#oh yeah i think it's the anniversary of the day the grief got to me so hard i ate everything in the fridge. EVERYTHING

[sylveriasarcana]

.

[maddogofshimano]

The Fist of Reason: Majima Boss Rush

Happy 5th anniversary to rggo! hard to believe it’s been this long already

look at our festival boys! anyways lets get into this because I’m very excited

summary:

sometime after the events of Y1, Kiryu gets a call that Haruka has a fever. On his way to pick her up, he bumps into someone familiar...

[One day, some time after the strife caused by the Tojo Clan's stolen 10 billion yen was settled...]

Kiryu: Hello. ...Thank you for calling.

Kiryu: ...Huh? Haruka's got a fever? ...I understand, I'll be there right away. <scene change to outside> Kiryu: .....

<he bumps into someone> Kiryu: Oh, sorry. ???: Sorry? If sorry was enough to cut it, there wouldn't be yakuza! Majima: Ain't that right? Kiryu-chaaan!

Kiryu: Majima no nii-san!? What are you doing at a place like this... Majima: What's so weird about that? If Kiryu-chan's somewhere, then Majima is too! Majima: Outside of that, the spot where ya just rammed into me hurts like hell... Majima: Shit, ya probably broke the bone... Hehe, what're ya gonna do? Kiryu: People with broken bones don't laugh about it. Sorry, but I'm in a rush right now. Majima: Why ya bein' so cold~? We ain't seen each other in ages.

Kiryu: We can talk more next time. Like I said, I'm in a rush. Majima: Too bad! No matter what ya say, ya gotta beat me if ya wanna go!! Hehehe! Kiryu: Tch...! Kiryu: Give it a damn rest already! Haruka has a fever! Majima: ! ........ Majima: What the hell... I didn't know that. Majima: I'm sorry for this. Go on, hurry up 'n' get gone.

Kiryu: .....Damn. <he runs off>

[And then, 3 months later...]

Kiryu: ...I haven't seen Majima no nii-san around here since then.

Kiryu: (I thought he was the kind of person to come back the next day for a fight, but...) Kiryu: ........... Kiryu: (Even if I was in a rush at the time, did I speak too harshly to him...?) Kiryu: (Of course I don't think a guy like him would be dejected from that... Well, it is possible...) ???: Kiryu no ojiki (tl note: ojiki is an honorific that's literally "dad's younger brother" which is used for patriarchs less senior than your own. Nishida usually uses it) Kiryu: ...Hm? Kiryu: You're that Majima Family guy...

Nishida: About that... My boss is going to be put in jail. Kiryu: What...!? Nishida: It happened yesterday... Our family is supposed to be running a festival... Nishida: In the middle of it some thugs started acting up, and they got into a fight with our family members. Nishida: So now they've issued a warrant for my boss, since he was the one in charge... Kiryu: What is Majima no nii-san going to do? Nishida: He thinks it would be futile to resist, so he's waiting at the festival site for the police to arrive. Kiryu: What? Nishida: My boss has been acting oddly for the past 3 months or so. He doesn't have any energy, and seems pretty depressed. Kiryu: 3 months... it can't be. Nishida: And so, my boss really wants to see you before he goes to jail... Kiryu: Me...? Nishida: Yes. He said he has something to tell you, so... Kiryu: ...Got it. Lead the way. Nishida: Y-Yes sir! <they leave> Majima: ......... (tl note: I'm sorry the image of him just holding that pose in that outfit while waiting for the cops to show is so funny to me)

Kiryu: ...Majima no nii-san. Majima: ...Oh, Kiryu-chan, ya showed.

Majima: Excuse my appearance. I was up on a float till now. Kiryu: ...I just spoke with Nishida. Are you really going to jail? Majima: ...Yeah. Orders from on high, can't be helped. I'll be awfully lonely during those years... Majima: That said, I won't be botherin' ya any more, Kiryu-chan. Kiryu: ...... Majima: I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused ya. ...I wanted to at least say that, before I went to jail. Kiryu: ...That's not like you. Kiryu: Are you really going to let your underlings see you leave the outside world with such a pathetic display? Majima: ...I don't really care either way. Kiryu: ........... Kiryu: ...Good grief. You acting this way is completely infuriating to me. Kiryu: It can't be helped, this is a big favor. ...I'll get you all fired up again.

Majima: Hah...? Kiryu: You know the best way I can cheer you up? ...Come at me, Majima. Majima: ...!

Majima: Is this... are you pickin' a fight with me?

Kiryu: Heh, isn't that what I just said? Majima: ........Hee, hehehe! Majima: Kiryu-chan, you're always the best! Majima: Let's get started...! Kiryu-chan!!!!

<event happens, Receive and Bite You is the theme>

Majima: Hehe... As always, Kiryu-chan... you're tough as nails...

Kiryu: Heh... You are too. (tl note: RARE KIRYU SMILING SPRITE)

Majima: Oi oi, you're sayin' somethin' nice? Kiryu: Majima no nii-san... I'm sorry. Majima: Ah? Kiryu: For what happened 3 months ago. Kiryu: I was flustered, and I snapped at you. Majima: ........As always, Kiryu-chan, you're soft as a marshmallow~. I'm astounded. Kiryu: ....? Nishida: E-Excuse me! Kiryu no ojiki!

Nishida: The truth is... My boss going to jail was a lie in order to get you to show up... Kiryu: What? Then... was him being depressed also a lie... Majima: It was aaaaall an act! Majima: I was pretendin' to be put off by how ya talked to me so ya'd feel sympathetic, then after worryin' ya for long enough-- Majima: I'd reveal it was all a ruse, 'n' you'd get pissed off enough to throw down! That was the plan! Majima: It played out a little differently than intended, but, we still had a fight so it's all good. Kiryu: .....Heh, you're such an ass. (tl note: TWO smiles!! unprecedented.)

Majima: What, you're not mad? Kiryu: I had a feeling that something like this was going on. Majima: Then why'd'ya fight me? Kiryu: ...When it's with you, I can go all out in a fight. Kiryu: ...If I really think on it, I guess I enjoy fighting with you. Just a bit. (tl note: THIRD smile!!!)

Majima: !!..... Hehehehehe!! Heeey~! I knew it!!

Majima: C'mon, let's go another round! Hearin' ya say that's gotten me all worked up again! Kiryu: ...Heh, sure. It's a festival, after all. It's a good excuse to really cut loose. Majima: Hell yes!! Let's do this... Kiryu-chaaaaaa~n!!!! Nishida: A-Ah... This won't end until the sun comes up...

<END>

bonus stuff:

oh wow. oh man. that was pretty gay. between this and like a dragon: gaiden: the man who erased his name (lad gai man) thank you ryu ga gotoku studios for sending me birthday presents

obligatory boss rush pic

also a bonus shot of Kiryu’s apartment

the two new cards for this are “Mad Dog of the Festival Stage” and “Dragon of the Festival Band”

and since it was a festival I also put together a very special team to repeatedly kick Majima’s ass 

[theredcuyo]

If atlus wasn't a coward when it comes to persona crossovers we'd see SEES' shadows being bitter, angry, almost jelous of the fact that Yu and Joker are there.

That they're alive, that they're here, they survived things as catastrophic as them, they got to defeat gods too, the phantom thieves changed the cognition, the ideas, that were dooming the world, and Joker is still there

While none of them would actually act like that to them, because they're 'over their grief', their shadows, their true selves, who know that grief is something that never truly leaves you, can out those thoughts that they don't want to

And they hate it, they refuse it, because they know that not what he would want but at the end, it is something they do feel, and it's okay to feel, as long as you know what you're feeling and not to harm others for it, it's not their fault

I just think it could be really interesting, because yeah, the answer, but if you've ever lost someone you know that you don't stop missing them, you learn to move on, but it doesn't mean you forget, you can go trhu all the stages of grief, and yet, once or twice, you'll have an angry thought at the world, as small it can be (for example, if you lost someone for an accident and they fix whatever caused that accident 'Oh, now you can fix it, it couldn't have been back then?'), or you'll feel the sadness again (maybe on their birthday, on the anniversary of their passing, or just, one day you wake up and you miss them), it's like that

Or maybe it's just me, but i'd like to see it

I specially picture Mitsuru and Yukari (probably because of the answer, again)

[dreamwritesimagines]

Theo being on the enemy side is lowkey funny af because if he's anything like his mom, he doesn't know HOW to be a villain. Like he'd run into his friends in the middle of a fight and be like,

"So the old man is still sending the kids to do his job?"

"Whatever Theo, I'm pissed the fuck off," *tries to stab him* "I'm missing my one month anniversary with Leah because of you temper tantrum."

"If this is the best you can do... wait a minute, Leah? Thought she was with Carter like three minutes ago."

*dodging an energy shield* "IT WAS FUCKING CASUAL."

Or

"Fancy meeting you here."

"Hey, Stace-"

"I TOLD YOU A MILLION TIMES NOT TO CALL ME THAT ON A MISSION-"

"Your code name is fucking dumb. Lets cut to the part where you naturally move out of my way, I've had a bad day and I don't want to hurt you-" *gets thrown against a wall*

"Oh my God, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think you fucked up my elbow- you got better!"

"You think?"

"Are you taking lessons with Jean or-"

Or someone hurts one of his friends and he instantly knocks that person out, even though it was supposed to be his partner.

His evil boss is honestly this close to taking him out of the team but

1- he's too powerful to waste

2- half his mutants are like in love with him or something.

Theo has no rizz whatsoever but it somehow works on an stupid amount of people. He's hot like his mom and his teenage angst/grief has made him act alot like Logan so the enemy team is passing him around like a blunt, he's lowkey a whore. Hearts are literally shattered when he goes back to the mansion.

I CANNOT STOP LAUGHING OH MY GOD😂

Theo growing up to be the perfect combination of Sunshine and Logan?! And not knowing how to be a villain even when he's on the enemy team?! This is hilarious asdfghjkl😂

And all his friends calling it "his temper tantrum" 😂

"Your code name is fucking dumb. Lets cut to the part where you naturally move out of my way, I've had a bad day and I don't want to hurt you-" Oh that's Logan's son alright😂

Thought she was with Carter like three minutes ago."

*dodging an energy shield* "IT WAS FUCKING CASUAL." Please, he is so confused about the dating lives of his friends and he is trying to be a villain 😂

And then he fanboys over Stace's powers! 😂

Theo has no rizz whatsoever but it somehow works on an stupid amount of people. He's hot like his mom and his teenage angst/grief has made him act alot like Logan ADSFGHJKL-

When he returns to the mansion, Logan is totally gonna hear about it and he's gonna turn to him and go like,

"Theo."

"Yes dad?"

"Do I want to know what happened when you were on the other team?"

"...Uh, I doubt it?"

"Do I need to be worried about something?"

"Nope."

"Glad we had this talk."

[ishkabibblethings]

March 23rd

A fluffy Suits ficlet | Marvey (established) | Rated G "I had your secretary clear your afternoon. It's time we hit up that spa again, especially after the last few weeks." Harvey declares distractedly as he flips through their mail. Mike is still working on his breakfast at the kitchen counter and only mumbles an agreement. A real vacation is out of the question while they're so occupied at the firm, but an afternoon off together still sounds beautiful.

"I'll make us something nice tonight," Mike offers.

"Let's go all in, I'll find us a table somewhere good," Harvey replies and Mike can't find a reason to disagree. Mike secretly suspects that their time at the spa is more for Harvey than he'll admit but he's got no complaints.

"That sounds wonderful. It's been, what, like a year since we had a day like this? Good idea, dude." Mike moves around to the sink to drop off his dishes and pecks Harvey on the cheek as he passes by. "I'll just be a few minutes and we can head out."

"Don't call me dude, puppy," Harvey responds with a grin and watches Mike disappear into their bedroom.

Mike is in the bathroom wondering what it was that made Harvey plan another spa trip. Was his personal grooming slipping? They've been living together long enough but he's heard no complaints. He thinks back to their last trip, and the one before that, just when they'd started dating. It's a rare indulgence, and now that Mike thinks about it, it's always happened in the early spring.

Wait, now that he really considers it, picturing his work calendars, it has happened on this date each time. March 23rd. A knot starts to form in Mike's stomach. Fuck. Some sort of anniversary, it has to be something important for Harvey to move work around for it. Mike searches his brain, picturing every calendar he and Harvey kept, trying to remember similarities and differences, the reasoning behind the repeated treat day.

He must have taken longer than he realizes because Harvey comes to check and see if Mike's ready to go.

"You okay?"

"Uh yeah I'm good," Mike responds and checks the mirror again. He slips on his shoes and grabs his messenger bag.

In the car, Mike checks Harvey over for signs of emotions tucked away - disappointment, grief, frustration - notices nothing alarming and finds himself relaxing just a bit. Nothing he's done wrong, at least. Time to test his hypothesis.

"You know what, Harvey I forgot I've got a thing with Katrina this afternoon. Let's move the spa appointment to the weekend?"

"What thing with Katrina? Your secretary said she could move everything."

"I don't know if it ever made it in the books, she needs help with an in house thing for Louis." Mike bluffs.

"Well I'll encourage her to let you reschedule. It was hard to get these appointments today and you deserve a break." Harvey reaches for Mike's hand between them and laces their fingers together.

"Harvey, what's special about today?" Mike tries to keep his tone neutral.

"Aside from my stunning good looks and charm?" Harvey hams, and Mike actually scoffs.

"That's the same every day and you know it. Really Harvey, what's today?"

"I just want to give you a treat today, can't I do that as your loving boyfriend?"

Harvey's gone playful, so Mike knows he hasn't messed anything up. Harvey is also still avoiding the question so Mike knows he's on the right path.

"Of course you can. And I accept. But when my loving boyfriend happens to want to take me to a spa and dinner yearly on the same day without context, one is driven to wonder."

Harvey chuckles, knowing he's been caught.

"You really thought I wouldn't notice. Me, of all people? Twice is a coincidence, three is a pattern."

"Oh really, smart ass? Think back further." Harvey challenges.

"We weren't dating bef-"

"No we weren't together before that. Think back anyway."

Mike's eye focus on nothing in particular, and Harvey trusts he'll find it.

"The ties. You gifted me ties." Mike's head tilts a little in confusion and it's all Harvey can do to hold back a laugh.

"And lunch too," Harvey offers, feeling generous.

"I don't get it. Harvey, tell me. What's today? Why today?"

"So it started as a stupid joke, but you never caught on so I just kept going with it to see if you ever would." Harvey shrugs like he's almost embarrassed it's become a thing. Mike just watches him expectantly.

Harvey leans until his breath and lips are just close enough to make Mike's ear and neck tingle. Harvey's voice is private and Mike can hear his fond smile. "Happy National Puppy Day, Mike."

[steviewashere]

Mirrors to the Soul

Rating: General CW: Past Parental Death, Grief/Mourning, Sick Parent, Stroke, Brief Homophobic Slur (Almost Forgot to Tag) Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Soft Eddie Munson, Soft Steve Harrington, Love Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Reflections, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Dialogue Heavy

Two fics in one day? Why, yes, I am insane.

🫂—————🫂 The air was chilling tonight. Sweeping by and prickling on Eddie’s cheek. Sky was clear. Except for the stars. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many, not all at once, not during a time like this. His lungs burn gently, the crackling of his cigarette a lull within the buzz of nocturnal mosquitos.

There’s nothing to do. Nowhere to be. The trailer’s roof is cold against his back. And his mind is wandering. To everything he could imagine. Dustin’s recent try at a Hellfire campaign, Mike’s new guitar hobby and how he’s actually good, Lucas’s attempt at passing Eddie the ball (only for the ball to not be caught and instead hit him square in the chest), Robin’s date with Vickie, and Steve’s snores after a long Family Video shift. Life’s actually decent. It’s warm in the community he’s created. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even if it means losing his mom over and over and over again. The pain that was left. Her last goodbye. Which wasn’t really an exchange of words, but her eyes. Oh, her eyes.

Somebody is clambering up the side of the trailer. Thunking and hefting and panting slightly. And then, the top of Steve’s head is popping up. His hair askew, face slack, mouth glistening a bit with drool. “What’re you up here for?” Steve asks him sleepily.

“Thinking,” he answers softly. Opens up his non-smoking arm and gestures for Steve to come on over. Relishing in the way Steve’s head rests on his shoulder when he gets himself settled, the ability to tighten an arm over his broad shoulders, and the heat that radiates from him. “What’re you up here for?”

“Woke up,” Steve mumbles, “you weren’t there. Got worried.”

Eddie hums. “Sorry,” he whispers, “just got caught up in my thoughts. I’ll come back—“

“What’re you thinking about? Y’know, if you’re okay sharing.” Steve nuzzles his cheek into Eddie’s bony shoulder. His lips dragging over the threadbare t-shirt underneath them. The heat and plush quality of them felt.

“Not an exact thing, really,” Eddie answers honestly. “Just sorta…I dunno. Let myself be proud of Mike and Dustin. Remembered the pain of that basketball Lucas tossed at me. Got excited about the juicy details I’ll get from Robin later. Was thinking of how nice it is to hear you sound asleep after a long, grueling day.” He cups his hand over Steve’s right shoulder. Pressing it into his shirt, dragging it down to his bicep, and back up to his neck. Lays his palm flat against the exposed skin there. Frowning, though Steve can’t see him, at the temperature. “Mm, you’re warm. You feeling okay?”

Steve nods sluggishly. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “just…y’know me. Space heater.”

Gently, Eddie tucks his head down to land a quick kiss to Steve’s forehead. Feeling how Steve scrunches his eyebrows, then raises them in contentment. He reaches out his left hand blearily to the extra space on the roof, puts out his cigarette, and then wraps his now free hand on the middle of Steve’s back. Pulls him in a little closer and looks back up at the spatter of stars.

“Wayne…Wayne asked me if you’ve talked about your mom at all,” Steve says slowly. An edge of confusion to his words. “Told him no. He thought that it was weird. Is—Should you be talking about your mom or something?”

Tracing a finger down the ridges of Steve’s spine, Eddie makes a non-committal grunt. “I mean…I don’t have to,” he states quietly, “it’s just. It’s the anniversary I came home to Wayne. Her funeral.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes. “Oh. I—I’m sorry, Eds. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t—“

“Shh, sweetheart,” he coos. Runs his palms soothingly up and down Steve’s torso until he goes lax against his shoulder again. “I know you didn’t know, it’s okay. I was already thinking about her anyway.”

Steve goes extremely quiet for several minutes. Enough for the mosquitos to take that as invitation, to buzz and hum louder. For the neighborhood stray dog to start digging at the chainlink fence. The neighbors a few trailers down to start up another argument. He eventually sighs, though. Lays his palm over Eddie’s belly and strokes his thumb in counter-clockwise circles. “What were you,” he asks hesitantly, “what were you up here thinking about?”

Eddie takes a hesitant gulp. Hopes Steve doesn’t hear it. Or the shutter of his next inhale. The sudden lurch in his chest. “Oh…I thought about her eyes.”

“Her…Her eyes?”

Instinctively, Eddie squeezes them closer together. As if Steve’s his childhood teddy bear. “Yeah,” he breathes, “her eyes.” His throat clicks with his next swallow. And briefly, he wishes he didn’t have to keep explaining himself. Or the nature of his parents. But he was already thinking about her. God, he was thinking about her. “Have you ever—you probably haven’t—but you ever see somebody say goodbye without using their words?”

“Sure,” Steve says quietly, “Honestly, Billy had this look to him before he…I couldn’t care at the time. But I—That look haunts me. Defeat, I think. It was the towel being thrown in, y’know?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, it’s like defeat. It’s…I think it’s one of the worst ways somebody can look at a person. I think somebody who looks like that knows, too.

“It’s weird. She was sick on and off for years. Just had a slew of health issues. Blood pressure and strokes and things like that. So, her…Watching her go shouldn’t have been a surprise. I’d been expecting it for a long time. Like so long, in fact, that I always had this motto about her: “She’s going to go, so you need to be ready.” That’s what I used to tell myself.”

“Eddie,” Steve mumbles, “that’s—“

“Awful?” He questions softly. “I know. But when someone enters your life and you build your whole world around them and then they just—

“She didn’t care, is the thing. Didn’t care for herself. Didn’t try. Didn’t want to most days. It was always this—this thing with her. I’d help her sort out her pills, I’d be the one to put her to bed on her worst days, I was always there to hold her hair back or to wipe her skin or to just make sure she laughed. But…Some days it just felt like she didn’t put in the effort,” he explains fiercely, yet quietly. For a moment, he takes a deep, strangling breath. Letting it go just as he presses firmly on Steve’s shoulders, as he lays his cheek on Steve’s freshly cleaned hair, and recalibrates.

Steve’s hand lays itself heavily on his chest. Thumb working overtime. “Take your time,” he murmurs, “I’m listening.”

Eddie nods because he’s still finding his words. Swallowing down the bad ones. Receding the anger that overtakes him a lot of the time when she’s the subject. Hates that it’s his first reaction. Loves it because for the first few months after her, he felt nothing.

He continues, “On her last day, I wasn’t even with her. I’d been at school. And then I went to a friend’s house to play some card games and hang out. I had—I remember calling her at the school, using the payphone. Putting in the last of my lunch money so I could just ask for her permission.

“I also remember not saying bye. Or saying how much I love her. Or that I love her, matter of fact. Just rushed out the question, hung up when she said yes. Followed my friend to the bus. Didn’t go home for several hours.” He’s always wondered if he’d gone home immediately, if she would’ve held out longer. If she would’ve been the one to unlock the door and usher him inside. If she would’ve had a tv show on and her wheelchair parked in front of it, if he would’ve been on the couch eating a stupid mayo and turkey sandwich, if they would’ve laughed themselves silly.

If she would’ve kissed his head later that night. And they would say their ‘I love you’s and she would’ve not—

“I came home and she was having a stroke,” Eddie confesses quietly. The words like plucking glass from a deep wound. And that’s sort of what it is, he supposes. Her loss like a still healing scar on his heart. Steve pats his chest like he knows. Maybe he does, Eddie wonders, maybe he always knew. “Dad wanted me to help her into her chair. But I—You’ve seen me, Steve. I’m scrawny. Like I’m not…I’m not like you. I don’t have all that bulk, the muscle to lift much. Like I can lift amps, those are only twenty pounds or so if they’re bigger, but she’s a whole person. I wasn’t going to be able to. But I tried.

“I tried, is the thing. Really, I did.”

Steve kisses his shoulder. “I believe you, Eds,” he whispers, easy as that.

Eddie closes his eyes briefly. The tears don’t want to rescind this time, but he’s caught up in his own words, unable to make them stop. “I tried,” he says again. “I was standing in front of her. And her arms…She kept pointing at things, but I didn’t understand and I—I could only look at her. Couldn’t really breathe. I couldn’t get my words out correctly. So I just stared.

“And she…She looked back, Steve. My mama looked back at me.

“Those thirty seconds that we—“ He swallows heavily, choking back on the steady stream of tears making their sure way down his face. Lets himself breathe. Breathe. “—Those thirty seconds held everything. All the words we couldn’t say. I saw them manifest in her gaze. All those apologies for bad arguments we’d have. The soft okays we’d exchange when I needed to help her. Even the stupid inside joke she had about how Karen Carpenter was my childhood celebrity crush.” Despite himself, he smiles. Washes in Steve’s little snort. Because it’s true, he did have a crush on Karen Carpenter—how his mom just knew, Eddie’ll never know. “All this to say, she told me that she loved me. She gave me the same eyes she did when I’d have night terrors. When I’d cry about how scary the dark was. When I’d come home all swollen and beaten up, thinking dirty about how much of a fag I was; when she had held me and told me it was okay, as long as I was still her little Teddie Bear.

“Oh, I was,” Eddie shakily breathes out. “I was everything to her, I think. Because she was my everything. Stevie, my mama was my whole world. And I—I could only stare at her when she needed my help the most. I wonder, y’know, if she was okay with me gaping and shaking and afraid in that moment.

“I wonder if she looked at me and instead of seeing her freshly teenaged son, she saw her newborn baby boy between her arms. With big scared eyes. And tears on his face. I wonder if she…I wonder if she wanted to reach up with her limp arms and caress my cheeks and coo.” He sniffs. Swallows down his snot, disgusting as it is compared to all of this. And sighs. Says softly, “There was this one night where she had a really bad, explosive argument with my dad. I must’a been four or five? Woke up in the middle of the night to them screaming, kind of drifting, half-awake. And she. My mama opened my bedroom door and pulled back my blanket and crawled in with me. Lay right by my side, held my hands, was crying all soft and quiet.

“I asked her if she was okay. She told me she was fine. I asked her if she was mad at Daddy. She said yes. I asked her if she wanted to cuddle. And she just held me in her arms and I held her back. And when she pulled away, though her hands were still on my back, she looked at me and said: “I love you.” Because I was a curious little shit, I could only ask, “Forever and ever?” She nodded anyway. Answered, “Forever and ever until time runs out.””

Eddie splays his palm between Steve’s shoulder blades. A mirror to his mom’s right hand on his own back. Kisses him again because he’s there and tangible and alive and warm. Whispers, “I wonder if she looked at me in our final moments together and realized time was running out, y’know? If she…if she wanted to promise forever anyway. I would’a let her, is the thing. Because there’s no way that her and I aren’t infinite.”

Slowly, Steve sits up. Leans down on his left elbow, hovering over Eddie. He carefully swipes his free hand down the side of Eddie’s face. Wiping away at the tears, caressing his skin, gazing softly down at him. “Y’know what I think?”

“Hm?”

Another soft pet to the side of his face, this time Steve’s knuckles grazing his skin. “I think,” Steve whispers, “I think you two are. I think…That time doesn’t stop moving. And with the way you talk about her, it’s clear the love lives on.”

Eddie closes his eyes. Drenching in the thought. The sincere truth behind it.

He won’t tell Steve this, but there was a part of him that was ready to welcome his mama into his body. That it was for safety, protection, a sanctuary. In their final moment together, he had wanted to climb back inside his mother’s body or to open his own and fit her around his heart. That he imagined his body like a tomb—and her sanctuary, the womb. That they were one in the same. In that final moment, they were the same.

“At her funeral,” he murmurs, “we had an open casket.” He opens his eyes, searching Steve’s face for uncertainty.

“You can tell me, Eds,” Steve responds, coaxing. “I’m listening, baby.”

Eddie softly nods. Leans into the warmth of Steve’s palm still on his face. Breathes out. Breathes in. “I didn’t want to look,” he confesses quietly. “Part of me was afraid. But…I think most of me just didn’t want to accept her as gone. So I—Wayne had crouched down in front of me, we were in the closest pew inside this crazy echoing church, and he placed his hands on my knobby knees. His hands were heavy and his face was tired. He still had most of his hair, but he looked older, like he does now.

“But he told me that they were going to close the casket if I wanted to say goodbye. I just shook my head. I couldn’t bear the thought. That the last time I saw her, I couldn’t speak. And I didn’t want our last time to be this…this moment where she wouldn’t listen.

“So, when I think of her now, I think of her eyes. Of every single thing we’d ever done. How she held me. How we danced. Our music. The peals of laughter across the living room. Every argument. All the hugs in which we cried and we were sorry and how warm she was. She was always so warm.

“You wanna know something funny, sweetheart?” He asks with levity.

Steve peers softly at him. Holding him. Smiling that little gentle thing he does. “What is it?” He murmurs.

“She used to tell me that she was okay when I asked about how warm she was. Said that, “Oh, y’know. I’m a space heater, Teddie.” And I just think…I think—Sometimes I look and listen to you and I imagine her, just this essence she had. This…

“Her love. Because she loved everything, anything that she could. Held onto things. Caressed them. Kissed ‘em. And if I ever needed assurance that love is forever, I look onto you and I see her and…And I dunno. You reach me in ways only blood knows how, and I know that with you, my world is complete.” He sniffs. Breathes this giddy chuckle of a thing. Steve’s full attention is on him, a little heartbroken, but a lot sincere. “All this to say that I…I didn’t really talk about her today because—Love takes new shape when you need it again. I listened to you snore for a bit earlier before I came out here and I knew I was going to be okay.

“That we were going to be okay. Everybody’s alive. And even if my mom isn’t, her love is. She’s in everything.” He reaches up his right hand from where it fell away from Steve’s shoulders, instead cupping his face. Thumb tracing over his cheekbone, over a raised white scar from a previous fight. Fingers skating down to his neck, the exposed circle from the demobat tail and the vines. Up and around to his back again where he’s got scars like angel wings. Lifts his head and leans up, the lightest press of his lips on Steve’s. Between them, he breathes, “I love you.”

“Jesus,” Steve chokes out wetly, “I love you, too.”

Eddie hums pleased. “I just needed to say it. I never want to forget again. You make me remember. You make me selfless, Steve. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

🫂—————🫂 Oops, thought about my mom today.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The Widow - Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?   

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader (eventual)

Warnings: fluff, first date, kissing, angst, tears, language

Words: 3,236

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The leaves are starting to change colour now, you notice as you walk through the park on your way to have lunch with Dean. The year has seemed to have gone by in the blink of an eye, and it surprises you to think it’s been so long since Sam died. Christmas, Sam’s birthday and your wedding anniversary were tough days, but you got through them. The next big hurdle will be the anniversary of his death, but you’ll handle that as you’d handled everything so far, taking it a day at a time – or hour at a time, if you needed to.

Thursday has quickly become your favourite day. Dean insisted on these weekly lunches to check in and keep an eye on you. At first, you hated them, assuming he felt some kind of obligation to look after you, or because he didn’t think you could look after yourself. When the grief had lessened and you began to feel more like yourself again, you realised how wrong you were.

Yeah, he asked how you were doing and if you were taking care of yourself, but then the conversation would quickly become about work and how your week had been, and he had a genuine interest in you and your life. Whenever you smiled, his face would light up like a Christmas tree, and when you laughed (particularly if he’d been the one to make you do it), he would grin so wide you feared his cheeks would hurt.

In turn, you became somewhat of a confidante for Dean too. He’d opened up to you about his plans for the family business when John finally decided to hang his coveralls up. He wanted to expand and open another shop across town. He wanted to take in troubled kids and train them on how to be mechanics. He has such a big heart, and it didn’t surprise you that he wants to save kids from taking the wrong path. What was more of a shock, was Dean asking you to help him make it happen. Before you’d even opened your mouth to protest, he cut you off with a firm voice: “I know what you’re going to say, and it’s bull. You’re a part of this family, Y/N. Maybe not by blood, but you are a Winchester. Besides, family don’t end with blood, or even a name, sweetheart.”

It was then you knew the weekly lunches weren’t just to look after “Sammy’s girl” and Dean genuinely did care for you and considered you his family. It was humbling, and it helped you to heal because you’d been worried John and Dean would lose patience with you and eventually stop checking in or inviting you to Sunday dinner. The fact that Dean asked you to join the family business to oversee the expansion, even though you’d yet to give him an answer, meant the world to you.

The Impala is already in the car park when you arrive at the Roadhouse and as you pass her, you ghost your fingers over her hood in a wordless greeting before heading into the restaurant. Walking into the building, you smirk as you see Jo twirling her hair around her fingers and giggling at Dean who has a patient smile on his face, but his bouncing knee gives away how uncomfortable he is with the unwanted flirtation.

“Hey, Jo!” You smile at the blonde, and see Dean’s shoulders drop as he visibly exhales at your timely arrival. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks! Can I get you your usual drink?” The waitress asks.

“Please,” you answer as you slide into the seat across from Dean.

“Oh, and Gordon’s special today is chicken parm,” Jo grins at you, knowing it’s your favourite.

“You know me too well!” You laugh.

“Dean?” The blonde bats her lashes at him.

“A bacon cheeseburger with extra fries. She always steals mine,” he points at you with a smirk and you chuckle softly.

“Alright, I’ll go get those drinks and put your order through. If you need anything else, just shout,” with one last flip of her hair, Jo sashays away with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

“Are you ever going to tell her you’re not interested?” You smirk at Dean as he scratches the back of his neck.

“What? She’s not interested in me,” Dean protests and you laugh loudly.

“Oh, come on! It is so obvious she’s into you! And here I thought you were Lawrence’s answer to Casanova!” you cackle.

“Yeah, well… people change,” Dean defends weakly. “I haven’t done any of that since the night Sam died, you know that.”

“Still?” You try so hard not to show your shock, but according to Dean’s bitch face, you fail miserably. “I’m sorry, that was rude. And absolutely none of my business,” you backtrack, and relax as you see Dean’s jaw unclench and his shoulders lower.

“It’s just…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… the last time I went home with someone from a bar, my brother was killed.”

“I get it, Dean. You don’t need to explain to me,” you smile softly, and the conversation dies away as Jo sets down your drinks.

“So, what about you?” Dean asks almost shyly once Jo has left again.

“What about me?” You frown, before taking a sip of your beverage.

“The guy from work that keeps flirting with you. Have you asked him out yet?”

“Okay, first of all, he’s not flirting with me, he knows that I lost my husband and he's just being friendly…”

“Ha!” Dean scoffs, “friendly my ass! He wants to see your ass, if you know what I mean!” He pumps his eyebrows lewdly at you. 

“Second,” you say ignoring him completely, “even if he was flirting with me, I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship yet.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? I said ask the guy out,” Dean says softly. “Dress up, have a night out on the town, have a little fun. No one’s saying you need to marry the guy.”

“I just don’t think it’s the right time. And I don’t even know if it’s something I want again,” you admit.

“What? Y/N, come on sweetheart. You can’t seriously think you’re never gonna fall in love again, do you?” Dean doesn’t even glance at Jo as she puts his plate in front of him, he just stares at you in disbelief.

“All I know right now is that I’m still in love with Sam,” you shrug and twirl spaghetti around your fork.

“And you always will be. Whether we’re talking next week, next year, or next decade, you will always love him. But it doesn’t mean you won’t fall in love with someone else at some point. Look, I’m not trying to force you into anything you don’t wanna do, alright? I just thought it might be nice for you to be wined and dined by someone other than me for a change!” He winked at you and bit into his burger, humming in approval at the taste.

“Oh, so you’re fed up with me, is that it?” You smirk. “Trying to palm me off, make me someone else’s problem?”

“Never,” Dean reassures you, even though he knows you’re messing with him. “I just don’t want to be sitting here with you in ten years and you regret not taking a second chance at love, a family… a happy life. You have a big and pure heart, and it holds too much love for you not to share it.” 

You smile at his compliment and ponder over what Dean said, both of you falling silent and enjoying your meal.

Dean’s words had no real effect on you until a few weeks later when you went for birthday drinks for someone in the office. That’s when you noticed that Jacob was indeed flirting with you.

You don’t know if it was flattery or the wine or even the two tequila shots you’d had when you first got to the bar, but here you are a week later, on a date you aren’t completely convinced you want to be on with the first guy who’s shown you that kind of attention since Sam.

Jacob is a nice guy. He’s handsome, charming, caring, and funny. He’s doing all the right things; things Sam would’ve done on a date like holding doors open for you, and pulling your chair out for you at the restaurant. He even stood from the table when you went to the restroom.

He’s made you laugh and listened intently to what you said, and his subtle flirtations have made you feel like a woman again. You’ve felt desirable and pretty and it’s felt so good to feel those things again. You feel good.

He’s even been considerate enough to ask a few times how you’re holding up with this being your first date since Sam had died. He hasn’t put a foot wrong, and you know this is what most people would call the perfect date with the perfect guy, but something’s missing and you can’t quite figure out what.

And that’s what’s led you to be standing with him at your front door. You know for sure you aren’t going to invite him into your home, but you also felt like you needed the extra time to try and figure out exactly how you feel about him. You’re both running out of reasons to stay out in the chill of the night, and you know figuring out what’s going on will need to wait.

“I had a nice time, Jacob,” you smile as you play with the keys in your hand. “Thank you for being so kind and patient with me.”

“I think it’s me who should be thanking you for letting me take you out tonight. I can’t imagine how difficult this must’ve been for you,” Jacob smiles softly and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear as he takes a step closer. “I know this might be too soon, but I have to ask. Can I kiss you?”

You stare at him for a moment, not sure what to say. A million things are running through your mind all at once, and it’s hard to pick out just one to focus on. Suddenly, your mind clears and all you can think about is how much fun you’ve had tonight. And it’s just a kiss, right? And with a handsome man no less. So, you nod your head, making Jacob smile wide, showing perfect teeth before quickly swiping his tongue over his lips and leaning towards you.

He’s respectful, only gently placing his hands on your waist as his lips touch yours and it’s… different. It’s not awful by any means, just strange. His lips are a little dry and chapped, despite his efforts to soften them with his tongue, and his hands seem to be too hesitant on your hips. When his tongue swipes at your lips, you open your mouth inviting him in. Almost immediately, your eyes fly open and you realise you feel absolutely nothing, and that maybe you’re not ready for this after all.

Or maybe, you panic, whatever part of you that can love had left when Sam did.

You pull away and try to remain calm. The last thing you need is to freak the guy out, or freak yourself out even more. It’s been months since you last had a panic attack and now is not the time or place.

“I should go,” you manage to smile at him. “It’s late and cold, but I really did have a lovely night.” You have no idea how you say it without your voice shaking or tears filling your eyes, but you do and you’ll take that small victory right now.

“Me too. Maybe we could do this again soon?” He asks and your heart twists at the hopefulness in his voice, and you can’t bring yourself to tell him it isn’t a good idea.

“Maybe,” you smile. “Goodnight.” You turn and quickly unlock the door, smiling at him one last time as you turn to close it behind you.

Flicking the lights on, you make your way to the kitchen, open the fridge and pull a bottle of cold water out. Ripping the plastic cap off you take a few large gulps, hoping the coolness will help calm down your racing heart.

You use the breathing techniques all those meditation classes taught you, but still, you feel your heart try to thump its way out of your chest. Quickly, you grab your keys and subtly look out of the window to check Jacob’s car is gone.

Seeing the road empty, you leave the house making sure the door is locked behind you, and get in your car with only one destination in mind.

Dean.

“Wow! Don’t you look beautiful,” Dean grins as he opens the door, but it soon fades and he clenches his jaw in anger as the tears finally spill from your eyes. “What did he do? I’ll kill him!” He fumes and you shake your head and push him back into the house, following behind him.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on, sweetheart, or do I have to hunt the bastard down?” Dean asks once your tears have stopped, taking a seat on his couch and tapping the space next to him for you to join him.

“It wasn’t him… well it was, but it’s not what you think,” you say quickly as he shoots up from the couch and grabs his car keys. “Dean, please, just listen.”

“Alright,” he relents and sits on the edge of the sofa once more, his knee starting to bounce.

“The date was fine, he was the perfect gentleman,” you begin, and Dean frowns at you.

“I don’t understand. Then why are you crying?” he asks, and you laugh when you realise just how ridiculous this all is.

“I don’t know! I shouldn’t be! He’s handsome, and funny, and kind! You know he asked me if I was doing okay several times because he knew it was my first date since Sam? He did everything right. It was the perfect date.”

“You’re not making any sense, Y/N. If it was so perfect, why are you so upset?”

“Because he kissed me!” you yell frustrated. “He kissed me and it should’ve felt right, I should’ve felt something, but it just felt… I just felt numb,” you finally admit. “What if I’m broken? What if I was only ever meant to be with Sam?”

“Y/N…” Dean trails off, and you know he’s trying to think of something that will comfort you.

“I should’ve felt something, right? Like even if it was like a flutter in my stomach or my heart hammering, right? Or even just disinterest,” you don’t know if you’re asking or begging at this point.

“You really felt nothing?” Dean’s tone is sincere, holding none of the judgement you thought it would.

“Not a single thing,” you confirm and he raises his eyebrows as he thinks over what you’ve told him. “I’m broken, aren’t I?”

“No, sweetheart, you’re not broken. If it’s not there, it’s not there. Perfect date or not, you can’t force yourself to feel what you don’t feel,” he consoles you, and deep down you know he’s right.

“But how do I know for sure?” It slips out before you can stop it, “what if the same thing happens on the next date? And the next one, and the one after that.”

“Hey,” Dean stands up from the sofa and takes your hands in his. “Look at me. That’s my girl,” he whispers when you look up at him. “That won’t happen. The only reason it happened tonight is that, although Jacob may be perfect, he’s not perfect for you, alright?”

You know what he’s saying is right, and as his words sink in, you feel foolish that you drove across town at eleven on a Friday night to freak out over a meaningless kiss. Huffing a defeated sigh and standing up, you grab your keys to leave. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry for barging in so late with more drama. I’ll let you get back to your night,” you smile flatly and turn to the door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” Dean says as he gently grabs your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“It’s fine, Dean. I’m fine. I just want to go home,” you shrug him off.

“And do what? Sit there alone and overthink this?”

“Overthink it? Dean, it was a kiss with a guy I’m clearly not attracted to. You said so yourself,” you argue.

“It’s not about the kiss though, is it? Not really. It’s about more than that. It’s about you thinking your ability to love died with Sam.”

“Dean, don’t–” you insist, not wanting to hear it, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Don’t what, Y/N? Don’t tell you the truth? Don’t try to make you see there’s nothing wrong with you. That you’re perfect, and Jacob just isn’t worthy of having you. That you’re beautiful and smart, and one day you will find the person who’s right for you.”

“Dean…” you say, but you don’t know how to follow it up, and so you shut up and stare at the floor.

“Do you trust me?” he questions.

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation from you and when you tear your eyes from the floor to look at him, you see him smile softly at your admission.

“Okay. Right or wrong, good or bad, promise me we’ll talk about this,” he pleads with you.

“Talk about what?” you frown.

“What I’m about to do. Please Y/N, promise me,” he begs once more.

“Alright, I promise.”

Dean steps closer to you and cups your cheeks in his large, calloused hands before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, and the scent of everything that’s just Dean surrounds you and dazes you.

And then you feel it.

The butterflies that swarm in your stomach; the haze that descends over you, cutting off all thought except for him and his lips on yours. Without warning, a whine escapes your throat and you open your mouth to encourage Dean to really kiss you, moaning when he does.

It’s good. And you feel like you did all those years ago when Sam kissed you for the first time. Lifting your arms, you circle them around Dean’s shoulders and pull him flush with your body and deepen the kiss.

His hands ghost down your back and snake around your waist. The kiss begins to soften and when his lips part from yours, he chuckles as you chase after them with your own. 

“Not broken?” he asks, resting his forehead on yours.

“Definitely not broken,” you respond breathlessly.

“Told you,” Dean chuckles and presses his lips to yours again, much softer and more innocent this time. You aren’t sure who makes the move, but before you fully comprehend what’s going on, your lips are on his again and you’re pushing the flannel from his shoulders. Dean picks you up and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist and carries you to the bedroom.

Next Chapter>>

@deans-spinster-witch @muchamusedaboutnothing @kazsrm67 @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @leigh70 @waynes-multiverse @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @chriszgirl92 @stoneyggirl2 @marilynnlew @ilovedean-spn2 @deans-baby-momma @acitygrownwillow @xxsovereignsarayaxx @frozenhuntress67 @lacilou @rach5ive

[whumpiary]

this is for anon, who requested some cass angst. and for @wildfaewhump​​ who single-handedly tipped the poll in this piece’s favour. thank you for the excuse to get this bad boy into existence! it’s lived in my head for... so so long.

strong content warnings: grief, loss, death, suicide, guilt, self-blame, whumper as caretaker (please note - this piece is heavy. if you are wanting to read but are cautious of the warnings, please shoot me a message or an ask and i’ll happily elaborate)

-

Ace is still putting his shoes on when Tucker comes in to collect him. 

“Do you know what day it is today?”

He looks very proud of himself. Tucker feels exhausted already. “What date is it today, Ace?”

Cass gives him the biggest grin he’s seen on him in weeks, “You really don’t remember?”

“No.”

“It’s our anniversary.”

“...Our anniversary,” Tucker repeats, unamused by the notion.

“Of the day we first met,” Cass beams. “It was a year ago today.”

Tucker can feel the shape of the quip he might’ve used to shut him up or shut him down. He can’t bring himself to use it today. He just sighs, chest tight and uncomfortable, “Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm. Was doing the maths and I’ve been here eight months. Or just over, anyway. ‘Cause Simon said the other day the quarterly thing is coming up again, right?” He looks over at him for confirmation as he finishes lacing his shoes. Tucker hums in the affirmative. “Right. And I know that there was one right after I got here, and then another one that happened a couple months back because the lab techs wouldn’t stop bitching about it and that means we’d be coming up to a full-”

Tucker cuts him off to gesture out the door, “Can we walk, please?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Ace moves past him and the sliding door closes behind them automatically. Tucker presses the keypad that activates the lock as Ace keeps prattling, turning around to walk backwards, face Tucker as he talks. “Anyway, that means by the next quarterly thing I’ll have been here over a year, right? But I was trying to figure out what the actual date that I got here was. Like my Facility birthday, you know? But because of the fuck around with the transfer papers and the whole…” he waves his hand, vaguely. “I mean like I wasn’t exactly with it, you know? So the dates are fuzzy. So then I was trying to remember-”

“Left.”

“Huh?”

Tucker points down the juncture in the hallway, “We’re going left. Lifts.”

“Oh. Okay.” He looks the other way down the hall and turns to move down it, falling in step beside. “Anyway then I was trying to think about the last time you came to the estate, because that would’ve been a few weeks before I left, right?”

He presses down on the elevator and Tucker reaches across to press up instead, “Something like that.”

“Right. And then that got me thinking bout the first time you came to the Estate-”

“We didn’t meet the first time.”

“Yeah, no, I know. But I remember it because Christopher had had a party, like, the night before and I was fucked. But I remember seeing a new car coming down the drive.”

Tucker hums noncommittally as the elevator doors slide open and they step inside. Another day and he might’ve prodded a little more about what the midweek party of a billionaire entails. Today he just stares forward and presses the button for the top level.

“And I know that the party was on the 12th of July. And you were coming once a fortnight for those first few visits…”

“Mm hmm.”

“Which means the date we met was-”

“It was July 26th,” Tucker says definitively. “I remember.” Hard date to forget for him personally.

“Right,” Cass says. Tucker can see him grinning out of the corner of his eye as the doors glide open. “So what I’m saying is happy anniversary.”

Tucker sighs again and leads them up the last stretch of stairs to the top. “Mm-hmm.”

“You know, you don’t seem that impressed,” Cass objects after him. “I was hoping there would be a little more fanfare or someth- Oh shit, I didn’t know there was a rooftop.”

Tucker holds the door open wide for him to invite him out onto it. There was a reason Cassius didn’t know about the damn rooftop. But he needed somewhere with an iota of privacy. The boarding room walls were woefully thin. Most of the conference rooms had at least half a wall  of glass.

Ace wanders his way out onto it in his usual saunter, pockets sliding into his pockets, admiring the skyline painted gold by the afternoon sun, “It’s kinda pretty actually, woah.”

“Yeah. Well. Didn’t bring you up for the view.”

He glances across and smiles, "You’re not gonna throw me off or something are you? ‘Cause that’d be kind of a douche move on our anniversary and all.”

“I just wanted somewhere quiet,” Tucker says, a little clipped. 

“Oh my god, are you gonna propose?”

Enough. Enough bullshit. “There’s something I need to tell you, Cassius.”

Cass frowns at the sound of his own name, and then laughs through obvious discomfort. “Jesus, full name, huh? Someone die or something?”

Tucker sighs, chest uncomfortably tight, pushing his glasses up briefly to pinch the bridge of his nose. He truly fucking wishes he could’ve delegated this task to anyone else. He probably could’ve, on reflection. But wouldn’t that’ve felt like utter shit? He sighs. Bandaid off. Get it over with. “I got a call today. From the Estate.” 

Ace’s face falls with immediate dread. “...They’re not meant to contact.”

Tucker holds a hand up to stay him, “I know. And they don’t. Usually, But the call was abou-”

“No, I don’t care what it was about.” The panic in him is plain, pulse already visible in his throat, speech fast and clipped, “They’re not meant to contact. He’s not meant to contact. It’s in the contract.”

“I know. But this was-”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Exceptional circumstanc-”

“No contact. That’s in the fucking contract-”

“It was about your brother, Ace,” Tucker snaps.

That shuts him up. Cass’ mouth clicks shut in shock, eyes wide and unsure. Tucker sighs again. There's no way to ease into it slowly now that it's out of the bag. His voice softens to take the step off the cliff, “Look, there’s no easy way to say this. Henri passed away early this morning.”

Cass’ face falls in shock. And then screws up in confusion. And then he blinks. Shakes his head. And a smile is creeping on his face. “Alright. Very fucking funny, fuckhead. Haha.”

Tucker shakes his head. “I’m not joking, Cass.”

It takes a moment for it to click. The loose smile hangs there a beat or too, and then slides off his face like melting wax, dread and horror left in its wake, “No. No that’s not right…”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. No, he’s not even there anymore.”

“He wasn’t in the program, anymore,” Tucker corrects. “He was still in residence.”

“No. After I left, he had four months left.”

Tucker’s mouth makes a grim line. “He wasn’t well, Ace. We all knew that. After you left, it was determined he wasn’t fit for independent living-”

“No. Shut up.”

“And that he should stay on as a resident. I know how you feel about the place so I’ve been keeping tabs. I didn’t want to tell you because-”

“No. Shut the fuck up up. He only had four months left,” Cass spits, near belligerent. “And it’s been eight months. I was just saying that. It’s been eight.”

There’s nothing for it but to keep going through the protests, “He’s been on a downhill slope for a while. They’ve been trying treatment-”

“No.”

“And different interventions but-”

“No this is… this is a joke.”

“He hasn’t been responsive to them.”

“You’re fucking joking.”

Tucker shakes his head, a little surprised by the genuine pang of sympathy in his chest. Hasn’t felt that in a while. “A staff member found him in his room early this morning. By the time emergency services arrived, it was too late.”

For a moment, Cassius looks untethered. Like Tucker’s pushed him into space and cut the line. 

His voice is weak. Wavering, “Tell me you’re joking.”

The empty wind bats the buildings around them. “I’m not joking, mate. I’m sorry.”

“Tᴜᴄᴋᴇʀ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴊᴏᴋɪɴɢ.”

Tucker shakes his head, palms up and empty. He wishes he had more to offer. “He’s gone, Cass.”

There is a moment of stillness, where he sees the world ending in Cassius’ eyes. It’s a sinking ship. An exploding star. An atom bomb clearing everything in sight. 

And then Cassius takes off in a bolt towards the rooftop's edge.

Tucker moves before he thinks. He lunges, grabs Cassius by the scruff of the shirt and yanks him back, arms snaking around the idiot’s waist to hold him. They fall back together, landing hard on the concrete, and Tucker holds tight, winded as Cass’ elbow finds his ribs.

“Let me go.”

Tucker holds tight, feet pushing against the ground to pull them both backwards and away from the edge. Cass keeps lunging forward, tearing at his arms. Little shit trying to draw blood.

“Tᴜᴄᴋᴇʀ, ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɢᴏ.”

Tucker keeps holding, teeth clenched tight in the effort of it. He has never been more glad that Ace’s little trick falls flat on him.

“Tᴜᴄᴋᴇʀ, ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɢᴏ, ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ fucking go.”

A hand flies back to bash his face, knocking his glasses half loose. Elbow finds ribs, too-short fingernails scratch and pull at his hands.

“Let me go.”

Tucker shifts their shared weight back, trying to adjust his grip for a stronger hold. Ace kicks his feet like a mad thing, as if trying to knock them both off balance. When that doesn’t work he angles his head down to bite the meat off Tucker’s thumb, earning a sharp yelp, a hand flying, a moment to escape.

Cass makes it all of two steps before Tucker has a grip on him again and is hauling him back down, two hands bunched in his shirt. He pulls him on top of himself like and takes the blows that come before he can fold Ace’s arms up into the vice grip needed to keep him place. He keeps him pinned down with his own body weight, and hand tight around his wrists.

In the helplessness of the hold, the snarling demands crumble into pleas. When the begging proves just as futile, Cass opens his mouth wide and screams. He wails.

The sound is raw and belly deep. An animal screaming in pain and terror and confusion. And in grief. In utter grief. It’s the scream of a kid wanting to go home, in the voice of a barely grown man who knows he doesn’t have one anymore.

Each cry sends electric chills through Tucker’s veins that he doesn’t care for. It rings in his ears and he has to tilt his head back and away from the noise to stand the soul-splitting sound of it. He keeps holding the kid anyway. What else is he meant to do?

It’s then that he knows he was right to bring them to the rooftop for this, despite the near fatality. Out here, Cass can scream. Tucker doesn’t tell him to shut up or clamp a hand over his mouth. And he might’ve had to if they’d still been in the lodging rooms. Out here, Ace can wail his little heart out. The sky doesn’t give a shit. The office buildings don’t care.

He screams. He cries. He screams. He twists his body, he begs to be let go. He screams and screams and screams.

Each burst of sound from is its own living thing. Like one explosion after another. Each one could only be braced through, not avoided, with aftershocks that come in the form of a full-body struggle. Tucker does his best to keep limbs folded tight. At one point he can hear a tear in his suit.

The screams, eventually, turn into sobs. Which in their own time crumble into a broken-hearted weeping.

It’s a strange feeling, echoic and unfamiliar, to hold someone through grief like this. Tucker wasn’t sure there was a soul in the world who’d mourn him this hard if he died. His mother was less likely to waste breath on tears or a eulogy than she was to utter ‘Good riddance.’ and hang up the phone. His own brother, maybe, would at least take a moment of contemplation. Neither of those things were grief. Not this kind. Not this deep.

Eventually, he shifts them so Ace is practically folded in his lap, Tucker’s arm still wrapped around his waist in case a second wind comes. It never does. What churns up instead are confessions of guilt, complicity, regret. One after the other, like rocks falling down a cliff-face.

“I left him there. I fucking left him there.”

Tucker offers the closest thing to comfort he can, unsure if he even entirely believes it, “It’s not your fault, Ace.”

“He was meant to have four months left. It was only meant to be four months.”

“I know.”

“I fucking killed him.”

“You didn’t.”

“I wanna die, just let me die.”

“Not today, Ace.”

“I wanna die.”

He squeezes his shoulder. Rubs his back in a way that he intends to be comforting. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Down below, the traffic is congested and continuous: thousands and thousands of people honking at red lights and swearing at too-slow pedestrians, utterly oblivious to the fact that on a rooftop twenty stories up, someone’s whole world just ended.

Apocalypse in a teacup.

Armageddon in the heart of a twenty two year old.

The weeping does not stop.

[firespirited]

Confession time. After destiel went canon and broke tumblr, I read the entire wiki for the main characters before watching the final episodes and felt the finale was so out of character that I mentally wrote a fix it fic.

Here is me writing it down in honour of the third anniversary. A show that to me: consists of 3 episodes, a lot of meta posts that trended over the years, jokes about loving your car, some manic wiki reading and that odd dude who inexplicably did iffy prolapse photomanip fanart.

I have made no attempts to polish this. The voices probably aren't right but I tried to write an open ending that stays true to characterisation (aka as tumblr presented these three beloved characters which may be the opposite of what the writers of manly male, rock loving, hunters with guns in a muscle car and dead girlfriends had in mind) .

We follow the final episode as it began except after the pie festival and the vamp mime first murder, they're off to hunt but a flaming meteor falls from the sky and they follow it in the car. It hits a field, they see a human figure, run and use their coats and feet to put out the flames. It's Cas. They put him in the car, they're all very shaken no answers to Sam's many questions, awkward glances in the mirror from Dean then Cas breaks his silence and asks for his slice of pie... the one in the glove box. Sam is confused, Dean looks like he's going to vomit.

We restart the episode from a different point of view: After Castiel got sent to the empty, Dean began praying to whomever, whatever would hear (silently or under his breath but constantly.) he thinks he might be insane from grief but after all he's seen he has the smallest hope) . Jack as God can't technically rewrite all the laws of the universe but he's receiving these "prayers". He smirks when he finds a bylaw that he can make a saint of Castiel so that prayers to him are redirected straight to him and cannot be diverted (heaven's bureaucracy is complex).

The empty has known no peace for six months. Dean's internal monologue of prayer has been echoing around and amplified the more the empty tried to create silence. The empty has tried to kill Dean so many times but he's got a protective barrier on his hand that looks like a scratch (placed by a grateful angel) so he's been dodging these deaths like it's looney tunes, completely unaware. (insert scenes of echoey overlapping narration of longing and yearning over near misses of murder by multiple means. For angst broken up by comedy)

Back to now, to the car. The brothers staring at Cas, Dean gets out of the car to hyperventilate and try to hold it together. We focus in on the ringing and rushing blood sound in his ears as Sam seems to be asking questions again and Cas seems to be talking. Sam gets out of the car, asks his brother if he's OK, he obviously lies and says Yes.

Sam sighs and says "Yeah clearly, you look fantastic. So uh Cas says he wants in on the vampire mimes and is eager to do more hunting evil... and I know it's not the time but damnit when is ever the right time? ... Look, when I talked about a more normal life, I meant it. We write our own stories and maybe it's time for you to go try something, anything else really. How about you take a vacation? Cas and I will handle things."

"I've, well, I've given normal life a lot of thought, I've never truly fit in and I could try but I can only fake it for so long. Funny, but when I allowed myself to daydream of a different life, I imagined careers that led me back to the road and back to making things right, you know? I think at the core, that's who I am... And, hey, since you brought it up, I never asked you if this life is the 'normal' you want....To be honest: I know it's not. and I didn't want to be alone, at least not these past few months, I know I've seemed fine but"

"Oh no no, you did not seem 'fine' but I wasn't going to go out of my way to point it out. You didn't even wash for days at your worst. You mumble under your breath sometimes. Those guns are cleaned down to the last speck of dust. I wasn't going to leave you alone, not ever."

"Okay - Ok.ay! Since we're here having the 'talk', aside from your duty as my brother, have YOU let yourself imagine what you'd want normal to be, for you?"

He blurts out "Eileen... It's Eileen. I know she's out there somewhere, I felt a strange pang and it was relief." he's speaking so fast "She's back. My mind races at the possibilities, I haven't dared to let myself start. I'm not sure how I want to live but I know it has to be with Eileen"

"I'm calling a taxi. You have a serious phone call and some travel ahead. Older brother's orders. I'll do the blood suckers"

"Work again. Will you ever open up about what's been going on with you? You wouldn't even tell me how Cas summoned the Empty."

"I, uh, these things take time, more of an actions over words kinda guy. *stares at phone* Oh your taxi is two minutes out."

"I don't know what to say"

"You don't have to say anything, you already told me through all you've done. Text me when you arrive safely, or don't, if you're otherwise occupied"

"You're the worst. And the best." They hug

A car pulls up, Sam yells at Cas though the window that they'll talk soon and to keep Dean out of trouble. Cas gives him a thumbs up.

Dean gets back into the car after watching the taxi drive away until it's completely out of view. He hands the vamp case notes to Cas to read, instead Cas puts them aside on the seat. "It could be the six months, it could be the new body: this appears to be an empty copy, my host was spared the empty thankfully. Yes it could be the new body but you were right this pie is exactly to my taste"

"I don't want to know do I?"

"Indeed, you'd be mortified, it's a word you used a lot about your inner conflicts but, you've faced hell, I promise that voicing your thoughts isn't as terrible."

"Uh your coat and top are burned and falling apart, here have my jacket."

"I mean, voicing your feelings can get you sent to the empty but that's the worst case scenario"

"Nice. Reassuring." *goes quiet*

A phone dings, Cas pulls it out of the jacket. "You have a new message from Sam: "Eileen fine and well, two exclamation marks" aww, he's going to Eileen? She's wonderful isn't she? "meeting at station at 3am. Capital T, A L K and get answers from Cas you idiot skull emoji skull emoji laugh crying emoji"

"Vamps first... then I need a drink" Dean looks out of the window with a mixture of apprehension and giddiness, there's a small smile creeping across his lips that fades into seriousness, there's a flash of fear, then the smile returns with a tremor as if despite himself.

Various old friends are sat around in heaven: they reminisce, they can't know the boys future but they know it's nothing they can't handle, the senseless cruelty is over.

[az-cain]

I’m Sorry. I’m Sorry. I’m Sorry.

Jake Seresin ≈ 800 words

This is based entirely on my experiences with PTSD, which is from CSA not war or grief. My apologies if it’s inaccurate to your experiences, but please do not invalidate my own.

TW FOR: First person descriptions of PTSD, descriptions of dead bodies, delusion related to PTSD, self-hatred, alcoholism as a coping mechanism, denial of PTSD/mental illness

@tgm-all4one

Fire. The world’s engulfed in fire. Stench. The world smells like your burning flesh, scorching metal and glass. The oil of the F-14 burns on top of the water, the blue water turning black. The fuselage is floating, bodies glaring in the afternoon light. Your brown eyes stare at the sky, Captain Mitchell’s eyes obscured by bloody water.

Tears. I feel hot tears streak down my face as I hover in the rescue heli. They’re striking my visor. I can’t see. Stop crying. Stop crying. Men don’t cry. Stop crying. It’s part of the job. Stop crying.

Echoes. The echoes of Bradshaw’s words fill my ears. The only place you're going to lead anyone is an early grave; the only place you're going to lead anyone is an early grave; the only place—

The bed’s so cold. I should be used to waking up like this, but I’m not. The sheets are wet with my sweat, so I’ll dry my eyes and rise stiffly from the bed, stripping the sheets and walking to the laundry room.

—

It’s consuming me. Maybe Bradshaw’s killed himself. Maybe I wasn’t able to save him. Not in any way that mattered.

No. He’s alive.

But what if he isn’t?

He’s fine.

No he isn’t.

He’s dead.

Fuck, he’s dead.

Fuck, tears are running down my face. I’m sorry, Bradshaw. I wanted to save you.

I know you’re hurting too. I know you wish you’d died back then. You’d be with your family. I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have saved you.

Fuck, my phone is in my hand. His number is pulled up and ringing.

Fuck, he picked up.

“Hey.”

Oh. He’s alive. Don’t say anything. Maybe he’ll think it was a butt dial. God, I wanna say something.

“Hangman?”

“Don’t call me that.” Shit. I don’t wanna be Hangman. I’m Jake, let me be Jake. Let me be Jake.

“Oh. Okay. Seresin. What’s up?”

I was convinced you’d killed yourself. I don’t know if I made the right choice saving you. It got me disciplined. No, that’s not why. Fuck. It was worth it, but do you think so? Do you want to live?

“I’m just checking in on you. Difficult day today, anniversary and all, you know?”

“Yeah.” You swallow so loudly. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stress you out. “It’s definitely been that. And you? Was it hard for you?”

God yes. It was so hard. I haven’t stopped crying all day. My throat hurts. My eyes hurt. My heart hurts.

“Not too bad. I wasn’t the one who almost died, I was mostly just concerned for you.”

“Oh. Well yeah, but you took someone else’s life that day. I’d get it if you were a little stressed.”

Yeah. I did. My second person I’ve murdered. That pilot had a family. Neither of you did. Maybe they should have lived. You two could have died and not been missed so dearly. But I would have missed you. God, I’m so selfish. I’m sorry.

“I’m alright. Just making sure you’re alright.”

“Yeah, Seresin. I’ll make it.”

“Good. Have a good night, Bradshaw.”

“You, too.”

—

This stupid fucking bottle is empty. I didn’t drink it all. I took a glass last night. I know this is a problem. My throat hurts. All the lights are on in the house. I’m scared of the dark again. I can see everything so clearly. My eyes hurt. Fuck. I can't see anything.

I need to vomit. I can't walk. The bathroom is so far away. Oh. I have a trash can. It’s closer. I stumble towards it, falling onto my knees with a groan. Dammit. I’m so useless. Why am I still sobbing? I’m good for nothing, a sissy. They all made it out, you fucking moron. Everyone’s fine but you. Come on. Come on. Come on.

I hurl into the trash can. It tastes really bad. Like stomach acid and whiskey, because that’s pretty much all that’s in it. I think I should lay down. So I will. I’ll lay down right here and sleep.

—

The sun hurts my eyes. The kitchen window is letting too much light in. I wonder what time it is. Usually the light doesn’t come through this window until about noon. I’m trying to cover my eyes, but they still hurt as I look at the clock. 1300. It’s late. I had a date this morning.

Too bad, I guess. Good for nothing.

I should call her. Apologize. Or maybe the military therapist. Apologize. Nah. I’ll be fine. I’ll deal with it on my own.

At least there were no nightmares tonight.

[wildliferehabstudent]

Cw for like, death and grief and whatever- I just miss my dad, ignore this lol

Dad dying a few days before Father's Day is a special brand of hell. Every year on the anniversary of his death I get inundated with fathers day ads. Can't even go to the store for some chips without seeing father's day stuff. Maybe one day it will get easier, but it certainly hasn't yet.

Anyway, miss you dad. I still don't have any iguanas, since you made me promise not to bring any home. It's been a long seven years. I love you.

I don't ride horses anymore, don't have the time, but I have a donkey and she's pretty great. And I work at the zoo, I think you'd be pretty proud of that. Mom and I don't get along at all anymore, I know you'd get it. You know how she was- she's only gotten worse.

Scott and I are good though. He's doing all kinds of cool shit, you'd be so fucking proud of him.

I found a wild snake in my yard, it was tiny. A little earth snake. It was really healthy. You'd have liked to see him.

I haven't gotten to do much in the way of habitat restoration yet, but it's still on the to do list. One day I'll have land, and some of it will be protected for quail, like we always talked about.

Oh, I got my fishing license a few days ago, so that's pretty exciting.

Anyway, yeah, I guess that's everything for now. Love you.

[riverstardis]

series 32 episode 34:

this is the anniversary of cal's death ep💔

connie's back!

surely it's been at least a week since ethan stood down as clinical lead now but he's still using the parking permit? i suppose he might as well since no one else was using the space. connie leaves a slightly passive aggressive note on his windscreen lmao

"the wife is saying that he was bent over the dishwasher and that the carving knife was sticking out" *elle laughs* "what, you don't believe her?" "i do not. you wanna know why? because in 14 years i never saw my husband so much as open a dishwasher. on the other hand i often though about, you know! ..... joking!" LMAO😭😭

ethan looking at the flowers charlie left by where cal was stabbed😥😥😥😥😥

oh yeah this is quite a leigh-anne heavy episode isn't it urgh

alicia's got the keys to her new house!

louise, noel, and rash are trying to get her to have a housewarming party and she's looking excited about it until robyn reminds her about cal. so she says she has plans? i don't get why she doesn't just say the real reason i mean it's not like it's a secret, it's just that everybody's forgotten??? like surely louise and noel would definitely understand and rash didn't know cal but would probably also understand???

also i hate the way they wrote alicia as like not that bothered about cal's death even though she was somewhat close to him??? i suppose in the immediate aftermath you could say she was being strong for ethan but it's the fact that i don't think we see her grieve at all. and a year later she's forgotten about it?

chekhov's axe

connie wants to open a trauma theatre but charlie doesn't think it's a good idea and he says he can think of a good name for it though: the connie beauchamp trauma theatre SDSFJJHFD

ethan's back in scrubs THATS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE

lmao elle tells him that connie's looking for him and he says he thought she might be but then starts phoning leigh-anne's landlord for some reason and connie walks up behind him and goes "dr hardy." and he jumps and looks round sjsdjdjfgj

leigh-anne phoning ethan to say she can't cope anymore and that she's leaving kiegan in a safe place and "i know you'll take better care of him than i can" girl what??? i know he's got inappropriately involved in your life but you can't just go leaving babies to people like that😭😭 also didn't she only try to cope for like a few hours max???

alicia finally giving in to everyone asking about the party and robyn says "maybe it's what cal would've wanted" which is a good point tbf but it isn't just about how cal would feel about it, given that he's dead it doesn't really matter that much, it's more about how ethan would feel about it, and alicia obviously thinks he wouldn't like it because she tells them not to invite anyone else while watching ethan. and then noel immediately goes and invites elle😭 i don't understand why they all seem to not have heard robyn mention cal except alicia???

noo not ethan bringing up scott😭 leigh-anne says she wasted enough tears on him when he was alive and ethan says she's still grieving though and says he knows enough about grief to know and she asks who he's lost and he says "my brother" hmm there's a little too much hand holding going on for my liking rn

ethan says there's something he has to tell her???? don't tell me he was planning to tell her that scott killed cal???? how would that help anyone😭

kiegan's being taken into temporary foster care for the night but ethan offers to take him but obviously they don't let him

connie gets involved and tells him that getting involved in patients' lives isn't what they do there and he gets angry "what do we do here? just out of interest." "excuse me?" "do you want us just to patch them up and pack them off, is that it?" and they carry on having a bit of a shouting match until charlie interrupts😭

then ethan just walks off and connie's like "oh that's it, walk away!" and charlie's like "give him a break, will you! today of all days?!" and connie goes "oh what, because it's my first day back?" and charlie's like "WHAT? NO! because today is the anniversary of cal's death. cal died 1 year ago today, it's not always about you, you know." and connie's face is like shit😭😭😭😭

oop rash stood gem up because connie had him doing some work over his lunch break but she doesn't believe him because "even she's not that bad"😬 lmaoo iain asks rash if he has to keep on eye on him

elle asks ethan if he's going to the party before she notices alicia shaking her head to stop her😭 he's like "no, i'm not." and walks off and alicia goes after him and goes "ethan, i didn't want a party tonight, i swear" "it's alright" "i don't want you to think that i'd forgotten. you're more than welcome to come, i just assumed you wouldn't fancy it" "no. it's fine, honestly" okay but she HAD forgotten though. tbh he probs wouldn't have gone even if it was a different day bc they're still fallen out after rage in resus

"dr hardy" "mrs beauchamp, i've actually finished my shift, okay? i've had a really trying day" "yes, i understand. look, i know this will be no consolation but i just thought you might like to know that i plan to install a trauma theatre here in the ed, and i firmly believe if we'd had the resources last year then-" "what? then my brother might still be alive?! yeah, you're right, it's no consolation at all."😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥 WHY WOULD SHE SAY THAT TO HIM😭😭😭

lmaoo alicia, noel, louise, and gem coming in incredibly hungover the next day and alicia's saying how she knew there was a reason she'd given up alcohol sjsjdsdjf

connie's showing charlie the space for the trauma theatre and he still doesn't agree with it and she brings up cal and he gets angry

urghhhh ethan and leigh-anne kissing🙄 were we meant to be on board this ship or something????

[beels-burger-babe]

Storm Clouds on a Sunny Day

***Oooooo Teen!MC! Thank you for the request @lovevictoire! Now, although I think I'm technically Gen z??? (I could be a millennial. I have no idea). I have like 0 sense of most pop culture and probably won't be able to write that classic gen z chaotic humour properly, so I'm not going to attempt. What I can do is the hurt/comfort aspect of this which I LOVE! So, let's do this. I hope you enjoy it. ((Oh and before I forget *hugs*))***

Summary: MC has always been a happy positive ray of light that brought joy with them wherever they went; at least that's what the brothers and the other exchange students would tell you. But when they suddenly start getting quiet and begin isolating themselves, everyone is concerned.

TW: descriptions of grief.

In the darkness of the Devildom, you were the sun.

Since arriving in the dark, cruel world of the demons, you had reminded them how to smile, how to laugh, how to love. With you around, it was like the brothers had another sibling again. For the other exchange students, you were a breath of fresh amongst all the horror and despair of the Devildom.

In short, everyone had come to love and be incredibly fond of the teenage human that; which is why they noticed instantly when you weren't acting like yourself.

For starters, you had skipped breakfast, which greatly concerned Beel. The friendly giant had to go up and bring you your food afterwards.

He gently knocked on your door with one hand as he held a plate with way too much food on it in the other. "MC? Are you awake? You missed breakfast."

There was a small curse from the other side before he heard some shuffling. The door cracked open to reveal you wrapped in a bundle of blankets. It wasn't until you looked up that Beel got a good look at your face and his stomach dropped.

Your eyes were tinged red with tear tracks stained onto your cheeks. Your bottom lip was still trembling from the effort of not breaking down into sobs. There was not a trace of the sunshine child that you usually were inside of your stormy sad eyes.

Beel's heart broke as you still attempted to give him a small smile and took the plate from him. "Th-Thanks Beel."

He kept a hand on the door to prevent you from closing it. "MC, are you alright? What happened?"

Your eyes widened a little and you quickly wiped at your cheeks. "I-I'm just not feeling that well. Can...Can you tell Lucifer I'm taking a sick day?"

Beel nodded as concern grew stronger and stronger inside of him. "Of course. Whatever you need."

You weren't actually sick, Beel could tell that much. What you were was heartbroken. Something had reached into your soul and shattered it into pieces. He to ask you what it was. He wanted to reassure you that everything would be okay. But instead, he let you close the door and hurried back to his brothers.

His brothers looked at him skeptically as he arrived, noting the lack of a tiny human alongside him. It was Belphie, however, who noticed the distressed look on Beelzebub's face. "Beel, is everything alright? You look upset."

Beel simply shook his head and looked over to Lucifer. "MC has asked me to tell you that they would like to take a sick day."

Everyone was instantly on their feet in worry.

"Sick? What kind of illness? I can get any medicine they might need and look up the quickest way for them to recover." Satan quickly stated as he began to move towards the kitchen.

Belphie nodded and picked up his pillow. "If they're sick, they'll need rest right? I'll go up there and help them sleep better."

Mammon moved to go with Belphie. "I'll come with ya. They'll feel better with if their favourite's there with them."

Belphie growled and shoved Mammon as Levi spoke up. "I-I mean, I doubt they'd want to spend the entire day with me, but at the very least I can provide them with some movies and games for entertainment. In fact, it might be easier if we just, um, m-move them to my room."

Mammon and Belphie were now snapping at Levi rather than each other.

Asmo scrunched up his nose in disgust and put up his hands. "Yeah, no thanks. I love MC, but I'll leave you guys to handle all the snot and vomit thank you very much. Tell them when they're healthy, I'll give them a spa day, just the two of us."

Lucifer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Boys, Beel hadn't even told us what is wrong with them yet," everyone froze and turned to Beelzebub. Lucifer nodded and gestured for him to continue. "As you were saying, Beel."

Beel shifted uncomfortably at the attention. "Right. So, I don't think they're actually sick."

Lucifer rose an eyebrow at this as an air of defence grew around him. "You think they would lie?"

Beel huffed in annoyance and shook his head. "No. I don't think they would. But when they answered the door, they didn't look sick. They looked like they were grieving," everyone breathed in sharply at the statement, but Beel continued. "They honestly looked like they had been crying since midnight. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't get any sleep at all last night."

Lucifer frowned and finally made a move towards the door. "I, and I alone, will go speak with them. We don't want to overcrowd them. In the meantime, someone please contact Simeon just in case they truly are sick and Beel misinterpreted it," he ignored the several shouts of protest as he walked to your room.

He knocked softly on the door twice before carefully opening the door. "MC? Beelzebub informed me that you aren't feeling-"

Lucifer cut himself off as he saw you hugging your knees to your chest in bed, sobbing your heart out. He quickly made his way over and sat down beside you, gently placing a hand on your back. "MC, what's the matter? I've never seen you this upset before."

You didn't answer. You merely turned towards him and buried your face in his chest as you clung to his shirt. Lucifer quickly wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

It was almost as if he could feel your sorrow within the sounds of your cries. The way they shuttered and cracked with every inhale and vibrated with pure agony on every exhale. You were trembling violently in his arms in a way that he hadn't felt since-

Since he held his brothers after Lilith's death.

Realization came to him as he glanced over and noticed the lightly crumped picture of you and another human on your side table. His breath caught in his throat and he held you tighter. "Oh MC," he whispered softly. "I am so sorry."

He held you there, letting your tears stain his shirt without a single care. He held you as your sobs softened into sniffles. He held you as your head lolled to the side and you finally gave in to sleep.

Lucifer had been about to fall asleep himself when he noticed the door open. Simeon, Luke and Solomon stood there with equal expressions of concern.

Luke took one look at your tear-stained face before a flicker of fury and angelic protectiveness flashed across his face. He opened his mouth to shout at Lucifer, but was stopped as a hand came over his mouth.

Solomon looked down at him sternly. "They're sleeping, Luke, and clearly in need of it. You don't want to wake them."

Luke huffed and slapped Solomon's hand away before going over to the bed and climbing in beside you and Lucifer.

Simeon pulled out a bag that clinked and clattered from the vials within it. "Satan had said that there was a possibility MC was ill?"

Lucifer sighed and continued to rub circles into your back while Luke gently dried your face with a handkerchief. "Unfortunately it seems the only illness they have is a broken heart." He nodded to the picture on the nightstand. "They appear to have lost someone. Today must be an anniversary of some sort that reminded them of it."

Both Solomon and Simeon's faces softened at the explanation. Simeon put the bag away. "I'm afraid I don't have anything that can help with that."

Solomon nodded. "It's a feeling I believe we are all familiar with," he stood in silent thought before snapping his fingers and grinning. "I know what will cheer them up! Some soup! It most certainly cheers me up whenever I'm upset. I'll go make them a pot right away," he smiled proudly as he left the room, missing the look of horror on everyone else's face.

"Oh my," Simeon began, "I better go supervise and make sure he doesn't accidentally poison them. Luke, do you wish to come?"

He shook his head and hugged you. "I'm not leaving them."

Simeon smiled fondly and glanced up to Lucifer who shrugged. "So long as he doesn't mind being the presence of a demon, I suppose he can stay."

Luke grumbled and continued looking at your hand as he held his up to it and compared sizes. "If they were able to fall asleep around you and you were able to comfort them...maybe you're not so bad."

Simeon raised an eyebrow in shock and laughed a little. "Well there you have it," he looked back to Lucifer. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

He nodded and watched the older angel leave.

@thegrimgrinningghost

Although the day was a rough one for you, there was not a second where you felt alone. There was always someone to hold you, to listen to you, and comfort you when you needed it most.

On days when sadness and despair threatened to cloud over the Devildom's only source of sunshine, the lords of the Devildom and your friends would be there to keep you warm until the sun could shine again.

***I hope you enjoyed this cute little comfort fic! Thanks again for the request @lovevictoire!***

TAGLIST

@henry-and-the-seven-lords

@satans-beloved-riv

@cosmixbun

@sufzku

[missluckycharms]

What is grief, if not love persevering?

Anon asked: heyyy! i love your writing sm💕 can you write angst please? make it hurt☹

Masterlist.

Summary: in which Harry is a single Dad due to losing his wife five years ago just shortly after their little love was born. Y/N has been there through it all. Harry has a rough night filled with whiskey and tears for his late wife.

A/N: this one is full of Angst and light hearted jokes to not get you too sad … sorry in advance, it’s a real tear jerker. Enjoy!!

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, talks of alcohol and drug abuse, talks of depression and very low mental health, curse words.

—

Five years.

It’s been five years since the passing of Myla Styles, the woman who granted Harry a wish he always wanted, the woman who loved him beyond all the galaxies and the woman who never saw any wrong in anyone, not even the worst of people, she always used to say “deep down, their heart is just aching” and Harry always admired that about her, she always looked on the positive side of life.

She held that same attitude as he held her hand in the hospital room, her fragile and pale body laying on the white bed as she peered up at him, oxygen tube in her nostrils and too many machines to count hooked up to her body, she was a shell of a woman, but she still had a heart of gold, the same hear Harry fell in love with when they were sixteen years of age. He hated seeing her this way, especially when their nearly one week old baby was resting in his other arm, fast asleep as her Mum clung to every bit of life she had left, but not once did her smile fade.

It all happened so fast, one day she was pushing life into the world and eight days later her life was being taken out of this world. There was complications with birth, the doctors and nurses finding undiagnosed ovarian cancer in her ovaries when they had to send her in for an emergency c section. Myla confessed she felt off, her body didn’t feel right, but she knew if something was seriously wrong, she wouldn’t risk the life of her baby getting treatment, she would rather her baby live over her. Doctors and nurses tried their best, trying to refer her to new hospitals to get stronger chemo if she wanted, but Myla refused, she told them to let her go, she was tired and she couldn’t stick around long enough to see if these treatments would work — she knew she was dying but Harry refused to believe it.

The day she left, was the day Harry felt like his whole world stopped, like the curtains were shut and he was left in a dark room with no way out. He promised Myla he would do his best to take care of their love, who they named Honey. He was dealing with the loss, Honey taking his mind off it a little and giving him reasons to pull himself from bed even on the days when he wanted to lay around and wallow in his own darkness — she pulled him out of those days, but two months later it all came crashing down on top of him.

He slipped into a wrong mind set, immediately knowing that Honey had to be taken away from him because he was living in fear he would hurt her, one day he woke up and he looked at her and just cried, he held her and he felt nothing, he didn’t even sympathise with her when she would cry for food, he felt nothing towards Honey and this scared him, terribly. Anne, his Mum took Honey in, letting Harry to relax and blow off some steam and get some help, his and Myla’s family all agreeing and saying he needed help and it wasn’t something to be ashamed about — he just lost his wife, they can’t lose him either.

Harry took the wrong route of clearing his mind and getting help, he found his therapy at the end of a bottle and a line of cocaine. He slipped into an endless spiral of week long benders and debts for drug money along with risking losing his home due to him quitting his high up job at his Fathers Law firm, he completely crashed and burned, he couldn’t live without her, he couldn’t stop his mind racing and the only way for it all to stop, and let him feel numb — was when he was drunk and high, passing out in every room of his home and in his garden, the neighbours finding him sometimes in their yard in a mess. They were the ones who got him help, they called up his family and they all rushed him off in an ambulance to get him sober and conscious again. Here is where he made the decision to sign himself into rehab, accepting the help the hospital offered and a few months later, he was out and clean, he stayed with his Mum until Honey turned one and that was the year Harry found his smile again, found his life and purpose again.

Looking back now, he doesn’t know how he ever made himself believe it was Honeys fault Myla was no longer here, he doesn’t know how he’s even alive because of all the drugs and alcohol he ingested every single night for three months solid, but he knows why everything turned around, it was his Angel looking down on him, guiding him and kicking him in the ass to get up and look after their little love, just like she asked him to do before she left, always look after himself and Honey.

It’s been five years since her passing, Harry is doing better than ever, he started working for his Dad’s company again and now he’s the president of the law firm, alongside his Dad who is the CEO, Harry being second in command and then being the CEO when his Dad retires from the firm. They kept their family home, even if it was just the two of them, they loved the home and it still felt like Myla was living here, her makeup still tucked away in her unused vanity in Harrys bedroom and her favourite paintings still hung up around the home. Harry even hired a nanny, she has been working for him for two years now, she’s even working alongside Harry in his office being his receptionist during the day and she’s Honeys afternoon and night nanny when she’s done in work and Honey is home from school.

Y/N is Honeys nanny, she takes care of the little lady and feeds her daily, even taking her to the playground and to the movies when Honey asked her could she go. She would do anything for Honey and Honey loved her endlessly, she loved the way she would allow her to eat sneaky chocolate bars after dinner every now and then and how she would always play dollies with her, kneeling down on the floor of the den and playing with the small girl until they were both in fits of laughter. Harry also adored Y/N, her passion for her job at the law firm along with her passion for looking after Honey is something he admires, she never once complains about being exhausted even though he can tell when she is, she didn’t have to think twice when Harry offered her the job as Honeys nanny, she knew the little one from her being in the office every now and then, and Honey was instantly drawn to her, the way she was so kind and the way she cared for Honey.

Tonight is a hard night for Harry, it’s Myla’s death anniversary and he’s been having a bad day, his mind racing and his heart breaking all over again, but this time he’s stronger, he’s able to power through until he could be alone and just let his emotions go, have a glass of whiskey and just cry a little flipping through old photo albums — he does this every year on her anniversary. Honey is tucked up in bed and he’s sat alone in the den on the sofa, the photo albums on his lap and his hand clutching a small glass of whiskey as he sips on it flipping through many photos from their wedding and from when they were teens and drunk in love in high school — so many memories can be attached to one person, and Harry knew one day they would be memories, but he didn’t know it would be so soon.

“Honey is fast asleep, left her door cracked open so she can shout if she- Harry? Are you okay?” Y/N stops suddenly, her eyes landing on her boss who was hunched over a photo album on the sofa, curtains drawn and the only light coming from a lamp beside a framed wedding photo of him and Myla on the table by the sofa.

“Yeah, thanks for putting her to sleep” Harry says weakly, not turning around which alarms Y/N, she’s seen him like this last year, she let him be as she was only new to it, but this year she’s determined to sit with him all night if he needs — he needs to have some company.

“That’s you?” She asks sitting next to him, Harry not moving or telling her to leave, he accepts her company as she looks down at the photo his eyes are laid upon — two teenagers at a party.

“Yeah, m’hair was a curly mess” he says with a low laugh, looking over the photo of a seventeen year old version of himself, smiling cheekily clutching a red solo cup and Myla wrapped under his other arm holding him around his waist, both their smiles wide and cheeky and their cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol in their bodies.

“I think it looks cute, pitty it’s not as curly now” she says with a light laugh, watching as his ring clad fingers turn the page, taking a sip from his whiskey as he goes.

“This was our prom, she made me wear a pink fucking bow tie — absolutely hated it” he laughs, the crinkles by his eyes evident as Y/N laughs along, looking down at the curly headed teenager in a black suit, white shirt and a bright pink bow tie, matching Myla’s floor length dress next to him, a shawl over her shoulders matching as the corsage around her wrist match the pink of her dress also.

“She hated that dress a year later, she was packing up for college and I was helping her when she found it, immediately burst out laughing” he says laughing loudly, remembering back at the memory he has, Y/N beside him happy at how joyful he sounds speaking of the memories.

“Oh here we go, Frat boy Harry!” Y/N says with a loud laugh, pointing down at a shirtless twenty year old Harry, backwards cap on his head and “Myla’s Bitch!” Wrote on his stomach in paint, two beer bottles in his hands and Myla on his shoulders cheering with her hands up in a red bikini, matching his swimming trunks and baseball cap.

“Some of the best years of m’life, raging parties and no more curfews, we were two hormonal teens absolutely smitten for one another” he says shaking his head with a laugh, his eyes bright as he flicks them over the photos ranging from Harry dancing, Myla being pushed into the pool by him and Harry passed out with a mustache drawn on him with Myla next to him holding the marker with a bright smile mid laughter.

The book is filled with their college days, to their graduation day from college, their photo in their first apartment, Harry on his first day of work and Myla on hers. They took photos of small things, but at the time they meant the world to them, they were milestones in their lives and they never wanted to forget them. Harry is forever grateful that Myla had an obsession with photography, otherwise he wouldn’t have these to look back on and hopefully show Honey one day what her Mum was like, even if she’s drunk and half naked in some of them at college parties.

Harry and Y/N are in fits of laughter, tears falling from their faces as Harry explains every single memory behind each photo, one photo containing a memory of Myla at her bachelorette party, Harry coming out as a stripper and giving her a lap dance as she slaps his ass and throws money all over her husband — that one will definitely not be shown to Honey. Harry is like a whole different person when he speaks about her, his laugh becomes louder and his eyes become brighter, he even ditched his whiskey after one glass to speak about his late wife, Y/N looking at him with pure amazement and proudness of how far he’s come, how he pulled himself from a hard time and carried on life for the sake of his baby girl. He’s truly inspirational in her eyes.

“It should be easier than this by now, right? Like I shouldn’t be still grieving” he says when their laughs and stories come to a stop, their eyes hooded with sleep and faces hurting from laughing.

“What is grief, if not love persevering? You were both childhood sweethearts, you’ve loved her since you can remember and you always will, she’s your whole world, of course you’ll still grieve her, you still love her, and that’s okay” Y/N blurts out, her words quick as she blabs on while Harry watches her, a smile on his face as she explains and accepts his feelings.

“Never knew you were Shakespeare” is all he says, she rolls her eyes laughing, slapping his bicep a little as he shuts the album, tucking it away in the drawer again before turning his focus back onto Y/N beside him.

“Seriously though, never tell yourself you’ve been grieving for too long, it’s okay to grieve and cry yourself to sleep some nights, I get that, I do. You lost a person who made you who you are, but don’t forget, you still have a little one that will need you to be the person who makes her who she is”

Harry thinks she’s amazing, she’s smart and she’s so empathetic towards everyone and anyone. She has a heart of gold and she will never let anyone explain hers or anyone else’s feelings for them, she always allows people to express who they are, heck, one night she brought Harry to a gym after hours, explaining how her brother is a trainer there and he gave her the keys on the condition that she does his laundry for a month, she let Harry rage out and punch the shit out of a punching bag one night because he was so upset. She cheered him on and he was smiling as he was punching towards the end, she helped him release the emotions that built up and would of lead him back down a dark path.

She’s been an Angel sent from above, he knows Myla sent her to him because of how much they’re alike, Harry knows for sure they were sisters in a past life, their kind hearts and understanding natures alike but they have their differences, Myla was very out spoken and loved to party but Y/N is reserved and would rather stay inside with a hot chocolate and her crosswords while watching TV, but that’s another thing that Harry finds fascinating about her, she’s younger than him by eight years, when he was her age he was partying.

“Thank you Y/N, I needed this tonight” he says with a smile, her own smile on her face as she nods leaning over to rub her hand over his in a comforting manner, the pair looking at one another as they soak in their presences.

“It’s getting late, I should go” she says realising it’s nearly midnight, Harry and her need to be in work tomorrow morning and Harry has to wake up to get his little lady ready for school also. He gets a bit saddened when she says this, he secretly wants to hear more of her own college years and her own prom much like he told her earlier.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow” he says with a smile, watching as she gathers up her bag and throws it over her shoulder, car keys now in her hand as she smiles at him once more before heading for the den door. She pauses and looks back at him, his eyes meeting hers as they hold contact for a few seconds before she speaks up.

“See you tomorrow, Harry”

[whimsicallyreading]

For Day 29 of Rowaelin Month

“A song fic-“

The song- “Always Been You” by Quinn XCII

CW- Mentions of miscarriage and divorce

"I can't believe you right now."

Rowan looks at his wife in frustration. She's sitting at the end of their bed, staring listlessly at the wall. The skirt of the red dress she's wearing is wrinkled, and his heart aches when he notices the mascara marks on her cheeks.

"Aelin," Rowan tries again to reach for her, but she leans away from his grasp.

"No, Rowan. I'm done."

Rowan takes a long swing from the beer in front of him. The time on his phone alerts him that he's spent most of the evening sulking at his bar.

The guys had invited him to dinner, but Rowan hadn't felt like going in light of his current situation. Instead, choosing to meander to the shady little pub they'd passed by coming from the airport.

His lawyer had sent him numerous emails. Documents to sign, agreements to approve, and papers he needed to read through before sending them to the judge.

Divorce was a pain, and Aelin wasn't making it easy.

"Hey, bud. I thought I might find you here." Fenrys slides onto the barstool next to his.

Rowan sighs and rubs the lines forming on his forehead. "Well, I thought it was obvious I didn't want company."

"Too bad. Drinking alone isn't a good look on you." Fenrys raises a hand and motions for another round of beers. "How are things going with ya know?"

"Shitty. She's never paid a dime of rent on that apartment, but she wants the lease signed into her name and for me to front the first four months of rent." Rowan cracks a peanut between his finger. He has no intent to eat the growing pile in front of him. He just craved the satisfaction of breaking something.

"Well, have you talked to her about that?" Fenrys frowns in sympathy, knowing how equally attached both parties were to the little rental.

Rowan laughs mirthlessly. "No, she said that it was better if our conversations were mediated. I always knew Aelin was catty, but she's acting like such a-"

"Don't." Fenrys gives Rowan a severe look. "I know you are upset, but don't start saying shit you'll regret."

Rowan pauses and reluctantly nods his agreement. It's the alcohol talking. He knew the problems that had festered his marriage were predominantly his responsibility.

He takes a deep breath, but a heaviness seems to keep the air from reaching his lungs fully. The weight was slowly becoming too familiar, starting the day Aelin had presented him with the papers.

Rowan wishes he'd done more. Wishes he'd paid more attention and seen the signs of Aelin's unhappiness.

The day Aelin had broken down in their bedroom had been a cold wake-up call but by then? It was already too late.

"You missed our anniversary Rowan." Aelin shouts and pulls her heels off angrily.

Rowan picks up a shoe and tries to hand it back to her. "I know. I'm sorry. It's not too late, though. We can still go out? There's still time to salvage-"

Aelin turns away from him and seems to fold in on herself. Rowan wants to reach out. He wants to hold her, but something dark is building in the air.

"I don't want your leftovers, Rowan," Aelin whispers. "That's all I get anymore—your leftover time. Your leftover attention. Whatever leftover resentment you bring home from work."

"Aelin-" he tries to cut off her depressive spiral, but she's not finished.

"You used to call me during the day." Aelin's voice cracks, and he realizes she's crying. "Every day, you would call me on your break. Now you don't even call when you leave town."

"Baby, just listen to me." He puts his hands on her shoulders, but Aelin breaks his grasp to turn around and look at him.

"Is there someone else?" Her eyes are wide and vulnerable. So unlike his regular Aelin."

"What?" His brain is struggling even to formulate a reply. Rowan's lack of response only causes Aelin to worry more.

Something in her cracks. There's a quiver to her lips, and her face drains of color. "Oh. Oh no."

"Aelin. I swear there is no one else." Rowan finally says, but it's too late.

"Is," Aelin presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Is it because I lost the baby?" She sucks in a hiccupping breath. "You've always wanted kids. So did I, but my fucking body doesn't work."

Aelin closes her eyes, and Rowan knows she's speaking more to herself than him, but her words gut him just the same. "My body doesn't work right. I keep giving us false hopes and wasting money on pregnancy tests. Of course, you would look for a woman who can give you what you want."

He's surprised by the sudden flare of anger in him. "Don't put words in my mouth. That will never be your fault."

They'd known right from the start their journey to parenthood would be a long one. Aelin had a family history of complicated fertility. It had seemed so trivial when they got married. Yet even knowing there could be issues, nothing quite prepared them for the pain of a miscarriage.

Aelin sniffles, unable to force back her grief, "But you resent me. Don't you?"

Rowan doesn't reply.

"It's rough," Rowan admits out loud. "I let a lot get left unsaid. I was hurt and pushed her away. Now she won't even speak to me without a lawyer present."

Fenrys nods, "It's all probably for the best. Once this is over, you guys can put this drama behind you."

"I wish it were that easy," Rowan knocks back the rest of his beer. He grimaces at the drink. It's not taking hold quickly enough.

Fenrys raises an eyebrow. "You both will be able to shut the book on this chapter of your lives and move on? Considering how bloody you two have been fighting, it sounds ideal."

They sit in silence. Fenrys takes the peanut basket away from Rowan and picks at the shells. The bartender comes by, and disgruntledly eyes Rowan's pile of crumbs as he orders a whiskey neat.

Fen was like his little brother, but Rowan found it hard to admit his real problem to him aloud. "I still love her."

The basket goes flying over the side of the counter, and Fenrys chokes on his beer. "What?"

Rowan can't look him in the eye, "We lost a baby. It was early. Aelin didn't want to tell everyone. Three years we tried to get pregnant, and finally, a test comes back positive. She was so happy."

"Shit," Fenrys says quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"It was there, and then it was gone. I thought Aelin was fine. She cried for a week, but then it was like a switch flipped, and she was back to normal." Rowan clenches a napkin in his fist. "I was devastated. It hurt like hell, but I didn't want to send her back into a depression." Rowan shakes his head at how stupid he'd been. "So I put some distance between us. I didn't want her to think I was upset with her."

"I didn't feel better," Rowan sips the whiskey, relishing the warmth. "It made me mad that she got over it so quickly, and I couldn't. I didn't realize that I was growing that space between us. I didn't understand how much guilt she harbored and that she tried to be strong for me. Not until she broke."

"We fought. I said all the wrong things. Aelin couldn't take it anymore, she left, and I didn't stop her." Rowan leans his head on his hands and elbows against the counter. "She's the love of my life, and I watched her walk out the door."

Fenrys sucks in a breath and sighs. "You are my best friend, and I mean this in the most loving way possible. Why the hell are you here?"

"What?" Rowan looks at Fenrys annoyed face.

"Get out of here. Go. I'll tell the boss you have ebola or some shit." Fenrys fishes his wallet out and throws cash on the bar. "I'll even cover the tab. Just leave. Now."

"What? I don't understand?"

Fenrys looks at Rowan like he's stupid. "No offense, but you are about as interesting as a brick wall. The fact you caught a girl like Aelin is astonishing. If you love her, are you honestly going to let her go on being miserable?"

"She's not miserable," Rowan scoffs.

Fenrys laughs bitterly. "You forget I'm pals with Aedion too? Aelin winds up at his house almost every evening crying her eyes out. You two are still hopelessly in love. You're just dumb and badly in need of a good conversation."

"Aelin is upset?" A sense of disbelief washes over him.

"Yes! She misses you, but she's under the impression you are off sleeping around." His face saddens. "I told Aedion you weren't. He knows I go on all of these trips with you. Aelin's just upset you're gone and needs to believe in something that can help her let go."

Rowan stands up, swaying. "I have to go."

"Hell yeah, you do. Give Aelin my love," Fenrys waves as Rowan vates the bar like a hawk out of hell.

Aelin sets the stack of papers in front of him.

Rowan had been camping out in his office ever since there disaster of an anniversary. He'd texted a few times, but every time they talked, it was like relighting a fuze. Things weren't getting better.

"What are these?" Rowan asks without looking up from his screen.

"Your ticket to freedom," Aelin sits in the chair across from him.

She looks thin, thinner than she did when Arobynn was her foster father. It physically hurts Rowan that he's causing her that kind of stress. Glancing at the papers, she slapped in front of him. His blood becomes like an ice river through his body. "Aelin-"

"I'm not the one for you. That's apparent now. I won't hold you hostage in a marriage that you aren't happy in." Aelin blinks, and a tear slides down her face. He wants to wipe it away, but he's beyond angry. She was giving up on them.

"If this is what you want," Rowan slides the papers towards him and pulls out a pen.

Rowan is racing the familiar paths to their apartment. He doesn't care that it's almost four in the morning. The plane ride between Perranth and Ornyth is mercifully short, but he can't force himself to wait another minute.

"Aelin," he yells through their door. "Baby, answer me. Open the door."

Rowan's fists tap a consistent rhythm on the door, and his heart skips a beat when a bedraggled Aelin finally appears. "Rowan, do you know what time it is?"

She's in a pair of grey flannel pajamas, not one of her usual silky numbers. Aelin's eyes are red around the edges, and her face is still dewy from the excessive amount of lotion he knows she loves to put on. Rowan knows all of her routines. All of her favorite outfits, comfort movies, and best memories. He knows the scar she has on her left hand from an abusive foster father. Rowan remembers how the bridge of her nose wrinkles when she's upset in the same spot her cousin's does.

He knows everything about her, because not only were they husband and wife, they were best friends.

How could he have let that go?

Before Aelin can ask any more questions, Rowan has swept her into his arms. "I missed you so damn much."

"Rowan, have you been drinking?" Aelin asks in a voice cracked with emotion.

His hands are running up her back, and his knows burrows into her hair. He's always loved the smell of her jasmine shampoo. "Fireheart, I never resented you for losing the baby."

"Rowan, I don't want to talk about this," Aelin tries to push him away, but he squeezes her into his chest, and she melts.

That had been his mistake. He should have held Aelik like this and never let her go on pretending to be happy. How could he know everything about this woman and not have seen past her facade? She'd suffered. His own pain had blinded him.

"Aelin, I've made so many mistakes lately." Rowan rubs the back of Aelin's neck the way she likes, and he can feel the sobs starting to build up inside of her. "But the greatest shame of my life is not being there for you when you needed me. I was stupid, Fireheart. I'm not going to be stupid any longer. This separation can't go on, we aren't any happier for it, and I can't live knowing I'm away from the other half of my soul."

Aelin cracks, and he can feel the tears wetting the front of his shoulder. "You were never home. I thought there was someone else, someone who could give you the things you wanted because I can't."

Her whole form is shuddering his arms, and Rowan squeezes tighter as if he can hold her broken pieces together. "It's always been you. I don't care if we adopt or never have any kids at all. All I need is you, baby. You are all I've ever needed."

Suddenly, hands are in Rowan's hair as Aelin crushes their lips together. The kiss is frantic, a relief of the stress they'd carried upon their shoulders.

"I missed you too," Aelin whispers in between kisses. “Gods I mussed you so much.”

The rest of their night is filled with soothing words, frantic kissing, and murmured apologies. Rowan kisses the tears from her cheeks and Aelin looks into his eyes like she’s home. Nail dig into skin as they promise never to be apart again.

For the first time in months they sleep in the same bed. Rowan sinks into a deep restful sleep with his wife in his arms once more. He loves the way her cold toes search out his heat. How Aelin fits so perfectly against his chest. When he wakes up and she’s still there, his heart nearly features from relief.

After months of pain, it's the beginning of their walk towards healing.

The days after aren't perfect. They had legal issues to sort back out, more problems to lay bare to the sunlight. There was arguing, but it lacked actual heat, and they didn't walk away feeling unloved at the end. No longer did they fight to land barbs. Their bickering now served to work towards solutions and to express needs.

Between struggles, the love began to grow back. Rowan kept his job at work, and when he was home, it was about them. He started calling her on his breaks again, and it always astonished him how much he missed the sound of her voice. They both strived to communicate their feelings better and actually listen instead of reacting.

Aelin surprised him with romantic dates, and Rowan read pages of her favorite books to her at night. They danced in the kitchen and laughed at their favorite shows.

Fixing their marriage was hard work, but Rowan and Aelin didn't mind. The separation proved that neither of them wanted a life without the other. It was to whatever end, and they wouldn't accept anything less for them.

On one Sunday morning, Rowan opens his eyes and realizes that Aelin isn't on her side of the bed. Panic surges in him, and he looks around to make sure her things are still there.

They are, and the tension eases from his shoulders until he hears soft crying from the bathroom. Darting out of bed, he grabs Aelin's bathrobe and knocks on their bathroom door. "Aelin, what's wrong?"

Had he screwed something up? Was she sick?

The lock clicks, granting him silent permission for him to come inside. Rowan pushes the door open and finds Aelin crying on the side of the tup. With gentle hands, he wraps her robe around her and throws an arm over her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Aelin looks up at him, a radiant smile on her face. "Look."

Rowan glances down to her clenched fists and-

He blinks, once, twice. Aelin laughs at his dumbfounded face, and it breaks his paralysis. Rowan grabs her around the waist and spins her around the cramped bathroom, the positive pregnancy test clattering to the floor.

Aelin's arms wrap around his neck. The emotion in the room is raw and bittersweet, but there's a hopefulness that can't be denied. Rowan holds her tight as they process the news. When they break apart, the love between them is palpable. They had another shot at this, a fresh start.

Hards times would come and go, but good days were never far behind for them. Because for Aelin and Rowan, it's always been them.

And that's all they needed.

[tuiyla]

no pressure to respond if it's too heavy for you, but do you ever also feel like naya's death hasn't fully sunk in yet? like i'll just be watching glee tiktoks/gifsets on tumblr or whatever and then it'll suddenly hit me that naya passed almost two years ago now. still doesn't feel real.

Yeah I do, and I think others feel similarly as well. It's a bittersweet feeling to know you're not alone Anon.

It's tricky with celebrities and parasocial relationships because it's not like a lot of us had or would have met Naya so her loss doesn't have that immediate effect. I can go about my day, go about my life in fact and it's the same because she wasn't part of it in that sense. We can even watch Glee and pretend, or even forget for a little while. But I'm like you, it tends to suddenly hit me with this sinking feeling in my stomach. Oh. It's an extra layer of crazy that it's gonna be the two-year anniversary before we even know it. Life doesn't stop for the rest of us.

The most reassuring thing (hopefully) I can tell you is that you're not alone and it's perfectly valid to feel this grief, even though it's quite different from what we normally recognize when close loved ones pass. I think it's because of the parasocial aspect of it that it doesn't feel real for a lot of people even now. Death can be like that anyway; just speaking from personal experience, sadly. I'm attending a funeral next week, actually, so, yeah. But just because the grief people feel for Naya is a different kind, like I say it's still valid. And it's because of this lack of immediate effect on our personal lives that I think this "doesn't feel real" effect is heightened, imo.

I hope you can continue to find beauty in her work and even honour her legacy in some way if you're feeling up to it. At this point, I've written two pieces that I'd consider to be sort of tributes to Naya (plus a gifset), and I always find those cathartic to create. It was the sharp knife of a short life indeed, her passing at only 33 but I take comfort in knowing that she gave so much in that short time and gave so many people hope. I think that's beautiful and a way to appreciate the time she did have. My heart breaks for her son every time I remember him, as well as the rest of her friends and family but at least as fans we can be spared that heartbreak and admire the things she got to do as an actress, singer, and overall public person. May she rest in peace.