#ravens like okay whatever that means. do you wanna watch me bite the controller after i die

[sracha]

i cant stop making these damn things

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Mollymauk Tealeaf wakes up in a grave by the road ten years after he died. Things have gone a bit wrong since then and he might be the only one who can set things right… since it’s the Mighty Nein themselves who’ve gone wrong. AU: Where Molly comes back to yell at his super-powered Level 20 friends. (AO3 - part1) (AO3 - part 2) (AO3 - part3) (AO3 - part4) (AO3 - part5) (AO3-part6) (AO3-part7)

Molly falls, hard. He slams into the ground and the ground smells like torn grass and earth. He’s lying face down, grimacing, fingers dug into the dirt at the roots of the grass while he rides out the echo of dying from one plane to the next. He doesn’t hurt, not physically, but the phantom pain shudders through him like hot and cold waves in succession. He lifts his head, hair sliding into his eyes, for a moment just hanging there on his hands and knees, breathing hard and shaking.

A hand settles on his shoulder.

“Mollymauk.”

Molly knows their face before he even looks at them – the raven knight, pale under the glow of the moon and they say, “Are you okay?” 

“Yasha. They killed… did they…?”

“No. She’s the Deathless Storm. She’s fine, Mollymauk. Are you okay?”

“No.” Shakes his head, still bent over with the grass tearing beneath his fingers. “No, that thing is bloody waiting for me. It’s gonna kill me again. It has Fjord and it’s gonna… I don’t know what to –”

“Stop. Just take a moment. You have time here.”

“It so much worse on the other side.” 

The raven knight places two hands Molly’s shoulders. One hand moves to the side of Molly’s head, thumb sliding briefly along his temple tucking longer sections of his hair out of his eyes and behind his ear and it’s such a familiar thing to do that Molly immediately has to bite back this instinctive, animal sound at the sudden comfort. So wildly different from the violence that brought him here.

“But you’re not there right now. You’re here. You’re safe. No one and nothing can reach you when you’re with me. I swear it.”

“But I don’t remember this when I’m alive.”

“The living aren’t meant to remember death. I’m already breaking rules to hold this place for you. Under the eye of the Weaver and the Queen, your soul is allowed to hold its anchor to the material. Gods are watching you Mollymauk.”

“Fabulous. They’re watching me die over and over?” Molly’s mouth pulls in what he meant to be a sardonic grin, but mostly turns a grimace. “They wanna do anything about that?”

The hands tighten in his shoulders. “If you want to stop you can –”

“Fuck you,” Molly snaps. “That’s not true. If I fuck off now, Fjord’s just fucking alone in that hole isn’t he? If I don’t try, they won’t find Jester. They won’t stop whatever Beau becomes. You know I won’t let that bullshit happen.” Molly’s fists knot in the grass, tearing green at the root and then he twists up and slams his fist into the knight’s shoulder. “You knew that when you picked me! You didn’t have to pick me!”

They don’t resist Molly’s blow.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry,” Molly says. “Everyone’s so bloody fucking sorry. They’re sorry I died. They’re sorry I’m alive. They’re sorry to kill me and remember me wrong. They knew me for two months! This is bullshit. Fuck your sorry. You’re not the one dying over and over.”

“No, I’m not. But I have been. It’s okay not to –”

“I don’t care!” Molly is kind of mortified, but his eyes are running over and he’s too tired to stop himself. He grips two fistfuls of the knight’s cloak, dropping his forehead against his knuckles where he grips hold of them. “I don’t care if you did this eons ago. I’m doing this right now and it bloody hurts! I don’t want to do this.” 

“Then stop.”

“I can’t!”

The knight wraps their arms around him, gathers his head in one hand, pulling him close. They’re a little cool to the touch and Molly can’t feel a heartbeat when the Queen’s hand pulls him into a tight embrace, almost a strait-jacket hold, like they’re trying to bind a wound with pressure but there is no part of Molly that is not wounded. They press their chin into the top of his head, gripping him for a very, very long time.

Molly lifts his head a little. His voice is raw when he asks, “Is your name Vax?”

“Yes.” They hold him tighter. “Vax’ildan. And it’s been a long time since someone remembered.”

“What happened to you?”

“I did what you’re doing. I said no to death so I could save my friends.”

“Am I going to become like you?”

Vax freezes a moment, then relaxes, their hand briefly stroking over his hair before stilling. “No. It’s not something that just happens. You would have to ask for this.”

“It’s destroying us,” Molly whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“The other version of me. They don’t remember being here.” Molly grips tighter to Vax’s cloak. “It’s just… it’s just death over and over. There’s no reprieve. This doesn’t work unless we remember all of it.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I can feel him fraying, Vax’ildan. We’re like… like two sides of the same fucking coin, but he’s taking all the hits. He’s alone on the other side.”

“I don’t have domain in the Material Plane. I can’t travel between; I only govern transition. I’m sorry.” 

“That thing has hold of me,” Molly rasps. “What’s it doing to me?”

“There is… there is divine power this thing can feed from. That which bind you to the material plane… the breaking of the thread and the maintaining of it when you return… there’s a ghost power there it can consume with each breaking. It’s feeding off the magic that’s keeping your soul bound to your body against the pull of the Astral Plane.” There’s a pause, then, “Fjord fed his patron on the divinity of an Old God. It’s hunger now won’t be slaked by anything but more of the same. You have a breath of that power on you.”

“Tell me what to do.” Molly whispers. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know, Mollymauk.” 

“Your gods are assholes then.” 

Molly pulls away then. Getting to his feet and walking away toward the top of the hill. The moon shines silver on the grass and Molly lifts his face into the light like you turn into the sunshine in the summer. The breeze feels warm across his skin, brushing his hair from his brow. He shivers and presses his hands to his breastbone and tries to remember the feeling of metal punching through him, of the final moments beneath the snow-flurried sky on a frozen road so long and not so fucking long ago.

“Well, fuck you too,” Molly whispers. Louder, he says, “Send me back.” 

“Molly, you don’t have to –”

Molly spins around. “Send me back! Send me back right n–!”

   Fjord is staring down at him.

Molly feels a dull hum of magic across his skin, glowing through him and his heart pulses fast in his chest like it’s just come coughing back to life and it’s only then Molly remembers to fucking breathe. He jerks slightly, gasping like someone coming up for air after a deep dive. He coughs at the sudden cold infusion of oxygen. He’s lying in shallow water, clothes soaked, hair soaked. Molly shivers as Caduceus Clay’s final Death Ward breathes across his skin. That last tracery of familiarity dissipates… and then it’s just him and the Leviathan.

Fjord is standing over him, shaking his head slowly, horror in his eyes.

“Fjord?” Molly rasps, too afraid to move. “Fjord, don’t.”

His friend swings one boot over Molly’s body, settles so he’s standing straddling Molly’s waist. Molly raises one hand, palm up as if to ward a blow. He can’t stop the panicked shallow hyperventilation that seizes his lungs or stop the shaking in his hand or the sound of fear that catches in his throat as Fjord kneels down over him. Molly tries to speak again, but can’t get the words out. Fjord grabs his wrist. Effortlessly. Easy. He pushes it aside, forcing his wrist down, pinning it flat in the water over Molly’s head.

“Fjord, listen to me. Or your patron. Whatever.”

Fjord reaches down almost curiously, like you do exploring a new partner’s body, and lays a hand around Molly’s throat. The touch sends a blinding jolt through every dread-sensitized nerve in Molly’s frame. He tastes bile. Feels his eyes going hot, his mouth dry. He can barely get the words out because the thing controlling Fjord is pressing his thumb into pulse of Molly’s carotid artery.

“Wait! Wait, wait. You’re going too fast. If you go too fast I won’t come back. Listen. You have to give me a break. Listen!”

Fjord hesitates. Or rather, the thing staring through Fjord hesitates. His head tilts slightly, like a cat with something under its paw. Molly’s shaking so hard it physically hurts. His entire body aches fear. The possible eternity unraveling before him in a cycle of terror and dying and dark waters.

Desperately he says, “Fjord, are you still here?”

Silence. Just the staring.

“Fjord. Help me –”

Fjord draws his finger across Molly’s neck and opens his windpipe. It’s such a clean cut, so molecularly thin, Molly doesn’t feel it. Just the sudden terrifying sensation of instant pulsing light-headness and liquid warmth. He instinctively grabs his throat with his free hand, fingers sliding over the gaping yawn in his trachea, instantly soaking his hands in blood.

It doesn’t—

He tries to speak, but can’t talk. Fjord staring down at him. Molly closes his eyes and—

  “Stop it!” Vax is kneeling over him. They have their hands on Molly’s shoulders, gripping him so tightly their fingers are digging into muscle. The fear in their eyes makes them young and suddenly Vax’ildan doesn’t seem so immortal or ancient or knowing as they shake Molly angrily and yell, “Don’t fucking do that! Mollymauk, listen to me, the reason I asked for this intermediary space was to give you a rest. Okay? Don’t do that.”

“It’s possessing Fjord,” Molly whispers. “He’s been alone with that thing for years. Years. He’s been alone with—”

“And time is fast there,” Vax snaps, cutting him off. “Wait one minute or ten years here and it will be the next moment for him. Don’t run away from me like that. Don’t put yourself in a loop, Mollymauk.” 

“Help me remember,” Molly says.

“I can’t. I can’t help with that.”

“Then send me back.”

“No! Molly, don’t—!”

  Molly spasms into consciousness, spits blood and for a horrible moment writhes and chokes on warm iron. His spine arches then jolts the other way, and he rolls onto one flank where he immediately vomits red to clear his airway. For a moment he just kneels there coughing and retching. There’s a pair of plain leather boots in front of him, crusted in barnacles and sea life. Molly doesn’t lift his head. Doesn’t move.

Eventually, fingers slide into the hair at the back of his head, slowly, almost gently at first… then closing, twisting into his hair and gripping tight.

“Molly,” Fjord’s voice is shaking. “I can’t stop. You gotta stop coming back.”

Molly shudders. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You don’t want to stay here, friend. C’mon. Anyone can die.”

“No, I mean I can’t!” Molly cries. His fingers curl against the cold, soaking ground. “I can’t control this.”

There’s a low rumble then. Fjord grabs his collar and hauls him to his feet. He’s too hollow with horror to resist and Fjord gathers his jaw between his hands, fingers digging into the nape of his neck, thumbs pressing into the soft skin beneath his cheekbones. A rough handling that somehow… cherishes. Molly’s had lovers hold him like that and the comparison it like having his ribs split again. Fjord’s face is so close to his, they’re sharing the same breath and it tastes like salt.

And then a voice penetrates Molly’s head. Or rather, it emerges fully formed in the center of his brain sure as one of Nott’s bullets and it says: STAY.

“Fjord. Fight it. Please…”

ALONE HERE, says that voice, the words congealing in Molly’s head like a clot. FOREVER.

“Fjord! Gods, wake up!”

DIE FOR US.

Then Fjord yanks Molly’s head back and with his teeth he tears Molly’s throat out in a ripping red –

  “FUCK!” Molly is on the ground, in the grass. “FUCK! GODS!”

Hands close on his shoulders. He smells the musk of feathers and leather and someone is kneeling beside him on their knees in the grass with him. Molly retches, but he doesn’t quite because he doesn’t have physical form here, so how could he retch? He breathes frantically. Clutches his throat and shudders.  

“Stop,” Vax says softly. “Just take a moment. Okay? Don’t fucking do this to yourself. Please, listen to –”

Molly shoves him away. “Send me back.”

“Mollymauk. You’re not invulnerable. The soul is not invulnerable.”

“Fuck you, Vax’ildan. Send me back to Fjord right now.”

“Molly! I can’t protect you if you –”

  Molly wakes up and he’s still in Fjord’s hands, hanging like a ragdoll held by his biceps. There’s blood still wet on Molly’s shirt, shining on the mithril chain that Nott gifted to protect him. For a moment he just… hangs there, limp, too shell-shocked to do anything but lift his chin. There’s light in Fjord’s fingers and that sick slither of healing magic, like his windpipe just finished knitting itself back together.

Fjord is looking at him and his face is a mask of terror, his mouth and teeth a horror of arterial blood. Molly lifts his arms and grabs a fistful of Fjord’s shirt, fingers sinking into the dark, soaking fabric before he slides his hand instead to Fjord’s jaw, cradling his terrified face and it takes him two tries but he manages:

“Fjord? That you?”

“Molly, m’sorry.” He’s breathing shallow, voice strained and shuddering, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I tried to protect –” The words break off as he grips his once roommate tighter. “I tried to so hard to keep all of you away from this. And now you’re here and I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything. I can’t fucking–”

“It’s… it’s okay,” Molly manages, then laughs. “Well, no, it’s not. It’s terribly fucked up.” Molly swallows hard, heat rising in his eyes. “Are you going to kill me again?”

“Yes.” The syllables come like razors on Fjord’s tongue. His eyes are twisted closed, his expression agonized. “I can’t stop–”

“Hey. Hey, stop that.  S’alright.” Molly tugs Fjord’s head down, gently, like he isn’t covered blood. Like it’s not Molly’s blood. Molly presses a kiss to his friend’s forehead and whispers through a smile that’s a reflex born of instinct, “It’ll be alright. We’re in this together now. Okay?”

Then Molly feels a jolt down his arms, a phantom pull and as he watches, staring openly, some invisible force unzips the veins in his wrists and a painless rush of blood floods down his forearm and drips from his elbows. The voice in his head says, DIE FOR US. And Molly can’t do anything but stand there in Fjord’s grasp until he goes lightheaded, then dizzy, then dark and the last thing he feels his Fjord catching hold of him as he falls.

The last thing he hears is Fjord saying, “Stop it. Just stop it. Don’t make me–”

  “Molly, stop!”

Vax’ildan is holding him from behind, grappled like they’re trying to hold him back from a bar fight. One arm looped at Molly’s middle and one up around his chest like a bandolier. They’re speaking directly into Molly’ ear, gripping him so tight it aches a little. But it’s good. It’s good, because their arms around his body say that body is whole and his heart and lungs and everything are intact inside of him and he can breathe. He can breathe here even if his corpse is laying shredded somewhere else.

“Stop,” Vax is pleading. Their fingers dig into Molly’s shoulder. “Stay here. Just stay for a second, okay? Listen to me. I’ll get you through this but not this way. Work with me. Don’t do this.”

“Send me back.”

  Molly opens his eyes and Fjord is kneeling on top of him, straddling his chest, both hands on either side of Molly’s head like he’s been waiting for him to wake up. He doesn’t say a word. He just takes Molly’s head in his hands, almost gently, thumbs set against his temples – “Fjord,” Molly tries to say, “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not you.” – then he drives Molly’s skull into the ground with such monstrous fucking force it smashes his head open on the –

Vax is kneeling over him. They’re holding Molly’s head in their hands and they say, “You’re just being stubborn now. You don’t have to do it like this, you idiot. Let me fucking help you.”

Molly give them the finger and whispers, “Send me back, beautiful.”

And Vax looks gutted for a moment and –

  Molly wakes up and the Leviathan is waiting for him, staring at him through Fjord’s eyes and the searing, burning starvation in the gaze is insanity-inducing. It puts Fjord’s hand on Molly’s sternum and there’s a flare of arcane light. Molly screams as a necrotic fire bursts into and spreads through the interior of his chest, searing away flesh and sinew until Molly is clawing, choking blind on the tastes of his own disintegrating internal organs before merciful unconsciousness –

  Vax’ildan is staring down at him. Their face is blank and helpless, framed by dark hair. They just kneel there with their hands folded on Molly’s chest. They have Molly’s hand between their palms and they say nothing. They just wait and –

  Molly wakes up surrounded by a hundred dark specters. The moment he opens his eyes, they seize hold of him. Their touch pulls the life out of him, like a mouth draws blood off a wound and he screams. He twists in their grip, but they hold him fast among them. Their touch absorbs everything. Light and sound and heat. Molly calls wildly for Fjord, for Yasha, Nott, Caduceus, for anything fucking familiar, but there’s just the dark and Molly goes colder and colder and colder until he can’t see or breathe or move and there is darkness on his tongue and then –

  Molly is alone on a grassy hill beneath the moon and someone is saying, “Get out of my way, feather butt!” and before he can think that voice sounds familiar, there’s a tug like a string through his heart and –

  Molly opens his eyes.

His sitting in the water. He can feel his left arm hanging slack, his fingers submerged, his knees drawn up a little like someone pulled him into that position. Someone is holding him tightly. Fjord is kneeling on the ground and he’s got one arm protectively around his waist, the other looped around Molly’s shoulders, pressing Molly in against his chest. Fjord’s curled around him as if to shield him and Mollymauk can hear his heart humming through the cold fabric of his tunic. His hands where he’s touching Molly are warm, almost hot, like he’s staving off cold or… or like he’s just finished pressing healing magic into his blood yet again.

“I’ll do it,” he’s saying but like it’s killing him. “I’ll do it, damn you. Just stop. Stop.”

Molly feels drunk on regeneration but glances sidelong… and sees shadows slithering around them, a black serpentine coil of darkness that consumes all light. Utter darkness nested on all sides of them. Molly looks away from that and up at Fjord instead. He tries a sleepy smile.

“Hey, roomie, what’s happening?”

“Hey, Molly.”

“That sucked.”

“I know. Won’t happen again.”

Molly grins but he feels the fraying panic behind the exhaustion, sliding inside him like a razor down skin. “Gonna make it easy on me?” Molly swallows and turns his face against Fjord’s collarbone, like that will stop anything, like the comfort and warmth is anything but a precursor to what comes next. “Don’t ditch me with your asshole patron again.”

“Yeah. Yeah of course.  I’m here.”

Molly shivers, pulls his arms up and tucks them around his middle for a second.

“You cold?”

Molly laughs ragged. “Really?”

Fjord says nothing, but Molly feels a fresh rush of heat lathe over him, hot as summer and it feels good, but it can’t reach the ice inside him, driven there like a nail through his gut. Shivers begin in his hands, travel up his arms, until he’s shaking so hard he has to clench his teeth to stop them chattering. Fjord grips him more tightly. Wordlessly.

“You know,” Molly mumbles. “If you wanted to keep me away, kissing me in a dream was a really shitty way to do it. Honestly, play to your audience, man.”

Fjord huffs this sound that’s almost a laugh. “Sorry. I don’t remember you flirtin’ with dark specters that threaten to kill you. Must have been between Zedash and Hupperdook or somethin’.”

“Oooh, I’m very open-minded,” Molly says, clenching his eyes shut. “And I told you I thought you were pretty pretty. Didn’t I? Back then?”

“N-no. You never told me that.”

“Eh.” A shrug. “Well, now you know.” Molly shivers. “Uh, can you… can you make this quick, Fjord?”

Fjord says nothing. Molly feels him trying to think of something, anything, any comfort at all… but in the end, he just leans down, his hand sliding up Molly’s neck, to his temple. There his thumb presses, like you smooth a stamp on a letter, and the contact triggers an aneurism and he –

    Jester is staring down at him.  

He stares. The moon halos her head in silver. Her hair is longer and wilder than he remembers, the freckles more pronounced in her dark blue skin and the laugh lines at her mouth so much deeper. She’s got a scar across her nose and there are silver disks the size of a thumb print braided into her hair. She’s wearing a gray cloak that shimmers with all the colors in the rainbow and a few colors that Molly has no words for. She smells of carnival food, like walking past a fair in a childhood he doesn’t have.

“Hey, hey,” she whispers. Her eyes shine brighter than they should. She’s sitting with him in exactly the same way that Fjord was, his weight braced against her chest, her arms around his shoulders and middle, holding him tight. She whispers, “I traveled a long way to find you, Molly.”

“Jester?” Molly touches her hair, rubbing a small section between his fingers. “How are you here?”

“I just travel everywhere now. And your champion put out a call.”

“My champion?” Molly murmurs.

Jester glances sidelong and Molly follows her gaze… to Vax’ildan. Standing a ways off up the hill, arms folded, and looking both deeply annoyed and deeply relieved. But what catches Molly’s eye isn’t that but rather the towering figure standing behind them. Nearly two heads taller than the raven knight, a figure in a dark green cloak, the cowl pulled low over their eyes. They’re smiling just a little and Molly can’t explain the sensation of familiarity. Like he should know who they are but doesn’t.

He has to look away back to Jester. “Who is that?”

“The Traveler is with me,” Jester says. “Wherever I go, he follows.”

“Your god is just standing over there?” Molly laughs a little, voice cracking. “That’s so ridiculous!” He laughs again and hooks his arms around her shoulders, yanking her into a massive bear hug. “But I don’t even care. I’m just so bloody happy to see you.”

He can hear Jester’s throat tighten around her words.

“You too, Molly.” She hugs him so tight it aches and he just presses his cheek into her neck and inhales what feels like the first real breath he’s had in weeks. She rocks for just a second, holding him. “Oh, maaaan, this has been shitty. This has been the shittiest shit for you. I can’t believe they did this to you.”

“Gonna tell me you’re sorry?”

“Never.” She pulls back a little and this time her eyes are shining and wicked. “Because you found him for me.” She grips his shoulders, speaks urgently. “Uk’otoa is too hungry to think, so it can’t see it’s opened a road. It’s been a while since we’ve seen one another, but here’s the thing: a road is all I need now.” Her smile broadens and she whispers, “Mollymauk? Servant of the Moonweaver, the protector of secret meetings. Can you show me the path to Fjord?”

“My god is the champion of lovers and trysts.” Molly, even through his exhaustion, manages a grin. “You think she’s got your back?”

“Yes,” Jester says, beaming. “She sure the fuck does.”

And then she kisses Molly on the cheek and –

  Molly opens his eyes and he’s on fire.

His skin seethes with light, like flame off an accelerant and he burns an endless heatless blue. He stands up. A sourceless wind billows around him, tearing at his clothes and hair while the cyclone of light twists in ribbons of brightness around him. The waters part at his feet and through the fire he can see something in the darkness – something massive and black, a great bristling flank moving across his entire field of vision and every 50 meters or so a great yellow eye passes, staring directly at him.

The serpent, he knows, is wrapped around him, endlessly consuming itself and everything around it.

“Fjord!” Molly shouts into the darkness. “I remember this time! I remember what I’m doing here!”

That voice rumbles through his head again, dark and chaotic but… muted now. Not maddening like before: CANNOT BE HERE.

“Fjord!” Molly steps forward, the waters moving away from his boots with each step. “Fjord, we’re not alone down down here! I’m not bloody leaving you. C’mon!”

HE BELONGS TO THE SEA.

“Fuck you! You aren’t the sea!” Molly shouts, pointing a blazing finger at the shadow. “You’re a snake with delusions of godhood and you won’t hold up to a real deity!”

YOU ARE ALONE.

“You know,” Molly says, sensing he has an audience, “I serve the Moonweaver. Goddess of misdirection. Maybe you don’t know this but in any magic trick there’s three parts.” Molly holds up one finger. “A Pledge. That’s when you show someone something ordinary. Like a carnie that died ten years.” Molly holds up a second finger. “The Turn. You make that ordinary thing interesting. Like maybe you make him unkillable, so a death-addicted demi-god takes a good look.”

YOU ARE ALONE, roars the darkness.

But Molly ignores it and holds up a third finger.

“The Prestige is the good part. Cause you’ve been looking at me…” Molly can feel warm wind at his back, can smell something sweet as kettle-corn on an autumn day, and on a breeze that blows down a road that doesn’t yet exist, he hears a laugh. So he says “You shouldn’t have taken Fjord away from her.”

And Jester Lavorre says, “Give him back to me, you ugly fucking lizard!”

And the darkness ignites.

The pocket dimension tears open and through the howling gap of light and quantum screaming, a blue-skinned woman in a cloak and frilly skirts bursts forward. She lands on two feet, her hands extended in front of her and instantly all around her a thousand motes of light shiver and burst into a thousand-thousand glittering lollipops each the size of a battle shield. They gleam razor sharp against the shadow. She burns with the same blue light that covers Molly and she says, “We’re not leaving without him!”

NO.

“Give him back to us or I’ll tear you apart!”

YOU CAN’T.

“Yes, I fucking can!” The world shudders. Jester’s eyes are blazing suns, burning white and light issues from her throat like starlight through a tunnel of mirrors. Molly feels a hand suddenly on his shoulder and there’s whisper of green fabric though the corner of his eye, a ghost of a smirk in his head, like a fading memory. But Jester is shouting and he can’t turn his head to see if her god is, indeed, standing behind her. “YOU HAVE UNTIL THE COUNT OF THREE, STUPID!”

She points at the dark before her.

“ONE!”

The swarm of lollipops beings into spin, then speed into swirling orbit, spinning around the two of them until the there is a cyclone of spiritual weaponry screaming through the air.

“TWO!”

They’ve moving so fast now that their motion and light is becoming a blur, a dome of light that eclipses the dark. The shadow beyond the cyclone is recoiling from the radiant fire that now burns away the water, the darkness, and the cold. Everything smells like sugar and feels like summer and Molly can feel it like a rush of magic through him the want to just move, to run, to tear through some unknown passageway to a different destination. The light is blinding now. Burning. Jester opens her hand.

“THR—!”

Reality pops.

Molly blinks.

He’s standing in the middle of the road. The roar is gone, the sudden silence almost deafening before the low whisper of the surf comes through and the far cry of gulls beyond the breakers. There’s sunshine against his forehead and shoulders and there’s still blood all over his armor and clothes but the dark is gone. He’s facing the water, the tide lapping at his boots where he stands at the edge of an uninterrupted ocean and he can see where the road at his feet disappears down into the water. It takes him a moment realize… it looks a lot like the road through Port Damali to the Crushing Deep.

But the Deep has vanished.

There is nothing but the ocean and the shimmering of sunlight in the waves.

“Molly?”

He blinks again, turns and looks over his shoulder.

Jester is standing in the road behind him. Beside her, wearing strange leather armor and looking… almost exactly like he did ten years ago, stands Fjord. For a moment, Molly just stands there, covered in blood and feeling the breeze against his face. Staring at his two friends who, he notices, are holding hands very tightly. Yeah,he thinks, that makes sense. Okay.

“This real?” Molly asks.

Jester has tears on her face. She can’t seem to speak so she just nods furiously.

“Okay,” Molly says. He looks at Fjord. “You good?”

“Yeah, Mollymauk. I’m okay.”

Molly realizes his hands are shaking.

“It’s over?” Molly asks.

“Yes, it’s over,” Fjord says. “He’s gone. I can feel it. I know. It’s done, Molly. I can’t...” He looks at Jester, like he’s never seen anything like her before. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Jester holds out a hand. “You’re okay, Molly. Yasha and the others are on their way. I know it. I promise.”

“Good,” Molly says.

And that’s when Molly’s legs kind of give out.

He falls to his knees and he closes his eyes and the stones under his palms are sun-hot and for a moment there’s nothing but that heat and the sound of Jester and Fjord saying his name. And it’s real. It’s real. It’s real as Jester and Fjord grab hold of him and Jester’s magic breathes burning mint and healing fire through his veins. Fjord is gripping his head, shaking him a little saying, “Hey, hey look at me, Molly. Molly. Stay here. Stay with us.”

The sun is burning hot.

Molly is freezing cold.

He hears Yasha’s voice at a distance, yelling his name and he thinks, Now both of us are Deathless.

Then he passes out.

part 8

[earthschampion]

Here’s a small portion of a multiple-part story I wrote several years ago:

I’m in the process of completely re-writing the story because... Holy Plot-lines, Batman, the original is awful!  Like many, I’m not a fan of New52, and I haven’t really read much of Rebirth.  For those who have been following me for a while, you know I write pre-boot, mainly.  So in my writing, my Teen Titans team is where the series left off right before New52.  Red-Robin, Superboy, Wonder Girl, Raven, Beast Boy, Ravager, and Solstice.

Anywhere, he’s a small sample from the story:

It was another gorgeous morning in San Fransisco; the sun rose over Titans Tower, it’s beams shining through each window.  On the top of the Tower stood a small, green rooster.  Beast Boy, as always, was the first Titan to wake. "Gooooooood morning, San Francisco!" Gar yelled as loud as he could, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun on his feathers.  Once returning to his normal form, he made his way down to the kitchen in order to prepare breakfast for himself.

As he started up the stove, he felt a gust of wind behind him.  Turning to his left, he noticed Bart at the fridge. "Morning, Bart, hungry?"

"Always, but right now I’m just really thirsty.  Couldn’t sleep last night, so I was at the pool.” ��Bart pulled out the orange juice, then grabbed himself a glass from the dishrack before sitting at the counter.

“What’s wrong?  Trouble getting the relationship rolling with Rose?”  He dropped a handful of spinach onto the frying pan, then went to the fridge for egg whites.

The speedster’s face turned red as he choked on his sip of orange juice.  “What?!  Trouble?!  No! No trouble!  Things are smooth sailing with Rose!”

“Dude, it’s all good.  Bro-talk is happenin’ right now, we’re cool.  Sure, we get on each other’s nerves from time to time, but that’s what bros do.”  Gar served the omelet and put it in front of Bart.  “Here, a token of Bro-ness.  We cool?”

Bart looked down at the omelet, then back to Gar, who was holding up his fist.  A smile formed on his face, respectively pounding his fist against Gar’s.  “We’re cool.  Thanks, bro.”

“No problemo, hermano.”  Gar went back to the stove, preparing another omelet for himself.  “So tell me, what’s kept you up?  Is it Rose?  Somethin’ else? I’m all ears.”  He joked, having his ears turn into those of a Bloodhound.

“Well… Okay, yeah, it’s gotta do with Rose.  How real you want me to be?”

“Just don’t give me a play by play, and we’re solid.”

He let out a sigh as he re-filled his glass for a third time.  “Alright, well, our relationship basically started as a one night thing.  She was being flirty with me, and asked if I’ve ever been with anyone, then… Y’know.  Anyway, it was never anything official, she just basically comes to me when she wants to do stuff.”

“Not a bad agreement, there.”  Gar flipped the omelet before getting started on mixing the waffle batter.

“Well, not at first.  It was great, She was my first, and she taught me a lot.  But, I want an actual relationship.  I mean… I’ve always been kinda jealous of Conner and Cassie.”

He looked to Bart, pointing to his rabbit ear.  “Careful, Barty.  Kryptonians can’t always shut their super-hearing off.”

After throwing out the empty orange juice carton, Bart added it to the shopping list on the fridge.  “He probably already knows, anyway.  I mean, I love being a speedster, I’m not jealous of that.  But, he’s always had Cassie.”

“Everyone likes an Amazonian.”  Gar put his omelet on a plate as he gave Bart a wink.  “Can’t blame ya there, buddy.”

“I mean, Cassie’s gorgeous, but she’s always been a sister to me.  I mean, they’ve always had each other.  It’s something I’ve wanted, but… It’s hard, man.  And yeah, I get to do things with Rose and we sleep in the same bed every now and then, but I want it to be official…”

He placed the first waffle on the plate, then began filling up the waffle maker a second time.  “Have you thought about telling that to Rose?  That you wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Bart stabbed his omelet with his fork, a red shade appearing on his face.  “Once, and she laughed at me.”

He couldn’t control his laughter, it was too much to contain.  “She what?! You’re joking!”  Upon turning around, he saw the seriousness in Bart’s face.  A look that’s rarely seen.  “Oh, man, I’m sorry to hear that.  What’d she say to it?”

“She isn’t “the dating type.” That she doesn’t “do dating.”  And “why do we need a title?  What’s wrong with this?”  Basically, everything I didn’t want to hear.””  He stuffed his face with a bite from his omelet, then went over to start up the coffee maker.

Gar sat next to Bart’s seat at the counter, pouring some syrup onto his waffles.  “I mean, not to be rude or anythin’, but she’s right.  Don’t think about you and Rose for a second, just focus on Rose’s qualities.  She’s a badass, sword-fighting, cigarette-smoking, white-haired, single-eyed babe.  She drinks, she does whatever she wants, and won’t settle for anythin’.  She may sound rude and mean when she says those things, but maybe it’s because she knows you deserve someone better?  She knows you deserve someone who’s fun and innocent, someone who can be playful.  You probably can’t see it now, because you’re too busy being infatuated with Rose.”

“Dude, when’d you get so mature?”  Bart laughed as he lightly punched Gar’s arm.  “I mean, you’re probably right.  Right now, I want Rose and only Rose because of everything we’re doing.  If we were to stop, maybe I’d find someone else.”

“Who says you can’t be looking now?”

“W-What?  Whaddya mean?  I’m with Rose, dude!  Haven’t you been listening?!”

“Loud and clear, m’man.”  Gar pointing to his deer ears.  “And from my understandin’, you two aren’t together.  You guys are F.W.B’s.”

Bart raised a brow, finishing up his omelet.  “Fun With Babies?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long sigh.  “Friends With Benefits, bro.  Meaning you two aren’t together, but you’re doing things.  Get it?”  He rolled his eyes, then looked back to the speedster.  “Fun With Babies?  Really?  What’s wrong with you?”

He nodded, quickly washing his plate and fork in the sink.  “So, you’re saying I should be looking for someone right now?  You know how hard it is to find someone in the superhero community?”

“So? Date someone outside the hero community.  Wally did it, So did Barry. Hell, even Superman did it.”  Gar took a bite of his omelet, then went over and poured two cups of coffee for himself and Bart.

“I wanna be with another hero, I don’t wanna have to hide who I am.”  Bart took the mug, grabbing a banana before heading back to the counter.

After putting some vegan-creamer in his coffee, Gar sat back down, changing into a chimpanzee as he ate his own banana.  “Ooooh, I see.  So we have some desires, do we?  What else is on the requirement list to date Kid Flash?”

“That’s really it.”  Taking a sip from his coffee, Bart grabbed a spoon and added some more sugar.  “I just need to be honest with her.  As long as we get along, and she’s a beautiful hero, I’ll be happy. Anyway, enough about me.  I got a question for you, actually.”

“Shoot.”  Showing a set of finger guns, he changed back to his normal self as he took another gulp of his coffee.

“Why is it you don’t ever come down with Raven?  You’re always first.”

“Because Raven likes to sleep in a bit more than I do.”

“Okay, yeah, but I mean… Conner and Cassie come down at the same time… Tim and Stephanie come down at the same time, whenever she stays over, that is… Don’t you like to stay in bed with Raven?” Gar finished his coffee and twirled his spoon.  “Well, yeah, I guess when you put it that way… Truth is, Raven isn’t much of a cuddler.  It’s hard to express emotions when your father is literally a demon that feeds on your emotions.  I’m honestly surprised we’re able to do the things we do?”

Bart brought over the coffee pot, topping Gar off before refilling his own mug.  “Stuff like what?”

Raising his mug as a sign of thanks, he took a sip before continuing.  “Like, we hold hands, we kiss, we cuddle at night.  Once in a while, other things… I think she blocks herself off sometimes when she feels she’s getting too comfortable.  She may be part-demon, but she’s also part-human.  And like everyone else, the human-side of her craves connection and emotion.  It’s an ongoing war in her, she can only feed her human-side’s cravings so much before Trigon can have a chance at using her.”

“I didn’t think of it like that… But she seems to be expressing herself a bit more, right?”  She actually gives me hugs and plays with my hair when we watch tv!”

He laughed a bit as he took another sip from his coffee.  “She thinks of you as her youngest brother.  She said she enjoys when you fall asleep next to her, you’re like a cat.”  Gar changed into a cat as he hopped onto Bart’s lap.  “You vibrate when you snore, like your form of purring.”

“Knock it off!”  Bart laughed, pushing Gar off of him.  “Wait, she thinks of me as the youngest?”

“Yep!  Tim’s the oldest because he acts the most mature.  Kon is the middle-child, and you’re the baby.  In Raven’s eyes, anyway.”  He laughed again, bringing his plate and mug to the sink.  “As for the girls, Rose is the oldest, Cassie and Stephanie are twins, and Kiran is the youngest.”

“Kiran… Hmmm.”  Bart tapped his foot on the barstool as he looked towards the doorway.  “Do you think--”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Loverboy.”  Gar patted Bart on the back.  “Baby steps, I know that’s hard for you.  It’s more like baby miles, in your case.”

"Garfield, let him at least have some hope." Raven walked in, giving Bart a gentle smile as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Good morning, Bart.  Things with Rose aren’t going well?"

"Mornin' Rave.”  Bart leaned his back, resting his head against her chest as she played with his hair.  He would never admit to it, but Raven was like a second mother to him.  She always seemed so protective of him, and he loved his quality time with her.  “Your Nat-Geo of a boyfriend gave me some advice. Are we still watching that movie together?" He smiled wide as he offered her an orange from the table. She gladly accepted the orange before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.  “Of course, we didn’t marathon the entire “Ultimate Ninja” series for us to not watch the seventh one.””  Raven left Bart and went over to the fridge, grabbing milk before going to the cabinets for cereal.  Leaning over, she gave Gar a kiss on his cheek.  “Good morning, Garfield.”

“Mornin’, honey.” He returned the kiss before motioning towards Bart at the counter.  “You give him kisses, too?”

A gentle roll of her eyes, she patted Gar’s cheek as she spoke quietly.  “You know my love for him is different than my love for you, Garfield.”

“Mhm.”  Gar went back to putting the dishes away, grabbing Raven a bowl, as well.  “Let’s make sure it stays that way.  I don’t need you trying to hit on my woman, Speedy.”

“Wrong hero, but noted.”  Bart placed his mug in the sink before looking back to Raven.  “Hey, Rave?  When are we watching the movie?”

“As soon as I finish eating, I’ll meet you on the couch, deal?”

“Sounds good!  See ya, Rave!  And Gar… Thanks.”  He gave them both a smile and a salute, then ran out of the room.

Gar looked to Raven, an eyebrow raised as he leaned his back against the counter.  “Ultimate Ninja, huh?  I didn’t take you for a kung-fu fan.”

Raven shrugged her shoulders as she carried her bowl of cereal to the counter.  “I don’t particularly enjoy it, but I know Bart loves to snuggle up to me and have me play with his hair.”

“You know because he told you?  Or because you felt it?”

“Both.”  She covered her mouth as she finished her spoonful. “He told me how he loves showing me his favorite movies and shows.  What he didn’t say, however, is how he thinks of me as his mother, in a sense.”

Once again, he couldn’t control his laughter.  “Sheesh, he thinks you’re old?  Want me to knock some sense into the kid?”  He flexed his gorilla arm, before walking over to sit beside Raven.

“That is unnecessary, I think it’s very sweet.”  She continued to eat her cereal for a moment.  “He misses his parents, and I can understand that feeling.  I’ll admit, since I first felt this is what he thinks of me, I have purposely been acting more… Motherly towards him.”

“So the snuggling on the couch and the kisses…?”  Gar’s voice trailed, raising a brow to her.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, Garfield, I will stop.  I am being honest when I say it’s strictly platonic.”  She put down her spoon, reaching for his hand.  “My love for you is… Passionate.”

A smile formed on his face, looking down at their hands.  “If the kid thinks of you as his old lady, it’s fine.  But if he starts gettin’ flirty, we’re gonna have problems.”

She turned Gar’s face towards her lips, kissing him gently.  “Do not worry, my love.  Now, if you excuse me.  It’s time for me to meditate through-- I mean, thoroughly enjoy “Ultimate Ninja 7: The Samuracalypse.”  She gave Gar one more kiss before meeting Bart on the couch, the menu screen already on the television.

Bart had his legs stretched out on the couch as he played on his tablet.  Glancing up, he noticed Raven walking into the room.  “Hey, Rave!”  He sat up straight, putting his tablet on the coffee table.  “Check it!  I’ve got some Oolong tea here, for ya!”  He smiled wide, pressing the volume button on the remote to unmute the television.

Eyes widened, Raven looked back into the kitchen and noticed there wasn’t a teapot on the stove.  “How did you make the tea?  I was in the kitchen with Garfield the entire time.”

“Ninja skills, Rave.  Ninja skills.”  He smirked, patting the seat next to him.  “You ready for the movie?”

What she said to Gar was true, she has purposely been acting more motherly towards Bart.  What she did not tell him, however, was that she’s been viewing Bart more as a son.  It was something she would keep to herself, just as her knowledge of Bart’s feelings.  She sat on the couch, and took the mug from Bart, who immediately rested his head against her chest.  Raven wrapped her arm around him, her hand slowly brushing up and down his arm.  “Whenever you are ready, Bart.  And thank you for the tea, it was very thoughtful.”  Raven gave him a gentle smile as she took a sip from the mug.

“Raven, we don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to...”

“But how will we know what becomes of Ninjokyo City?  And the rise of the robot samurai’s?  Aren’t you curious?”  She looked down at him, noticing a concerned look on his face.  “Is something wrong?”

Bart looked down and played with his fingers.  “You don’t have to lie about liking the movies, Raven, it’s okay.”

With a sigh, She put the mug back on the coffee table before looking to Bart.  “Bart, do you know why I’ve watched the past six Ultimate Ninja movies with you?”  She gave him a moment, but only received a shrug as a response.  “It’s because I enjoy spending this time with you.  It doesn’t matter what we watch, I’m more than happy to sit here with you.  It’s calming, which is very ironic, considering how you’re normally all over the place.”  She chuckled as she lifted his head up.  “I appreciate this time spent with you, Bart.  It’s nice to focus on something other than my inner demons, for lack of a better phrase.”

He sat up and wrapped his arms around her.  “I like it, too.  Thanks for putting up with me, Raven.”  He released from the hug and handed her the remote.  “So, what would you like to watch?”

“Absolutely anything else other than Ultimate Ninja.  For all I care, Ninjokyo City can crumble to the ground.”  She laughed, giving Bart another gentle kiss on his forehead.  She let Bart rest his head on her lap as he stretched out on the couch again, her fingers combing his hair as they channel-surfed.

[allthings-fantasy]

Dear Bellamy (Pt 6 of Pen Pals)

Author: @allthings-fantasy

Pairing: bellamy x reader

Word Count: 2646

Summary: After Bellamy’s outburst at dinner, he begins avoiding the reader at all costs. Will anyone be able to get through to him? Or has he shut everyone out for good?

Authors Notes: I’m so glad everyone seems to be enjoying this series. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve written so far. Enjoy reading! 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5     MASTERLIST

Bellamy’s POV 

He left Y/N’s apartment without a single glance back. He didn’t mean to yell at her, didn’t mean to push her. But what was done was done. There was no going back now. Bellamy knew he officially scared her off for good. Maybe it’s for the best. He didn’t want to burden her with his baggage. She deserved better than this. But it still didn’t stop his chest from shattering. 

His foot slammed on the gas petal, he didn’t know where he was going, but he knew it had to be far. The further he drove, the blurrier his vision got. For a moment, Bellamy let his emotions get the best of him. His eyes stung as tears slid down his cheeks. 

Driving wasn’t enough to calm his nerves, he needed something else. Something to cloud the thoughts of her. Bellamy didn’t like letting people in. Hell he barely let his sister in. But Y/N, that damn girl dug herself so far under his skin. 

The neon sign of a bar shown in the distance. Without a second glance, Bellamy pulled in the parking lot. It was packed, bodies lined up along the bar. The familiar smell of smoke made his nose twitch. He sat down on an empty stool at the far end of the bar. 80′s rock music filled his ears, he almost didn’t hear the bartender. “What can I get ya handsome?” 

Bellamy’s eyes traveled to the woman behind the bar. She had blonde hair, a little too much eyeliner smudged around her eyes, and a tank top that was about two sizes too small. “Whiskey.” His own voice surprised him, it was raspier than usual, deeper. 

“Sure thing.” She flashed him a smile, white teeth standing out from her bright red lipstick. Bellamy’s eyes watched as she turned, grabbing a bottle and pouring the dark liquid into a glass. She was back in front of him in an instant. Sitting the glass down in front of him, “So you wanna tell me why you got that sad look on your face?” Her elbows rested against the bar, leaning in closer to him. 

Bellamy scoffed and gripped the glass, tossing the alcohol down his throat. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.” He shook his head, not daring to look her in the eyes. 

“Try me.” Her voice dropped, a teasing tone underneath. He clenched his jaw, hard enough to make his teeth hurt. “C’mon. Family trouble? Girl problems?”

He quickly downed what was left in his glass. “Something like that.” This time he did look up, her eyes were dark. Her face was close, too close. “Another one.” The girls eyebrow raised and Bellamy reduced the urge to roll his eyes. “Please.” 

She smirked at him and went to grab another drink for him. Although this time when she came back, she brought the whole damn bottle. “My name is Sarah, by the way.” He simply nodded, taking a large swig. “Normally this is were you’d tell me your name.” She laughed and it sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn’t melodic like Y/N’s, instead it kind of got on his nerves. 

“My name is Bellamy.” 

By the fifth glass of whiskey, Sarah’s laugh wasn’t so annoying anymore. He didn’t mind the messy makeup on her face, the cheap perfume that coated her skin, or the way her hand would occasionally reach out and touch his arm. 

For once Y/N wasn’t on his mind, the guilt in his chest finally started to fade. It was replaced by the warm numbness the whiskey was providing him. Sarah was nice, really nice. Would it be so bad if she just helped him forget? Just for one night?

Reader’s POV

It had been five days. Five days since Bellamy’s outburst. Five days since you’ve seen him, talked to him. The night still played through your head like a bad nightmare that just wouldn’t go away. 

After Bellamy left that evening you stayed on the floor for a long time. Long enough for all the food on the stove to burn and fill your kitchen with smoke. You spent hours trying to get the charcoaled food out of the pans, cursing the entire time you did it. You felt pissed, hurt, so many things. 

You didn’t try contacting him that night, or even the next morning. But on the second day you cracked. You had to know if he was okay, what he was doing. Octavia didn’t know either. He wasn’t answering her calls. She told you to stop by his place a few times, but it was pointless. It’s like he fell off the grid. 

So you tried your best to ignore the twisting feeling in your stomach every time Raven or Octavia asked if you’ve heard from him. The answer was always the same. You weren’t sure why they even asked at this point. 

It was day eleven now. Still nothing. You buried yourself in your work and classes. Whatever you could to keep your mind off of him. This entire situation reminded you of the first time he ghosted. But this time was worse. Now you’ve spent time with him, talked to him, kissed him. But he just vanished. 

After a while you stopped calling, stopped texting. just stopped trying. Why were you so focused on him when he obviously didn’t care? “Y/N... Y/N!” You jumped slightly, snapping out of whatever trance you were in. 

Raven shook her head before shutting her laptop. “Seriously what is going on in that head of yours?” 

You shrugged. “Hmm, what kind of icing I should put on these cupcakes?” You offered her a smile before scooping some peanut butter icing on top of the chocolate cupcake in your hand. 

“Nice try.” She took another gulp of her coffee before sliding you an empty cup. “More please.” You rolled your eyes and took her cup. 

“I just don’t get it you know. I’ve been nothing but understanding and I tried my best to be helpful. I really did, yanno?” Raven sighed and nodded her head. “So then why is he avoiding me?” 

You exasperated before sitting her cup down in front of her. “He’s been through a lot, Y/N. PTSD is a thing, he’s probably just trying to figure out how to deal with it all.” 

A sigh left your lips, focusing extra hard on the cupcakes in front of you. All you wanted to do was help me. You couldn’t understand what he was going through right now, but you knew you were going to try your damn best get through to him. You’ve made up your mind. There was no reason for him to go through this alone. 

It was around 8:00 when you made your way over to Bellamy’s place. You knew he wasn’t home, he was never home. Your heart was pounding in your chest when you walked over to his door. Maybe you were making a mistake, you didn’t even know if Bellamy even checked his mail anymore. 

Biting on your bottom lip, you fumbled with the envelope in your fingers. Taking a deep breath you opened the top of his mailbox pinned to the wall beside his door. You noticed the box was empty. Good. At least he was checking his mail. 

Before your thoughts talked you out of it, the envelope was dropped inside. You don’t think that you ever dipped out of a building do fast in your life. The thought of running into Bellamy was enough to make you nauseous. You made it back to your apartment without any complications. 

There was only one thing you could do. Wait. 

Bellamy’s POV

No matter what he tried, that girl could not get out of his head. No matter how much he drank, no matter who he talked to, she was always there. Right in the back of his mind. 

Bellamy tried moving on from her. The night he left her apartment, he thought he was getting over her with the bartender. But as soon as Sarah’s lips touched his, Bellamy couldn’t go through with it. She didn’t feel right, didn’t taste right. He wished he never would’ve kissed Y/N, then maybe he would’ve been able to go through it. 

But she ruined all other women for him. And it pissed him off. No one else had that little twinkle in her eye that made his stomach turn in knots. No other woman even came close to Y/N. He tried, he really did, but nothing worked. 

He wanted to talk to her, even just to check in on her. But Bellamy knew it would only make things worse. She was going to want more from him and he couldn’t give her that. It killed him that he couldn’t give her what she wanted, what he wanted. 

Bellamy couldn’t be selfish with her. She didn’t deserve it. He groaned at his own inner monologue before walking back to his apartment. Opening his mailbox, he saw a few things inside. Same as usual bills, flyers. 

Walking inside, Bellamy threw the pile of mail on the counter. Pausing for a moment when something caught his eye. There was a plain white envelope mixed in with the pile. Furrowing his eyebrows, Bellamy picked up the envelope. His name was scribbled on the front. He for sure thought his heart leaped into his chest when he recognized the hand writing. 

Y/N?

He needed to sit down for this. Did he even want to open this? Of course he did. What was he thinking? Bellamy took in a shaky breath before sitting down by the kitchen table. 

With careful hands, he opened the envelope. His heart was thudding against his rib cage. Why did she write him a letter? Bellamy clenched his jaw as he unfolded the paper, letting his eyes scan over her words. 

Dear Bellamy, 

I don’t know what you’re doing or where you’ve been. But I miss you. At this point I’m not exactly sure why. I just wanted to help, I still do. 

That night I didn’t mean to make you upset, or angry at me. I can’t pretend to understand what you went through. But I do want you to know that I am here for you. I shouldn’t have said anything about Octavia - I hope you’re not mad at her. She was just concerned about you, like I was. 

She told me you weren’t sleeping. I could see the dark circles around your eyes. I know you have nightmares, Bellamy. You can’t let guilt control your life. You’ve suffered so much. But you’re not there anymore, Bell. You’re back here, with your sister, with me. You can’t keep your mind back at war. 

I want to see you. Meet me Friday night at the beach we went to. 9:00pm, okay? I hope you want to see me too. 

Sincerely, Your Pen Pal

Bellamy read the letter over and over until he almost had the entire thing memorized. It was Wednesday, he had two days to figure out what he wanted to do. He missed Y/N. He really fucking did. 

She made him feel better about himself, like maybe he could actually get through this. Bellamy only hoped that he didn’t have another outburst in front of her. He was so afraid of hurting her, he wasn’t in control when his episodes took over. Bellamy already pushed her, what else could he do? 

Reader’s POV

Friday night came a lot faster than you anticipated. You didn’t know what you were going to do if he didn’t show up. Hell you didn’t know what to do if he did show up. You paced in your bedroom in front of your closet, biting on your fingernail. 

It was only 6:00, you had plenty of time. You took your time in the shower, lathering soap all over your body, letting the hot water attempt to calm your nerves. You stayed under the steady stream until the water started to run cold. 

Pulling your towel around yourself, you stepped out of the shower. Your hand wiped over the foggy mirror, staring back at your reflection. To be honest, the past few days haven’t been the best to you either. Your cheeks were hollowed a little more than usual, a shade of purple rested on your bottom lip. 

Maybe the worrying got to you more than you thought. You went back to you closet, pulling out a little sundress from the back of your closet. It was baby blue and a halter with the back cut out. The top of the dress hugged across your chest before flaring out at your waist. It was cute, simple. 

You glanced back at the clock, you had one hour until you have to leave. Your nerves were coming back again. After brushing and drying your hair, fixing your makeup, you were finally ready. The reflection you saw almost startled you. You haven’t seen yourself this dressed up in a while. 

Before you knew it, it was time to leave. Somehow you managed to walk to your car and drive down the road. You bit your lip, trying your best not to start shaking. The moon wasn’t as full as it was that night you and Bellamy came here, but it was still beautiful. 

You pulled your car into the parking lot, doing a glance around. Bellamy’s car wasn’t here. You couldn’t help the tingle of disappointment brewing inside of you. Shaking your head, you brushed it away. You were early, he still had time. 

Stepping out of your vehicle, you grabbed your towel and headed down into the sand. You checked your phone every other minute, constantly glancing behind you. But every time you looked, there was no signs of Bellamy. 

The disappointment came back again, but this time it wasn’t going anywhere. And it wouldn’t not unless Bellamy arrived. 

It was 9:10 now and you were beginning to antsy. You were no longer able to sit down, pacing in the sand. The waves crashed by your feet. You tried following the advice you gave Bellamy, matching your breathing with the waves. 

Each minute that went by was another crack in your heart. Maybe there was traffic? Every excuse you could muster started going through your head. There was no way he was going to leave you here right? He had to come. 

9:20

It was hard to keep believing that traffic was the cause of his absence. 

9:35

Why were you even here at this point? Bellamy made it perfectly clear where he stood, all you could do was accept it. 

Bellamy’s POV

He was a mess. There were too many thoughts spinning around his head. A part of him wanted to speed down the highway, run onto that beach and wrap Y/N in his arms. The other part kept telling him that he wasn’t worthy of her, to let her go. He looked at the clock. It was 9:00. Bellamy knew she was standing there on that beach. Alone. 

One side eventually won. 

Bellamy practically sprinted to his car, tires screeching slightly when he turned onto the main highway. He glanced at the clock again, biting his cheek. His hand pounded against the steering wheel as if that would make the car go faster. Bellamy’s heart was racing. He was late, what if she already left? 

The rest of the drive was a blur. Bellamy whipped into the parking lot, not even worrying about locking the doors. His feet pounded against the pavement, slowing down once he hit the sand. 

Bellamy slowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the sound of his pulse in his ears. He made his way down the beach. Bellamy stopped walking. Taking in the sight in front of him, all the air in his lungs froze. 

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