#the amount of blood that came out of him though. good grief

[everyinumaki]

[januaryembrs]

THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

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'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7. 

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.  

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now. 

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included. 

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings. 

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up. 

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt. 

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t. 

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around. 

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help. 

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover. 

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,” 

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,” 

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her. 

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard. 

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her. 

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside. 

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?” 

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again. 

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her. 

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances. 

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece. 

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare. 

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching. 

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up. 

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms. 

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly. 

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help. 

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face. 

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried. 

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing. 

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home. 

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her. 

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic. 

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour  ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed. 

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it. 

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking. 

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed. 

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her. 

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more. 

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he���d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm. 

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few. 

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book. 

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,” 

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation. 

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?” 

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend. 

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words. 

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised. 

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse. 

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out. 

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit. 

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t. 

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,” 

Nothing. 

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of. 

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot. 

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver. 

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.  

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,” 

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then. 

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,” 

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out. 

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle. 

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before. 

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise. 

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,” 

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished. 

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack. 

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese. 

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this. 

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her. 

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,” 

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?” 

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid. 

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty. 

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there. 

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her. 

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now. 

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound. 

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too. 

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning. 

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol. 

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. 

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.” 

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile. 

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,” 

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks. 

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway. 

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in. 

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later. 

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing. 

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months. 

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was. 

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again. 

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door. 

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time. 

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years. 

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab. 

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed. 

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was. 

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans. 

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!” 

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck. 

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth. 

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with. 

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought. 

This never happened. 

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning. 

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s. 

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage. 

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more. 

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom. 

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit. 

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down. 

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her. 

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought. 

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her. 

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke. 

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,” 

“Hm?” 

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks. 

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,” 

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her. 

He felt like a fool. 

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.” 

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,” 

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth. 

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly. 

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.” 

He would be lying if he  said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder. 

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock. 

She kissed him. She had kissed him. 

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again. 

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together. 

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep. 

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow. 

–

taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @sadbae-33

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |17 - Final|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

It had been a couple days since the battle of Manhattan, and you were fully healed. Apollo had saved your life, but you still ached like crazy after, you fell asleep pretty much as soon as you got to the cabin when you and the others arrived at camp. The first night back was one full of celebration, all the cabins came together, partying and cheering each other on. Even the demigods who had sided with Luke were welcomed back, at least those that lived and realized the error of their ways. 

The second day though, was one filled with grief and mourning. Everyone had been so excited to win the war, no one truly knew how things would actually go, there had been a real possibility of Kronos winning. After the win, after the celebrating, it finally hit everyone, they might have won the war, but it came at a great cost. Every cabin lost members, everyone lost someone, whether it be a friend or sibling. You might have been saved by Apollo but many were not, many Hunters had not been. You weren’t sure if the poison made you lucky, dying slowly was the only reason you were still alive at the end to even have the chance at being healed. 

Apollo might have been annoying, but you didn’t take him saving you lightly. You were as good as dead until Apollo intervened, there was no reason for him to do that, other than he simply liked you. You owed him everything, you owed it to your sisters who didn’t get the chance to continue on. You owed everyone who didn’t make it, you would spend the rest of your life dedicating yourself to making sure Apollos gift wasn’t in vain, that you deserved this second chance at life. 

You hadn’t seen Clarisse much since getting back to camp. She helped you to your cabin and then left you, after you insisted she go enjoy the night. The next morning at breakfast she came over to check on you but then quickly went back to her table. Breakfast was depressing that day, everyone sat quietly at their tables, no one was making jokes or being rowdy. There was a somber mood that coated the entire camp that day. The next few meals got louder and louder until there was a consistent amount of chatter amongst the demigods. 

You had only seen Clarisse at meals though, usually across the pavilion. You’d be at Artemis’s table with your sisters, and you’d look up, meeting Clarisse’s gaze, who was seated with her siblings at the Ares table. Clarisse had lost her best friend, you wanted to be there for her, you remembered what it was like losing Zoe. You didn’t want to push her though; Clarisse wasn’t exactly the type to be open about her feelings. You silently made it known you were there for her, if she wanted to talk, she could come to you, but if she wanted her space, you’d happily give that to her as well. 

You threw yourself into training as soon as you were able. You spent your days on the training grounds, shooting arrows or swinging a sword at the dummies. You said it was to stay in fighting shape, just something to help your recover but every time you slashed your sword at a dummy you saw the faces of your sisters, the faces of all those lost. 

“Hey,” Thalia called out, just as you dealt another hard blow to the wood dummy. You turned to face her, sheathing your sword in the process. “Just got word from Artemis.” Your heart dropped at that, that meant you were leaving soon. As much as you were ready to leave Camp Half-Blood, you weren’t ready, you hadn’t had a real conversation with Clarisse yet. “We leave tomorrow.” 

You gave a small nod. “Well, I’m always packed,” you said. 

You turned back around, facing the dummy. You put your hand on the hilt of the sword, intending to draw it again and continue your training. “You should say any goodbyes tonight,” Thalia’s voice made you freeze. “We’re leaving at sunrise.” 

You didn’t turn around; you just turned your head enough to see Thalia out of the corner of your eye. “Thank you,” is all you said. 

When you heard Thalia finally walking away you drew your sword and continued on with your training. You knew it was your last day to talk to Clarisse, but you didn’t know where to start, so you trained. You trained for hours, ignoring the other campers as they came and went, ignoring as lunch time came and went, ignoring as dinner time came and went. You finally stopped when the only light in the sky was from the stars. 

You looked up, your eyes instantly going to Zoe’s constellation. You sighed; you knew what you had to do. Even if Zoe wouldn’t have approved of your feelings for Clarisse, she definitely would have called you out for avoiding the girl just because you were scared. You once again sheathed your sword and made your way off the training grounds. You made your way to your cabin to put away your weapons, then you were going to go to the bonfire you knew the campers were having. It would be the last bonfire for all the Hunters there and you figured Clarisse would be there. 

After putting your stuff away and getting cleaned up you made your way to the bonfire. By the time you got there the party was in full swing, demigods were all paired off or in groups talking with one another. You saw most of your sisters there as well, most of them branching out and talking to other campers by this point. You passed by Percy and Annabeth, making sure to give Annabeth a small nod and completely ignore Percy, not even bothering to turn when you caught him frowning. You made eye contact with Thalia across the fire who gave you a small nod. You saw everyone, everyone besides Clarisse, the one person you had actually wanted to see. 

You soon left the bonfire, knowing there was one other place Clarisse might be. You made your way through the camp until you came to the Ares cabin. The cabin was dark and not a single sound came from it, most would assume no one was home but that didn’t stop you from walking up the steps and knocking on the door. 

It took a moment, but you finally heard shuffling and then the door creaking. “Hey,” you breathed out when you saw Clarisse standing before you. 

“What are you doing here?” Clarisse asked, she crossed her arms, but she didn’t sound angry. 

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” 

Clarisse nodded, suddenly refusing to look you in the eye. “I heard.” 

“I needed to say goodbye.” 

You reached up to grab Clarisse’s hand but paused midair, questioning your decision. You saw Clarisse eyeing your hand out of the corner of her eye. When she didn’t pull away or make any move saying she didn’t want you to touch her you got over your nerves and continued. You gently grabbed her hand, letting her arms fall to her side as you swung your clasped hands between the two of you, gently rubbing circles on the back of her hand with your thumb. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“We both knew this day was coming,” she sighed. She looked up, giving you a sad smile. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, returning her smile. “Until we meet again.” 

Clarisse tugged you by the hand, pulling you in for a hug. You were sure she would never seem so vulnerable out in the open, the two of you were standing on the porch of the Ares cabin, anyone walking by could see the two of you. You knew everyone was at the bonfire though and they’d be there all night. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed there, you just hugged each other, enjoying the comforting silence. 

When you finally parted Clarisse went back into her cabin and you walked back to Artemis’s. You weren’t in the mood for a bonfire. As soon as you walked through the door you kicked off your boots and laid on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. The odds were that once you left camp, you’d never see Clarisse again. Clarisse graduated next year, meaning she probably wouldn’t be at Camp Half-Blood anymore, even if that wasn’t the case, it wasn’t often the Hunters came to camp. The war was fought and won, there was no reason for you guys to come back to the camp as often as you had in recent years. Unless you ran into her on a quest this would be the last night you saw Clarisse. 

The next morning you made your way to the top of the hill with your sisters. Your sisters crossed over the barrier, making their way down the other side of the hill. You were about to follow when you caught Clarisse running towards you out of the corner of your eye. “Give me a second?” you asked, looking at Thalia. Thalia nodded, then walked away enough to be out of earshot. 

“I just...” Clarisse started when she got to you. “I just wanted to say goodbye.” 

You smiled. “Goodbye,” you whispered. You reached out, offering her your arm which she hesitantly took, gripping your forearm. You pulled her forward, resting your forehead against hers. “Until the next life,” you whispered. 

You heard Clarisse let out a shaky breath and felt her give a small nod. “I’ll hold you too that,” she whispered. You couldn’t help but smile at her words. 

The two of you stayed like that for a second before you both of you finally, though reluctantly, pulled away. She walked backwards down the hill until she finally turned around, jogging down the rest of the way. Your eyes followed her the entire time, you intended to watch her until she disappeared from your view. You felt the air change and the hair on your arm stand up, you gave a sad smile, knowing it was time to leave. 

“You’re older,” you said, not even bothering to turn around. You knew who was behind you, you always knew when she was near, you could always feel her presence. 

“I know you feel weird when I look like a child,” Artemis said. 

“It’s just a little weird to be getting advice or be given orders by a twelve-year-old.” You chuckled before finally turning around to face Artemis. 

She looked similar to how she always did, however instead of taking on the appearance of a twelve-year-old she made herself look a little older, made herself to look around your age. It wasn’t often Artemis changed her appearance, she hardly ever made herself look older. Given the fact that she’s taken on this appearance to talk to you, even though you were all supposed to leave in a few minutes, didn’t seem like a good sign. 

You turned away from Artemis again, looking back over camp from the top of the hill. You had done this a hundred times, you had left camp without so much as a glance back, you despised Camp Half-Blood, you always looked forward to leaving, except now. It seemed camp was getting harder and harder for you to walk away from, you couldn’t help but assume it had to do with the daughter of Ares. Your eyes found Clarisse, walking down the hill, getting further away from you. 

“I’m releasing you from your oath.,” Artemis said softly but instantly breaking you from your thoughts. 

“What?” you asked, turning around. You looked at her with wide eyes, you weren’t sure you had heard her right. 

“You deserve to be happy.” she gave you a kind smile. She didn’t need to repeat herself, you really had heard her correctly, that didn’t make you any less confused though. 

“I am happy,” you insisted, stepping closer to Artemis. “I’ve always been happy with you, with my sisters.” You weren’t sure why she was doing this, you had remained loyal, you never broke your oath, you didn’t know why she was abandoning you now, you thought you had done everything right, you tried to do everything right. 

“I know,” she sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder. “But now your heart isn’t in it anymore,” she gave you a sad smile. Your eyes fell, she was right, she was always right. “You have been a great second to my lieutenants, to Zoe and then to Thalia. You’ve been an even better friend and confidant these last thousand years.” 

You glanced up to see Artemis not looking at you but down the hill at Clarisse. “I’ve seen you two together, you have strong feelings,” Artemis said softly, no animosity in her voice. “You have been willing to ignore those feelings, to sacrifice what you want, to honor your oath.” Your eyes fell once again, the feeling that you’ve disappointed your goddess washed over you. “I am not disappointed in you.” You looked up, your eyes widening, it was like Artemis had read your mind. She had always been good at reading you though. “You have fought admirably by my side. I will miss you,” she gave you a sad smile. “But I want you to be happy.” 

You looked back down at Clarisse, watching her slowly disappear from your sight. “Do you want to be with her?” Artemis asked. 

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Despite the conversation going on you were caught off guard by Artemis’s question. “I am loyal to you,” you found yourself saying. It didn’t matter what you wanted or what you felt, you were loyal to Artemis. 

“I know. You have never once wavered. I am not angry,” she smiled, so you knew her words were true. “You have stayed the course and pushed away your temptations and desires better than anyone.” Despite her words, despite knowing Artemis wouldn’t lie, if she was angry or felt you betrayed her, she wouldn’t bother with this conversation, she’d just punish you. Despite all that, you still felt like you had failed her. 

“Do you want her?” she asked again. 

“I-yes,” you whispered. There it was, you said it, it was the first time you admitted it out loud. 

“I am releasing you. You will no longer be immortal, but you are free to be with her, to love her, to live a new life, one that you choose.” 

“I don’t know what to do without you.” You had been with Artemis and the Hunters for so long, you barely remembered your mortal life. 

“I’m not abandoning you; I will be there if you need me, you will always be my friend, and a sister.” That brought you some comfort, you knew Artemis still kept in contact with the few people she did let leave but you never expected her to do the same to you. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Believe it or not just because I reject love does not mean I don’t want my Hunters to be happy,” Artemis chuckled lightly.  You couldn’t help but smile as well, Artemis could be harsh, but she did truly want her Hunters to be happy. “If that’s what they ultimately desire, so long as they don’t break my trust.” 

“Thank you.” 

“No, thank you. Thank you for a thousand years of service.” Artemis stepped forward and gently rested her forehead against yours. She brought a hand to the back of your neck, then she slowly began taking away the gifts bestowed upon you, leaving you mortal once again when she pulled away. 

“I can never repay you for all that you’ve done for me.” 

“You don’t have to; you’ve done more than enough.” 

“Thank you, for everything, truly.” 

Artemis gave a small nod. She looked down the hill at the Hunters waiting for her then back to you. “Also, it might be unconventional but feel free to continue to stay in Cabin Eight.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “I appreciate that.” Artemis didn’t have to allow that, but you appreciated that she did. You were a child of Nike and despite Percy’s terms Nike didn’t have a cabin yet. You would have been stuck in the Hermes cabin and that was certainly not what you wanted; you would have rather set up a tent outside. 

“It’s been an honor and a pleasure,” you said. “Fighting by your side, my goddess.” You held out your arm and Artemis gripped your forearm giving it a firm shake before making her way down to the Hunters. 

Lastly, Thalia appeared beside you. “I’m never going to find another second like you,” she said. 

You smiled at the comment, giving a shy nod. “That’s true,” you said cockily. 

Thalia smacked you on the side of the arm before giving her own goodbye. “I owe you my life,” she whispered. 

You gave a little shrug. “Just doing my job.” 

Thalia tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly at you. “You deserve this, you know?” You scrunched your eyebrows, tilting your head in question. “To be happy,” she clarified. You sucked in a breath, giving her a small nod. “There’s nothing to feel guilty about, Zoe would understand.” 

Your eyes widened slightly, that was always something you worried about. Zoe might have been gone but you were constantly worried about disappointing her. You knew how much the Hunters meant to her, how seriously she took the oath, she was the one that had been by your side since the beginning, walking away now almost felt like a betrayal. Zoe was like Artemis though, she never thought less of those who wanted to leave the Hunters, so long as they didn’t break their oath to do so. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

Thalia gave you a final nod before running off to join the rest of the Hunters. You stood at the top of the hill, giving them all one final wave before watching them take off into the woods. You turned around, looking back down at camp, you let out a shaky breath before making your way back down the hill, intending to find Clarisse. 

You didn’t have to try too hard to find Clarisse, she was where she was the majority of the time, on the training grounds. She wasn’t in the middle of training though, her back was to you, and she was talking to Percy and Annabeth. 

“I thought you left?” Percy questioned when his eyes landed on you. 

“Change of plans,” you said. 

Annabeth tilted her head, her eyes flicking from you to Clarisse, and you could swear a small smirked appeared on her lips. You saw Clarisse’s body stiffen before turning to face you. “Didn’t Artemis arrive this morning?” Clarisse questioned. 

“She did,” you confirmed with a nod. 

“Then what are you-” 

“She and the Hunters just left,” you cut her off. 

You watched as her brow furrowed then her eyes widened in realization. “What does that mean?” she asked quietly, like she was nervous to hear your answer. 

“It means,” you hesitantly stepped forward. You were only partially aware of Annabeth dragging a confused Percy away. “I’ve been released from my oath,” you let out in a shaky breath. You reached out, ignoring the way your hand shook, and took Clarisse’s hand in your own. 

“You’re not a Hunter anymore?” You could see the hope in Clarisse’s eyes. 

You shook your head, giving her a shy smile. “I hope that’s okay?” Despite having feelings for her and knowing she had feelings for you, you weren’t sure if this was actually something she wanted. 

Clarisse crashed into you, wrapping you up in a tight hug. “Of course it’s okay,” she mumbled into your neck. 

You instantly wrapped your hands around her waist, pulling her closer. She pulled away just enough to rest her forehead against yours, your noses lightly brushing against each other, both of you hesitating to lean in. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” you whispered. This was all new to you, you might not have minded Apollo’s flirting, but you still had never crossed any of these lines before, you had never felt anything like this, even before joining the Hunters. 

“Me either,” Clarisse whispered back. Your shoulders relaxed at that. You knew she had a crush on Chris but knowing the rest of this was all knew to her definitely eased your nerves a bit. 

Clarisse finally closed the distance, kissing you. For a split second you froze but quickly gave in, kissing Clarisse back. You both smiled into the kiss as it got more intense. When the two of you broke apart, Clarisse rested her forehead on yours again, both of you smiling like crazy. 

Clarisse swung an arm around your neck, and you swung your arm around her waist as the two of you began to walk off the training area. You ignored the way Percy’s mouth was hung open and his eye practically coming out of his head and the way Annabeth was smirking as the two of you passed them. 

Taglist: @cxcilla @danonered @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @fictionalwhor3

[peanutpinet]

hihi!! really love the mini nct-mafia universe that you’ve created 🥹 i was hoping if you could write jaemin next..i was thinking of jaemin being a little cold to others but only soft towards y/n (and of course jeno)..i’ll leave the plot up to you but i thought it’ll be cute if there’s a scene where y/n helps to undress jaemin to take care of him..so like angst/fluff/suggestive all blended in one! thank you and i’m sorry if it’s so specific 🥲🥲

Trauma - Mafia! Na Jaemin x Innocent! Fem Reader

A/N: Hi anon!! Thank you for requesting the fic! I actually was already planning to write for mafia Jaemin and since you requested him as well, it motivated me even more to write!

Also, apologies if I took way too long and if the story isn't how you actually want it to go but I do hope that you enjoy it as much as I wrote it. There are lots of heavy trigger warnings that you have to pay attention to!

Trigger Warning: trauma experience, character death (not MC), grief, revenge, murder, blood loss, torture (excessive), explosion. -> I'm sorry if this isn't all but I will try to update it in case I missed anything

Synopsis: Being the son of the famous Nam Goongmin came with a heavy price to pay for Jaemin. Though Taeyong managed to get Jaemin out of his father’s mafia business and helped him to heal, there was still some trauma that Jaemin had yet to face. Until he came across a girl that he would soon learn that he can't always run from his problems

Water to Fire. Winter to Spring. Sunshine to Rain. They were all opposites of each other yet people kept on saying that opposites then to attract one another. Jaemin had never believed such things until he saw his parents. His father was the ruthless mafia whereas his mother was a kindhearted school teacher. Despite their contradicting characteristics, they were like magnets and attracted each other in a good way just like sunshine and rain coming together to create a rainbow.

Though Jaemin knew that his father didn’t have the best job, being one of the most feared mafia in South Korea before NCT became a thing was a reputation that Jaemin had to live for years until his mother passed away; and not in a peaceful way.

Jaemin knew that with the amount of power and wealth his father had, came all the enemies as well. Enemies who either wanted his father dead for hundreds of different reasons. Murder. Fraud. Stealing. Jaemin didn’t know how far his father was in crime because his mother made sure that he wouldn’t have to see his father at one of the most gruesome scenes that might as well come from the action/thriller drama that he watched.

Sadly, those moments were all but just memories to Jaemin. Everything happened as quickly as his memories could remember. One sunny morning, the day before Jaemin’s 18th birthday, he was going off to school and the same evening he went back home, it started raining but he still went home smiling knowing that he got a perfect score on his biology test, a recommendation letter from all of his science teacher and that his mom promised that they would bake today.

But when he arrived at the front door, Jaemin knew that something was wrong. Quietly, Jaemin took off his shoes and took the nearest thing that he could use as a weapon and went in. Though Jaemin was sheltered from the gruesome life of his father, the old man actually taught him every self-defence technique he knew. From hand-to-hand combat to even using a gun, Jaemin knew it all. But what his father had not taught him was how to cope with his feelings or a life that he took with his own hands.

That day will forever haunt Jaemin’s memory as the day of his first kill, the day of his mother’s death, and the day that he knew that he was his father’s son. When Jaemin’s father came home that night, he was just as distraught as his son. Both instantly mourn the loss of their beloved wife and mother. It was the first time that Jaemin’s dad actually let Jaemin into the horrifying world that he lived in.

Out for revenge, Jaemin had no mercy for anyone who would prevent him or his father from getting back at the one who took the light out of their dark thoughts. But even when Jaemin finally got a taste of revenge. It didn’t satisfy him and instead, he quickly realised his actions before it was too late.

His mother taught him better. His mother always taught him to never hate anyone as most people who do evil things were also once good. So Jaemin did what he could do. Run. Jaemin ran away from all his dark side; his father.

Jaemin knew that no matter how far or fast he ran, his father would always find him. But it seemed that his mother must’ve sent some guardian angels because right as Jaemin was cornered by some of his father’s most trusted men, some other men came and saved Jaemin, killing his father’s men in the process.

It was that day did Jaemin joined Taeyong into NCT and became one of the core members of NCT. But unlike the other members who also have daytime jobs, Jaemin prefers to just stay at the base and stand by whilst studying medicine with Kun. Though Taeyong still forces Jaemin to go follow Jeno along because Jeno was one of the only members that Jaemin talks to and eventually Jeno manages to convince Jaemin to at least intern and later work in NCT’s hospital under Kun on the early morning of weekdays.

For the most part of Jaemin’s life in NCT, not once did he ever complain. Not once did Jaemin want something more like his friend Jeno who is a famous racer. Not once did Jaemin ever go against NCT’s leader, Taeyong, like sometimes Haechan did. Though Jaemin has become more social than his first year in NCT, Taeyong has yet to completely understand Jaemin.

In reality, Jaemin stayed with NCT because he hoped that one day if he were to have to face his father again, he would face him without being scared. After years of being with NCT and even becoming a surgeon in Neo Hospital under Kun, Jaemin slowly finds a new routine and he slowly finds that by helping other people, it relieves a part of him that remembers all the bad things his father had done towards multiple innocent people.

As days passed, Jaemin has slowly forgotten about meeting his father again. Instead, Jaemin wants to avoid having to meet his father ever again if it were possible. Jaemin was content with the life he has now and wants to continue to just live his life without the constant worry of having to deal with his father or the mess he made; at least, until a recent patient that he had to deal with.

It was in the middle of a weekend night, right when Taeyong suddenly dismissed him and told Jaemin to just go back home despite Taeyong just finished torturing a guy who kidnapped the intern for Neo-Tech and helped build the Satellite tracker.

But right as Jaemin was about to go back to his place, Jeno suddenly called him and said that there was a sudden accident right when he and his girlfriend were on their way home and some weird men were chasing an injured girl.

“I got no idea why they were chasing them but I figured to call you not only to help the girl but I also feel that you should know. Those weird men mentioned that they were under your father’s name” Jeno mentioned, making Jaemin stop in his tracks

“I’m on my way. I’ll call the nurse to handle it before I get there. Just drive to the emergency entrance” Jaemin replied, turning off his call with Jeno, going into his car and rushing to the hospital

Along the way, Jaemin called the nurse in his hospital and told them to go to the emergency room and help a girl that Jeno was bringing. Jaemin also told the nurse to ask for Kun to help before he arrived there.

Within minutes, Jaemin arrived at the hospital and immediately went to get changed and head to the surgery room. Before going in, Jaemin saw Jeno who was bloody with his girlfriend sitting by the entrance. “Jaem…” Jeno called out to his friend who was just about to head into the surgery room.

“You should take her home. I can handle it here” Jaemin replied but Jeno seemed hesitant. “Your girlfriend is practically asleep, Jen. You’re also covered with blood. Plus I’m not alone. Kun-hyung is here. Go” Jaemin reassured Jeno who stood up, carrying his sleeping girlfriend

“Call me if anything happens. I’m not just a member. I’m your friend, too” Jeno mentioned before Jaemin went into the surgery room

In the surgery room, Jaemin apologised to Kun for being late but Kun didn’t question him. “I’ll question you after the surgery. Jeno came in here bloody and said that you wouldn’t want anyone outside of NCT to know about this” Kun mentioned

“Probably for the best” Jaemin replied and immediately got to work with Kun

Because Jeno managed to stop the bleeding by using a cloth and putting pressure on it, Jaemin and Kun managed to stitch up the girl with no problem. But aside from the deep wound, Jaemin noticed that the girl also had several bruises all over her body, a cut lip, and even a few fractured bones.

After moving the girl into a secluded patient room, Kun and Jaemin went into Kun’s office where Kun made a cup of warm tea before getting into the talk. “I won’t tell Taeyong if you don’t want me to” Kun reassured Jaemin who has been quiet since the surgery

“She’s related to my father” Jaemin mentioned, making Kun stop drinking his drink and look at the younger one. “Not in a way that you would think. Jeno said that she was being chased by some men. When Jeno got to her, she was already bruised and everything. Jeno thought that he was just helping someone but didn’t realise until too late that the men were working for my father” Jaemin explained

“You know. You’re not really obligated to actually find out about her or her relationship with your father if you don’t want to. You can always just ignore her and think that you never met her” Kun mentioned. “I’m not saying that you should run away from your problems but…” Kun added but Jaemin stopped him

“I know that someday I’m going to have to face him again after all these years. If so, I might as well get it over with. Thanks hyung, but I’m going to try and find out and maybe face my father. All I ask is to not tell Taeyong-hyung about it until I’m sure that she truly has something to do with my father” Jaemin mentioned, leaving Kun to see the girl

Jaemin’s POV

Reaching the girl’s room, I went in and received an overview of her profile from Haechan. “You owe me big. Taeyong-hyung almost caught me for this”. Going over her profile, I noticed that the girl, (y/n) has gone through a rough childhood.

“3 different foster homes in the span of 20 years?! Geez. Either she was trouble or those foster homes are actually as shitty as I know” I thought to myself, glancing over (y/n) who was sweating and whimpering.

Turning off the screen to my tab, I walked closer. Grabbing a soft cloth, I started to wipe the sweat that was building up on her forehead until I was close enough to hear her whimpers.

“p-please…” (y/n) whimpered. “leave my mom alone. Let me go” (y/n) suddenly screamed, jolting from the bed

“Hey, hey, no one is going to hurt you” I mentioned, looking at (y/n) who was now sitting, her chest was going up and down faster than normal

“You’re alright but I would suggest you to rest again. Let’s put you to sleep again” I mentioned, coming closer but she flinched when my hand was just reaching her shoulders

Sighing, I pulled my hands away and tucked them into my pockets. “Look. I’m a doctor here. I’m not going to hurt you or anything. If I was going to hurt you, I’d done it already” I bluntly mentioned as (y/n) just eyed me from top to bottom

“Jaemin…” she read my nametag. “You look like him. I, I thought…” (y/n) finally said a sentence

“Who? Who do I look like? What were you thinking if I look like someone?” I asked but (y/n) didn’t utter another word. “Do I look like Nam Goongmin?” I asked, the name felt foreign that my voice cracked a bit but luckily, I got some kind of answer as (y/n) nodded

“You’ve met him before” I mentioned. It wasn’t a question

Another nod which made my next sigh rougher than the previous one. “Look, if you have anything to say to me regarding him, just tell me. Or if you know about him. Or if you’re involved with him. I’m not a mind reader” I rambled

“He mentioned your name before” (y/n) finally said something again but I didn’t cut her off. I wanted her to keep talking. “He mentioned that I reminded him of his son. How I wasn’t considerate and thankful that he helped me find a foster home b-but…” (y/n) started to cry

“He helped you look for a foster home? But why? Sorry for being blunt but I doubt that he would let himself get involved with someone like you unless you or someone you know is involved with him” I mentioned

“H-he, he killed my dad and then my mom. He killed them because they worked for him but eventually cut ties with him” (y/n) cried, probably remembering the dark times she had to face

“What do you remember?” I asked, handing a clean cloth for her to wipe her tears

“My dad was his colleague. He helped supply the things that Nam Goongmin couldn’t easily get his hands on. But when I reached a certain age, my dad just cut ties with him” (y/n) added

“Were you home when your parents were killed?” I asked and (y/n) nodded

“My parents hid me, along with files of Nam Goongmin. Files that if they were to be released to the public, would ruin everything that he had built” (y/n) replied, perking up my interest

“When was the last time you saw him?” I asked, wanting to know more

“Months ago. He found me while I was working at a convenience store late at night. I didn’t know who he was at first until he brought up my parents’ name” (y/n) replied. “At first, he didn’t ask the files. He just told me about his history with my dad which honestly shocked me. I was so scared that he would do something to me but instead, he just left”

“But you mentioned that you were in foster homes? Did you run away?” I asked

“Ever since my parents passed away, which was when I was 14, I was put in an adoption center but turns out I was put into foster homes. At first, I didn’t notice anything strange until one night in my first foster home, I heard him again. I ran away after finding out. I was then put into another foster home at 15 but it was the same thing. I found out they were associated with him and ran away. The last one was the most brutal one. They didn’t sugarcoat anything and I was treated like a slave until I told them where I hid the file. When I saw a chance, I ran away once again. I managed to hide from them for the past 2 years because I ran away by the time I reached 18 years old and started working part-time in a few places. Up until now at least” (y/n) ended her story

“So, where did you actually hide the files then?” I asked as (y/n) just looked at me

“Don’t you think it’s only fair that I ask you after explaining to you, not knowing if I can trust you or not” (y/n) mentioned

“Nam Goongmin…he’s my father” I mentioned, shocking (y/n)

The next morning rolled around quicker than I wanted. I ended up not going back home and stayed in (y/n)’s room since I was the one who booked her the VIP room. While (y/n) was sleeping, I checked on all the files that Haechan sent me just to double-check her background because she could be lying and actually working with my father.

Jeno came along with Renjun and Haechan, bringing something for me to eat which I realised that I hadn’t eaten anything since the surgery the other night. The four of us sat in my office as I told them about what happened the other night.

“So her story and what Haechan sent you checked out? She’s not lying?” Renjun asked, munching on the burger that he bought upon coming to the hospital

“As far as I read the background. Yeah. Unless you have something else up your sleeve, Haechan?” I asked, looking over to him who was stuffing his face with french fries

“That’s all I found. And I’ve used the big bois. Perks of having parents that used to be in the mafia I supposed. Can manipulate what information would be put out there well until they were dead at least” Haechan shrugged

“What are you planning to do then, Jaem? I mean, you used to say that you don’t want to get involved with your dad ever again. What changed?” Jeno asked but I too didn’t quite have the answer yet

“Part of me doesn’t like the idea of what dad has become. Regardless, he was still my father and he honestly raised me well. He was there for my childhood. It was truly like he wanted me in his life. But when my mom was killed, guess that’s when he went haywire and made a killing spree. I want him to atone for what he did. Killing innocent people is wrong and he had never done it until my mom passed away” I mentioned

“So, you want to put him behind bars?” Haechan asked

“It’s more complicated…” I mumbled when a knock was heard. “Who is it?” I asked, standing from my seat, eyeing my members who suddenly went serious mode

“Dr Na, your patient is here to see you” the nurse exclaimed, making my members sigh of relief

“Yes, of course. Just bring her in” I mentioned and the nurse brought (y/n) on a wheelchair into my office. “I’ll handle it from here, you can leave” I told the nurse

“So this is the famous (y/n)” Haechan smirked while I instantly eyed him, helping (y/n) into my office

“Ignore him, he’s always that playful. I’m Renjun, that’s Jeno over there” Renjun mentioned, giving a smile at (y/n). The same goes for Jeno

“You’re the one that helped me!” (y/n) exclaimed as Jeno nodded. “That would be me. I’m glad that you’re alright now. Also, I know Jaemin might seem cold and unapproachable but he’s pretty nice” Jeno mentioned, making me groan

“I never got to thank you. Thank you, for saving me. If you hadn’t, I would’ve…” (y/n) rambled but Jeno shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Thank Jaemin as well for saving you. I just helped a bit. He’s the saviour here. I mean, he’s dubbed the miracle doctor here because the amount of times Jaemin has been able to save people who are in critical condition is crazy” Jeno mentioned, which honestly made me flustered

“I think I’m just lucky this time, to be able to meet kind people to help me” (y/n) shyly stated

“It’s not luck. No one deserves to die honestly. Anyways, you can trust my friends here. They, they know about my history with my father” I stated. “You can tell us where you hid the files and we’ll help retrieve them. I promise that there’s nothing to worry about. You’re completely safe here” I added on, making (y/n) smiled

“Thank you” (y/n) uttered. “But I’m sorry that this might seem like I’m asking a lot but actually, I hid it at my old house. The one where I used to live with my parents. I figure that it would be the best place to hide it since Nam Goongmin wouldn’t think to look at an old abandoned house where he killed people that he probably don’t remember” (y/n) explained and I looked over at Haechan who was still stuffing his face with food but his face was serious as he was typing away on his computer

“Is this the house?” Haechan asked, showing us all his laptop that showed a house. “Y-yeah, how did you?” (y/n) asked but Haechan shrugged. “It’s one of my many talents”

“Alright then, we should leave tonight. It’ll be easier so we won’t be seen” Jeno pointed out and the others started to pack their things. “I’ll also fill in Yangyang and Shotaro on our plan so that they could help with the file. Haechan, you, Renjun and Shotaro should prepare on the equipment we need. I’ll ask Yangyang for a vehicle and…” Jeno added but (y/n) cut him off

“Is, is it alright if I come along? I mean. I’m the one that knows where it’s hidden. Plus. I, I want to get something from the house” (y/n) asked

“Honestly, I don’t think it would be the best idea for you to come. You’re still injured and…” Jeno replied

“I just want to get my old family photobook. I promise that’s it” (y/n) argued

“I think it’s alright if she goes. We’ll all be there and I’ll keep a watch on her and then get her out as soon as she gets her photobook” I added on, making Jeno sigh

“Fine. But we have to move quickly. Taeyong-hyung doesn’t know about this and even if he does, we have to be fast, alright?” Jeno stated and everyone nodded

After the short meeting, I brought (y/n) back to her room, making her rest up a bit more while I went back to my office and changed into my nightwear mission gear and taking the female clothes I asked someone to buy for me to (y/n)’s room; telling her to change while we wait for Jeno to come.

“Just asking. How long have you been doing this?” I heard (y/n) asked

“For a few years. I was found by my now leader at 18 and ever since I was taken in, was taught everything I know and was given the opportunity to be something that I’ve always wanted as a kid” I told her, remembering the early days when Taeyong-hyung and Jeno first found me

“Do, do you guys like, I don’t know, kill people? Sell drugs or human trafficking?” (y/n) asked, making me chuckle at her thought. “Wh-why are you laughing? Is this all just a trick and you’re actually working with…” (y/n) rambled but I stopped her before she could say that man’s name

“No. We’re not like him. Not every mafia is bad. At least not us. I used to think the same until my leader brought me in. We’re considered a mafia group because we deal with other dirty crime organizations through some illegal methods which to the public, it might seem wrong but basically, we help the government do more of the dirty work. But we never went as far as killing. Torture? Yes. I’ll tell you that upfront. Especially to those who betray us” I explained, looking at (y/n) who looked nervous

“Don’t worry. As long as you’re not involved with the people in our wanted list, there’s nothing to worry about. Are you ready to go?” I asked as (y/n) slowly nodded

“Alright, come with me then” I mentioned, nudging (y/n) to walk right beside me. “Whatever happens there, I’ll be by your side and I expect you to do the same. Don’t walk ahead, don’t walk behind. I have to make sure that nothing happens to you, got it?” I stated as we walked into the private elevator and (y/n) nodded

Arriving at (y/n)’s house, Jeno told Haechan, Renjun and Shotaro to stay hidden as he, Yangyang, (y/n) and I go into the house and find the files along with the photobook that (y/n) wanted. Because (y/n) was the only one who knew where both the items were, we stuck close to her, practically forming a human wall around her to make sure that there weren’t any threats.

“Haechan, any sign of anyone nearby?” Jeno asked. “Nope. It’s all clear. Unless you count some stray cats nearby which they’re very big and chubby” Haechan joked

“Jaem, you accompany (y/n). Yangyang and I will stay downstairs, just in case. Once you’ve gotten the files, toss it to me and I’ll have Yangyang hand it to Haechan and the others, kay?” Jeno instructed and I nodded in acknowledgement

(y/n) and I went upstairs, and I noticed from some of the ripped, broken images that (y/n) seemed to be an only child and that there weren’t really any other family members except for her parents. “D-do you not have any like uncles or aunts to take you in at the time?” I asked as (y/n) rummage around a room that seems to be a master bedroom based on the size and linked bathroom

“Unfortunately, no. As far as I know, my parents are both only childs and even if there were, I doubt they want to take a burden in” (y/n) chuckled dryly, making me feel bad for asking

“I’m sorry to hear that but you should know that no one is a burden. Especially those under 18. You didn’t ask to be born. None of us asked for it and you shouldn’t push yourself because of what happened. This universe might’ve fucked up some things in everyone’s life but the moment you’re given just one chance to change your fate, take it. Exploit it if you can as long as you hurt no one. You deserve to enjoy your life” I stated, trying to cheer (y/n) up

“You know, I lived my life in uncertainty and everything changed with my mom was killed and I thought that this universe hated me until my now leader and Jeno found me. They gave me a new life and I��m doing much better now. Why don’t you come with us when all of this is over?” I offered, catching (y/n)’s attention

“I doubt that you guys would want me. I don’t even know what I’m good at” (y/n) replied, her voice became much softer than before

“Don’t worry about that. Everyone doesn’t know what they’re good at because they just simply were never given the chance to. But I promise you that as stone-cold as some of my members are, they are all caring for each other and would always help one another. Just consider it. And if you decided you want to, I’ll talk with my leader about it” I replied, offering (y/n) a smile, making her smile back

“T-thank you, Jaemin. Really. No one has ever offered me this far” (y/n) mentioned, making me frown

“That’s probably because they don’t understand the pain you go through; especially after losing your parents. Let’s hurry and find the file and your photobook then we can continue this conversation” I stated as (y/n) nodded

(y/n) quickly scrambled to the bed of the room and went underneath the covers, ripping it and taking something out of the mattress which turns out to be the USB. “Is that the files?” I asked as (y/n) nodded. “Yeah, I kept it here because this room and bed reminded me about my parents. How I would crawl into their room in the middle of the night because of nightmares when I was younger. And eventually sleep between them” (y/n) replied, making me smile

“Can I take the USB from you? I promise that my members and I will bring justice to your parents and all the innocent people whose life were ruined by Nam Goongmin” I stated, extending my hand as (y/n) handed the USB over

“Jen, I got it. We’re upstairs in the master bedroom. (y/n) is looking for the photobook” I stated in my earcom. “I’m going up” Jeno replied

Jeno then came within seconds and took the USB. Jeno told me to take care of (y/n) while he went to Haechan and handed the USB over to check the files before going back to the base. I told Jeno that he and Yangyang could just go with the others because (y/n) and I were only finding the photobook.

Despite being unsure of my request, Jeno eventually compiled and told me that if anything were to happen, I should just call him or the base; regardless of whether Taeyong-hyung knows or not. Because in the end, whether I like it or not, I will have to tell Taeyong-hyung about this.

After Jeno left, I continued to help (y/n) find the photobook she was looking for. We eventually turned the already messed up house into basically a destroyed ship. But luckily, we managed to find the photobook that (y/n) was looking and I instantly told the others that we were done and were going to head back to my place.

As we went downstairs, I suddenly heard a clock ticking. I looked around and saw an old grandfather clock that was ticking. Which was strange because I swore that when we all went into the house, the only noise that could be heard were our voices, the sounds of our shoes on the old hardwood floor, and even our breathing. But not once did I hear any ticking noise.

Not wanting to find out, I quickly wrapped an arm around (y/n) and dragged her out of the house. But before we could get out, the clock struck 3 am and instantly, everything became a blur. One moment I was reaching the door handle to open the door and the next, I was having a hard time breathing and was lying on my back.

Blinking several times, I tried to regain my vision after almost blacking out but everything was still a blur. My nose smelled some smoke and as I used my hands to try to get me up, I noticed that the house behind me was in flames.

Regardless of my weak state, I called out to (y/n) and tried to scan my surroundings with whatever vision I had but I felt everything spinning around and was suddenly met with a fist on my cheek; making me fall to the ground and cough up blood.

Suddenly, I felt two people holding each of my arms respectively as I was now kneeling on the ground. I tried to fight them off but knowing my weak state from the sudden explosion, I couldn’t do anything. But what caught me off-guard was the person who walked and stood right in front of me. The man who made me have my first kill, the man who I thought was good because of how he loved my mother, the man who shared the same DNA as I did. My father, Nam Goongmin.

“I thought I told you manners on how to greet your elderly, Na Jaemin” my father chuckled, grabbing a chunk of my hair, roughly pulling my head back, making me look at him

Even though my vision was still blurry, I could recognize that tone and sinister smirk from anywhere. “You don’t deserve any manners or respect from me” I coughed up, spitting some blood that landed on my father’s suit and face

“You still haven’t changed, have you? A doctor now are you?” my father stated, not really asking me

“W-was the least I could do, after what you’ve done. You can try to kill as many innocent people but I’ll be the one that’ll save them” I argued back, my father roughly letting my hair go

“Oh, you might want to save that breath of yours because you’re going to need it” my father uttered, I could feel his breath by my ear. “You and your little gang have something that I’ve been looking for years” my father whispered as I turned to eye him

“Let’s test how eager you are to save a life, shall we? That troublesome girl will be your time limit. Right now, she’s practically as injured as you are. The difference is. You’re going to be rescued by your little team while she gets to hang out with me” my father stated, making me try to release the grip of his men

“With every second you don’t come back, I’m going to draw her blood out of her. Slowly. With each day passing and you do not give me back those files, I’ll have to find out which organ I want to sell to the black market first. And if those files ever get released to the public? I’ll give you a little present. For all the years that I’ve been gone from your life” my father stated when suddenly I was injected with a sleeping drug and the grip on each of my arms were gone as I drifted off to sleep, and my body unconsciously fell to the ground with the thought of (y/n) in my mind

NCT Base - 8:25 pm (still Jaemin’s POV)

The sound of a beeping monitor slowly matched with the beat of my heart as I slowly woke up from my slumber for who knows how long. When I opened my eyes and slowly scanned the room, I noticed that I was in the patient room back in the base.

When I closed my eyes again, I remembered my father’s threat and immediately jerked on the bed. “Shit Jaemin, are you okay?! Let me get Kun-hyung” I heard Jeno stated but I managed to grip his wrist. “How long was I out?” I asked

“About more than 12 hours. Not long after we left, I felt something was off. I tried to contact you through our earcom but it was muffled. I told Haechan to just go while I drove one of our emergency borrowed cars and went back to the house. By the time I arrived, the house was in flames and you passed out on the ground, bruises and blood everywhere. But I didn’t see (y/n) at all” Jeno explained

“Shit. My dad. H-he caused the explosion. He knew that we would go to the house. He knew that (y/n) must’ve hid the files there and would have to retrieve it. Where’s the files right now?” I asked, trying to get out of bed but Jeno stopped me

“Woah. I know that your dad is insane and we should save (y/n) but you’re injured pretty badly right now. You gotta rest. Especially since you have to face…” Jeno ranted but we heard several footsteps coming into the room

“Is he awake?!” both Jeno and I heard Taeyong-hyung’s voice and suddenly the door was slammed open and Taeyong-hyung along with Kun, Mark, and Doyoung came in

“Tell me why the hell is there a 150ml of blood bag with your fucking name on it arrived at the hospital when the blood is clearly not yours?!” Taeyong-hyung demanded, showing me the blood bag

“Shit. He’s actually serious. Fuck. Hyung, where’s the files?” I asked back but Taeyong-hyung didn’t budge. “Who is he, Jaemin?! You’re my member. My core member. And Kun received this right as he finished handling another patient. So no, Jaemin, I won’t let you know anything about the files until you explain yourself” Taeyong-hyung growled and I was trying to put together some words to not make the situation worse

“He’s back isn’t he?” Taeyong-hyung stated, sending chills as I remembered the incident

“He’s after the files, isn’t he, Jaemin?” Taeyong-hyung asked as I slowly nodded. “Everyone but Jeno, out” Taeyong-hyung stated as the others left the room but Jeno. “You know something as well, Jeno. I’ll deal with the other 00 boys later” Taeyong-hyung added

“Tell me everything, Jaemin. What happened, how did you get those files, whose blood is this and what did Nam Goongmin threaten you” Taeyong demanded and I told him everything that had happened. From when Jeno brought (y/n) to the hospital to going to her house and even facing my father on my own

“I know meeting him would not end well but this?! This is out of my prediction” Taeyong-hyung grunted, messing up his hair before slicking it back again

“We can’t release the files. (y/n) would be instantly killed” I argued

“I know that. But we need to find where your father is first which Jungwoo is already in the process of finding through the satellite tracker. In the meantime, Haechan already duplicated the files and we’ll hand the original file back” Taeyong-hyung mentioned

“You figured it out when I was passed out, didn’t you, hyung?” I asked back when Taeyong-hyung explained on the current situation he’s handling which always amazed me

“I keep tabs on my members. I know about your father coming to find you because that was the reason why he sent someone to kidnap the intern under Jungwoo. But I wouldn’t expect another person outside of NCT to be involved. Guess I should’ve expected it since it already happened with Jeno and Haechan” Taeyong-hyung chuckled

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you. I also didn’t expect my father to have everything figured out and was basically a step ahead of me” I grunted

“Jaemin. Whether you like it or not, your dad was in the mafia way before me and the other oldest members in the group. He might be out of touch with the current generation unlike us, but he always has that sinister, manipulative mind that somehow always manages to turn the situation around. No matter what, your dad is not someone we can take on lightly like Jeno or Haechan’s situation” Taeyong-hyung stated when suddenly we heard a knock on the door, revealing to be Jungwoo

“Hyung. I found him” Jungwoo-hyung stated and Taeyong-hyung told him to come and show us

Jungwoo-hyung came in and showed the exact location of where my father was and it turns out, he was back at my old house. The house that I abandoned since my mother was killed. “Of course he would be there” I growled

“That’s not all, Jaemin. As I found him, there was a sudden file that was delivered to me. I didn’t want to open it until I see Taeyong-hyung” Jungwoo-hyung mentioned, showing us the mystery file that he received

“Open it, Jungwoo” Taeyong-hyung mentioned and upon opening the file, I could feel my stomach twist and nearly puke upon seeing the file because it was a video of (y/n) who was unconscious and tied to a bed, getting her blood slowly drawn out and a figure coming behind her and slowly picking up a scalpel before the video went black, showing several numbers.

“Hyung…” I grunted, Jeno taking a bucket and shoving it towards me. “Go ahead, no one is going to judge you” Jeno tried to joke

“It’s a countdown” Taeyong-hyung stated. “Looks like your dad still isn’t a patient man. Are you okay to go?” Taeyong-hyung asked

“I have to. I’m not letting him kill another innocent person. Not when I can actually do something about it. I failed to protect my mom and spent the past few years to try and atone for what my father has done. I’m not going to sit this one out just because I have a few bruises and injuries” I stated, getting up from my bed

“It’ll most likely be a trap. Your dad would instantly kill her upon seeing the rest of us but if you go alone, there’s no telling what will happen. Your dad could have mercy on you but not on the girl or he might be very merciful and spare both of you. Either way, I won’t sit tight and let you handle everything alone, alright?” Taeyong-hyung stated, patting my shoulder

Jaemin’s Old House - 1:38 am

Right as my car came to a stop, I took a deep breath before walking out and facing the very problem that I’ve been running away from for the past 6 years of my life. As I slowly opened the door, memories of what used to be a happy childhood slowly flooded back but this time with the smell of dirt, trash, and even blood mixed in.

Standing by the door, I was met with multiple other men with their guns all loaded, pointing at me as I looked up at my father who was standing on the 2nd floor, looking as sharp as I remembered him from the day when I last saw him. The last day that I ever agreed to do anything with him. To get revenge on my dead mother.

“I’m assuming you come here with what I requested?” my father asked and I pulled the USB from the inner corner of my jacket, raising it up to show him

“All the files about you. About what you’ve done. About every corrupted person you have helped. Every innocent person you have killed. Every track of your dirty money in and out. Every weapon and drug you own and sell. They’re all in here” I stated, none of my father’s men lowered their weapons

“Hand over the USB and put down every weapon you have” my father instructed me. “Search him just in case” my father added

I handed the USB to one of his men as I took out my guns, knife, pepper spray, and every other weapon I had in hand. Two of his men held me by the arm and another searched me completely before taking away all of my weapons, telling my father that I was already clean.

His men who took the USB went upstairs and handed it to my father. My father then took it and plugged it into the laptop to check every single file personally. “You really have turned soft, haven’t you, Jaemin? All this information for just a girl?” my father questioned

“Just a girl? You killed her parents. She didn’t deserve to continue her life like that. She had no one. No one deserves to live like that. Just because you were like that, doesn’t mean someone else should” I argued back and without warning, my father fired a bullet that grazed my cheek

“Know your place, boy. Remember it was me that helped bring you to this world. Without me, you wouldn’t be alive or breathing right now. Her father wasn’t as innocent if she ever told you the truth, that is. His father was associated with me as in they were the ones that sourced all the weapons and drugs that I sell. So, regardless, they weren’t all that good” my father argued back as well

“Doesn’t mean you should kill them. No one deserves to be killed” I stated but what my father said next hit me more than a bullet would. “Yet your mother was killed”

“If you recall, your mother was murdered, Na Jaemin. She didn’t die due to some illness or of old age. She was murdered cold-blooded. She did nothing wrong yet she was still murdered. You’re only partially right. Not everyone deserves to be killed. Some do” my father stated.

“As shitty as some people are, including you, no one still deserves to be killed” I stood my argument

“You sure about that? Don’t you remember the time when you practically forced yourself to come with me to find your mother’s killer? That you wanted to pull the trigger yourself. Yet, it didn’t satisfy you enough, did it? If anything, you’ve always been a coward. I taught you everything. Yet, you never dared to go above and beyond” my father complained

“My mother never taught me to do anything bad. Plus, she was the reason why you were also soft at some point in your life. She would be disappointed with how you’ve changed. At least I’m trying to atone for what you and I did” I taunted, making my father’s demeanour change. His gaze got darker and scarier.

“Don’t talk about her as if you know about our history. As if you understand what it feels like to have someone part of you being ripped away after all that you’ve been through to change for them” my father admitted; a side of him that I didn’t really know of

“Who says?! My mother is a part of me. Heck, 50% of my DNA is from her. She was my number one supporter and she was my everything. The first woman I love. You and I are the same in terms of looks, some of our traits, and our love for the same woman. The big difference is how we cope with that loss” I mentioned. “As much as I hate the man you’ve become, it saddens me more because no matter what, you’re still my father. So stop this nonsense and just turn yourself in” I tried to reason but instead, my father let out a rather maniac laugh

“There’s another difference between you and I. Your mother might be your first love. But she’s my first and last. Like you said, my parents weren’t really there for me and when I met your mother, that’s when I actually knew what love actually is. Until she was murdered that is. So, Na Jaemin. You want to understand what it feels like to go through what I went through? Let me show you then” my father stated, confusing me

My father went into one of the rooms and not long after, he came back, dragging a way smaller yet weak figure than him to his side which made my whole body shudder as I saw (y/n)’s paled and injured face was being held between one of my father’s hand.

“You said that you wouldn’t hurt her if I gave you the files” I growled, punching and kicking both men who were holding me down, finally breaking free of their grip and immediately there was smoke covering the entirety of the house

Within seconds, each of my father’s men was knocked out by my group and Taeyong-hyung’s additional reinforcements. Once the smoke cleared up, everyone pointed their weapon towards my father as Taeyong stepped into the scene.

“Nam Goongmin. I didn’t expect for us to ever meet again ever since you nearly killed your own son” Taeyong-hyung mentioned. “Let the girl go and turn yourself in. You promised you wouldn’t kill her”

“I only said I would kill her if those files were released. Nothing more. But since you’re all here, you broke the agreement first, Jaemin” my father stated, making my jaw clench. “You want to understand my pain? Then let me show you” my father then stabbed (y/n) in the back and immediately pulled the scalpel out, making her bleed even more blood

Immediately, I rushed upstairs and shoved my father away, catching (y/n) in my arms when suddenly my father shoved me again and started a fight with me

Thankfully, Jeno, Shotaro, and Jaehyun-hyung came and helped bring (y/n) away from the fight between my father and I. Though I was already trained in combat and my father had already age, he still managed to get me out of breath.

My father’s aims were sharp and strong which made me have to go into defence mode until I saw an opening and kicked him on the side of his ribs, which made him stumble backwards. Immediately, I took my chances and threw several more punches which hit and eventually, I managed to pin him on the ground, using my knee to pin his chest down, making it hard for him to breathe while my left arm was right on his neck, barely allowing my father to even speak.

“I think you should be by her side, doctor. Unless of course, you want to feel the exact pain that I felt” my father managed to choke out, tears somehow forming in my eyes

“Jaemin!! You have to operate on (y/n) right now. She already lost so much blood and while we’ve stopped it, it won’t last long” Taeyong-hyung stated as some of his reinforcements came and handled my father

“You should listen to your leader, doctor. Unless you want to relive the time when you couldn’t save someone” my father taunted and Taeyong-hyung covered him from my sight. “Go. I managed to bring a decent amount of tools for you to operate. The guys also managed to find the same blood type as her. I’ll deal with your dad” Taeyong-hyung mentioned, ushering me to quickly go

“Hyung. Thank you. And don’t kill my father. As shitty as what he did, I still stand my ground. I’m not going to kill him and no one is allowed to kill him. He’s still my father after all” I mentioned, looking back at Taeyong-hyung then seeing the other men take my father away

Rushing to the room that my members brought (y/n) in, I immediately put on a mask and gloves before getting to work. Though not all of my members know how the surgery procedure works, I’ve done operations on other people alone before.

I saw the monitor that checked all of (y/n)’s blood condition and they were all very low. First things first, I had to do the blood transfusion quickly before operating on the wound. After setting up the blood bag and putting the IV into (y/n)’s blood vessel, I told Shotaro to eye the blood bag and tell me when it was running low so I could give another blood bag.

As the blood transfusion was happening, I immediately got to work with the wound. I made sure that none of her vital organs were hit before actually stitching her up. I didn’t know how long I was stitching (y/n) while also giving her blood transfusion but at some point, the monitor suddenly beeping like crazy which made me worry.

“Jaem…her blood pressure is decreasing and so is her heart rate. Are there any other scars or wounds she has?” Jeno asked and I instantly scanned her entire body once again and the tab about her past conditions but nothing checked up; it was as if her body was giving up on its own

“Nothing, Jen. She has no wounds, no allergies, no sudden reaction. Her body, its slowly giving up. I’ve only heard several cases of patients whose consciousness just shut down their whole body. I, I didn’t think I would see it happen in front of me” I stuttered, my hands were now shaking

“Jaemin, I know this might sound crazy but you have to talk to her. She might be unconscious but her consciousness is alive and she could most probably hear you. You have to convince her to fight through it” Jaehyun-hyung mentioned and I was a shaking mess

Putting my tools down, I stood right beside (y/n). I grabbed one of her hands and leaned down by her ear. “Hey. I’m not sure if you can hear me but I just wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t give up. I know that we barely met but when you told me what happened to you, I felt that no one was ever able to understand you unlike I do. When you told me what my father did to your family, it made me feel obligated to take care of you. It might seem that I’m doing this to repay what my father did but honestly, I want to help you. You weren’t ever given the chance to enjoy your life” I held (y/n)’s hand with both of mine, squeezing it

“I know that I’ve told you this before but I want to say it again, I want to remind you if you feel that you want to give up. I was at that point as well. I was truly lucky to be able to have a leader and friends that helped me find a new purpose and that alone drove me to help others. You want to know what I want to be a surgeon? It’s not to only save people but I want to give them hope, to give them a second chance in their life when no one else would. I want to help them heal from their trauma just as I want to help you. So please, don’t give up just yet. Let me take care of you and give you the life you deserve. Let me be the one to heal your trauma just as my members healed mine” I rambled, hoping that whatever I said actually got to (y/n)’s consciousness

Somehow, as crazy as Jaehyun-hyung idea was, my voice somehow got through (y/n) and the monitor was suddenly stable once again. Letting out a sigh of relief, I looked at (y/n)’s calmer face and looked at Jaehyun-hyung and Jeno who both told me that I was good to continue.

Thankfully, throughout the rest of the operation, (y/n) was stable and I finished operating on her quicker than usual. Not long, we had some backup to help bring (y/n) and my father’s men back to our base.

Back at the base, everyone cleaned up but I immediately made sure that (y/n) was taken care of. I didn’t even care that I was still in my uniform and covered in dirt, scars, and blood. What matters most is that (y/n) was in a comfortable room, being treated and stable.

I even waited for Kun-hyung to confirm that (y/n) was indeed stable and that all she needed was some rest before actually being dragged out of the room and shoved into our shower room to shower by Jeno.

“You finally done?” Jeno asked as I got changed and dried my hair

“Yeah. You wouldn’t even let me leave until I actually freshen up” I grumbled, annoyed that Jeno and the others wouldn’t let me stay until (y/n) was awake

“Because you reek. You really think (y/n) would want to be next to you when you look and smell like blood, sweat, and tears?” Jeno sarcased

“How is she? Stable right?” I asked, putting my uniform to the dirty basket for laundry later

“Yeah. Kun-hyung actually mentioned that her fingers were moving a bit which means she’s going to wake up soon” Jeno mentioned as I hummed. “What are you going to do with your dad though? Taeyong-hyung practically chained him up and well, the usual. Taeyong-hyung didn’t hurt him too badly, if that’s what you’re worried” Jeno rambled

“Honestly, I’m not sure yet. I don’t want to kill him that’s for sure, I…” I replied when the door was flung open and Renjun came in panting. “She’s awake and Taeyong-hyung is with her”

Within seconds of Renjun coming to tell us that (y/n) was awake, I wasted no time in rushing to her room and seeing Taeyong-hyung beside her. “Relax. I’m not tormenting her, Jaemin. Excuse him, he sometimes look into things a bit too deeply” Taeyong-hyung mentioned and I heard a soft chuckle

When I walked to the side, I saw (y/n) sitting on the bed, her face looked brighter and fresher than hours ago. “Hey” I called out to her, offering a soft smile which she replied back

“I’ll leave you both alone now. Jaemin, when you’re done, my office, alright?” Taeyong-hyung mentioned before leaving me with (y/n) in the room

I pulled a chair and sat next to (y/n). “How are you? How are you feeling? Any parts of your body that hurt?” I asked and (y/n) softly shook her head

“I’m okay. Thank you” (y/n) stated, making me smile. “T-thank you, for saving me” (y/n) uttered out and I immediately took her hands in mine

“No, thank you, for staying strong. I’m not sure if you heard what I said to you when you were unconscious but I promise you that I’ll help you get back up. I’ll help you get the life you’ve wanted. Not because I feel obligated for what my father has done but because you deserve it and maybe because I can relate to you. Only if you allow me to help you, that is?” I rambled on and (y/n) held my hand tighter

“I’d like that. But I also want you to share your burden too” (y/n) uttered, making me smile wider, pressing my forehead onto hers. “As long as you let me take care of you and your trauma” I replied. For the first time, I felt calmer and more at peace since a long time.

NCT Prison - 12:18 am

Though I’ve been through these empty halls, I typically walk through them with my members to torment one of our prisoners. But this time, walking alone felt foreign. It reminded me of the day I left my home on my own. When there was no one to help me at all. But this time it was different. I wasn’t the same boy who ran away from his problems.

No. I decided I was finally going to put an end to it. By going in and facing the man who was both someone I used to look up to and someone that I despised.

“I’m amazed that you actually came. I thought you’d let your leader and other members do as they please with me” my father stated, locked within one of the cages of the prison

“I wouldn’t let them do that. Unlike you, father, who almost killed their own son, I would never let you get killed by my own members. As much as I despised you, you’re still my father. You said it yourself. I’m your son” I started out

“So then what? Are you going to torture me now? Your leader already has my files and most probably he’s going to release it tomorrow along with a statement that I’ve fallen and been captured. Then are you going to kill me by yourself? Is that why you’re not letting your members kill me?” my father questioned me

“I’m not going to kill you. Sure, my leader is going to open up and give a statement regarding his recent findings about you. But I told him that whatever he tells to the public will just be for the public because…I’ve already lost one parent. I don’t intend to lose another” I uttered, my father finally looking at me

“You might not be the best father but at some point, you raised me well. I know you love mom so much and you miss her just as I do but I know that mom would have never wanted us to be like this. She would have wanted both of us to be able to move on and live our lives. Not hating each other. Not chasing each other. We don’t even have to like each other or what we do but I know that mom would have wanted us to just try and get along. And that’s what I plan on doing” I ranted

“You can think that I’m weak or anything you want. But I hope that someday, you’ll be able to see me as your son who only wanted his dad. Not his father. I hope that you will be able to go back to the time when you were happy with mom but this time with me. And I hope that one day, you’ll admit your mistakes and apologise for what you’ve done. Not to me. I’ve gotten over that a long time ago. But to those who you’ve hurt and traumatised” I rambled on before slightly bowing to my father, about to leave but stopped upon hearing my father spoke

“You’re wrong, Jaemin. You’re not my son. You’re mine and your mother’s son. And whether you think that I was going to kill you that day. I wasn’t. Just like you, I was angry at what happened. And was pissed that you cowardly left me. But never did I ever think to kill you. Even now. I would have never killed the one person who reminded me of what your mother and I were like when we first fell for each other” my father finally spoke in a softer tone, making me turn to face him

“But you’re right. I was a shitty father when I should’ve been more of a dad to you. For that, I’m sorry. But I’m glad that you got more of your mother’s side. I’m glad that you grew up well. Your mom might hate me but I know for sure that she’s proud of the man you’ve become” my dad stated, actually smiling a bit which made me smile

“Thanks. I’ll um, talk to you again soon. I hope you do reflect on your mistakes. See you soon, dad” I uttered, leaving my dad, finally getting over the trauma that I’ve been holding onto for years

A/N: hopefully you guys enjoy this other long mafia fic of mine. I swear I will make a whole mini mafia series masterlist. After my 100th post which will be coming in December. I'm sorry that I've been slow on my stories and have only been posting like once a month but somehow, I ended up writing this mini mafia series which while fun, takes quite a while to write as I want them to somewhat interconnect with one another. Alright, before I go, I'm gonna give a mini sneak peek at my 100th post which will be another mafia series. Thank you all, have a great day and stay safe xoxo vinet

Sneak Peek for 100th Post

“Yo, John, doesn’t she look a bit too young to be working a a club?” Jaehyuna asked, looking over to a young girl wearing the waitress uniform, serving some drinks to old sweaty men

Johnny who was just trying to drink and enjoy his night eventually followed Jaehyun’s gaze and landed on the girl that Jaehyun was describing.

Sure, Johnny might’ve opened his own bar with Taeyong’s permission but that doesn’t mean that he allows just about anyone to work in his bar. And while he doesn’t deal with all the miscellaneous work in the bar, he surely memorises his staff and the girl Jaehyun pointed out was never in any parts of Johnny’s memory.

Instead of confronting the girl, Johnny immediately called another waiter to get the current manager and question the girl whom he learned was technically legal to work in a bar as she was 21+ and the manager mentioned that she was only a part-timer on the weekends since they needed more help.

Right when the manager was explaining to Johnny, he saw one of the old men put their hands on the girl’s bare thigh which scared the girl. Angered at the behaviour, Johnny stood up and stomped his way to the scene before the man could go any further.

“This is an exclusive bar and I make sure that all of my staff are always on their best service. But that doesn’t mean that you could just harass them like this” Johnny growled, gripping the older man’s arm tightly that the people nearby could hear a bone crack

“Especially when it’s an old man harassing a young girl” Johnny grunted, pushing the man that he fell off his chair; the other men around the table started to get up, about to put up a fight when Jaehyun came beside Johnny, shielding the girl

“I suggest you all sit your old sweaty asses down unless you want your old bones to be broken” Jaehyun taunted. “Or shall we call Taeyong? Because he’s the co-owner of this bar and I don’t think he would be pleased that his supposed business partners were in his bar, harassing a girl”

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 3

Hello, hello. I am so grateful for the amount of support this story has gotten. It's been plotted out, it just needs to get written up. I'm not sure how long it's going to be, but if I know anything about myself, LONG.

Part 1 Part 2

***

Pulling into the truck stop was the hardest thing Eddie had ever done and he faced down dozens of demobats. He slowed to a stop, tires crunching on the gravel.

Thankfully Wayne was already there and waiting for them. He gently shook Steve awake.

“Hey,” he murmured. “You need to get up and walk around. Get the blood flowing again.”

Steve blinked at him blearily. “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie shook his head and climbed out the car. He walked over to Wayne as Steve stumbled out and onto the dust filled gravel.

“Your boy okay?” Wayne asked, watching Steve walk into the bathroom.

Eddie looked back at his friend and then back to him. “I don’t think so. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

Wayne just shook his head. “Don’t you be thinking about fixing shit, son. He’ll let you in when he’s ready. Just be there for him. That’s all you need to do.”

Eddie sighed. “I’m the one on my way to a fucking funeral but Steve seems like he’s grieving more than I am.”

“You told me last night that he had family in Kentucky?” Wayne asked.

He nodded. “I don’t know if any of Steve’s mom’s family is left, but his grandma used live in Lexington before she died when he was little.”

Wayne hummed. “Your dad went to school with Clint Harrington, a pleasure I thankfully missed out on, having already graduated by the time our parents moved to Indiana. I stayed in Kentucky until a social worker showed up on my doorstep with you. You were used to living in Indiana at that point so I moved out there. Went back to the town your grandparents raised Al to raise you.”

Eddie frowned. “Then how did Grandma move back to Kentucky?”

“After your grandfather died,” Wayne explained, “he wanted to buried in the family plot. She fully intended to move back to Hawkins to help with you, but she fell and broke her hip.”

Eddie sighed. “And since you were already taking care of me, it was Aunt Penny that took her in?”

Wayne nodded. “All this to say that family is complicated. And grief is a funny thing. You can think you’re over it and something: a smell, a piece of a song, a person walking down the street and suddenly it’s as fresh as the day it happened.”

He knew. He felt that way about his mom all the time. Sometimes it was as simple as picking up her old guitar and strumming a note. Sometimes it would something one of the kids did or said. He knew.

“I wish I hadn’t asked him to come,” he groused.

“I don’t,” Wayne said fiercely. “I think we all need this trip for one reason or another.”

Steve walked back out of the gas station looking a little more lively. Eddie waved and Steve smiled, breaking into a jog to join them.

“Hey,” he said a little winded. “You didn’t have to let me sleep like that.”

Eddie smiled back. “Nah, you needed it.” He pulled Steve’s keys out of his pocket and tossed it to him. “It’s your turn to drive.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

“Eddie was just telling me your mom came from Kentucky,” Wayne said gently.

Steve smile faltered a bit. “From Lexington. She’s a Lexington Kincade.”

Wayne blinked a moment. “Holy shit, son. When you said you were wealthy I didn’t realize you meant that kind of money.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t like talking about it. I haven’t seen that side of my family since I was little. Her two older brothers, one got the business, the other got the house, but my mom got all the money. They never forgave her for that.”

Wayne nodded. “Even though the house and the business were worth more than the cash, money makes good people go mad.”

Steve looked him in the eye. “I know.”

“Never said you didn’t, son,” he assured him. “I’m sure you know better than most. I’m just commiserating.”

“Thank you,” Steve murmured. “Most people try to tell me to stop whining about it. I can have whatever I want, so that means I can’t miss the simpler things.”

“Go get gassed up,” Wayne said with a smile, “and then we’ll hop back on the road.”

Steve nodded.

“And stay close behind me,” he warned. “I don’t want you getting lost. Ed knows the way but it’ll be better if you don’t beat me there, okay?”

“Outsiders get met with shot guns,” Steve muttered darkly. “I’m aware.”

He pounded Steve on the shoulder and slipped back into his truck. He watched as Steve and Eddie chatted as Steve filled up the car. They walked in together and were back out with more sodas.

When they were securely nestled in Steve’s BMW, Wayne pulled back out into traffic, Steve following close behind.

Every time he glanced in his review mirror, a small smile crept on his face. Those two boys were good for each other.

*

They pulled into a old white house with a large front porch. There was a beat up brass colored 1972 F150 on the lawn and dark blue Chevy Cavalier in the drive way.

The steps sagged and the paint was peeling. Steve was in love. He adored places like this. Because it was someone’s home and not just their house.

There was a woman standing on the front porch, leaning against the supports at the top of the stairs. Her hair was dark and straight, she had brown eyes and a round form. Steve could tell she had worked hard her whole life.

And without a doubt she was going to judge him for not having done the same.

Wayne and Eddie were by his side in an instant though, closing ranks against the woman on the porch. Which meant this was the fabled Aunt Penny.

Steve couldn’t help but wonder how in the hell did Wayne turn out the way he did with siblings like Penny and Al.

“Penny,” Wayne greeted.

“Wayne,” she greeted back dryly. “I wasn’t too keen about you bringing a stranger along. Still can’t say I am on the sight of him.”

Steve popped his hip. “Oh bless your heart, I didn’t realize that I had to be blood-related to want to be there for Eddie and Wayne in their time of mourning.”

Wayne’s eyes went wide as he slowly turned to Steve with his whole body.

Eddie’s jaw dropped before he began cackling.

Penny looked him up and down again. “You’ll do.” And walked back into the house.

“Boy, you got a death wish?” Wayne asked after his sister went inside.

Steve scoffed. “No, but I wasn’t going to let her set the tone for this trip. If I didn’t stick up for myself now, she would spend the trip walking over me, and I haven’t been through hell to have some woman completely unrelated to me be that fucking rude.”

Eddie clasped his hands to his chest and fluttered his eyelashes at Steve. “My hero!” He swooned against the car causing Steve to laugh.

“Come on, you menace,” he said shaking his head fondly. He held out his hand to help Eddie up, but he popped up like a daisy and swanned past him.

Wayne gripped Steve’s shoulder again. “She’s a tough old bird, my sister, but I think you’ll get along with her kids just fine.”

“You want to give me a rundown before I go charging into the hornets’ nest?”

He cocked his head to the side and then cheerfully chirped. “No.” He turned on his heel and walked into the house without preamble.

Steve shook his head. It was looking like it was going to be really long week.

*

Steve walked into a room that would have barely fit in his kitchen. But the furniture looked comfortable and the room itself, inviting.

What wasn’t so inviting was the glares he was getting from half the people in the room. These must be the cousins. There were three girls and a boy.

The oldest of the girls was a curly-haired redhead about his age or a little younger. But unlike the orange color of Max’s hair it was more like a rich auburn. It was piled on her freckled head in an untidy mass to try and beat the last of the summer heat. She wore a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a white t-shirt tied up under her chest.

The younger of the two girls and clearly the youngest, had dark hair and eyes. She looked to be Holly’s age. She wore a rainbow shirt and coveralls that had been drawn and colored on. Her hair was in two braids that did remind him of Max.

The only boy wore an expression that would have put Mike’s surly sneer to shame. Like his younger sister, his hair and eyes were dark, but his hair was curly like his older sister’s. He was in that awkward middle stage of growth where everything all at once too big and too small.

His style matched that of Eddie’s, ripped black jeans and band shirt that Steve couldn’t read the name of because of the swirling font. He knew Eddie would scoff at him about that later.

Eddie bounced up to Steve with a grin. “Let’s get you to a phone so you can call Robin.”

Steve nodded as Eddie led the way to the kitchen. They came back out a minute later and Eddie waved his arm at the assembled family.

“Stevie, these are the Nelsons. The Mike wannabe is Oliver, the cutie-patootie is Abigail, call her Gale, not Abby. She kicks.” Steve snorted. He could believe it. She reminded him a bit of Erica in that way. “And the eldest and smartest of my aunt’s brood is Lauren. She is the best person you’ll ever meet.”

Steve scoffed. “I think Robin would fight her for that title.”

Eddie laughed.

Oliver glared at him. “Who’s Mike?”

Steve looked him up and down. “He’s one of the kids I used to babysit. Smart kid with a barbed tongue. He’s in Eddie’s old club, Hellfire. Plays a level thirteen paladin.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, impressed.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yeah and just how old is this wizkid?”

“Fifteen,” Steve said with a shrug. “But I’m not sure he’s the smartest of his Party. Dustin built a CV tower from scraps in his basement. Then there’s Will who is a DM like Eddie. Really creative. Can paint and draw. And there’s Lucas. He’s just as smart as Mike, but he also helped his basketball team win the championship as a freshman. They all are in Hellfire, in fact.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you. You just made them up.”

Eddie licked the top of his teeth slowly. “Nope, they’re really real.”

Steve pulled out his wallet and took out a picture. He handed it to Oliver. He pointed to each one in turn, naming them and then snatched the picture back.

“Why would you need to babysit?” Oliver asked, knowing he couldn’t win the argument about them being real. “I know designer clothes when I see them. You clearly don’t need the money.”

“I like kids, but especially those kids.”

Eddie smirked. “They like you, too.” He paused and tapped his lips for a second. “Well...except Mike.”

“Comes with dating his older sister at one point,” Steve said with a shrug.

“I still don’t know why you guys never could make it work,” Eddie said with a frown. It was something he couldn’t get out of... well, any of them really.

Steve looked down at the picture. He put it away and then pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the end. “Her best friend died in my pool while we were dating. It was a party at my house. She blamed herself, but I think she mostly blamed me.”

The room went deathly silent. A pin landing on the soft carpet would have sounded like a bomb going off.

“Aaaannnddd...” Lauren said bouncing up from her chair, “that’s about enough of that.” She smacked the back of Oliver’s head. “You were begging for trouble with that one, dipshit.”

She grabbed Steve’s arm and started dragging him over to the sofa. “You’re going to come over here with me and tell me all about Robin so I can be the judge of who is more awesome and why it’s obviously me.”

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief as Lauren defused the situation. Because holy fucking shit. Now he knew why no one wanted to talk about it.

Wayne came up beside him. “Who’s he talking about, son?”

Eddie chewed on his lip. “I think he’s talking about Barb Holland. Nancy and her were pretty tight before she died.”

“Another bullshit cover up?” Wayne murmured.

Eddie nodded and Wayne nodded back.

“A boy that young shouldn’t have seen as much death as he has,” Wayne murmured.

Eddie could only agree. Especially from white-bred middle America.

***

Pt 4|Pt 5|Pt 6|Pt 7|Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn

[skylarstark4826]

Spider sat in one corner of the Sully marui weaving a basket, his smaller hands making quick work of tying sturdy knots out of material new to him.

In the other sat Neytiri, skinning fish after fish and placing them on hooks, quick and efficient with her blade.

The hut stayed utterly silent aside from sounds of their labour, yet it barely felt awkward. After all, both inhabitants were focusing for a reason. The chores were a distraction.

A distraction from the horrid disaster they’ve been through. 

Strangely enough, since loosing the oldest Sully and arranging a funeral, both of them avoided talking about him; even in passing. It caused too much pain, like rubbing salt into a bleeding gash, but while Neytiri knew such agony well, to Spider it was all new. He escaped any thoughts about Neteyam because he was afraid he’d break down again, like he did the night of the funeral, when the emotional whiplash fully caught up to him and he broke, emitting barely-human noises as Kiri wept, holding him. He’d never been this vulnerable, never cried to the point where there were no tears left, and hoped to Eywa that he wouldn’t have to repeat the process, although witnessing Ms.Sully break down twice this week didn’t give him much hope. But could he blame her?

No. Not in a million years. The utter shock of witnessing a loved one’s eyes loose light is a horror Spider wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

His work slowed. 

Is this how Neytiri felt when she lost her father? Her sister? Half of her clan? His pain from loosing ‘Teyam felt gut-wrenching, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine how badly it burned Ms.Sully’s soul to have so much taken from her. Truth be told, he felt horrible for resenting her back in the forest. He only ever saw his own part of the story.

As he wandered deeper into his thoughts, so did the matriarch; except she had a bad habit of quickening her pace whenever she could not find focus on the present. She couldn’t let her children or husband know, but she was holding on by a thread. No amount of crying and screaming and throwing objects into the sand could quench her agony, despite Norm saying that it’d be healthy for her to let it out. No matter how much she let it out, there was too much still left, and it grew like a mold as soon as she’d stop screaming. Maybe she was well past the point of "letting it out" years ago, though she certainly tried many times.

She looked at Spider. 

Yes, she tried hard to let it out indeed…and this boy became her accidental target. He came under the line of fire because through his veins coursed the blood of a demon, and she recalled herself justifying that behaviour more than once by telling her beloved that said boy walked on a slippery slope, bound to repeat the mistakes of his ancestors. 

And yet, there he sat. After enduring months of captivity and torture, as he’d told them when Tonowari organised a council to hear our whatever information he had gathered, he was still loyal. 

He witnessed villages burn, had to beg the demon, *cry* for him to spare the people, and it eluded Neytiri how or why the monster listened. She didn’t want to put the puzzle together just yet, trying to erase the incident on the ship out of her memory. Eywa knows, Kiri hasn’t looked at her the same since.

“Ack!” She hissed when the knife inevitably drove into her finger, causing a bleeding. She then sees Spider react on pure instinct, fetching a bandage-like cloth and sitting next to the woman as he treated her injury. He was good at it, that much she was aware of, as she saw him treat a deep wound once. A human ally pilot bled once, but Socorro never lost his cool and swiftly bandaged it. 

She wondered how often he had to treat himself, to get this precise with his movements.  She also wondered why she let him touch her, but the last seven days have been a complete mess, and neither of the two had strength to be passive-aggressively avoidant of each other. There were bigger sorrows to mope over.

***

The crowd of Metkayina, as well as Tau’nui, roared in frustration at the council. They wanted action, and they wanted it now. The death of many of their loved ones, including the tulkun, has angered them beyond belief, but the leaders had to quieten the crowd so Spider could share what he had gathered about their enemy. He knew he was looked at side-ways, because contrary to how he felt on the inside, blue stripes didn’t make him taller, no matter how much paint he applied to his skin. 

Neytiri grew frustrated as well. The crowd’s fury had been understandable, but their restlessness only stalled them. She looked at the teenager to see if he’d be brave enough to do something about it, since not even Tonowari and Ronal could calm their storm. And he did.

Grabbing the tube filled with a yellow liquid from the mat in the centre, Spider stood in front of the big fire and raised it to the sky. The crowd went quiet, their attention now consumed by the strange device.

“Listen to me, reef people!” He exclaimed, mustering all the confidence he had. “This! This is why they’re killing your spirit siblings!” His voice shook when he remembered the death of a mother and her child.

“What is it!?” He heard the crowd demanding.

“It’s a liquid stored in the minds of every tulkun! They hunt for it because-” He couldn’t believe he was about to say it. “Because it grants sky people immortality!”

Reef Na’vi gasped in utter shock, and even Jake couldn’t keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

“What…what are you saying, child?” Ronal dared to ask, her eyes filled with horror.

“This…this fluid stops humans from ageing! It makes them live forever!” He locked eyes with her.

“But…that is impossible, all energy—”

“They found a way to break that rule. And they break it by killing the tulkun and pulling this out of their heads.” Socorro pointed to where his brain is, his own eyes watering.

The Metkayina and Tau’nui were silent now, processing this new information.

Neytiri felt even more furious than before, but by no means surprised. Sky people cruelty was new to the sea Na’vi, but not her. Not her clan.

Not new to Spider either, she thought, looking at him, and how bravely he held up in the face of a resentful mob.

Yes.

He was indeed quite brave.

***

Water, as beautifully as it sparkled, had never been Neytiri’s strong suit. She could swim just fine, could even fish to an extent, but riding an ilu was still quite difficult for her to grasp, even more when it came to the skimwing. Now that the war was upon them, she had no excuse to stall on learning, so Ronal took time out of her day to offer help. She guided the animal towards her, and ‘Tiri couldn’t help but feel warmth in her chest at its friendly clicks. About ten metres away, Spider sat on the woven pier and helped Jake carve wooden stakes for the nets. Socorro kept stealing glances, wondering how Ms.Sully would do.

Tsaheylu went smoothly but Neytiri shivered, as if cold water was dumped on her. She heard a familiar chuckle and whipped her head, seeing Spider quickly turn his down and pretending to work. She huffed, and listened to Tsahik’s instructions, slowly got on the creature’s back. However, the animal must’ve felt her lack of confidence, as it chirped and bolted away, dropping Neytiri into the water.

Spider tried, honest to the great mother, to hold it in, but the image of such a serious, graceful figure emerging from beneath the waves with the widest eyes was just too amusing. He let out a laugh, before biting his lip and hunching again. Jake looked at him like he just signed his death warrant, and Socorro couldn’t agree more. 

He didn’t see the smirk Neytiri failed to suppress, or her slowly wagging tail as she approached the ilu again, and whispered something into their ear.

He did however, definitely feel the harsh tug on his loincloth, which sent him tumbling into the water with a high-pitched screech. Once under the surface, he locked eyes with the clicking ilu and playfully shoved its face, swimming back up when the most incredible sound graces his ears. 

Neytiri laughed. It was short-lived, but she laughed, and laughed in his presence. Seeing a smile on her worn out face felt like a breath of fresh air and Socorro couldn’t help but chuckle in return, grinning. 

Oh how good it felt, to have the weight of the world pulled off their shoulders, if just for a single moment.

***

Neytiri was at it again; overworking herself because she steadily lost focus on the current task while the eclipse had long since passed. She was expected home hours ago, and the family, deeply scared for their mother’s wellbeing, went looking for her around the village.

Jake and Spider split to search on the shoreline, going opposite directions and soon enough, Socorro witnessed a familiar silhouette resting against the rocks. It was none other than ‘Tiri, with a half-weaved net in her arms. 

The blonde couldn’t help but appreciate that distinct, Omatikaya handiwork; he learned weaving from her after all, but his wonder turned to confusion when he caught the warrior twitching in her sleep. Looking up, Spider met her shut eyes and a forming scowl. It’d be better to wake Neytiri before she falls deeper into whatever nightmare she was seeing.

But as soon as Socorro’s hand touched hers, she pounced on him akin to a vengeful thanator. In a way, she was.

“Hey hey HEY!!” Spider yelled, as ‘Tiri felt for the blade strapped to her vest and unsheathed it. “Neytiri STOP!! IT’S ME!!”

In a fit of rage, Neytiri hissed at him, and on reflex, the blonde hissed right back. That seemed to do the trick, as it snapped the warrior out of her delusion, and she breathed heavily, looking him in the eyes.

After what felt like an eternally long moment, she leapt away, realising what she’d done. “What do you want!?”

“…It’s-it’s eclipse. Everyone has been looking for you…” Spider breathed.

Neytiri turned, eyeing the darkening sky, before giving the blonde a slow nod and collecting the net she’d weaved.

“Let us go.” She looked back at him, waiting for Spider to follow.

***

This night proceeded quietly, like so many others these past weeks, but Tshaka could not sleep. It has been roughly a month, but her scar bled still, as fresh as ever. Keeping her son out of her thoughts as to not breakdown completely has been an exhausting task. 

She needed some air, and slowly, as to not disturb her family, slipped out of the warm hut, shivering at the chill. It was then she caught a distant sound of sobbing.

In said distance, on a pier, sat a familiar tiny figure, with knees up to his chin, and shaking shoulders. ‘Tiri couldn’t help her gasp as she approached, akin to a predator trying not to spook its prey. Was Spider really crying? He hadn’t done that since the funeral. She guessed that he’d been putting on a front, but never considered how heavy the burden of grief would weight on someone who experienced it for the first time. 

Thinking of her child, she let out a tear.

It never got easier, but one’s very first loss always stings the most.

“Spider.” 

She spoke barely above a whisper, but Socorro still lurched, as if burned, before quickly lifting his mask and wiping away the salt on his cheeks. 

“W-what is it?” He croaked, his voice shaking.

It’s only then Neytiri realised that she didn’t actually think it through. Her deep-rooted maternal instinct pulled her towards a broken child, but knowing their history, she had no idea how to provide comfort to him specifically.

So instead, she sat next to him, looking at the glowing ocean.

“I cannot sleep.”

The Na’vi avoided making eye contact with Socorro as to not make him feel further embarrassed, but still noticed him nodding, while hiding most of his face.

“…Neither can I.”

‘Tiri nodded in acknowledgement, and they stayed silent for a little more. Listening to the waves swirl gently against pier’s columns, as well as watching peculiar creatures swim below.

“…How…how do-how do you do it?” The boy then asked, sheepishly turning to the woman next to him.

“Do what?”

“Keep going. After everything…” New tears gathered in his eyes. “I feel like a part of me has been ripped away. Is this how it felt when…?”

“…Yes. It feels like that all of the time.”

The blonde’s eyes widened, another tear escaping down his face. “Then how?”

Neytiri looked back at the ocean, trying to gather her thoughts and give him a hopeful response, but in truth, she had none. Every tragedy was a storm that destroyed her, and then, after a while, she just wouldn’t be crumbling as much.

“…I do not know. I guess…” She sighed. “All you can do is wait.”

“It’s torture.”

“Yes.”

“I want to see him again.”

Neytiri’s heart skipped a beat. “I know.”

“It feels like the world has ended, and everyone’s just pretending like nothing happened.”

That sentence brought new tears to Neytiri’s eyes. Socorro oddly hit the arrow on that one. It really did feel like a silent apocalypse at times; like everything after Neteyam’s death was an afterlife, a ghost remaining of the world that had once existed. 

But she felt that way before. The world had died before, one too many times, and yet here she still was, pushing on. It is thanks to her family that she once more found happiness and saw how her life could yet be full of love and purpose.

“…The sun, Socorro. Look to the sun.”

“What..?..”

Neytiri clenched the weaved floorboards of the pier. “The pain is agonising, and the tragedy may seem endless, but the sun will always rise. No matter what happens here on Eywa’eveng, it’ll greet us the very next morning.”

Spider looked up at Polemius; a giant orb with swirly patterns, gracing Pandorian sky.

“The sun will always rise.” Neytiri said, carefully, ever so carefully, moving her hand towards his, wanting to take the pain she is so aware of away from a boy so young. “Nor is the night starless.” She spoke, their fingers barely touching.

***

Curiously, Neytiri slept like a newborn after the conversation they had. Waking up with the morning rays, she saw that the marui had been emptied of all her family members, but she’d been tucked into a blanket. She’ll have to cook something big tonight, to reward her children and husband for working so hard to help Awa’atlu prepare for the future battle with sky people.

However, next to her lay a holo-pad. A human techno device used by Jake to contact their friends at high camp, and sometimes bythe Sully siblings to take photos. Tiredly, she picked up her head and stared at the screen. One of the icons was glowing, and she knew it meant that someone left a message. She pressed on it, expecting barely-comprehensible science gibberish written by Norm or Max.

Instead, it was a message written directly on this device. Neytiri read into the letters, her mind still foggy. 

Her heart sank into the ground.

Her face went pale. 

She leapt to a stance immediately, running as fast as she could through the village, a hundred emotions fighting to be felt, and a single question screaming to be answered.

Why?

The eclipse was not yet fully over when the warrior reached rocky cliffs on the edge of the island. Spider stood there, on the tallest edge, as still as a statue.

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU SAVE HIM!?” Neytiri screamed on top of her lungs, a human word escaping her in the state of panic.

Socorro turned to her, his face once more stained with tears, but his expression stone-serious. “I did it because….because he loves me, in his own horrible, fucked up way. He cared, and when push came to shove, he chose me over everything else!” He yelled to be heard over the crashing waves. “No one has ever done that for me before and, fuck!” He couldn’t keep up the front for long. “I love him too! I wish I didn’t! I swear I hate that I do! He’s a fucking monster and I regret my choices! But back there, I couldn’t stop myself!” He sobbed. “I was just…I didn’t want to be abandoned again.”

Neytiri glared at him, frantic, a small part of her wanting, truly wanting to understand, but getting overshadowed by anger and fear.

“Foolish boy! Do you understand what will happen?! He will come back for us! For your siblings!!”

Spider shook his head, breathing rapidly. “No, no, he doesn’t care for them. He only threatened you because he knew it would set off Jake. He wanted to bait him into a fight. It was his only goal all along.”

‘Tiri hissed, furious. “What is the meaning of all this? Why come here, to the outskirts, to say it!? Are you too much of a coward to face your sins head on!?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Off-handedly, the woman noticed that Socorro wasn’t armed.

“After yesterday, I made up my mind. I can’t make things right, nothing will make it right…but this nightmare can end with me.”

It took a moment for Neytiri to process what the boy had meant, but when it hit her, she couldn’t help taking a step back.

Spider didn’t run out here because he’s a coward.

He ran out here to help Neytiri get rid of the evidence.

“You…you want me to kill you.”

“Don’t you?”

Did she?

Neytiri was angry, and grieving, and afraid, and broken what felt like way beyond repair after the tragedies she’d faced. 

She hated Spider for whom he saved.

She hated what he represented so much.

She…

…

She didn’t want him to die, she realised, tearing up in frustration at herself. She recalled when he was a baby fitting into the palm of her hand, when he followed her like a little shadow and eager to prove himself, when he played with her children, when he gave Tuktirey one of her first necklaces, when he saved his siblings from the sky people who pursued them out of hell’s gate a year ago, when he went through torture at the hands of RDA, that cause him phantom pains, just to keep Omatikaya and their family safe. 

For so long, when meeting eyes with the child before her, she only saw Quaritch. A creature that would inevitablt morph into his exact copy.

But now, when it felt like she had gotten all the proof of it in the world, she looked at him…

And only saw Spider. 

Spider, the human Omatikaya from the forest, and no one else. Miles’s shadow was gone, no longer veiling the blonde away from her.

Neytiri wanted to pluck her eyes out in anger. Why, out of all moments, did she have to see him now? Why did the great mother tortue her so?

She sighed shakily. “I do not what a child’s blood in my hands. I am not him.”

Spider’s eyes widened, as he stared at her in shock, before eventually frowning and nodding. “Right. I’m sorry, of course you wouldn’t…fuck, I don’t know why I thought you would.”

Why did he?

Neytiri hated him, he knew that. They even had an argument once, a short but dramatic one, when the RDA had just returned to Pandora. He’d been so frustrated at the way she saw him, that he’d exploded on her in return that night, saying that Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk were all the family he had because of her war.

He regretted those words every day.

It was another reason to get rid of him. Truthfully, Neytiri had every justification to go through with his murder. Spider wasn’t even a creature of Eywa, so could it really that big of a deal?

But, of course it was.

Neytiri is not a monster out to get him, though it seems like Socorro had come to believe it at some point because of her sheer resentment. 

And then Neteyam died, and everything made sense. Honestly, Socorro had been surprised she didn’t actually attempt anything herself. Truly, Tsahaka was a warrior stronger than any other he’d ever met. An ideal Na’vi.

He only wished he could have understood her sooner.

But now he did. 

“I get it. I…”

And he still needed to make up for his sins.

“It’s time I act like one of the people for once.”

And with those words, Spider’s exopack flew down the cliff, disappearing into the foam below.

Neytiri’s heart stilled as she watched the blonde choke in slow-motion, before her instincts took over and she leapt into action. 

Spider’s limp form in her arms, she ran back to Awa’atlu, counting down the seconds with her every stride.

Sky people only had four minutes to live after loosing air. 

Awa’atlu resided way further. 

She wouldn’t make it.

But Socorro was not any other human, was he? 

Neytiri held onto that thought like a life-line as she pushed Metkayina out of her way. Had Spider always been so small? So fragile? 

She almost missed the entrance when reaching her home, slipping on the weavings, but regained her footing quickly and dropped Spider off on her pallet, rummaging through technical equipment Spellman had brought two weeks ago for the blonde specifically. 

Somewhere here, it had to be here!

There.

She pulled out a brand new mask, setting a charged battery into the slot before picking up her child and fixing the visor over his face, pressing a button that would start filtrating air. 

For a gruelling moment, there had been nothing but silence, and Neytiri’s heart kept sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

It’s been six minutes.

But then, there was a deep, loud inhale, punctuated by frantic coughing and shaking. Neytiri held the blonde as he gulped for air like a fish out of water. 

A moment or two, Spider had been completely disoriented, frantically looking around him, when his eyes paused, staring into Neytiri’s bright yellow ones, almost glowing in the light of the sun.

Socorro looked heartbroken, on the verge of tears the longer the warrior held him. “Why…why did you do it!?”

In response to his panic, Neytiri snapped out of her initial stupor. “I saved your life you ungrateful boy!” She snapped back, yet holding him only tighter. 

“Wha-no! You were supposed-I should have-” He stumbled over his words, distressed. “I should have died!” He sobbed, trying wearily to push Neytiri away, but his strength was no match for hers. “Let GO!” He cried. “…please.”

“True warriors do not go out like this.” She hissed.

“I’m not a warrior. Never passed the iknimaya remember!?” He blabbered, still pushing against Neytiri’s shoulders. “Ending it all was the most honorable thing I could do!”

“No!” She grabbed him by the bicep, forcing him to look up at her. “The honourable thing would be to own up to one’s mistake!”

“It was not a mistake! Don’t you get it?! I CHOSE him in that ocean. I s…” He whimpered, loosing his will to fight back. “He saw me. And I saw him. You can’t own up to that kind of shit.”

Neytiri’s hold on Spider’s bicep tightened, as she searched for something to say; something that would discourage him from trying that kind of blasphemy again, when a crucial memory surfaced in her mind.

“My mother. The Tsahik…” She began. “She saved a spy once. A spy of the sky people. A spy that helped your father destroy our hometree. That man chose to help our enemy…but he owned up to his choices, and eventually redeemed himself.”

“…but I can’t become rider of the last shadow.”

“No, you cannot, but it isn’t why I chose him. He made a commitment of loyalty, and showed us all that he was ready to fight, whether forgiven or not. You’ve made a commitment of loyalty a long time ago. I should have seen it sooner…should have seen you.” She spoke, and it felt like a puzzle piece missing from her damaged soul had finally been put into place. 

Spider gasped, his heart skipping a beat.

“Maybe if I did…the demon wouldn’t be alive.”

“What!? No! That-it wasn’t your responsibility!”

“It had to be someone’s, and I was the closest thing you ever gotten to a mother. That fact alone should have…cleared my mind.”

Socorro wanted to protest, wanted to take the guilt off Neytiri’s shoulders…but had no idea what to say to make it better. Perhaps a small, dark part of him didn’t want to, revelling in the newfound validation he’d never felt before.

“I apologise if I made you feel like death was your best chance at redemption.”

It was Spider’s turn to ho into Neytiri’s shoulder. “No! No it wasn’t you! I just-I brought so much pain already, I thought it’d be best if I stop being a burden.” Spider croaked. 

“You’re no burden. Never were.” ‘Tiri responded without missing a beat.

Socorro met eyes with Neytiri once more.

She looked back, not a shred of malice behind her gaze. Hate still raged in her heart.…but the love for this strange child, whom she knew practically since he was born, who put his life on the line for the people, was stronger. 

He fit perfectly into her embrace. 

“…Never?”

“Never.”

And the world, as these two knew it, shattered. This time however, it felt perfectly fine.

[hawkogurl]

I'll probably have more to say about this later bc I'm going to sleep soon, but I feel like, you, oliveroctavius, me, and a few other people are like the small minority I've seen anywhere who actually criticize TASM for the eugenics and ableism, and it honestly floors me that no one talks about it when it's so blatant and tumblr loves bringing up disability and ableism otherwise? Like, it's not even a case of how everyone has valid differing opinions and needs/wants when it comes to how the vast range of disabled experiences should be approached in fiction and there's nuance in how to do even tricky, but real experiences like grief and loss - we're talking about a film series where an antagonist meant to be sympathetic makes a speech about disability being a weakness of humanity that must be genetically eradicated to strengthen it (which is never deconstructed or challenged) and has no other characterization beyond sad amputee whose only interest for a decade is his missing arm, and where Peter is some kind of genetic chosen one whose Good Genes give him cool powers, and the whole mess with Harry.

The few other times on tumblr I've seen it brought up is to like, woobify (internalized) ableism even though the films go way beyond realistic personal struggle and straight into eugenics, and as someone with a Lizard niche in the Spidey fandom, I'm floored at how everywhere else, I keep seeing the TASM version of the character topping best adaptation discussions by a huge margin compared to way better takes with zero references of the ableism (this was not the case even a few years ago, idk what happened), and you can correct me on this if I'm wrong bc you would know more about the Harry side of things than me, but I feel like TASM!Harry used to be very popular and be moved, at least until MSM2017 and Insomniac came along.

Hi sorry my brother just graduated college. Anyways, in regards to the Harry side of things, I think a lot of the ableism SHOULD be pretty obvious, but apparently it’s not considering how little critical thought there is with all these villains. There’s the good genes bad genes eugenics of Harry wanting Peter’s blood to cure himself and then it doesn’t work because the spider only worked with Peter’s “good genes” (I don’t care about their in canon excuse, it still buys into this trope) and it reacted so badly with the TERMINALLY ILL CHARACTERS “bad genes” that he turned crazy and evil. And that’s ignoring my general distaste for disability or “insanity” being used primarily as a source of fear for the good, noble, and of course able bodied protagonists.

Something that’s also pretty weird that nobody mentions is the fact that like, Electro in these movies just HAD to talk to nothing. Normally it wouldn’t bother me as much or I might be willing to give it a pass, but it’s these movies, which just love to make their disdain for disabled people clear, so it comes off as super bad taste.

Like… I’m only scratching the surface. Why are there three people who consistently point out how ableist these movies are? Especially when as you said, tasm Harry is pretty popular! Ignoring my beef with him as a Harry Osborn, it’s so odd to me because so much of that is either like, sort of romanticizing his chronic illness and breakdown or getting off on that ableist insanity I mentioned earlier.

And when you bring it up, people get SUPER defensive. I don’t know if like, the amount of invalid criticism just makes people defensive or if it makes people think there’s NO valid criticism but like… these movies aren’t bad for the reasons you think. The issues they have are like… the writing saying that eugenics is cool and fun alongside generally iffy writing.

[solesommerso]

whumptober 2023 day 2 : bloody hands

Swat, Street centric

warnings : blood & injury, fighting, fight rings, mentions of past child abuse

It becomes an endless loop, work, sleep, work, sleep, a rinse and repeat routine that he’s grown used to. Accustomed to at this point.

It’s no longer exciting, no longer fulfilling, he watches as the cases pass by. Day by day, they become less real, less tangible. He doesn’t feel the satisfaction he used to after arresting a criminal or after returning a victim to their family, it feels trivial in a way. It’s just what’s expected.

But this is what he wanted. He wanted to help people day in and day out, it’s what he signed up for, age eighteen and a dream of becoming someone people would turn to instead of run away from. He softened his edges and lost his barbed wire eyes and filed his fangs down and wiped away the blood.

He got what he wanted. He grips the cold porcelain sink with white knuckles, the buzz of people talking and moving near him nips at his ears. He hasn’t know silence since he was buried in his mothers womb, unbeknownst to the chaos and violence that would soon become his life. He wonders if it was peaceful before it all came tumbling over him, he wouldn’t know, he can’t remember a day without the drip of roughness sliding down from his eyes to his cheeks and eventually to his mouth.

He can taste it when he wakes up in the morning and before he goes to bed, the urge to pounce and become feral again. He tells himself he threw that all away, fixed it, he’s better now and who he has always dreamed of. He keeps his arguments buried in his chest and forces his eyes away when they talk. He’s become good at hiding the lurking unsettled feelings.

Rinse and repeat. Work, sleep, work, rinse and repeat. Repetition. He swallows his anger, his grief, his need to run, to have chaos again.

There’s a little part of him, a broken part, that misses when things weren’t rinse and repeat. Misses when things were bruises and running and screaming and crying and laughing and all those things over, but in a different order, in different amounts. That was better to stomach. It’s odd to be out of it now, because how is he supposed to cope with the mundane? With the repeating days?

With what he wanted.

Is this what he wanted?

He begged for peace and quiet, clawing at the walls for someone to make the world easier, to give him the freedom he wanted. This doesn’t feel like freedom though, it feels like being caged.

He can feel how the iron bars sting his skin, they grow smaller each passing day, each practiced conversation crushing his chest, bringing the past chaos to the forefront of his mind. He misses baring his teeth and claws, misses the drip of blood that stained his skin, misses the euphoria that comes with adrenaline pumping and roars building in his throat.

And maybe that’s why he stands with bloodied knuckles and sweat beating down his skin. It’s humid out, he hasn’t noticed it in what feels like years but it’s humid, hot, it’s a nostalgic feeling of summer lacing his skin.

He throws another punch.

The blood splashes off of the other persons face, some of it lands on his chest, he doesn’t care. This feels good. Feels un-caged, feels feral, primal, feels familiar. He knows how to do this and unlike the rinse and repeat that he’s been doing, this lets him breathe easy.

He gets hit. The bruise will form soon, bloom over his skin pretty purples and blues, he smiles with that knowledge. This feels familiar too, the ache of his side, the split of his lip, the throb of hot pain spreading under his skin. He smiles under the gush of blood coating his teeth, the copper taste is nice, reminds him of childhood. He likes this.

More blood spills, more hits are landed, more bruises will be starting to form soon. The sirens come, he runs, and he feels free as he does.

His legs burn and shake under however long he’s been running. The pain of the bruises hasn’t set in bad enough to stop him but the blood has dried over, a tacky feeling when he touches his finger to his lip, not daring to glance at himself yet.

His phone buzzes twice, a case.

He makes it to the locker room without running into anyone, stripping his t shirt off before making his way to the mirror. His hair is tousled and greasy with sweat, pupils blown wide with adrenaline, blood painted on his skin and a purple bruise forming on his eye. He looks like himself, that’s his first thought, he doesn’t look like the stranger that’s been staring back at him for months, this is him.

Other people start to file into the locker room, Street washes the blood from his hands, fixated on how it swirls down the drain. He finds comfort in it, he’s seen it so many times, since he was a child, his racing heart starts to slow at it.

“Kid?” Hondos voice waivers in, it’s dulled by the blood pumping in Street’s ears. He switches the water off and turns towards Hondo despite it, the rest of the team standing there waiting too.

“You okay?” His boss looks so worried and concerned, he shouldn’t be. Street cracks a smile to try and ease the people in front of him, nodding that yes he’s fine. He’s okay, more than okay, he feels fucking electric, feels free.

“Kid you’re bleeding.” Shit there’s a gash on his side, he must’ve gotten it jumping that fence when the cops showed up to the fight ring he was at. He grabs his discarded shirt to wet it in the sink before pressing it to the bleeding slice, it doesn’t hurt, he’ll be fine. He tells the team he’ll be okay but they don’t seem to believe him.

“What happened?” Chris’s voice is thick, eyes tracking over Street over and over again, trying to find more injuries he presumes. He tells her nothing happened and moves to grab the first aid kit he keeps in his locker, there’s one on the wall but Street has his own personal one, it has more than the one on the wall.

He takes the shirt away from the injury and contemplates if he needs stitches or not. He thinks he can get by without them, instead he slaps some ointment on it and a nice sized bandage. He could do a better job but he doesn’t care that much, he can fix it later if he needs to. Right now all that matters is the familiar feeling of chaos mixed with calm swirling under his skin, he doesn’t think he can have one without the other.

[xalygatorx]

Worthy (2015) | Chapter 24, "I'll Always Find You"

Disappearing sporadically in public spaces quickly becomes Cora Dempsey's least concerning problem when suddenly she captures the attention of the forming Avengers Initiative, the World Security Council, and Asgard's fallen prince all in one week. And the universe is only just getting started with her.

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC. For additional details on what canon is used, see the Prologue post.

Disclaimer: From here on, at the time of writing Worthy I ran out of canon to go on from the films. Everything from here, forward, is pure HC about what I thought the fight with Thanos and the Ragnarök might look like based solely on existing canon and the title release cards.

Summary: Cora contends with her newborn grief over Loki’s demise. An audience with the “Allfather” comes with an unexpected twist. An old foe begins his greatest onslaught.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!OC

Warnings: Grief

Word Count: 3.3k

Cora inhaled slowly as her back pressed against the chamber door, closing it with a soft click and turning the latch until she heard the lock turn home with a hollow sound. Her eyes closed in time with the door and leaned her head back against the gold paneling with a dull thud, her fingers sliding over the door handle until her hand slipped off entirely to hang at her side.

Loki was dead. And she'd been right about him all along.

Her throat tightened painfully and when she opened her eyes next, the white scleras were red with inflamed blood vessels, saline glossing them over and collecting at the rims. About this, she'd been wrong though. She still had energy to grieve. She would always have energy to grieve and mourn and it came in full force this time just as it had with all the others.

It would have hurt whether he was a truly merciless villain through and through as so many others had thought or the misunderstood prince he'd turned out to be. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. Not anymore. Nothing excused what he'd done, but he had redeemed himself when it mattered and that meant so much more than any lingering reputation. People could change. It just took an immense amount of strength for them to do so. Slipping back into old ways was more than possible, it was easier, but she would never know if his change would stick. Neither would Thor or Odin or the Warriors Three or anyone else who had doubted him. Maybe that was a good thing.

Cora clenched her jaw and shook off the thoughts, blinking hard and exhaling at last in a gust, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed until she figured out how to control herself enough to get to work on something productive. Hell, what would she even do now? She hadn't thought much past meeting her Asgardian relatives or any possible outcomes with Thor and Loki apart from everyone coming back alive and okay. It had just seemed impossible for them to fail, even if Thor had ultimately triumphed at the cost of his brother's life.

As she sank into her seat, she crossed her ankles and habitually tucked them back just enough to breach the bedskirt. Her brow arched faintly as she felt her heel hit something under the bed and she leaned forward, reaching to find whatever she'd tapped with her foot, her fingers hooking in a fabric strap. Pulling against the strap, she tugged what turned out to be her purse forward, having forgotten about it entirely after surrendering it to a couple of Frigga's handmaidens upon her arrival when they'd insisted she take a bath to cleanse her wounds.

Setting her purse in her lap, she hesitated before slowly unzipping the main compartment, figuring it could serve as a temporary distraction to root through familiar souvenirs from her home world. She'd rifled briefly through tiny trifles like her car keys (now useless since Clint had put an arrow through where said key would have gone and by this point, her car had probably been towed or confiscated by SHIELD), a couple stray keychains, some old receipts, and keys to her apartment by the time she got to her billfold, grimacing as she unsnapped the clasp and unfolded it.

A soft smirk found her face as she looked down at her driver's license and old school ID along with all her debit, credit, and gift cards lining the pouches inside and thinking how useless they all were here. Cora slid her nail behind the first layer and turned it over, her throat constricting as she looked down at the picture there, faded from the years, of her as a child with her parents.

"Never gets easier," she murmured softly, her fingertips stroking the plastic covering the photograph before she shut and zipped her billfold, replacing it in her purse before taking out her phone.

Out of simple curiosity, Cora depressed the "home" button and felt a sincere sensation of shock when the screen lit up for her to swipe and unlock it. "Can bet there's no wifi here…," Cora commented with some of her usual snark returned and looked over the apps, opening up her photo gallery and starting from the top. High school "selfies" with friends, snapshots of old photos of her parents, a couple shots of her grandmother and her grandmother's golden retriever, Nell, and countless pictures of flowers, trees, and landscapes out in California. She had to admit that she missed it there after all this time away. It felt like ages.

When she neared the end, she nearly went to the home screen again, but she stopped, noticing a small, somewhat blurry final picture she didn't remember being there. It was nestled right beside a short video she'd taken at a music festival she'd gone to in Central Park perhaps a month before all of her problems involving SHIELD had begun. Narrowing her eyes, she touched the square screen-cap and it expanded to fill the screen.

When she pressed "play," her features went blank with disbelief as a jostling video of Loki began. Realizing she had it muted after a few moments, she paused it and put it back to the start, turning up the volume. His hair was shorter here, he even had a bit of color left in his face, but his brow was pinched with determination and utter frustration. Even before she pressed "play" again, she knew this was a mistake, but that didn't stop her.

"Damn, how do I… Ah, right, got it!" his voice played through the speakers, and Cora felt like she'd swallowed a handful of needles as a triumphant grin broke across his face, and she was finding it hard to breathe properly again. She stayed strong as his eyes moved over what had been her phone screen, but she had no idea why he'd had it on in the first place. She couldn't even remember when he might've had access to it.

He continued to mutter, something about messages and addresses, and she could only think that he was trying to figure out how to work the phone and that was how he'd accidentally triggered the app for the camera in the first place. Cora laughed softly as he grew frustrated with the technology, her free hand moving to touch her mouth as she watched, even as her heart hurt in a peculiar way at seeing him like this. Maybe because she never would again.

Finally, something favorable happened for him and he started to calm down, soon smirking and declaring victoriously, "Nice try, Cora, I'll always find you." 

Her smile slowly faded as the video ended there when he locked the phone, her numbness resonating once before beginning to lift and leave her defenseless. Cora sucked in a short breath and moved the track forward again to just seconds before that fateful phrase, listening to it one more time.

"Nice try, Cora, I'll always find you."

She locked her phone after the second run-through and felt her features contort just before a sob was torn from her chest, escalating until she bowed her body so her forehead rested against her knees, her hands still holding her phone against her chest as she wept painfully into the fabric of her gown. Her form flickered as she sank into her own agonizing grief, fading out entirely more than once as she lost control of herself. That was how he'd found her in California at her grandmother's supposed funeral, which had turned out to be a scam. He'd handed her phone back to her once he'd arrived and held her hand on their way back.

Cora cried hard enough to cause muscle strain throughout her body, tension making her ache, but not nearly so much as her own emotions. "Well, find me now," she murmured softly, shaking her head as she flashed back to what he'd said out of spite, that she couldn't save anyone. Not because she still felt ire toward him over it, but because it was terribly true. She hadn't been able to save her parents, she hadn't been able to save Frigga, and she hadn't been able to save him either. This knowledge made her utterly miserable.

A knock on her door made her clear her throat carefully enough to weakly answer, "Yes?"

"Lady Cora, the Allfather desires an audience with you," a man, who she could only guess was a guard, said politely through the door and a faint hint of guilt in his voice told her that he realized she wasn't in the best condition at the moment, even if he didn't understand why.

"Lady," she repeated softly with a strained smirk as she slowly sat up and let her phone slip back into her purse. "That's a new one…" Then to him, she said more loudly, "I'll be just a moment. Thanks."

Cora set her purse aside and stood, checking herself in the nearby mirror and wiping the tear streaks from her cheeks as she mulled over what Odin could possibly want from her. Maybe to kick her out. Talk to her about Loki. He had to be hurting a bit over this, he just had to be. Whether or not they admitted it, they were family and the loss of both his wife and one of his sons was likely to be weighing heavily upon him. She left the chamber and walked with the guard outside to the throne room, where he bowed and left her at the door.

Taking a deep breath, Cora walked through the doors the standing guards opened for her, listening to them settle closed behind her. She started walking toward the throne where the Allfather lounged, holding Gungnir as he watched her progress. Something was different though… There were no guards around; it was just them in the throne room.

That wasn't what was bothering her though, it was about Odin. He seemed less formal, but maybe that was because there were no guards around. She might've thought it was grief exhausting him, but as she approached and his features came into focus, she noted that he was oddly calm. "You…wanted to see me?" she said uncertainly, stopping midway down the carpeted aisle.

"Indeed," he said simply, raising his hand as he leaned forward a little. "Come closer. I do not care for shouting needlessly across the room." Cora stepped forward slowly and he hesitated a long time before he continued to answer her question. He seemed to divert from whatever he was originally going to say and noting instead, "I suppose I mean to ask what you plan to do in regard to your ties between Midgard and here. Whether you will—"

"That's what you're concerned about?" Cora interrupted with slight incredulity. "How much longer I'll be taking up a room in your palace?"

An expression of surrender bloomed on his aged face and his demeanor seemed to shift to one of weary defeat. "A room is of little importance, but I believe I must tell you that—"

"That, what?" Cora demanded, suddenly escalating toward anger. "That I have to figure out what I'm going to do, go through some kind of immigration process in order to stay here, be the only one in this damn place to grieve for your son? How can you sit there and just," she struggled for words, "keep going?!"

His grey brow furrowed subtly and he squinted at her features. "Your eyes are red. Something ails you?" he asked softly, studying her and seeming to lapse back into his former manner.

Grimacing at the fact that her eyes were reddened with her earlier tears, Cora felt her proverbial hackles rise and she shot back, "What 'ails me' is what should be ailing you! Your son just died, do you feel nothing for that?!"

"He is not my son," Odin said coolly.

"What kind of monster are you?!" Cora demanded loudly, feeling her tears beginning anew from two parts frustration, one part grief. Same old song and dance. "How can you just decide not to mourn him? He died for a man who is your son, you won't deny that!"

"You grieve his loss," Odin observed quietly, seeming baffled by her reactions.

"And you don't," she retorted defensively.

"Why do you?"

Cora looked up at him on his golden throne and, in that moment, she hated him. She truly hated him, but she knew the feeling was temporary. She so rarely held a grudge, it was almost an inability of hers to do so. "Because I care," she said quietly. "Because I'll miss him. That's why anyone grieves. The loss and what they will never get to say."

"And what will you never have the chance to say?" the Allfather asked with almost too much curiosity, but Cora didn't notice as she was more concerned with wiping the stray moisture from her eyes.

She floundered for words, struggling to articulate before she grimaced and shook her head. "What does it matter now? And what the hell do you care?" she asked fiercely, glaring up at him as he got to his feet and slowly made his way down the steps to her level.

"It's a bit…," he began hesitantly, which was the first time she'd ever seen Odin grow hesitant, but as she watched, he began to change. A familiar green aura slowly grew over his form, which lengthened and thinned as she watched, her eyes widening as she reflexively took a step back. 

When the light faded, Loki stood in Odin's place, looking down at her with a mixture of interest and wariness. "Complicated," he finished lamely, pursing his lips into a thin line.

"But…you…," Cora mumbled confusedly as he stopped a few steps in front of her, looking up at him with bewildered eyes still red and watery from crying. "Thor said…"

"Thor left before I could heal. I'm still not entirely whole, but," he paused, looking down at her thoughtfully. "I am alive. Obviously, but… Cora, I don't know how you could forgive me for the things I said to you, but if you—"

"Stop," Cora said harshly, raising a hand. Loki closed his mouth and glanced toward the floor, knowing he had been foolish to think she might be forgiving after finding out he was alive, particularly after he hadn't told her straightaway that the Odin she'd approached on the throne had, in fact, been him.

Cora's hands were shaking and her voice shook faintly as she said again, "Just…stop…," just before she stumbled forward and closed the distance in two long strides, throwing her arms around him. Loki jolted in shock and looked down at her, his arms half-raising of their own accord though he hesitated. "You're such an idiot…," she mumbled against his shoulder, standing on her tiptoes to make up for the height difference.

Loki sighed and a faint smile crossed his face as he wrapped his arms strongly around her, ignoring the dull pain in his chest as he held her close and moved one of his hands to gently cradle the back of her skull. It was amazing how the simple act of being able to touch her after all this time was able to ease his mind. "I know."

Cora laughed quietly through new tears of relief, not entirely inclined to loosen her hold, though she did after a moment. As she eased back to standing flatly on her feet and let him go, she sighed, looking up at him and finding that her smile was lingering, despite it all. "I forgive you. Let's just move on, okay?"

Loki smiled back at her and had shifted his hand from the back of her head to her cheek when they broke their hold, softly stroking the line of her cheekbone without entirely realizing he was doing so. "Okay."

The moment was broken when the air changed into an unnerving state of stillness. Loki's smile faded and his eyes shifted from Cora to the entry doors, a hum filling the air just before a snarl twisted his lips and he grabbed her, taking them both down to the golden floor. A sonic wave lashed through the already weathered throne room, sending stones crumbling and gold adornments cracking up the sides. A fissure formed in the floor and it split the throne up the middle.

"What's happening?" Cora shouted over the roar of breaking rock and warping metal, reaching up and covering the back of Loki's head as a fragment of rock hurtled toward it, causing it to slice her hand instead.

Loki glanced around with a feral sort of desperation, not knowing whether to keep their position on the floor or get them both to a safer place, though the presence filling the room felt horribly familiar…

“I warned you that failure was not an option, Loki Laufeyson.”

With the voice came pain of agonizing force that overtook his senses as it had time and time again in Chitauri lands, causing his limbs to shudder as he held himself over Cora, trying to protect her even as he felt like he was being ripped apart. He opened his scrunched eyes to look at her when he heard her gasp loudly, finding her choked with agony as well, her hands tight against her skull as she curled from the inflicted pain.

"Thanos!" Loki roared, enraged that the torture he knew too well was now being used on Cora as well.

"No need to scream, little giant. I am all. I will bring ends to all," Thanos promised with a deep chuckle. Another sonic wave caused the architecture to groan and shudder and Loki gathered Cora closer to keep them both grounded and try to comfort her as the familiar torment continued on, murmuring softly in her ear that it was all in her head and it would end soon.

Loki glanced up when he heard a rumble from deep underground and then crashing until the palace vault, uprooted from its cavernous home broke through the floor and the air went suddenly still again. The enchantment on the vault was breached and a void opened upon the impossibly thick metal door, a blue glow surfacing slowly until the cubical shape of the Tesseract rose up, at once enclosed by the void.

At that moment, a vision of fire into darkness, of burning cities and melting golden reaches, of screaming and death and the universe folding in upon itself washed over him and Loki's jaw clenched as he glanced around at Asgard's royal fortress, a mass of fragmented gold and stone encircling him as the rest of Asgard lay in ash and dust, the sky breaking apart above him. He knew this sight.

The vision faded when he blinked, breathing hard as the mental infliction of implied pain finally faded from his mind, relieved when he felt Cora relax in his arms as well. The bastard never showed himself, but one last threat flowed through the room and echoed twice over. A threat that sent deep chills through his bones and was even enough to pale the fair skin of the trickster god's face.

"Prepare yourself for the final death, son of ice. The Ragnarök begins."

Next chapter: Chapter 25, "Gems of Power"

[sexysilverstrider]

Irresolute Feelings (Chapter 3) | Volokari

   Silence was heavy. Unbearable.

   One lone woman pressed her back against the wall. Her head tilted upwards, wide eyes staring at the tall man whom she loved but now feared. Colour almost drained from her face. The expression he wore was void of joy. A deep frown stretched his mouth. Though blonde bangs covered half of his face, shivers ran down her spine to see such a cold, sharp glare pierced directly at her.

   Her heart raced—she didn’t want this to be the cause.

   “Um…” Her mouth was agape, shivered. “Are…you okay?” She sniffed not a whiff of alcohol on him. He didn’t look dirty either; not a speck of dirt nor blood that implied that he was doing business outside of town. Both palms pressed against the wall, one hand however twitched in hesitance on whether or not she should reach out for him.

   Silence continued to slice her into two.

   He looked at her. Dotted pupils focused from head to toe. She was home. She was home. That was all that came to mind when he saw her sandals near the entrance. She’s here. She’s here. That was all that bubbled in his head when he stepped into her—their house.

   She’s mine. She’s mine. That was all that boiled inside his mind when he saw her in the room. Akari. Akari.

   He saw her with someone else. Akari. He saw her with that bastard of a man. Akari. Akari. She was so close with that fucker. So close. Their bodies were touching. Akari. Their hands were holding. Akari.

   Anger fumed through flared nostrils. Akari. Grey eyes landed on her, witnessing such fear that once bared its presence for the first time in the Temple of Sinnoh. Akari. The hand on the wall slowly curled into fists, dull nails digging into the flesh of his callous palm.

   Akari. He saw her. He saw her so close with someone else! Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari Akari AKARI—!

   “Volo…”

   Her voice grounded him back to earth.

   Once again, he looked at her.

   He hated that expression on her face.

   A frown quivered such pink lips. Taking a deep breath, Akari met his gaze. “What’s wro—?”

   “How was your day, dear?”

   The question—so off-putting; so eerily calm—caught her off guard. “It was good.” A simple short reply. She wasn’t ready to reveal the actions of hours ago, but judging by his actions now, Akari didn’t know if she’s ever ready. “I and Rei—”

   His fist by the side of her head curled tighter.

   “—subdued an Alpha Luxray today. It was terrifying, but we managed to escape.” Her words were careful. Calculated. Jet black eyes never once broke from his intense gaze. Fear may have taken root, but courage steadily crept up as this was not the first time that she had ever seen him like this.

   At least, this was a first since they started being together.

   “Rei—”

   A sharp breath hissed through gritted teeth.

    “—got wounded pretty bad on the ankle so I had to bring him back to the village for better treatment. He’s okay now.” Her mind tried to calculate the situation they were in. Volo clearly wasn’t in a good mood. This wasn’t the first time. Ever since they lived together, they both knew how to keep a proper amount of distance when they needed to. Just because their feelings were mutual didn’t mean that it was always sunshine and roses. Akari soon realized Volo still had to adapt to the world he swore to destroy—just as he had to understand the sheer grief she had to face when she lost her own world.

   Usually, they did their own matters after a fight—though often petty ones—and made up, at worst, the day after. Sometimes their apologies were verbal. Sometimes their apologies were physical.

   In the end, it would all end well.

   But now, as she remained stuck between a wall and him, Akari couldn’t tell if this would too.

   A single gulp slid down a dry throat. “So…yeah.” She was dumbfounded. “I ah…came home early because I was…” The words a breathy murmur, Akari forced herself to look at him. “…tired…”

   He squinted. His frown never left.

   “Hmm…” was all he said next. Finally, he moved his other hand. “And this?” Fingers lightly brushed the scar on her right cheek. Volo watched as she flinched. Be it from his touch or the pain, he didn’t know.

   If it was the former, then he didn’t know how to convince himself otherwise when he remembered her touch with the other Galaxy member.

   Fury was a dangerous master as it could easily take over a person’s body.

   One minute, he was caressing her cheek, fingers brushing the fresh wound that seemed so easy to tear open if he pierced his nail through.

   The next, his left hand roughly grasped her lower jaw, fingers pressing against a vein in her neck.

   The action and shock caused her to cough. “V-Vo…lo—ck…” Strong hands pressed against her jaw, forcing her mouth to open. Dark eyes widened, tears near forming the sides at the sudden pain. Quickly her hands whipped to his left hand, yet his strength and the bafflement of the situation disabled her to pry him away.

   “Did you have fun with Rei today?” His fingers pressed against her neck.

   “Wha—ugh…!” Her words became wheezes.

   “Did you?” He leaned closer, hand still firm on her face. A smile finally broke apart, yet honesty was nowhere to be seen. “Did you feel safe with him around?” His forehead bonked against her, pushing her head hard against the wall.

   Her vision was getting blurry.

   “Aaaah…and here I was, worry to my wit’s end.” He cocked her head upwards. “And yet, what did I see?” Blind anger seethed as it scraped her pale face.

   Akari tried and tried again. But all she could do, all she could see, was the man she loved turning into a living nightmare. “V-Vo…”

   “You.”

   His word was laced with venom. It punctured her heart. Tore her chest apart.

   His body pressed against hers. Coat be damned as Volo harshly pressed his hips against hers. “You being so close to another man. You talking about another man.��� His grip loosened—just for a few seconds—before he shocked her again by jolting her face closer. “You being so vulnerable to everyone when you clearly belong to me.”

   A single tear trickled down her cheek.

   “You told me you love me.” He rubbed against her. A low groan exhaled as he felt his cock brushing her thigh. It felt good. He hated it. He hated it! “You told me you love me.”

   Another and another tear soaked her cheeks and his hand.

   It hurt.

   It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

   He saw. He saw.

   However, jealousy was a disease.

   “How dare you…” he whispered, weak and seething still. “How…dare you…”

   “Vol-lo…” A whimper of a name escaped. “S-Sto—”

   “How dare you…” He couldn’t hear her anymore.

   “Sto—”

   Body flushed hard against her. Hand clutched madly onto her jaw. “How…” His body moved on instinct. Fingers still digging into her throat, Volo watched as those beautiful dark eyes grew red. “…dare—”

   Pupils dilated slightly at the sight of her. The image formed thorns of guilt, stabbing his heart mercilessly until he himself had lost breath.

   He didn’t want this. He should stop. He needed to stop. He didn’t want to hurt her. “—YOU!”

   “STOOOP!”

   Taking advantage of the brief moment of weakness, Akari roughly wiggled her face away from his hand and screamed.

   SLAM!

   Everything happened too fast.

   The first moment, they were pressed onto the wall. Akari could barely breathe. A horrible hurricane of panic, fear, and sorrow overcame her to a total stupor.

   The second moment, once her shout rang through, Akari felt breathless.

   A gasp and many coughs escaped her tight lungs once she was released. Thud. Weakly, she fell to the floor. One hand clutched her chest. The other shakily caressed her neck. Tears still trickled down her cheeks. Her head rapidly spun, but Akari knew fainting wouldn’t help the situation right now.

   Kneeling on the tatami mat, she looked forward.

   Pupils shrunk to dots to see the back of her Hisuian Typhlosion. Raging flames of purple and red lit up the area. If not for the wide space of the room, it wouldn’t be a surprise that the place could be burned down.

   Akari needed to stop this.

   Meanwhile, while horror stunned the woman, her starter was fueled with nothing but manic rage.

   ‘You…’ Bloodred eyes shot to tiny dots as he glared at the groaning man. ‘Youuuu….” He stood tall, head cocked upwards as he glared at the pathetic human below. Fangs were borne ferociously. Claws were out and gleaming at every tip. The fur on his body prickled from head top to bottom. If Belial were to take one step forward, one would swear that a fire could be formed right where he stood,

   Taken aback by the violent push, Volo carefully pushed himself upright. Confusion was immediately replaced with terror once he saw him.

   Belial didn’t move. He stood in front of Akari. He stood between his beloved human and the bastard of a creature. His glare—nearly demonic and hollow—bore holes into Volo’s skull.

   He should have never let him live with her. He should have never let this sleazy man slither back into her life. From the day he met him as a Cyndaquil, Belial had a bad feeling about it. And the feeling only grew stronger and stronger each time they met.

   But he kept quiet. He kept his silence and watched.

   Akari may love the vile man honest and true. She may have accepted him despite what he had done to her. And Belial respected that. He respected her choices as long as it made her happy.

   But now.

   Now.

   As she kneeled on the floor, shivering and crying, Belial knew Volo would always be the one who would never be able to make her happy.

   With that resolution in mind, he slowly tilted his head.

   Without a word, without a sound, wisps of purple coated around his mane. The fire from the hearth disappeared immediately. Silence intensified furthermore, almost breathless. Even though night time was filled with stars and the moon, all was an abyss inside the quaint house.

   Nothing except fumes of purple and two dots of red.

   Panic seeped in the poor blonde. As he scrambled backwards, all he saw was a smoke of skulls above the bloodthirsty Hisuian Typhlosion.

   Realizing what Belial was about to do, Akari had another set of alarms setting her off. “Belial sto—!”

   Unfortunately, before another scream could be finished, he unleashed Infernal Parade.

[iwritelmao]

SO I HAD AN IDEA

as I normally do when I’m hyperfixating, I decided to write fanfiction bc sometimes the source material doesn’t/can’t give us anything and everything.

anyway I hear there’s a discussion about Astarion being a good dad vs Astarion being a bad dad. And apparently Neil Newbon himself declared the latter. I’m definitely inclined to agree.

SO I made an OC who’s father is Astarion. And drew up a character sheet for them. But the character sheet is rly messy and is drawn onto sketchbook paper so that won’t be shown till I can make it neat and legible lol

Anyway, read below the cut for more info (TW: mentions of suicide)

Dawn was born to Selene Windor, an elven poet and artist in a small port town. Her father, she never knew, only hearing stories artfully crafted by Selene.

Selene had lived on the Seaview Docks for a long time, a number of human generations. She was an elf after all. She knew the residents and in time would know the residents’ grandchildren. They knew her as well. The old, yet eternally young bard who lived on the edge of town.

But of course, this tended to get old. Hundreds of equinoxes and solstices blended together into beautiful and torturous monotony. She longed for excitement.

When an outsider visited, which rarely happened at the docks, save for fishers and merchants, everything changed. It was sparked by a mere few seconds of eye contact under the stars.

Selene had been shopping for fish at the night market—a familiar town tradition where lanterns and stalls decorated the moonlit street once every month—when she saw him. Pointed ears, a sharp jawline, and white curls that rivaled her own pin straight honey blonde. When their eyes met, he paused for a moment then flashed her a toothy grin.

They met in the middle of the market. She asked where he was from, he said “everywhere.” He asked the same, and she said “nowhere.” She asked his name. He said “whatever you want” with a smile that made Selene want to cry out in joy.

He stayed in town for months—the blink of an eye for an elf. She wrote of nothing but Him, painted Him, loved Him with everything she had, trying to guess a name that she knew would never amount to his beauty and the kindness he showed her.

So he called her his moon, and him her stars.

He offered to take her places, far-away places, more often than not. She politely declined. He even told her the truth about what he was, and she only loved him more for it.

He almost stayed. Almost.

The night before the stars faded he loved her like he had never loved anyone before. More truly than he had loved anyone before. He offered once more to take her away, to somewhere called Baldur’s Gate, a bustling city where her art could grow and travel beyond ports and docks. He even shed a tear of blood when at last he said that he’d take her to meet his family, his voice pleading and sorrowful.

She politely declined.

And he left in the morning. Before she could even tell him that she was with child.

Selene was driven mad with grief, destroying all of the paintings and locking away all of the poems.

When Dawn arrived, she cried. The little girl looked just like him, with wavy blonde hair only a shade away from white. Though she had her mother’s dark brown eyes, or so Selene thought.

Looking closer at the baby, she realized that her dark eyes had just a tint of scarlet over them.

Of course. The baby was a Dhampir.

Throughout Dawn’s childhood, she had to support her mother, who never left the house anymore. She worked when she could and stole when she couldn’t. And it was more often than not that she couldn’t due to the fact that everyone in the small town seemed to know what she was. The spawn of a vampire spawn.

It was one thing for a child to grow up without any friends. It was a complete other thing for a child to grow up being feared just because she had to drain chickens or raw cow meat from the market to survive.

When she was thirteen, a burglar came through the town. The body was found at the base of the docks after the third night of thievery, drained of blood.

When she was fifteen, it was a merchant’s son. The out of towner survived with a bite mark on his neck and some lightheadedness.

Dawn decided it was best to spend most of her time inside, taking care of her mother.

Selene had written little other than sorrowful poems about lost love, and could no longer remember the face of Dawn’s father to paint again. When she told Dawn the story, she told it with fondness, but would break down in a fit of tears and keening shortly after, if not right in the middle.

Dawn never saw the story as beautiful or fond. She did not see her father as someone who would ever come back and love them both despite her mother’s hysteric protests.

When she was eighteen, Dawn returned home to find her mother on the floor of the kitchen, dead. There was a bottle of poison in her hand and the everlasting look on her face was that of tear stained grief.

She knew this was coming. She knew it would happen eventually. For what elf would want to live for over six hundred years without the one they were convinced was their true love.

And so, the dhampir girl set out, her mind clouded with anger, yet sharp with a thirst for blood and revenge. She would go to Baldur’s Gate. She would find the man who killed her mother, whether it be indirectly or not. And she would kill Him.

Though she was not quite prepared for things to go as awry as they had.

PT2: https://www.tumblr.com/iwritelmao/738342079719178240/pt2?source=share

[ulfhrafnx]

the amount of times lira has had to say goodbye to loved ones because despite her ability to grant them immortality , she respects their desire to experience a normal lifespan. it's a different kind of grief when you know you can save someone but love them so deeply that going against their wishes isn't even an option.

roskov , though he lived a much longer life than most wanted to die a warrior's death so when his time came he sought out one last good fight , like any true drengr. though the option to live forever alongside lira was presented to him. she knew he wouldn't accept but she loved him enough to offer it anyway.

i imagine she would have offered kodlak the same option but he too had no desire to overstay his welcome. he wanted an honorable end and to free himself of his beast blood so he could join those who came before him in sovngarde. it's out of great love and respect that the inner circle makes sure his wish is honored , no matter their differing opinions.

its heartbreaking because lira struggles greatly with letting go but she will never deny anyone the freedom to choose. even though the absence of her family will always be felt.

[senatushq]

NAME. Pelorus AGE & BIRTH DATE. 4000+ & Unknown GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Demigod ( Spartoi ) ABILITIES. Accumulation & Radar OCCUPATION. MarshalFACE CLAIM. Travis Fimmel

biography

Born from a necromantic fey and the blood of Echidna, Pelorus was one of five spartoi. He had been draped in armor from his inception and had never really known anything less than war. The spartoi had been born from blood so he had never expected anything less than being drenched in it. From the conflicts of the vampire Ares, Thebes was built from nothing on the backs of him and his siblings for those false gods. Pelorus had never been interested in their conflicts though. He was impulsive, unpredictable, but he was also uninterested in things that he thought were trivial. What did they ever need to fight for? Thebes had been built up and he had decided to take up the mantle of ruler because he deemed himself worthy of the title.

His time spent in Thebes had been all he could have expected and more. It seemed fitting that he would find someone to spend his time with, a wife that would rule alongside him. However, it either became Pelorus or her problem that things went sour between them. Their marriage was one of convenience, not of something like love. It was lucky for the two of them that they ended up finding out that they were better off as friends. However, their marriage was more important to the people they ruled and that meant that they would stay together until death came for either of them. It was clearly more likely that, out of the two of them, Pelorus would still be standing well after her death. Until then, he would have given her the world. Of course everyone else would also receive a bit of him as well. If there was one thing the two of them loved to do, it was invite people into their home and bed. Battles would always be there, but they always enjoyed the after the most.

Unfortunately, for Pelorus, her death came sooner than he had expected. Grief was not something he had been able to fully process because he was soon being called to war with his siblings for those vampires that deemed themselves gods. Ares had requested them, but Pelorus had never been more uninterested. He would fight, he would collect blood debts, he would do everything that would need to be done, but none of it ever truly appealed to him. The spartoi had preferred his life in Thebes with the people that looked towards him as if he was a god himself. Perhaps that was why he had deemed himself so worthy of being a vessel to the gods. But nothing good ever truly came from fighting for those that would be considered pretenders.

False gods had taken Cthonius from him and his siblings. The war the ensued from it had pulled him in and caused bloodshed that would amount to nothing. His sibling was dead and fighting had given them nothing to avenge them. Once the battle was over, the four of them had crawled into a slumber that would awaken them several millennia later. Upon waking up Pelorus, had expected better from the world he would have to inhabit now. However, he was no ruler. He was no god. He was just a demigod and he still wanted blood for the death of his sibling. Of course, it would be preferred if he didn’t have to do much of the fighting at all. It truly had always been so exhausting.

personality

+ loyal, adventurous, extroverted - lazy, defensive, compulsive

played by kenyer. est. she/her.

[xinyis]

          (korea).

you reached out and touched a dream where it felt like a stovetop burn to your fingers, the tingle and shock of heat almost numbing your entire hand despite it being a very minute burn— your mind was closed off to this hazy cloud of darkness, how it burnt you to keep you away but you've never learned, not really. not ever. not until much, much later.

still, you shoved your hand past the gates of fog and stumbled into a memory inelegantly, finding your head leaden as though someone could push you from behind and you would go tumbling down the middle of the lane (that's a strike! all ten pins!). a palm came up to steady your head as you stalked through the forest of hanging memories, each one brushing past your curious fingertips but leaving an unpleasant sensation growing in the center of your beating, soft heart. you came to a tree rooted in the heart of the forest, a soft and divinely glow emanating from it and separating it from the normalcy of the other pines— a strange feeling pulsed inside of your chest the closer you got to the tree, glimpsing the memory that it holds and recoiling at what you feel, what you see.

you remembered it well, you remembered it clearly. every feeling, every emotion that you had felt once upon a time, it had not left you when you touched the bark of this glowing tree with mushrooms sprouting from its base. your heart ached the more you stood there, the weight of your grief dragging you to your knees— dirt coming up in a minuscule cloud of grey whilst tears hit the ground from the sheer amount of pain you felt.

you could not trust yourself like that again; to have loved and loved so ferociously, only for it to have backfired in your face— time and time and time again. you remembered the scoffs, the false hope, the way you had stilled yearned for an inkling of reciprocation. you remembered the way you ran in the dark for someone but their back shrunk despite their pace being moderate and you were fast but you still could not keep up. you could never reach them.

you remembered knowing, at that time, that they were gone. truly and cruelly.

a sentient branch extended itself towards your chest, rooting itself within the wounded heart beating within, each tear taped to hold back the flood of blood that would inevitably seep out of his body. the branch had grown there, then, golden leaves spreading just under his skin, thin branches like veins pulsing and creeping down his arms. you were forced to remember in order to heal, you were forced to break down and be ripped apart in order to look elsewhere.

it was a cruel process. one that even your mind nor distractions in the form of people could even think to heal. your heart, branched and mother to a sapling within your chest, yearned for a ghost of what you had considered normal— this and this and this. that and that and that. this, that, you, him, you-and-him, him-and-you, her, ghosts, grief. grief.

even when you turned to find the exit from your forest of nightmares and grief, this graveyard of withering nature, you become lost and trapped— difficulty in breathing, you collapsed to the ground again and pressed your head to the dirt. you wanted to scream to the heavens to spare you from this torment, that you did nothing to deserve this, but the heavens and their stars simply replied: oft we must suffer to find what is good. you must feel numb, nothing, to this in order to leave. else, you will find yourself in limbo.

you could not breathe with these revelations. you could not fathom a life without this grief, that this grief had brought you to who you were— this anger, these tumultuous and explosive emotions had dragged you by the hand to a place where you felt normal.

you had come to this realization, then. you could not tread like this. you had left korea, not only for the desire of repairing the rift in your heart, but to heal. you would learn to love again in china. you would leave behind the people your trauma clung to.

you rip the hyphae that had begun to curl around your body, eager to drag you into the graveyard soil, and begin your journey.

[cryptid-killjoy]

Piper had every reason to hate Pierre. No one in her family would even care if she did. Heck, most would not even bat an eye about it. Everyone seemed quite okay with letting Pierre go like he was more trouble than he was worth, but that was the theme of their family. That was the problem and reason why she couldn't let go. Tough love was something their family gave and many didn't respond to well, but that was usually because they refused to learn the lessons they needed to learn. Everyone believed in Maddy, that she could rise above it all. Piper wanted have faith in Pierre.

A big part of her knew that by blood they were nothing. Her daddy adopted Esmeralda. But, it was hard for her to admit that anything her daddy ever touched could betray them like this no matter how self absorbed a person is. He supposed to be family. The end. But, not only that for her. It was hard to let go of the memory of her first friend when coming out of hiding off the island, off the Laveau estate. Pierre was such a turning point in her life.

It was a good kiss. Even Piper missed it. It gave her a panging for more inside, but business first. Her own little smirk came up sly on when she felt the results of her touch. They knew what they were doing to each other.

Pierre had questions. Of course he did. Piper saw him glance over to Seven and Zero who were staring at them rather jaw dropped. She did say they were seeing them kissing so that would seem on the up and up. Piper however saw Pierre wasn't going to squirm away or try to anything funny on her like a time loop for being threatening with him about the Belleroses, but she really wanted him to know how serious she was. She saw there was about to be some quid pro quo on this deal though. She let the grip of her vader-like strangulation release slowly to converse.

She almost thought to be offended as if she wasn't enough to be there until she realized she wouldn't want him to be all clingy and with nothing to focus on other than her. Piper is so not that girl. The very thought left the answer easy to answer. It was going to be more magical work on her part, but way better than the bored Pierre image that just came to her. Not only that but considering how she was going to make this happen, something told her maybe Seven being involved wouldn't be the biggest ask to add on to this miracle.

After releasing her strangle hold she cupped his face instead and it would keep them intimately close. She was also keeping their conversation covered with her hands and arms up in front of their faces. It kept his face directly at hers.

"I'll make it work. Seven too. Tell no one beyond the veil. Not one person in the netherworld. Meet me in an hour at our old spot. It has to be there. Deal? Both of you?"

She was waiting for that yes. That's all she wanted. Leave the Belleroses be. Maybe she'd gained too much power over the past year? Maybe she was tampering with too much and would live to regret it? Flotsam had warned all too often of the consequences of tampering and yet still River, Flotsam, Jetsam all tampered anyhow, and Pierre himself had a power that tampered. No. Piper was going to tamper. She had the brain power to figure this out.

"Say yes. Come back to me, Pierre. Come back to us all."

Then she kissed him again. She kissed him good, and hard, and deep like she was scared it was goodbye. She wasn't convinced he would say yes. There was an extra flair of passion leaking into that kiss, the passion behind all her grief, that spent endless amounts of time on her hourglasses, memorials, and fire weilding with his face in her head. For as intense as it started it would end just as softly.

Whether he said yes or no, no matter what came out of his mouth next, there was another set of eyes on them by this point. It was a set of eyes that looked completely shattered. It was a set of eyes that only recently confessed his love to this woman. He stood there not too far away from Zero and Seven.

It was a set of eyes Dale would love to see shattered out of everyone. It was a set of eyes Willem tried to warn and still would love to see shattered anyway. He was just sort of a pirate like that.

Go-Go didn’t know who hip coins was but hey, it sounded like a fun demolition derby type of thing. That was the American dream right there. That was something she wanted to try while she was in this country, and it looked like there might be the possibility of that tonight. Feral was the land of opportunity, it seemed.

“Fuck calendars,” She agreed with a nod of her head, the long hair extensions creating a more dramatic effect with this. She’d almost forgotten for a minute that she was dressed up, and not in comfortable speed gear. That made it all the more thrilling.

Goddamn that was a roar. She could have never met Jetsam, never seen him, and would know that he was a Laveau just from that call alone. She exchanged an excited look with Scout. Oh hell yeah, this was going to be a night to remember.

More and more people were joining them, which was completely fine, the more the merrier. And was she a little excited that the twins were coming? Yeah. She hadn’t seen much of the chaos that she heard that Chip and Dale could cause, not with Chip running his family and creating his own little village. Dale - she knew from first meeting him that he could cause a ruckus, ever since she had seen Anton move.

She was out of the castle with Scout, Halloween party be damned.

--

Bingo! Score! Win 100 tickets!

Ellie suddenly found herself trapped in a box, and without really thinking, she breathed her fire onto it, setting it in flame and stepped out the burning cardboard wreckage, looking around at the culprit, though Babyface had already pinpointed exactly who it was. Goddamn Dale.

“Yeah, let’s go,” She agreed, putting her hand on Babyface’s back to give him a little extra push as they gave chase to find out what excitement they were up to beyond the castle, red hair blending with the blue sparkles of her costume, creating a brightly-colored blur outta there.

They were out and she was ready to go and chase down the Laveaus some more, already pouting, feeling again like a little sister that was left out of something cool with the older kids. But Babyface’s sudden stop and looking out at the water had her slowing her roll, her feet coming to a slow stop, and then she trailed back up to him curiously.

They couldn’t see the island from where they were right then. But then again - with the island not getting in fresh shipments of boys, would it even still be running? Would it still have it’s magic? She tilted her head and looked out at how the moon reflected off of the water, hiding so much both above and below it’s depths.

And then she looked at Babyface, the way that he was looking out and she nodded, determination setting in her face. “Should we see if we can steal a boat, or should we skate it?”

--

Seems like Thomas and Valerie were the only ones. Everyone else was greeting the dead, or dealing with an intruder, or running off to do something crazy. Jetsam had barely looked at them, they were were homefree, they could do as they liked, and what Thomas wanted to do, more than anything in the world right now, was to hold his wife and have a good ol’ dance with her while Ches was still playing the music.

A full on waltz, one hand in hers, the other around that thin waist that made it hard to believe that she had birthed triplets. She looked damn good. Her body had bounced back incredibly, and oh, he missed that stomach of her sometimes but then there were times like this when they could be close because it wasn’t in the way anymore…

No matter what happened with this body, he adored it, plain and simple.

--

Honestly - Pierre had thought that Piper would hate him too. Shit, seemed like everyone did up top, and they had their reasons. It was valid. It took him over a year in Hell to realize that. Even Zero had hesitated on coming up to him and that was his goddamn pup, so Piper - yeah, he had figured she was pissed.

So Pierre was feeling VERY pleased at his reception right now, a little smug, even.

“And I for yours,” Pierre said, his eyes flickering over her face, and how it had not changed much since he had been gone. Those violet eyes, ever so striking, her rich dark hair, so black it was almost blue, the natural dusky tone of her skin. He had a habit of telling those that he was in love with that they were Gods and Goddesses but - Piper stood above the rest.

And even more cocky as she touched him like that, right here, right out in the open. He wasn’t shy about it, didn’t try pushing her hand away, instead greeted her with a half-chub that started to grow harder. Yes, even the dead can grow, apparently. He closed his eyes into the kiss, his first in what felt like eternity, and the sweetest one he could have imagined. “Missed you too, girl.”

Then things started to get intense. He wasn’t opposed to being choked though he wasn’t super into violence in the bedroom, but this was getting real. He could feel it, even though he knew that he could not die again. His eyes opened with confusion and hurt, not with anger, not with fear, just - almost looking like a kicked puppy himself.

The information was hard to take in, not with the distraction of being choked and how achingly hard he was getting under his touch. Oh, aching indeed, it was causing a sweat droplet on Pierre’s brow and all. The Belleroses though - at the mention of him, he flickered his eyes over to his sister, who had her back turned to him, talking to the ghosts of the Merry Men. Wulf, he recognized, from Hog Fest.

And then, his eyes would look around the room again and not find the second person he was looking for, because Frank was out of the room with their flesh and blood intruder and Delta. Then back into Piper’s eyes. “- one question,” He said, his voice hoarse, choking. “Can you only bring back me or-?”

He motioned his head towards Seven. Because that was his boy right there. They went through Hell together - and a lot of Hell’s influences. Pierre was not the same boy that he had been when he went under. But he still stuck to that loyalty to Seven, despite what else might be going on in his mind. He had to at least ask. If there was any chance…

--

Maddy also did a quick look around for Frank and Delta, and found them gone too. But those that were in the castle, she noticed, were friends. Save for maybe Pierre, but regardless, they were people who were not here to hurt them. Still, they shouldn’t give anyone the chance.

She nodded to Bastien as he wanted to go and get Frankie. That made her feel a lot better too. “Go, I’ll be right here, I’ll keep an eye out,” She promised Bastien, lightly brushing her hand against his lower waist, and then turned her attention to her friends, her face brightening up once more.

“Just Agnes missed me?” She asked Wulf with both eyebrows raised, but she would pet the little ghost pig that had served as flower girl at her wedding, her eyes full of delight. “I missed you too, girl.”

-

Lance caught Figaro’s attention though. “LANCY PANTSY!!!” They yelled loudly and ran over to them. After all, they had been quite friendly when they went to the high school together, as all of their friends seemed to have the main character stuff going on. They snapped their fingers loudly, almost imitating Kuzco, expecting people to come out of nowhere and get shit done. “Someone get this man a Geee-Tar!”

--

Elsa wouldn’t have minded if this was the rest of the night. Not a touchy-feely sort usually, but this was River. This was the son that she had for such a brief time. That she had missed so many years with and tried to get those back, tried to be there for him, tried to be the mother he didn’t need once he was an adult.

She also watched as they all went off together, and she didn’t mind at all if Koda went off with them. He deserved to have some fun out there. She was perfectly content to stay here, with the stragglers and the ghosts. But she did look towards Valerie and Thomas too, and found herself pleased that they weren’t being bothered by what was going on. Those two, always in their own little world. Dancing like they were in a music box.

“Absolutely,” She said with a nod, not acknowledging the way that he had corrected himself. Mother - it suited her much more than Ma, anyway.

So she would take his hand and they would have a dance and even Elsa would have a genuine smile on her face, seeing past all the rot, the dessication, to the boy that was underneath. She’d always see the boy. Even when he was a man.

And when he would break off to ask Valerie to dance, of course Thomas would allow this to happen with a bow of his head and a grin on his face, and would stand back and watch, even try to take some pictures with his phone so that this would seem less dreamlike.

--

Frank bit back a laugh. The nerve of this guy. The fuckin’ BALLS, coming in and just demanding that Delta release his father, as if Chernabog was just a house-guest rather than her prisoner around her pretty neck. Despite wanting to laugh, his face remained in that neutral, almost ghastly expression of his.

He listened, staying silent, staying cool for now, as Delta laughed for the both of them. But he couldn’t help the corner of his mouth going up ever so slightly.

“Oh, he’s being quite serious,” Frank said, holding Delta steady, allowing the leather fabric of his shirt to wear her tears, his mind connected to Silas’s. “He has no idea he’s sniffing around the wrong lamppost.”

He let Delta take the lead on the conversation, as per usual. She was a better talker than he was anyway. He kept himself holding onto Silas, one hand clenched on his, standing just behind. Trapping Silas between himself and Delta as he pled his case.

But when he brought up Uncle issues, he raised up his hand and gave Silas a smack on the back of his head - hard.

‘I’m not judging you. I’m judging him,’ Frank thought back towards Delta. And he was judging this guy hard. Was this foolishness, or was it bravery? Or was it just a desperate act of cowardice, because he couldn’t handle life without his daddy doing things for him. He got cut off from Oogie when he got stuck inside of Feral, so he was trying to find the next big thing, the next big Sugar Mama.

“We’ve got a special place for a thing for you,” Frank said, pulling Silas in closer to him, so that the clown’s back was up against his chest. Might even have seemed romantic, in a ‘Frollo’ type of way. “Where I’m going to cut you up, but I’m going to keep you alive. Yes, I’m going to cut you up, and I’ll see what makes you tick, makes you sick. We’ll find out exactly who you are.”

[writeshite]

OMG luce is back at it BOOOOOM. DO I KNOW WHO TO REQUEST FEO: no. Do I know it'll be angsty af? YES! Should I keep writing my own ff instead of writing Requests? Kinda. Also I just stepped on my MacBook and i think its dead- NYways enough from my life :)

Of course it's gonna be for morphy again, cus I love that man.

So. There ist this one guy, who cheated death in Greek mythology (wikilink) . So my Idea is that there is someone on earth who does the same, best woul be to set it in the mid 18th hundred bc of the clothes, I love the clothes.

Death had been chasing that boy for like a while, but genuinely cant discover him and when she does reader always runs away. So she asks dream for a bit help, and the the good lil brother he is, he agrees to help. He and Lucien read through nearly all the books in the library, dont find that boy in the dream books though, but they find his diary.

Morpheus reads through it and starts sympathizing with the reader, so he visits them. They argue and he starts liking them more. The rest be urs :D I just cant put things in words rn. <\3

I really loved how u made my other Request in a wonderful fanfic so... I thought why not Request again.!

Greets Luce ~

One More Lifetime Won't Kill Anyone

Summary:

“You wouldn’t like what comes after,” she warns. The prospect of eternity is hard enough as an immortal being, but as a human, it could drive one mad - grief is but just one of many things you’d have to contend with.  You consider it but then ask, “I won’t like what comes after,” you scoff, “if you’re so adamant about getting me to come with you, make me,” you challenge. She sighs, “You won’t. You’re almost too human, too kind,” you tell her, “and for that, I am thankful.”

Pairings:

Morpheus x Male!Reader

Tags:

Angst | Fluff | Mild Smut | Inspired By The Myth Of Sisyphus | Evading Death | Discussion of Death & Mortality | This Author Regrets Nothing

Words: 3182

Author's Note:

You will not believe the amount of math I had to do for this.

Death first crosses your path at eight. The plague traveled through the village - the doors were sealed days prior, windows shut, and with no contact with the outside world, your grandmother’s body was still fresh. Still on her bed beside her, your cousin was slumped; she’d stopped hacking out blood and could barely speak; the bile gathered at the corner of her lips; every so often, she would reach out her hand, and you’d curl even further in the corner. The house stank of sick, and your stomach provided a reminder you were still alive. 

When people passed, they’d mutter prayers; the plague doctor came once a day; when you responded to his calls, he would tut and leave you, ignoring your protests. You used to pound at the door, but with your energy lacking, you only begged. When Death came, she was kind. Your cousin took her hand and stood anew - dead, but anew - your grandmother followed suit, and then she turned to you. You shook your head, though; you couldn’t die; you were healthy; the ailment had yet to curse your veins.

“I’m sorry,” she comforted you. She directed the three of you from the house - you the only one corporeal - Death led from the village, the path evened out, bumps vanishing, and people fading away. The light, as it would come to be called centuries later, shone brightly. The other two were ecstatic that or had already resigned themselves to their fate; you, on the other hand, were terrified. Eight years old. Eight years old, and you turned away from Death and ran. Away from the light. Away from the village. You ignored her calls, covered your ears when your grandmother cried out for you and pleaded you return to paradise.

Like every child, you thought the forest was a perfect hiding place. The bramble pierced your feet, branches grabbing at your clothes; you stumbled through a shrub, and the ground vanished beneath you. Pulled down by gravity, you fumbled down the cliff, body contorting as it spun; the aching pain of your neck breaking was the last you felt before you died. That should have been the end.

Your village is barely what it was when you return, twenty years passed, and the old path was all that was left. The plague had done its work, and after, the lord of the land - the smell of burning flesh festered, but you ignored it through your work. The makeshift tombstones had taken the better half of a week to make; with no knowledge of Latin, English, or any of the upper languages, you’d elected to carve - as best as you could - your family’s faces. You’d erected them far from the main path, secluded beneath an old peach tree, “Sorry about running off back then,” you muttered.

You hadn’t stuck much near home; scared Death would be waiting; the first few days after not dying had been painful, your neck resetting itself slowly, all the while, you could barely move. Stuck staring up at the canopy, praying Death wouldn’t stumble across you. You’d survived on stealing from the carriages and people that passed through the woods - a hefty reward had been set up after you’d stolen from some noble, but it was well past disregarded. “Is it nice up there?” you asked. “It’s just, I remember how you would speak of the afterlife, and I —” sometimes, in the lowest moments, you regretted running, wishing you could follow along. 

Ale did well to stifle the thoughts, leaving you curled in on yourself as you cried; they were few and far between. You shook your head, “ —never mind.” 

“It depends,” another voiced. You turned, and there she stood, Death, “You look tired,” she observed.

“Usually, people say hello,” you quipped.

“I suppose you’re right. Hello.” She comes to stand beside you, “They’re happy, by the way, a little angry about you running off.”

“Understandable.” You don’t exchange much more small talk before she brings up the glaringly obvious matter of her visit. You step away when she holds out her hand, “Please, you’re long overdue,” she says, reaching out again. But you back away, shaking your head; she calls out your name, not a warning, more cautiously, as you look ten seconds away from bolting.

“Yes, well, I’ll have you know I’m doing quite well,” you tell her.

“Are you?” she asks. And you huff in response, brushing off her hand and bidding the graves your goodbye; you walk fast. Your feet carry you as far as they can; you hear a sigh, then the sound of footsteps; she’s gone when you look back and right in front of you. You halt, “Don’t fight me on this,” she pleads.

You back away, “I’m not going anywhere with you; you can’t make me.”

“I don’t want to —”

“Then don’t.”

“You wouldn’t like what comes after,” she warns. The prospect of eternity is hard enough as an immortal being, but as a human, it could drive one mad - grief is but just one of many things you’d have to contend with. 

You consider it but then ask, “I won’t like what comes after,” you scoff, “if you’re so adamant about getting me to come with you, make me,” you challenge. She sighs, “You won’t. You’re almost too human, too kind,” you tell her, “and for that, I am thankful.”

She lets you go, perhaps agreeing with your statement, but you don’t stop to ask; you run, barely stopping in the woods. You gather what you have hidden away among the trees, weave a new persona, a new life, and stow away on the first ship you can. A modest thing, the inside is damp and cold; you’re sure the captain knows of your presence - judging by the wrapped bread thrown over the crates you hide behind. Death is there sometimes, sat atop the crates; she often glances down at you, offering her hand once in a while, but you turn away, huffing stubbornly.

“Morpheus, I’m your favorite sibling, right?”

The endless in question glances over at Death; she’s laid back, face pinched in irritation, and eyes shut, “Usually, I would say yes, but I feel there’s some sort of baggage to it this time.”

She rubs her temples, “There’s a human —”

“ —Hob?” Morpheus interjects.

“No, not him, another one. He doesn’t, he ran away from me, and no matter what I do, nothing I say will convince him to pass.”

“What does this have to do with me?” he asks. She sits up, and he already knows he’s not going to like this.

He most definitely, does not like this. 

Not the favor, more so the lack of results. The library has nothing on you; he finds your family, friends, and even your village but nothing on you. Lucienne is far luckier; she resurfaces from a mountain of books, a worn-up journal in hand, and on the cover is your name; the first few pages are your childhood - dreary, at best, the plague doesn’t make for such happy moments - after it’s muddled, the writing is a mess. A few pages are caked with dirt and leaves. One even was just soaked in blood. 

“Oh dear,” Lucienne mutters, “It appears the poor boy hasn’t had a very happy life so far –is that seawater?” The next set of pages are just wet, though not too much, as they manage to read some of the writing.

Death came for me again; we had a bit of fun this time, though. The captain got sick of me stowing away in his ship and put me to work…………never peeled so many potatoes in my life…………three days…………don’t know what I’ll do…………

I accidentally married……………………count……………………shit……………………

Morpheus chuckled at the accidental marriage bit; he’d love to hear that story firsthand. “He sounds lovely,” he remarks.

“No matter what I say, you’re going to visit him, aren’t you?” Lucienne notes, and he voices agreement, already leaving the library.

Walking through dreams - not that he doesn’t already do that - your dreams are strange; most people in this century dream of riches, wealth, usurping those above their stations, but you, you dream of a little house with two other people and nothing eventful. 

“Hand me that, dear.” One of the other people, an older woman, she’s making stew, she’s always making stew, and she never eats it. Portioning what little there is to an adolescent - face often blurred and uncertain - and another child. “Oh, no, no, I’m alright. I had some of the bread; I’ll be fine. Eat up, dear; we don’t want you catching the plague so thinly looking.”

“It’s rude to trespass into other people’s minds.” The scene trickles away and is replaced by a void.

“How do you know I am trespassing?” Morpheus asks, “I could be a figment of your imagination.”

You chuckle, form appearing before him, “I doubt my mind could conjure a man of such beauty.” He smiles a little, “A man whose name eludes me.”

“How can it elude if it was never given,” he counters, “You look rather different from what Death described; shouldn’t you be sickly?”

You huff, “It’s been twenty-nine years of running from her, things are bound to change, and when you live so long, well, things get easier.”

“Then why dream of a shabby little hut?” 

“We’ve barely been acquainted, good sir,” you respond.

“Is that an invitation?”

“If you like.”

He very much did - not that he’d admit it to himself - and left the Dreaming, finding himself in the countryside; you’ve done quite well for yourself, looking healthier than you had when Death had last seen you. Your new home - correction manor house - is well spaced, with rolling fields all around, well kept, and very few staff; it’s quite isolated - a home fit for someone undying.

“You don’t look that different awake.” You say from behind him, the reigns of a horse in hand, “In fact, I’d say you look quite average.”

“Insulting me won’t do much to change the subject of my visit.”

“I suppose not,” you hand the reigns over to a waiting stableboy, “shall we?”

“You walk like a noble.” He comments, it’s not that hard to do, really, nose stuck up, face passive, and arms behind your back, you’ve got it down quite well. “You also seemed to have adjusted quickly to —what’s your title?”

“Count,” you reply, relaxing back on the armchair, “What of you? Associate of Death, what title do you hold?”

He chuckles, “I’m no associate, rather a brother fulfilling a favor, and as for a title, Lord of Dreams seems to be universal, but I prefer Morpheus.”

He asks for your name in return, and you give it; you’ve never seen the need to change it with the turning centuries, “Now then, Morpheus, why has Death sent you to my doorstep?”

“She didn’t,” he admits, “her favor required less involvement on my part.”

“And what sort of involvement would that be?” you inquire.

“I’m not quite sure yet,” he responds; you’ve both seemed to have shifted in your seats, leaning closer to the other, “Why? Are you proposing something?”

“Morpheus, we’ve only met. What do you take me for?” You feign innocence, placing a hand on his chest, and push back the lapel of his coat. You’re not sure who leans closer, but you find yourself holding him close, his hands holding your face as you fall to your bed. Clothes were discarded somewhere between the move from where you’d sat, and you didn’t bother to think of them now. Morpheus lowers himself, head nestled between your legs; you grasp him by his hair as he swallows your cock - your moans echoing in the room - he kisses along your thighs when he comes off it, dark eyes glazing back up at you.

Your back arches when he draws an orgasm from you, your legs loosened by the feeling, and you spend many hours finding endless ways to bring each other pleasure. You lie next to Morpheus, “I’ve quite enjoyed your involvement, Morpheus.”

He grins, “I doubt Death will; I’m certain the favor was to garner insight into you.”

“Oh, I think you’ve done that well enough,” you tease, and he sighs, a slight pout to his expression; you roll him onto his back, “let me give you some more insight.”

“Would you like something to cover that up, my lord?” Lucienne jests.

Morpheus is going to keep walking with dignity; he is going to ignore the blatant hickeys along his skin, the flushed look on his face, and his tussled hair. He is also going to ignore Lucienne’s smug little smirk and Death’s glare as he strides past them.

The age of enlightenment, they’re calling it. Rubbish. Traipsing around the world like they own the place, the age of entitlement is more like it. You chuckle at your own joke; your fellow counts and noblemen had been appalled by your commentary, angry that a member of their own caste would say something so indecent. The Renaissance had been no better, but at least you’d had Leonardo, a genius he was, immortalized in so many ways - you’d barely left your manor house after returning from his passing, and she’d been there. Death, gaze steady as you held his hand, “You could follow, come with,” she offered once more.

“I doubt he would; he’s a stubborn old man,” Leonardo had said before Death guided him away.

You’d left his assistant, Salaì, to his matters, then retired to your home - many of the friends you’d come to know had either passed or gone senile; their children and grandchildren had grown weary of you, “You’ve never aged a day,” they’d say, and you’d shrug, dismissing the conversation.

“Is this seat taken?”

You glance up from your mug of ale; the foam is long gone, and the taste is stale, “Of course, who else would I be reserving it for?” you quip. It’s still strange to see Morpheus among humans, they don’t seem to register him as anything other than a man, but after the years you’d spent avoiding Death - and distracting him - you’d come to know how to pick out otherworldly beings from a crowd. The endless dons 18th Century apparel befit a nobleman, his hair held back and a grim expression on his face - perhaps concern. You’d be remiss to dismiss him; he’d become quite the shadow over the years, especially today - the anniversary of your family’s death - morning hours at the grave, evening hours at the bar. 

He placed a hand on your glass before you could take another swig, “It’s still light out; at least let me get through a few glasses before you cut me off.”

“I did, last year, and we woke up in another country,” he reminds you.

You laugh, “Oh, don’t pout, Morpheus,” you pout back, over exaggerating all the while, but he doesn’t budge, and you groan. “You’re no fun; you know that? Can’t you let me live out my dreams?”

“Getting blackout drunk is your dream?”

You purse your lips and nod, “Today? Yes.”

“This isn’t healthy,” he chastises you, and you scoff.

“Says who? I’ve lived a long life; I deserve to kick back and drown myself in alcohol,” you tell him, running a hand around the rim of your glass, you haven’t had enough to get you drunk, but you’re on the edge of tipsy. You brush his hand away and knock back the rest of your drink, a satisfied smile on your face. “Cheer up, Morpheus; I’ve got enough dread to endure today.”

“There are other, healthier ways to cope with grief.”

You almost laugh, snickering at his statement, “Oh, please, what do you know of grief?” You ask him, “What could a creature of eternity know of suffering?” you seethed.

“I know well of suffering,” he defended, “I’ve lived far longer than you could ever imagine.”

You scoffed, “Suffering? You hold more power in your hand than anyone could fathom, and you think you could grasp the finite pain that boils through me?” You turned to him with a breathy laugh and the onset of tears, “You walk among gods; I hide in their shadows. Our suffering cannot be compared, perhaps you have suffered, but could you ever comprehend the mortal toil that stains my world?”

“You think my life free of turmoil,” he sadly mused.

“Is it not? You do not fear Death; she is your sister. You do not experience hunger; it is beneath you. You do not suffer thirst, illness, or fear. Your immortality was yours from birth, mine, a once fortunate accident.”

“You’ve become resentful of me.” It’s less of an observation; your journal entries at the library have become more haphazard than before, and a few unfinished sentences mention him, but without context or elaboration, what else is he to assume but the worst?

“Oh no, not you, more so myself….my stupid, cowardly self….” you lament, laughing as tears fall from your eyes. Your memories of the past, before this mess, have become hazy, your dreams have no faces, their voices carry in the distance when they speak - never clear, never certain, you’ve forgotten what so many people sound like by now, “My mind’s become forgetful,” you tell him, “I can’t remember anything that well anymore, well, except you I suppose, but then again,” you brush your hand against his, “you are a constant aren’t you?”

He smiles a little, “Always.” He accompanies you back home, and you lie atop him, mind muddled and slumber stricken; he watches over you when Death approaches. She stands by the bed, face painted with disappointment. 

“You can’t keep doing this, Morpheus; I asked for your help; falling in love with him isn’t doing that.” Death lectured.

Morpheus glanced down at you, “He needs me,” he argued.

“Does he? Or do you need him?” she counters. “I know you’ve come to care for him, but he is spiraling; you saw it. How many more years do you think he’ll manage before he goes mad?”

“He won’t. I’ll be there; I’ll always be there,” Morpheus proclaims.

The 21st Century is rather strange; technology has excelled beyond what you’d ever imagined; despite the choice of travel, you’ve elected to return home, close to the site of your long-gone village. A site now in the hands of a museum, alongside your family’s gravestones, they’d taken down the peach tree, excavated, and placed everything else behind a glass pane. You’d put off buying the land for decades, the area had never been popular, so interest was never an issue, but now, glancing at the exhibit, you felt everything and nothing all at once.

Unlucky victims of the plague….

You couldn’t read it without scoffing; what business did they have digging up the gravestones? You feel seconds away from buckling, and as you’re about ready to do so, a hand slips into yours; you hadn’t heard Morpheus approach - mind you, you could barely focus on anything - he lightly tugs, and you turn, hiding away in his embrace.

End Note:

Originally, I was gonna have this end so sad, but then, I decided to be kind. 🙂 Stay Hydrated.