!” Geto shouts from behind you, but it’s too late. Your words are cut off when you suddenly feel something snatching you by the ankle, causing you to fall onto your back. The noose tightens and begins to pull you throughout the house on your back despite your screams. You try to grab the knife in your pocket, but you can’t. You’re moving too fast. 

Finally, you stop and are suddenly facing two men with very bad intentions in their eyes. One of them is nothing short of a pretty boy: beautiful bone structure in his face with high cheekbones, dimples, blue eyes, and a Colgate smile. If it wasn’t for the gun in your face, you’d think he was a model. This is ‘Angelface’.

“Well, well, look what we’ve got here, Zankoku: the prettiest little trespassor we’ve gotten.” He smirks at his partner. “What do you reckon we should do with her?” 

His partner, Zankoku, looks like he’s all types of crazy: unruly curls that fall in his face; a bumpy nose like he was punched too many times in his lifetime; a scar running from his left ear down to the corner of his mouth; wide, wild eyes that frighten you more than the gun pressing against your noggin.

“I’ve got one idea that would make her sorry,” he growls, his voice like jagged glass to you. “Do you know what we do to trespassin’ bitches like you?” Angelface shakes his head at Zankoku. “Now, now, that’s no way to talk to a lady!” he mockingly tuts. 

“Y/N!” Geto shouts from beyond. You manage to twist around to look behind you and find the duo running to save you. However, they are stopped by a woman who pops up from under the staircase, pointing a gun at Geto’s head and a man jumping out from behind a wall to pull Gojo back and put a knife at his throat. 

The only woman in this crew, Makima, is tall and slender with long red hair and cold eyes. “Don’t move,” she warns. “You move and either I put this bullet in you or Arata puts that knife in your partner’s throat.” Arata is mute as you’ve been told, his tongue cut out long ago. But what he lacks in words he makes up for with his knives that are as long as his hair that cascades down to his hips. 

“Or we fuck up this cutie’s face,” Angelface growls, pushing the gun into your cheek. “Never thought I’d meet the famous Fatale Femme in the flesh.” He uses the barrel to pull your bandana down, revealing your nose and mouth to him. “And see her gorgeous face,” he cackles. “You’re almost prettier than me.” You could spit at him. 

“You motherfuckers got a lot of nerve comin’ here,” Zankoku snarls. “First you leave like y’all are better than us and then you start workin’ for the fuck ass law?” 

Gojo smiles despite nearly grazing the knife at his neck. “Good to see you again too, Zankoku,” he titters. “I guess this is our welcome wagon?” Makima rolls her eyes, annoyed. “God, you always talked too much,” she huffs. “I should put some lead in that throat right now just to shut you up.” 

She cocks her gun, moving it away to point at Gojo while she slips another out of her holster and points it at Geto. The entire room has turned into a warzone. One wrong step and you’re dead. “Listen,” Geto says, raising his voice. “We don’t want no trouble.” 

“Oh, shut up!” Makima spits. “Why else would y’all be here? You’re obviously here to wrangle us up like cattle and bring us into the sheriff.” 

“Y’all tryna get in a good place with the law?” Angelface scoffs, grinning at the gunslingers. “Tryin’ to become good guys ‘cause prison scared y’all? So sad to see what happened with that train.” You can almost feel the rage radiating off of Geto and Gojo in waves. “We don’t want to put y’all in prison,” Geto says, his voice roiling with simmering anger. “We just want information on Benji. We need to find him.” 

The bandit crew share a brief look. “Why would we tell you?” Angelface scoffs, eyes narrowed. “We don’t know where he is anyway. We were in Cherrywood before he fucked outta town months ago. We haven’t seen him since.” As soon as he says it, his partners look at him like he just sealed their fate. And he did. 

“You dumbass!” Makima hisses. The gears in your head are turning and you share a look with Geto and Gojo. “Benji was in Cherrywood?” you ask, finally speaking. “When? Why?”

But the cold barrels of the guns pressing into your head and chin stop you. “Enough,” Makima growls. “We don’t have to tell you fuck shit. Now hold still so we don’t fuck up our home.” 

She points her guns at Geto while Arata pushes the knife further into Gojo’s throat. You stare at the guns in your face, shaking. “Sorry we couldn’t have any fun, darlin,” Angelface sighs. “You’ll make the most beautiful corpse though.” Staring into the barrels is like staring into death and suddenly, you see a flash of your mother’s face. 

You don’t think. You just do. Quickly, you wedge your hand under your ass and pull a knife out. In a flash, you stick the knife into Angelface’s side, making him scream in pain. Immediately, Makima shoots but Geto ducks and swings his leg to trip her. Gojo elbows Arata in the face and rolls away just as Arata cups his nose to stop the blood flow. Makima, who fell, quickly rises and pulls the trigger on both guns. 

Bullets immediately start flying from Zankoku and Makima aimed for Geto and Gojo who you’re sure are hiding. You have no time to see where though, too focused on your attacker. Angelface staggers back and drops the gun, holding his wounded side. “You fuckin’ bitch!” he bellows. “You’ll pay for that! Kill her, Zankoku!” 

Zankoku is momentarily distracted, too busy popping shells. You take that loophole to cut yourself free with the bloody knife and kick him in the back. He staggers, but not enough. He turns around, baring his dirty teeth at you. “You,” he growls and raises his gun. He suddenly falls onto his knees, revealing Gojo standing behind him with a gun that whacked him in the back of the head. 

A bullet zooms over his head and Gojo quickly covers you. “Over here!” he yells as he drags you into the kitchen as quickly as possible. Geto quickly crawls in behind you and rips the table up to turn it over to serve as a shield from the bullets. Gojo pulls you behind the overturned table. You sit there, the three of you, as bullets whiz past you, breaking windows and putting holes in the walls. “She’s still shooting!” you announce among the flying bullets. “This bitch is crazy!” 

Geto busies himself firing back at Makima from behind the table while Gojo points at the back door. “You go out there,” he tells you. “We’ll take care of her in here.” He slides his gun out of his holster and cocks it. “Just wait for us with the horses,” he whispers. “We’ll find you.” So you go, hurrying over to the backdoor as fast as you can on your hands and knees. 

You turn for a second to see Arata stabbing through the table right above Gojo’s head. You itch to help him and Geto both, but you know they’d tell you to get out and save yourself. So you keep going. When you finally make it, you shove the door open with your shoulder and roll out into the open, landing on your back in some grass. Quickly, you look up, squinting in the sun. 

The backyard is nothing but an empty pig pen and a stretch of forest. Down below the slope of the hill the house is on is the creek and beyond that, your horses. On wobbly legs, you get up and try to run, but two arms wrapping around you stop you. One tightens around your midsection while the other wraps around your neck, nearly choking you.

“Hel–!” Your scream is cut off by a choke as you struggle to breathe with the arms squeezing you tight than a vice. 

“Gotcha,” Zankoku chuckles. “Stupid bitch, thinkin’ you could run from me…but I’m not goin’ to prison. So I’ll let nature take ya.” He begins to walk with you as you struggle helplessly in his arms, not even able to reach your weapons. 

When you realize where he’s taking you, it’s too late: you’re suddenly being dangled over the side of the rushing water of the creek. Without a warning, Zankoku drops you in. 

Your body plunges into the icy depths of the water, shocking you to the core. You immediately swim to the surface and gulp down the air. The waves are rough and wild, splashing you repeatedly in the face as you struggle to reach for a rock, a tree branch, anything to stop you from going downstream.

Zankoku stands at the bank and pats his knee once. A horse comes running from out of the forest, stopping at his feet and allowing him to climb on. “Have fun with the fishes, bitch!” he cackles before galloping off on his horse upstream. 

“Wait!” you scream, so loud that your throat goes raw. You watch helplessly as Zankoku disappears, growing smaller the farther the water takes you. You try to pedal to stay afloat, but the current is too rough and the water too deep. You can’t feel the bottom. “Gojo!” you wail out. “Geto, help!” 

All that answers you is the water flooding your ears and mouth, salty and overbearing. All of your senses are taken over by it as the current swallows you up. Tears of desperation begin to slip down your cheeks, sobs leaving your mouth. You once again feel alone. Abandoned. Just like all those years ago. And you’re tired. So, so tired. 

Finally giving in to the creek and the ache in your muscles, you let the current take you and find yourself going beneath the ice-cold, salty depths of water. But you don’t sink. Just as quickly as you went under, you’re suddenly pulled back up by some invisible force yanking on your arm. You look up into the sun’s rays, wondering if it’s God. 

But when you turn to look, you realize that it’s Geto. He is hanging off the side of the bank, boots and pants muddy, grunting as he struggles to pull you out. He finally slips in and yanks you to his body, both of you floating in the water together. “Keep your eyes open, Y/N!” he yells among the rush. “Geto,” you try to say, but your voice is so weak that it gets carried away by the water. 

Geto swims to the side of the creek with one arm and quickly grabs an upturned tree root to pull you both up and out of the water. “I’ve gotcha,” he huffs, dragging you into the mud once he’s on the surface. He then pulls you into the grass and finally releases you. 

When he does, the shakes start. And the shivers. Your body convulses as if it’s back in the water and not in the warm sun on dry land. You can’t stop. It’s as if your body has kicked itself into fight or flight. Your fingers tremble and your heart pounds, causing your breath to become labored. “Y/N?” Geto questions. You don’t see him. All you see is the blue sky above you. 

“C-C-C…” You don’t know what you’re trying to say. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. Geto’s handsome face appears above you and his expression softens when he realizes what’s happening. “Y/N, you’re havin’ a panic attack,” he says.

He slowly picks you up and places his hands on your forearms. “Breathe,” he demands, his voice and eyes firm. “I need you to breathe, Y/N, okay?”

You shake your head, still trembling like a leaf. “I-I can’t,” you gasp. “C-Can’t…” It’s a struggle to form a coherent sentence. Your brain can’t keep up, sending warning signals to your body when there isn’t even any danger anymore. 

“Look at me, darlin’,” Geto coos. His big, calloused hands hold your cheeks, willing you to look at him. “Watch me, okay?”

You do, hypnotized by his warm, soulful eyes. “Do what I do, slowly,” he instructs. “In.” His chest expands. “And out.” His chest falls. He does it again and you mirror to the best of your ability. It’s shaky and choppy at first, but soon, your breathing is less labored. 

Then your heartbeat slows and your body relaxes in his touch. All the while, he is gentle and patient. “That’s it,” he says, nodding. “It’s alright now. I’ve got you now.” And you believe it. You believe that you are safe. How the fuck did he do that? 

A whistle pierces the air from down below the hill. You look to see Gojo jogging uphill with the horses. His smile fades when he sees you and Geto, soaking wet and coated in mud. “What happened?” he demands. Quickly, you stand without Geto’s help and wipe at your snotty nose. “It’s not important,” you sniffle. “Did you get her?” 

Though Gojo still looks concerned, he doesn’t push it. “We got them,” he corrects you. “Angelface is knocked out cold ‘cause of blood loss thanks to your knife, but the other three are conscience so we should be able to talk ‘em.” You sigh, relived. 

You hop on your horses and ride back up to the house where, sure enough, the four bandits are bound tight in a rope tied to the pig pen, back to back. Angelface is slumped over, his side stained in blood. Meanwhile, his partners look downright scared, no longer having their weapons to help them. 

You and the duo stomp over to them, relishing the way they shiver at the sight of you. “Please don’t kill us,” Makima whimpers. Geto kneels before her, his expression like steel. “Then tell us what we want to know: Benji the Bandit. Where is he?” 

Gojo kneels beside his partner and pulls down his blindfold to reveal his piercing, blue eyes. It’s enough to make the bandits cowar. No weapons or force needed. It makes you wonder just what the duo did to them while you were in that creek. “The last time we saw him was in Cherrywood,” Zankoku admits. “He was conspirin’ with the outlaw Valentine to rob a train.” 

“Valentine?” you gasp. “He works for Benji?” You look at Geto and Gojo as the realization hits you. Could it be that Benji was behind that train massacre? Could it be that he framed his two former employees?

“After the train massacre, Benji cut us some money and said he was headin’ to Sage County to hide out,” Makima adds. “That’s all we know, we swear!” 

Gojo smiles, happy with this turnout. “Thank you for your participation,” he sweetly says as he stands up. He reties his blindfold before letting out a whistle that echos across the land. 

You hear the sound of horse hooves and thudding footsteps, each sound mingling into one loud heartbeat. You turn, findinding law enforcement and other townsmen following close behind running out of the brush of trees and nature towards you. Among them is Kusakabe sporting a golden star on his shirt as the sheriff of Bull’s Creek (who also so happens to be a bartender). 

“They’re all yours, fellas!” Gojo yells, moving away so Kusakabe and his posse can swarm the bandits like flies. Other townspeople follow shortly after and with them, they bring rewards for you and the gunslinging duo: money; food and spices for cooking; whiskey and ale; and more importantly, thanks. 

Despite your reputation and appearance, the people stare you in your face and pour their hearts out to you. They shower you with gratitude, give you warm smiles, and shake your hand. It is overwhelming, but at the same time, it makes you feel good. It gives you a better feeling than how you feel after smoking a gunslinger and taking off down the road: cold and vengeful. Now, to see the very people you’ve helped with your own eyes, it makes you rethink your career path. 

Nearly an hour later after collecting your rewards and goods to place in a sack for the road, Gojo comes up to you with a big, fluffy towel while Geto chats with some of the victims. “Gotcha somethin’,” he says, wrapping you up in the fluffy thing. 

You don’t look into his eyes, still feeling weird from earlier. Once you’re wrapped up tight, he gives you space and chomps down on a sugar cookie given to him by a sweet old lady earlier as her thanks. “So where to now?” you ask, glancing at him. He just smirks at you. 

Sage County it is, then. 

**********

The night is still and so is the steely, cold, unforgiving prison cell Valentine sleeps in that night. 

He’s been in the Black Water County prison for days now, eating their terrible food and facing terrible mistreatment at the hands of the guards. He is housed in a private cell, isolated from other prisoners.

Being a wanted criminal outlaw means that you have many enemies, so the sheriff thought it was best to keep Valentine isolated to avoid Valentine being attacked….not because he cares, but because he wants Valentine alive for his trial. 

Valentine hasn’t tried to escape, waiting for the right time to do so. He has decided to lay low for now and play nice, keeping to himself and doing what the guards tell him to do. Meanwhile, in his head, he fantasizes about the moment he can put some bullets in those damn gunslingers and wrap his hands around your lying, backstabbing throat. 

Right now, as he lies asleep on his pad, he can almost see your face turning purple as he wrings your neck. He can almost feel the way your hands claw pathetically at his, your body slowly going limp like a rag doll as he– 

Clang. 

Valentine immediately opens his eyes and sits up in his cell, looking towards the strange sound of metal banging against something solid. He squints into the dark hallway outside of his barred cell door. “H-Hello?” he stutteringly whispers in the darkness. “Is someone there?” 

There isn’t an answer for a while, making him feel as if he imagined it. But then he hears footsteps and the young guard usually posted at his cell appears, staggering slightly as he does so. In his hand, he carries a tray of sloppy Joe and beer, possibly for himself, but Valentine makes a joke anyway.

“What’s that?” he scoffs. “You finally bringin’ me some decent dinner, boy? Do you even know what time of night it is?!” The young guard doesn’t answer. Instead, he teeters forward and falls onto his face like a tree that was just axed, falling at Valentine’s feet. 

“Shit!” Valentine gasps, jumping and backing up against the cold cell wall. The food and beer spill along the floor, just like the blood pooling from the back wound the guard is sporting. That’s when he sees it: the knife in the guard’s back. 

More footsteps follow and Valentine shakily looks up at the shadow figure entering the hallway, dressed in black clothes with a bandana covering his mouth. As he gets closer, Valentine cowares against the wall, shivering. “W-What did you–” 

“Shh!” the stranger shushes him. He bends down near the guard’s body and takes off his black glove. There, Valentine recognizes the black rose tattoo on his knuckles. The flower of death. Benji the Bandit’s signature symbol. “The boss sent me here to get you outta here,” he whispers. He begins to dig into the guard’s back pocket and retrieves a ring of keys which he uses to unlock Valentine’s cell. 

The door opens with a click and the stranger slides it open, narrowing his eyes at the outlaw. “If you don’t wanna spend the rest of your sorry-ass life in here, follow me and keep quiet.” It doesn’t take Valentine long to make up his mind. He would take anything over wearing an ugly black and white jumpsuit and eating God-awful slop. 

Quietly, he follows close behind the stranger down the hallway and around a corner between two other wards of cells. Commotion begins to arise from each ward, prisoners awakening and realizing that someone is escaping. The stranger bends down to move a tile from the floor out of its place, revealing a deep hole that must have taken days to dig. “Down here!” he hisses before ducking down into the manmade hole. 

The prisoners begin to knock against their cell doors and walls, yelling and hollering. Quickly, Valentine gets down onto his stomach and slides himself down into the tight, dark hole.

He has never escaped in this manner before and he can’t see why any criminal does it. It’s dank, dark, and dirt keeps getting in his mouth and nose. Not to mention how physically taxing it is. He grunts and struggles to get through certain spaces that are too tight, shimmying along in his elbows and stomach. 

But finally, he sees an opening and the stranger pull himself up out of the hole. Valentine follows close after, pushing himself through the opening by his hands. With a gasp, he rises from the hole, breathing in the open air and the night sky above. He’s never been so happy to be above ground before. 

But he isn’t at all happy to see who is waiting for him. Other than the stranger, Valentine’s eyes trail up the strong legs of a black Bronco before settling on the man sitting on its back. He is a big man––at least six feet––and the size of a bear with long hair, a salt-n-pepper beard, an eyepatch, and a gold tooth that glints at him in the moonlight. He wears black everything: a black hat; black slacks; black boots; a black jacket adorned with fringe. He is the most terrifying man to exist in the Wild West.

“Benji,” he gasps. 

Benji’s smile grows, laugh lines and wrinkles by his eyes. “Nice to see you too, Valentine,” he says in his deep, gruff voice that could make any man tremble. “How was prison for you?”

He doesn’t answer. He rises from his knees and dusts himself off, looking towards the prison. They are right outside of its wired fence, deep in the woods that surround it. “Ya know, crawlin’ through dirt as an escape route ain’t really my style,” he grumbles. 

Benji keeps smiling, menacingly so. “You’re lucky I even sent someone to get your ass bein’ that you fucked up and got yourself caught.” He nods at his goon who has settled onto his own horse. 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Valentine protests. “That damn idiot duo came after me and threatened to toss me in prison!” He seethes, thinking about you. “And now the bitch that they’re with is against me. She turned out to be the Fatale Femme.”

He has no problem throwing you under the bus. You ruined his entire operation! He was so sure Geto and Gojo would take his offer and let him go free. He was going to leave the county, maybe go overseas, and make his life from there. 

It’s bad enough to let Benji once again rope him into another one of his schemes. He just knew that robbing that Cherrywood train would bring him bad luck, but he listened to his boss anyway. “All ya need to do is grab the money with my men and kill the witnesses. You’ll get your cut and I’ll get mine.” 

Down on his luck and in need of some quick cash, Valentine agreed, but also had questions: “What about Geto and Gojo? Why are they apart of this? You haven’t worked with them in years.” 

Benji just smiled, puffing on his cigar. “Because they need to be reminded that they can’t run from me,” he answered, sending chills down Valentine’s spine. “They’ll never know that I was behind this, but that won’t matter. They think they can suddenly become these saviors, but when the law find them on that train with a bunch of dead bodies, they’ll finally understand that they can’t run from their sins.” 

It was punishment for leaving Benji. He wanted the Gunslingers to suffer. Valentine just wanted the money, so he went with it and ran. Now, he not only wants revenge on the duo but on you too. 

Benji’s brows rise at the mention of you. “The Fatale Femme teamin’ up with my old gunslingers, eh?” He ponders this, stroking his beard. “Then that means they’re a threat to me, but not for long. That means we’ll have to take them all out of the equation.” 

He looks down at Valentine like he’s no more than a bug, those dark eyes like a shark’s. “Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers and Valentine roughly swallows his spit. “I only got ya out of here because I’ve got another job for ya.” 

Valentine nods, hanging onto every word: I got word that those two gunslingin’ maggots are headin’ out of the West toward North,” Benji explains. “They’ll be passin’ through Sage County. I need you to follow ‘em with my crew and meet me in Sage County. Attack ‘em on the road if you need to.” 

Valentine nods, placing all of these instructions in the back of his mind. “But why are you goin’ to Sage County?” he asks. 

Benji pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and holds it between his teeth. “I got a call from four of my old workers earlier after they got arrested in Bull’s Creek. I know Geto and Gojo, so I know that they ask around and obviously know where I’m headed.” He pulls out a match box and lights a match in one strike. 

He then lights his cig and takes a puff, holding it between his ringed, inked fingers. “If they show up, I wanna kill them myself–especially that nosey bitch they’ve got with ‘em,” he spits. “I can’t have no one lookin’ for me.” 

The severity and seriousness of his words are set by the silence that looms over them along with the ice in Benji’s eyes. Finally, he glares at Valentine. “What are ya waitin’ on, idiot?” he huffs. “Get goin’ and don’t disappoint me.” 

He snaps the reins on his horse and takes off into the woods, leaving his goon and Valentine alone.

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Midnight Roses (6)

This fic contains canon-typical violence and behaviours, manipulation, mentions of death, murder, orphans, pain, blood, blood drinking, memory manipulation, torture, prison, and criminals.

Epilogue

“Bella!”  Eric Yorkie called to her over the roar of noise in their college cafeteria, “Over here!”  He beckoned.  Bella set her tray down on the table before sitting on the uncomfortable chair that accompanied the table.

“I’ve definitely got it this time!”  Eric crowed excitedly.

Bella dug into her meal and rolled her eyes.  Angela made a face at her boyfriend, “The last time that you thought you had ‘it,’ your proof was just a slightly unsymmetrical pair of footprints that were larger than average.”

“Bigfoot is real!” Eric protested, digging into his food.  “One day I’ll prove he exists!”

“There are ‘researchers’ who have been promising that for more than thirty years.  Welcome to a not-so-exclusive club.”  Angela quipped.  “By the way, I doubt Bigfoot lives in or visits Seattle.”  It had been four years since Bella graduated high school.  She and her friends had reunited after it felt like they all woke up from a long sleep.  Bella had a vague memory of a family called the Cullens but when she was unable to put faces to names, she dismissed the surname as unimportant.  Neither she nor Jacob could remember why they both felt lingering feelings of tension but over time, those feelings vanished as if they had never existed in the first place.

“Earth to Bella.  Don’t make me suffer through Eric’s conspiracy theories by myself,” Angela pouted.  “I need the support.”

“Do continue Eric,” Bella instructed uninterestedly.

“I’m going to ignore your tone and focus on the words that left your mouth just then,” Eric said.  “Get this.  Three weeks ago, a local reporter uncovers a story about a fisherman claiming that he saw a being taller than Mount St Helens.  It parted waves effortlessly and reached down into the depths of the sea.”

“That’s it?  That’s your proof?”  Bella asked disbelievingly.

“No, that’s not all my doubting friend.  This being was defeated by smaller beings who ran so fast it was like they were blurs.  The fisherman swears he saw them run on water.”

“And their eyes?”  Bella had no idea why those words left her mouth.  She just knew they were significant somehow.

“They were as red as blood.”  Eric revealed, thrilled that he had got the reaction he had been hoping for.  Then Eric paused, “Except for two of the five members of the group.  As far as the fisherman could tell one member of the group had glowing, vibrant green eyes and the other member’s eyes were normal if you ignore the fact that the fisherman said they swirled with long forgotten secrets.”

Something about that sentence didn’t sit right with Bella and she had the peculiar feeling that she had known someone with golden eyes in her past.  “I’m thinking of Charlie,” Bella reassured herself.  “When the sunlight hits his brown eyes a certain way, they appear almost golden.”

Angela still wasn’t convinced, “How did you find out about this anyway?  It wasn’t on the local news.  And we all know that the internet is nowhere near being one hundred percent accurate when it comes to information.”

“My cousin was in Greece searching for an old friend of hers.  She told me everything she overheard from the reporter and the fisherman.”

“Does this cousin have a name?”  Angela asked.

“As a matter of fact, she does,” Eric commented blithely.  “It would have been very hard for her to get through life without one.”

“Well?  What is it?  Don’t leave us in suspense.”

“Oh, now you’re interested.  I see how it is.”

“Eric,” Bella warned him impatiently.

“Fine.  My cousin’s name is Drew Tanaka.”

[uldrensredpants]

I have finally beaten The Veilguard. My feelings are all over the place.

Here’s some thoughts:

The last Act was so phenomenal I couldn’t stop playing.

I lost Harding (that was so sad but so brave and in character for her)

I’ve had a feeling that there was something up with Varric. No one ever visited him in his room or talked to him. The reveal was still painful. It was so well done.

Everyone else survived. I was scared for Emmrich since I didn’t make him a Lich. I feel like he has to learn and accept that death is part of life and that this realisation will be more helpful to lead a happy life. Lich Emmrich is pretty cool though.

I love Rook.

VIAGO GIVE ME JUST ONE CHANCE!

I love the companions. All of them.

I fooled Solas with the fake dagger. As he is the god of trickery I felt it was a fitting end for him to be out witted. He is a very tragic character but he deserved what he got in the end.

The Romance: I romanced Lucanis. There was a whole lot of nothing in the beginning like he kept ignoring my flirting. He does explain his fear of getting close to you in the end and the conclusion of his romance arc is very very beautiful and romantic. Would I have loved if they would have put this a little bit sooner in the game? Sure. But this works for me too. I don’t regret romancing him and I will do so again. I truly feel like the wait for him is worth it.

Dorian is the new Archon and I have no idea how I triggered that. I would have installed Maev as the new Archon so the Inquisitor and Dorian could have more time together (my Inky romanced him in my canon playthrough of Inquisition) but Archon Dorian Pavus has a nice ring to it.

I have played this on the easiest setting so some victories didn’t feel as epic or deserved as I would’ve liked. I am not really good at gaming but I will try to pump it up one or more difficulty settings the next time.

Not enough epilogue. It was a nice epilogue. But what is my Rook doing now?

This may be an unpopular opinion, but the OST is just as amazing as DA:I‘s

This game was amazing. I understand the criticism and I share some of it but right now I am riding that freshly-finished-wave and to me it is perfect.

Veiljumper Rook is love.

[twilightmalachite]

Altered - Epilogue 7

Author: Akira

Characters: Eichi, Natsume

Translator: Mika Enstars

"HeY, Sakasaki Natsume. Your eyes are open properLY, rigHT?"

Season: Winter

Location: OO Stage (fine-O)

⚠️ This is an import from a unproofed Twitter Livetweet!

Eichi: History repeats itself.

The first time it is a tragedy, the second time it is a comedy.

No matter how serious the content is, if the same thing is demonstrated, it will become apathetic.

Continue the same thing many times over, and there will be a dry laugh.

Sakasaki-kun, you might not intend it, but we really are similar.

Although you may see me now as an immeasurably huge, abominable monster, now.

But, at that time, my young self saw you all—the Five Eccentrics, as the very same thing.

A mighty foe that would crush me if I were to get too close.

Because I was frightened and intimidated to desperation, I grew thorns, and attacked you excessively.

I tried crushing you using more violence and malice than was necessary.

In doing so, I destroyed even what I should have loved and cherished.

It feels it should be a mistake how we’re even able to get together again and laugh with each other like this.

We had parted ways so fatally.

You and I are alike.

However, I do not want you to make the same mistakes I did. I know it sounds hypocritical, but I mean that with sincerity.

I had envied you all.

I wanted to become like you all.

Despite this, I had gained something just as precious as you had before I knew it.

And I let it go, without having ever realized it.

I’ve always regretted it.

How is it? Is this farce of mine funny?

Just look around me. This is all that I let fall. They were such a bright and dazzling pure white, but I didn’t see them at all.

Hiyori-kun, Nagisa-kun.

Tsumugi.

And everyone from fine, who resonated with and spread their wings together with me.

Because I was flying out in the lead, and couldn’t see anything when I looked down, I allowed them to keep getting lost.

And so in order to reach our destination, an idol-like stage where we can laugh together—so many detours had to be made.

I want you to learn from my foolishness, Sakasaki-kun.

Don’t make the same mistakes that I did. You’re a proper idol—You should create a shining stage that brings about happy laughter, not one of ridicule.

Beside you is the bluebird that I released back then.

You mustn’t ever let it go.

Get along as best as possible, and live happily ever after together.

For eternity, like a fairy tale.

Only then will you have finally rise victorious over me.

And I wouldn’t regret it too much, either.

Eichi: Right now, I have the most magnificent, most beautiful bird in the world by my side.

That happy youth, that bluebird, will never be mine again.

I mourn that fact.

I mourn it deeper and heavier than the final stage of the war.

And I’ll mourn it for the rest of my life.

That will be my punishment.

There’s no need for you to dirty your own hands, boy.

"♪~♪~♪"

Location: OO Stage (Altered)

Natsume: Tenshouin Eichi, -senpai… He’s looking at me distastefulLY.

He’s like a smug parent entrusting their own dreams into their child’s hanDS.

You’re not my parenT, not a brothER, and definitely nothing like famiLY.

The first such precious friends I found outside of my famiLY… Were those that you mercilessly trampled to deaTH.

That’s why I lived my life hating yOU.

BuT, I couldn’t see the reality behind iT.

To pity and feel bad for my niisans, was like making a fool of them without understanding thEM.

HeY, Sakasaki Natsume. Your eyes are open properLY, rigHT?

I’m not sure if you’re seeing anythiNG.

Rei-niisan.

Shu-niisan, Kanata-niisan, Wataru-niisan.

I was the one who couldn’t see my beloved Five Eccentrics more than anyone elSE.

But, right now I can see my niisans clearLY.

And they’re shining so brightLY, like the sUN.

Natsume: I had immersed myself up to my head in ignorant darkneSS. I might’ve been the only one who thought such thinGS.

I was just covering my eyES. I had been dreaming this entire tiME, looking away from this realiTY.

BuT, I’m awake nOW…

This tiME, I’ll open my eyes and face this realitY.

Life is a performaNCE.

And right nOW, I’m standing on the stage of oNE.

If I dance with my eyes closED, it’ll be dangeroUS, you knOW.

“♪~♪~♪”

← prev | story directory

[zombie-rott]

Survival Is A Talent:  Epilogue.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 4.5. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Pairing: Gen. None.

Rating: Mature for difficult themes throughout.

Summary:

“Weakness was not something Phantom had ever been permitted to show back beneath the ground. His father, a tyrant leader of their pack, came down harshly on anyone who dared to show an ounce of discomfort or disdain. Male or female, grown or child; he was a brutal man with brutal ideals. But despite Phantom’s inept ability to hide his pain, he’d never felt quite like this before. Nor had he trembled quite as much as he had done since coming to the surface.”

Or

Phantom, the new quintessence ghoul, is struggling to adapt to live on the surface. What started as surface sickness has quickly developed into quintessence burn out. And with a reluctance to ask for help, Phantom finds himself down a dark path. It’s up to Papa, Aether and the pack to drag him back; kicking, screaming but alive.

In full on A03.

“Hey! Bug! We’re heading out to collect firewood with Mountain, you coming?” 

Dew threw an arm around Phantom’s shoulder and shoved a thermos of coffee in front of him in an act of bribery. The young ghoul shook his head and apologised. As much as the younger ghoul would love to help his friends collect firewood, he had an appointment with Dr Aries that he simply couldn’t miss. 

“Tomorrow then!” The fire ghoul insisted, throwing his jacket over his shoulder and making for the door, “I’ll hold you to it!” 

Phantom tipped his hand in acknowledgement and continued to read his book with breakfast. It was a modern classic according to Mountain and while it was a tad on the depressing side, the young quint didn’t mind. He wasn’t fragile like he once was, instead, he was better equipped to deal with his anxiety and overwhelmed nervous system. Consuming media often considered ‘ upsetting ’ acted as something cathartic rather than triggering. 

Still, the other ghouls fretted, as was only natural. 

Phantom greeted several of his other ghoul kin as they went about their morning routines. Cirrus made him another coffee, being sure to froth the milk just how they knew he liked it. Swiss and Cumulus, the latter carefully holding her swelling belly, took up residence beside him, while Aroura rushed by them in a flurry of ‘ I’m late, I’m fucking late! ” 

“Of Mice and Men? Really Bug?” Swiss quipped, holding the book up to inspect the blurb, “Haven’t you read this already?” 

“Yeah, but it’s good.”

“Good? It’s about the harsh reality of being human.”

“Exactly. It’s grounding.” Phantom smiled, “Makes me feel good about the life I have here, surrounded by everyone who loves me. You know?” 

Cumulus reached across and squeezed Phantom’s arm in acknowledgement. She didn’t need to tell him how proud she was, or how much she loved him; he knew. Just like he knew with all the others. The moment they were all allowed to see him after his brush with death was the moment their love was louder than anything he’d ever heard before. Even louder than the din of an excited crowd. 

“I gotta’ speak to Mounty about the books he’s giving you.” Swiss pondered, an eyebrow cocked as he nursed his coffee. 

Phantom ignored him and jumped to his feet. 

“I’ve gotta bounce. Aether’s expecting me any minute for my appointment!” 

“That’s right! Today’s a big day, eh bug?” Cirrus grinned, their eyes crinkling at the corners, “We’re so chuffed for you, buddy.” 

“Yeah, well done Bug!” Swiss added. 

“Thanks but she hasn’t even discharged me yet. It mightn’t even happen.” 

“With how hard you’ve been working? Of course it will!”

Phantom threaded his arms through his autumn coat and slipped Steinbeck’s novel into the inside pocket. 

“We’ll see.” He added, “Anyway! Catch you all later!” 

He slipped through the door to a chorus of goodbyes and made for the older quint’s office, greeting fellow ghoul-kin and siblings as he went. 

It had been over a year since Phantom went missing in the woods, and life had been a mixture of changes. His rock bottom had served as a difficult casket to climb out of and, at first, he wasn’t sure he was going to do it. There were many sleepless nights and unwilling attempts at asking for help. But slip-ups happened, recovery ebbs and flows, and some days were better for Phantom than others, especially in the beginning. 

Fourteen months later Phantom had his anxiety largely under control and with it, everything else seemed to gradually fall into place. He’d learned to be vulnerable and ask for help without feeling shame or guilt or some combination of the two. He was better able to rationalise, de-escalate and find ways to distract that wouldn’t end in blood or isolation. But most of all he was feeling more and more like the ghoul he knew he was always meant to be; happy, carefree and mischievous just like his kin.  

There was even a new spring in his step and a glow in his eyes that several of his pack loved to mention at any amble opportunity. Aether and Copia included. 

Phantom greeted the young ghoul at reception and made a beeline down the long corridor of oak doors until he crashed through Aethers, breathing heavily but smiling. The older ghoul was already logged onto his computer and chatting with Dr Aries over the video link, a mug of coffee in one hand and another set aside for Phantom. In one of the other chairs, Copia was sat in a dressed down shirt and slacks, his face painted and hair slicked back. He greeted the young ghoul with a smile.

“Nice of you to join us.” the clergyman joked as Phantom settled between them. 

“The gang kept me back.” 

“Hmm, I’m sure.” Copia chuckled. He was all too aware of the quint’s poor timekeeping. 

On the screen, Dr Aries, a cheery fire ghoul with golden eyes, smiled back at them. She greeted Phantom in the usual way, asking about his week and how he was feeling, before proceeding into what was to be their last session. 

“I think Aether and Papa would agree that you’ve made wonderful progress over the last year. All that’s left for us to do is to discuss your relapse prevention plan and the possibility of check-ins in the future.”

“You’re not just releasing me?” Phantom tried not to sound crestfallen. He thought this was it; He was better and free to live his life.

“Oh you’re still being released, if that’s what we’re calling it.” Aries giggled slightly at the choice of words, “But we wouldn’t be doing our job if we didn’t at least offer a check-up in six months, and then again in a year. If things are still on the right track we can call it quits. Fortunately for you, these check-ups can be done by Aether and will take no longer than thirty minutes depending.”

“You’re still being discharged, bug. But we can’t throw you into the deep end without at least having two check-ins in place.” Aether soothingly placed a hand on Phantom’s shoulder, “If it makes you feel any better I’ve just completed my yearly check-in with Dr Aries this morning. And while I’m very well into my recovery, I’ve decided to arrange another one for six months just to keep myself going along the right path. There’s no shame in a top-up every so often.” 

“Of course there isn’t.” Copia added, “Even I seek counsel for my mental health on occasion.” 

A smile pulled at the corners of Phantom’s lips. 

“But I’m still good to go, right?” 

“If you’re feeling ready, then we’re ready.” 

“I’m more than ready. I’ve been ready for a while. This is the best I’ve ever felt. Everything just seems so much better and brighter - who knew the world had this many colours? And -”

“You’re clearly very excited, Bug,” Aether interrupted, “And we’ll get to discharging you to continue that excitement in a little while. We just have some loose ends to tie up and then you can walk out that door and live. But formalities first, yes?” 

Phantom nodded and settled in for forty minutes of reminders and compliments. They completed a relapse prevention plan with coping mechanisms and his support network, including emergency contacts should things go south. Copia and Aether both voiced their concerns and reiterated their part in Phantom’s ongoing wellness. Finally, it was time to close off and with it, Phantom said goodbye to his weekly sessions with Dr.Aries. It was bittersweet and despite himself, the young quint felt emotion rising in his chest. This was it after a year of his life spent recovering. There was no fanfare or book-like climax; Just a burning in his throat and a feeling of accomplishment. 

“I deem you officially ‘ released ’ as you keep calling it. Congratulations Phantom.” Dr Aries beamed through the screen. 

“Thank you Dr. I-I really appreciate all your help.” Phantom’s lip quivered as he fought back tears. 

After the laptop was closed Copia pulled Phantom into a warm embrace. The young ghoul buried his nose in the collar of the clergyman’s shirt and allowed himself to cry tears of - well - he wasn’t really sure what. Happiness? Accomplishment? Pride? No matter, they kept coming in silent waves as Aether gently patted at his shoulder. 

“You’ve done so well mio divaloino . You should be so proud.” 

“I agree, it’s been a long time coming but you’re here! Not quite the finish line, there isn’t really one to begin with, but so much further than ever before.” 

Phantom pulled back from the embrace, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. A smile spread across his lips, one fueled by a sense of pride and joy. This was a new beginning, and while he still had days ahead of him, some good and some not so good, he had the tools and people he needed to make it through. No matter the issue or intrusive thought there were things he could do and people he could see that would make it all okay. 

He would never be alone again because he had a pack and Copia and countless others behind him, pushing him forward and holding him up. This wasn’t the pit. He wasn’t at the hands of his brutal father and equally as nasty kin. He was wanted and adored, welcomed to cuddle piles and movie nights. 

After centuries of struggling alone and afraid, all it took for Phantom to understand love was to lose a bit of himself in the process. 

~ Show some love on A03 ~

[the-era-of-shadow]

Good Ol' Mistaken Identity

Written by Ash Rose

Summary: Now that it's not the brink of dawn, and Widow has been awake for a while, the events of the early morning truly set into her mind - and she starts connecting the dots to something that had occurred a few days ago… And starts to feel bad about it.

CW/TWs: Mentions of death, very mild swearing

Notes: Haiii can you believe it?? Another story so soon? What is this, 2020 all over again? Well, not quite, since this summer vacation is, well, more permanent than the one I had then - which is what has given me the time to pump a story out so quickly in the first place - while also being much higher quality than one from 2020 (hopefully). Besides, this story is essentially the epilogue to In Regards anyways - split into a separate story as to prevent any new readers in the future from getting spoiled for Inner Connection due to the reading order.

(Four days after the events of “In Regards to a So-called Twisted Maiden”, two hours after the ending of “Inner Connection”)

Despite how busy everyone was at the moment, whether it be gathering supplies to create a makeshift aircraft or handling the components of Project Midnight and preparing it for travel, things were rather quiet amongst the Black Arms - words really only being exchanged through the hivemind when instructions needed to be handed out.

The near silence caused Widow’s mind to ponder upon the previous few days and the things that had occurred during them. It was a shame that those girls got away without much more than some trauma, she would have happily killed them all if it weren’t for her meltdown that had been triggered by that blue bastard of a hedgehog’s transformation into their so called “super” form.

But at least she herself was still alive, and Eclipse has some new wisps to assimilate into Dark Arms to boot - Widow did have to admit that. She also had to admit that it probably wouldn't be alive right now if it hadn’t been for some seemingly very quick thinking from her late husband Doom. At first, Widow didn’t quite have a grasp on what exactly had gone on in the moment that had saved her life, but now with the events that had happened just a few hours ago in her mind, it was able to surmise that Doom had momentarily possessed Shadow’s body and had pushed the limits of their power, all to defend her…

It reminded her of a similar event that had occurred just a few days prior, on a bit of a lesser scale. When she had noticed that it was being stalked by those self proclaimed “Freedom Trainees”, she had made the hasty and possibly even risky decision to find refuge in a pawn shop owned by the brother of her most recent victim… But despite having every reason to be cruel to her, the shop’s owner had treated her and Garrick with the utmost care - and if that wasn’t strange on its own, during the entire visit, she had been overwhelmed with the sensation of Doom’s presence despite no physical evidence for such a feeling, and had been hearing whispers of the voices of comrades long past. It had chalked it all up to coincidence and/or her mind playing tricks on her while in distress at the time, but when she had been compelled by what it now realized to be the hivemind to return to the pawn shop early the next morning, and had found the owner’s dead body and a note addressed to her by her real name, she realized that it was no coincidence. It really had been Doom the entire time, just possessing the body of the shop’s owner as he would later do with Shadow - though Widow doubted that the shop keeper had agreed to the arrangement like Shadow had. 

If only she had realized it sooner. Maybe Doom could have kept that body long term? Not that there seems to be much issue with the current arrangement with Shadow, but Widow couldn’t help but wonder, nor could she help but feel like it needed to apologize for her ignorance.

As these thoughts came to her, Widow noticed that Shadow was seemingly taking a quick break, and she decided to try to get its attention.

“Oh? Do you need help with something, mom?” They inquired, its attention being successfully grabbed by Widow, as shown by how its head turned to face her.

“I do, actually. Though… It isn’t about the aircraft, nor Project Midnight. Is that alright?” Widow answered, acknowledging how busy its child must be, and not wanting to be a bother to them. “Heh. You want to talk to dad again, don’t you?” Shadow correctly guessed, grinning in a teasing manner. Widow simply nodded, as her cheeks became noticeably warmer. “Let me see if he’s available.” They told her, its mischievous smile gaining a soft and loving tinge to it.

“Thank you, Shadow. Truly… I know how busy you must be right now, so it is quite nice of you to do this for me.” Widow said as she moved closer to Shadow’s side.

“I’m on my break, why wouldn’t I?” Shadow explained plainly.

“Oh, bless you, sweet child…” Widow responded sweetly, deciding to sit down on a large rock as she spoke, unintentionally revealing a piece of paper that was in one of the pockets of her coat to Shadow.

“Dad says that he needs a moment. But while we wait, may I ask what is in your pocket?” Shadow spoke after about thirty seconds of silence, pointing curiously to the paper still sticking out of Widow’s coat.

“Oh, this little thing? … I honestly had forgotten that I still had it with me…!” Widow replied, gently taking the paper from her pocket.

“I remember seeing you hold a piece of paper of a similar size when you, Eclipse, Omega and Garrick were taking Relic to the hospital a few days ago. Is this the same one I saw then?” Shadow continued to question, approaching Widow to get a closer look.

“I do believe it is, if memory serves me well… It’s a letter from your father, I do believe.” Widow answered, allowing Shadow to take the paper from her.

“A… letter from my father? But… how could that-” Shadow began to question, skimming past the part of the letter that notes it as being addressed to Widow and unfolding it right away in order to see what was written within. But before they had the chance to read it, or even to finish its sentence, Doom finally appeared to them and Widow, interrupting the current conversation.

“Ah, hello… Apologies for my late arrival - even spirits need their rest, and I had been ignoring that fact for a bit too long…” He said to the both of them as the amulet around Shadow’s neck began to illuminate his form.

“Oh dear me… Did we wake you, Doomie? I’m terribly sorry if that’s the case!” Widow wondered with concern.

“Same here.” Shadow added with a nod, feeling just as remorseful, even if it didn’t show as blatantly as it did with Widow.

“Please, do not be sorry… There are much bigger hurdles than this that I would overcome for your sake. This is of no concern.” Doom replied.

“Hmph… If you insist.” Shadow remarked, trying to hide its guilt.

“Anyways… What is it that you summon me for, my most beloved darling?” Doom then inquired, seating himself beside his dearest wife.

“Oh, it isn’t much, really…” Widow began to say as she took back the paper from Shadow, “All I want is to apologize for not realizing that it had been you in that little old pawn shop, really.” She then admitted.

“My dear Widow… Please have mercy on your heart, I have already forgiven you for such a thing, for I had on the day itself.” Doom explained to her, making his best attempt to lovingly cup their hand on Widow’s cheek despite his current form being incorporeal.

“Oh Doomie… Your forgiveness means the universe to me…” Widow replied tenderly, placing her hand perfectly on top of Doom’s, as if he was not a ghost, but still alive and with her.

“I… I’d really hate to interrupt you two, since you seem so happy to be in each other’s presence at the moment, but… I am… a bit confused as to what this is all about.” Shadow hesitantly spoke up.

“Confused…? Oh, why so? I do believe I told you about the ordeal after I came home that afternoon, and I allowed you to read the letter, so what is not clicking for you, dear?” Widow questioned, genuinely not understanding why Shadow would feel lost.

“Well, first of all, you told Eclipse, and you noticed me eavesdropping. But more importantly, you had relayed the tale of your visit to the pawn shop in the StarSpiral Mall back when you believed the owner to be his own person - Benson Cadere, and that “letter” is more like a poem, or a snippet of song lyrics, and a vague one at that.” Shadow explained rather bluntly.

"Ah… I do suppose it is, then..." Widow admitted with lighthearted embarrassment. "It seems that even though we are connected through a hivemind, you are not as skilled at seeing into Doomie's mystery as I am… My genuine apologies, Shadow."

"It's all alright." Shadow replied with a nod. "Now… May I have an explanation for all this, please?"

“Of course. I do believe it would be a good idea to make it so that we are all on the same boat, as the saying goes. Widow, my dearest, why don’t you get us started?” Doom proposed, gesturing Shadow to come sit with them and Widow after he had spoken.

“I’d love to~!” Widow answered happily. “I’ll start with how I personally interpreted your little note to me! Because of all of the men I’ve lured into being the meals I use to keep myself and Garrick alive, I face a lot of ridicule from the people of this planet. A lot of people want me locked away, and a lot of other people want me dead, either way, I am very often an unwelcome presence. This time, however, someone had decided to take that desire of theirs and act upon it, plotting to get rid of me by whatever means they were having in mind. My beloved Doomie, however, somehow saw this and intervened, stopping my assailant from being able to make even a single scratch on me~! My guess is that it was Benson, wanting revenge for his brother’s demise, given that it was his body that they were possessing. I also think that if I had noticed Doomie’s presence sooner, he could have possibly used Benson’s body long term, which is why I felt the need to apologize, by the way. It feels like an opportunity lost…” 

“Oh, Widow my dear, you worry far too much… Besides, do you not think an unwilling host would at some point wish to fight back? Or at the very least reawaken within the body after some time?” Doom argued, wrapping himself around Widow in an embrace.

“I concur. That sort of thing would just cause unnecessary drama. I’d imagine it’d be an intriguing concept for a TV show plot, but we’re here to be victorious, not to entertain.” Shadow added, fidgeting with the Doom’s Eye amulet, which was temporarily made to be better fitting for it by overlapping the necklace’s chain around their neck, making it look as if Shadow was wearing several necklaces at once. “Besides, I like my new position… I had very much missed the closeness I had once had with dad… I almost feel like I’m on the ARK again…”

“But now without that traitor…” Doom muttered to himself.

Widow was about to try to stop Shadow from inquiring further, knowing that they lacked the memories of witnessing Gerald’s prerecorded betrayal, and also knowing that any questions asked about it would probably make Doom immensely uncomfortable, but just as it looked like Shadow was about to speak, it independently decided to drop the subject for whatever reason, turning its head to Widow instead.

“Anyways - the note makes more sense to me now that you’ve explained your interpretation. You really know dad well.” They said to her with a kind smile, and a tone of voice that was both thankful, but also a tad bit playfully envious of just how close Widow was with Doom.

“I’d be disappointed in myself if I didn’t!” Widow responded lightheartedly.

“But that still leaves me with one more question…” Shadow began, turning away from Widow. “How were you able to possess this “Benson” person if you told me last night that my relation to you was one of the core reasons why you selected me as your vessel?!” It then dramatically questioned, turning and even pointing to Doom as they stood up from the rock all three of them had been sitting on. A few seconds went by of awkward silence, both Doom and Widow being caught off guard by the way Shadow had asked its question. “... That sounded more playfully theatrical in my head…” Shadow admitted awkwardly as their body closed into itself from the confident stance it had been in before.

“Ah… You are alright, Shadow.” Doom assured, both him and Widow giggling at the situation once the shock wore off. “I do suppose I have some explaining to do. Since I will be honest now and admit that I was… lying.”

“Lying?” Shadow echoed in confusion.

“About the genetic link being an essential component for me inhabiting a body. The truth is that I can actually possess any body that I please, as long as my amulet is nearby… At some point during one of the two’s searches for items to sell at their shop, Benson and his brother Reginald had uncovered the amulet and brought it back to their pawn shop. This is how I was able to see that after Widow had killed Reginald, Benson was plotting to kill Widow. When I had found this out, I lured Benson into sacrificing his body to me by using Chaos Control to teleport the amulet to the foot of his door. From there, he marked his own fate by putting the necklace on…” Doom very thoroughly explained, covering his bases for both Shadow and Widow’s questions. “Though I will admit, your relation to me, in terms of it being the factor that makes you a Black Arms, certainly does make this whole arrangement more… stable. My abilities may be more plentiful due to my godly nature, but I am still a Black Arms, after all.” He added, now speaking directly to Shadow.

“Right…! Now that I think about it, I remember being told by someone that Black Arms can exchange vessels, but can’t inhabit a non-Black Arms body… I think it was Rhygenta that shared that information with me?” Shadow recollected as it finally sat back down on the rock. “Anyways… Why did you lie about that? It definitely seems… unnecessary to do so, doesn’t it?” 

“... I hated seeing you be so… loathing towards your own self… I merely wished to give you a purpose, and with it, a reason to have for loving yourself… Something that you are able to provide for your brethren… It is what has worked for me.” Doom answered tenderly.

“Doomie…” Widow said in a somewhat stern tone.

“ -What I believed to have been working for me, until I was made aware by my fellow Black Arms leaders that I should find reasons to find worth within myself instead of purely what I can do for others.”  Doom added per Widow's subliminal request.

"... Thank you. I appreciate that you wanted to help me…" Shadow responded, tears quickly filling up their eyes and falling down its cheeks, despite its efforts to wipe them away.

"Are you alright, Shadow?" Widow asked, the sight of her child crying bringing her much concern.

"Mhm. Just… overwhelmed." Shadow answered simply, clearly unable to manage much more than that.

Through the hivemind, Widow attempted to see into Shadow's mind, wanting to know what it was that was bothering it. It was hazy, as if there was a fog throughout the connection, but she could get hints of disbelief. Specifically, disbelief of the fact that Doom is in fact struggling with many of the same things that Shadow is. An overwhelming sense of… finally being understood. Widow chalked up the bad connection to the intensity of Shadow’s feelings and decided to allow them to either sort it out themself, or to directly ask Widow for assistance.

“Do you plan on making a new chain for the Doom’s Eye amulet when you get the chance?” Doom asked Widow out of the blue, changing the subject.

“I do, in fact!” Widow replied, happily going along with the new topic.

“Really? I think I like wearing it like this, actually!” Shadow joined in on the conversation, bouncing right back from being the emotional wreck it was only a minute earlier.

“Are… you sure?” Doom hesitantly questioned Shadow.

“Looks like Shadow’s bad taste in things strikes again!” Widow remarked mischievously.

“Hey!!” Shadow reacted - forcefully, yet clearly not seriously upset. “I thought you had moved past siding with the general public when it came to that!” It added.

“Shadow, I’m not “siding with the general public”, I just know an absolute mess of a movie when I see one!” Widow argued back in a playful manner.

“Awww come on! It’s one of the only two movies in the franchise that has your favorite character! That’s gotta count for something, right?” Shadow protested with a grin.

“Oh, not at all! The fact that such a train-wreck would feature her greatness is an insult to her honor!” Widow huffed, dramatically crossing her arms.

“Well… It’s the only movie in the franchise that has my favorite character…!” Shadow mentioned with puppy-dog eyes. A last ditch effort for sympathy.

“They deserve a better movie and you know it! Besides, that’s only because it’s still the latest movie in the franchise - which is a damn shame!” Widow countered.

“Hmph… Now I am the one that is “out of the loop”, as they say.” Doom lamented.

“Maybe we can do another marathon after we get to the Aerth Temple and get everything set up?” A voice that sounded strikingly like Garrick’s suggested.

Lo and behold, when Widow and Shadow turned around to see where the voice had come from, there Garrick was, with Blurk standing beside him.

“Oh! Hello Garrick!” Widow greeted, pleasantly surprised.

“That sounds like a good idea… But what are you doing here?” Shadow inquired of Garrick.

“I was sent out by Ma to go find you two and ask you how much longer you were planning on extending this break of yours, since there is still stuff that needs to be done.” Blurk explained quite straightforwardly, as he tends to do.

“And I tagged along because I like spending time with Blurk!” Garrick added excitedly.

“O-oh. I do suppose I’ve taken some more time away than I should have…” Shadow admitted, feeling embarrassed. “If I am going to be a vessel for my father, then I should lead a good example like he does! Tell Eclipse that I am immediately returning to work now!”

“And send Eclipse my apologies, please! I had just wanted to speak to Doomie about one specific thing, but then we got… sidetracked…!” Widow requested, practically pleading with Blurk, as she hoped that Eclipse wasn’t too upset with her.

“Got it.” Blurk replied, giving the both of them a thumbs up.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then…! I'd best be off… Until next time…!” Doom said to Widow and Shadow, being unable to help but yawn as he spoke.

“I shall call upon you if we are in need of you again.” Shadow told him as Widow began to walk off with the two young boys towards where the rest of the Black Arms were camped at, Shadow then following after them as Doom’s ghost faded from view.