#a letter after like a year of radio silence and her thinking he had died

[devilbrakers]

reading abt the bosmer again to refresh my memory and thinking abt sylvan and how he can never go back home 😭

#he was turned into a werewolf against his will and fled valenwood so he wouldn't bring shame to his family for breaking the pact 😔 #and valen can't go back by extension bc she can't abandon her brother and also she has a family there now. but their family does come to #visit them!! #but yea anyway. i think he'd be rly good friends with auri for that reason and would find some comfort in her #GODDDD he hates himself so bad even tho it wasn't his fault and thinks his family will hate him (they don't) and only ends up sending valen #a letter after like a year of radio silence and her thinking he had died

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Timeless - Part 3: "On A Crowded Street in 1944"

"In another life, you still would've turned my head, even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944, and you were headed off to fight in the war…"

Summary: It's the kind of love you find once in a lifetime, the kind of love you don't put down, and somehow, you know you would've found each other in every life.

'Timeless' Chapter List | The Grumpy Sunshine Series

"Ma!" Bucky bellows, the excitement thick in his voice as he bursts through the front door. "You here?"

"Bucky." His mother's voice rings out through their apartment. It's not her normal greeting. It's hollow and distant.

The silence in the apartment is odd. The Barnes household was always brimming with life, filled with the sounds of his siblings running around, the radio crooning songs, pots and pan clattering in the kitchen.

It feels like the life has been sucked out of his home.

"Ma?"

She doesn't reply this time. He finds her in the kitchen, but instead of her normal lively cooking routine, she sits solemnly at the kitchen table.

Bucky crouches down, kissing his mother's cheek in greeting. "Ma, is everything okay?"

His mother, Winnifred, frowns at the sight of him. She still remembered him as the little boy he once was. A boyish grin on his face, his eyes bright, cheeks flushed. Only a few years removed from his boyhood. His whole life in front of him. This was not a person that deserved what she knew was coming.

All she'd ever wanted for her son was boundless happiness, and he'd found it.

She knew it from the moment he met you.

He walked through the door chattering Steve's ear off about how he'd found the perfect women. She knew it that very night. Love was not enough to save him from this fate.

"A letter came for you today."

Bucky quirks his head, concerned about his mother's strange behavior, "A letter? From who?"

She doesn't respond, instead handing him the letter. She'd heard this story told so many times since the war began.

Up and down the block, she watched old friends crumble as they were forced to send their sons away. She watched mother's find that notice on their porch. The break downs had on those same front porches. Sons, fathers, husbands, one by one, shipped off to war.

Some never came back.

Even the ones that did, never came back the same.

Winnifred does her very best not to cry in front of Bucky, she tries not to worry him.

But the sharp exhale that leaves his mouth when he sees that letter is enough to break her.

Two months ago, Bucky would've proudly served his country. Two months ago, he would've taken it in stride. Two months ago, he had nothing going for him here. 

And now he was headed of to fight in the war. The deadliest war in history. The look on his mother's face tells him everything he needs to know. The life he knew, here in Brooklyn, with his family, with you, is over.

For a long while, he just stands there, before his grieving mother, taking it all in. After that long moment, she squeezes him tightly like she's trying to give Bucky all the strength and life she has left. He wonders how he'll tell his siblings. He doesn't think he'll be able to take the tears streaming down their faces. And then, he wonders how he'll tell you. How will he find the strength to tell you? How would he find the strength to leave? 

The walk to your home is quiet and solemn. Each step he takes is a step closer to his looming fate. Bucky truly wonders if he'll find the strength somewhere along the six block walk to your home. His thoughts revolve around you. Only you.

It was the very definition of a whirlwind romance. Even now, looking back on it, Bucky smiles to himself. At least if he dies, he'll die a man that was loved, really and truly loved. 

Almost two months ago, you quite literally ran into him on a crowded street. You were running late to work. Bucky was heading home after saving his friend from a fight. From the moment he saw you, he was a goner. He never believed in love at first sight until he saw you that day. 

Your first date was the very next day. He was like a giddy schoolboy. Unbridled joy and excitement surged through his veins every time he saw you. He walked the extra mile to walk you home every evening after work. He brought you flowers to adorn your work desk. You even introduced him to your parents, and he did the same. He'd never felt like this about anyone else. There was only you. 

Less than a month into it, he was ready to ask his mother for her ring. He only waited because he knew no father in their right mind would give their blessing after a month.

You were it for him. This was the love he waited his whole life for, he knew it in his bones.

Now, instead of his mother's ring, he walks to your home with a conscription notice in hand. He's fully ready to accept that his life with you is over. That you will not wait for someone you've known for two months.

People part like the Red Sea as Bucky walks past them, almost like they know exactly what's going to happen to him, like they know what he's going to do, what he's about to lose. 

Even if he comes back, he'll have lost the love of his life.

Before he knows it, he stands before your brownstone. He waits a long moment, taking in the last few moments that he can still call you his. He'll remember this moment for the rest of his life. No matter how long or short it may be. 

Light knocks echo through your apartment. Each knock is like a death knell reverberating through Bucky's bones. For the first time since he met you, Bucky dreads the moment that you open that door, he dreads the moment he has to look into your eyes and break your heart and his heart along with it. 

And then the door swings open. His heart stutters at the sight of your brilliant smile, always so happy, always such a ray of light in his life. At first, you don't realize anything is wrong. You're too caught up with how lovestruck you are with Bucky. You pull him into an eager embrace, pecking his cheek. "I was just thinkin' about you."

As you wipe away the lipstick on his cheek, you finally notice his demeanor. He stands in your door, hollow eyed and solemn. In his clenched first, a crumpled notice.

You gulp. You know that look like you know that letter. That cursed yellow paper. The typewriter font. James Buchanan Barnes etched right on top. "Bucky... whatcha got there?"

He shakes his head, refusing to answer you. His hand grips the paper so tightly, crumpling it in his fist with some childish hope that it'll make it all go away.

Your voice wavers, "Bucky..."

The sound of your voice hits him square in the chest. His eyes squeeze shut as he wills himself to get through this moment. He takes in a large breath, trying to gather his nerve to get through this. 

Thankfully, you don't make him say the words. You already know what's going to happen to him. You don't need to hear him say it. "When?"

His voice is just a gravelly rasp, "Two days."

"Two days?"

He looks down, refusing to meet your eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No." You shake your head trying to pull yourself together - if only for Bucky's sake. The tears could come later. Right now, you needed to put on a brave face for him. You wrap your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you can. "The war will be over soon and - and then you'll come back. You'll be here. You'll be okay."

"I don't expect you to wait for me, I understand."

You tear away from him with an angry, furrowed look, "What?"

"I mean it. I'm gonna do everything I can to come home. To come back to you, but you know as well as I do that-"

You glare at him, "Don't talk like that!"

"We have to be realistic, Doll, you-"

"Since when are you realistic? You said you were gonna marry me on our first date!"

He reaches out for your hand, squeezing it tightly. His blue eyes bore into yours with nothing but sincerity, "And I meant every word. I swear I did."

You tug him closer to you, "Then prove it. Come back to me. And when the war is done, I'll be here, waiting right here for you."

His other hand strokes your cheek with the rough pad of his fingertips, "It's not fair to ask you to wait. Life goes on, Doll."

You lay your hand on top of his, shaking your head, "Not mine. Not without you."

Two days pass in the blink of an eye. All you can do is cherish each ticking second that you still have him here, that he's still here and still the Bucky you know and love more than anything. There's nothing else, nothing more either of you can do.

He puts on a brave face through it all. He invites you over to a family dinner on his last night here - he jokingly calls it the last supper. His mother smacks him upside the head for it. You know it's just for show, just to make his sisters laugh. 

And then, before either of you know it, it's time for him to go. You stand at the train station, staring at the man you love with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

"I love you."

You've said it before, but it's always been out of unbridled joy, always with a beaming grin on yours and his face, never out of a desperate need to tell him how you feel. You've spent two months wholeheartedly believing that he knew how you felt, but now you were out of time.

And right now, more than anything, you want to let him know that you'll spend your whole life loving him. 

Bucky bends down, resting his forehead on yours, "I love you, too."

For the first time in two days, you break down in front of Bucky. You grip his lapels, so tight that you might've ripped a seam or two. You rest your head in the crook of his neck as tears pool in the corner of your eyes. "I don't want you to go."

His arms wrap around your waist, holding you as tightly as he can. He tries to commit the feeling of you in his arms to memory, to hold onto this love as his source of strength, "I'll always come back to you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

And one minute, he's holding you. The next, he's just gone. 

You find that New York is not the same without Bucky Barnes. Brooklyn is not the same. Your life is not the same. It's hasn't been from the very moment that Bucky burst into it. Most days, the city screams his name so loudly that you can't think of anything else but his absence. It takes everything in you to just keep living, to keep moving forward. You promised him that you would be right here, waiting for him when he got back. You intend to keep that promise by holding yourself together. 

On your days off, you see his mother. You've become close with the Barnes family as a whole, but it's his mother that understands more than anyone else. She offers you a steady hand and shared misery.

Your nights consist of three things.

Eating dinner with your parents.

Sitting down at your desk and writing Bucky love letter after love letter, telling him how much you miss him, letting him know that his mother is okay, and reminding him that the love you share is not bound by time or circumstance - not even one as bleak as this one.

The moment one is sent off, you're writing another way. He sends a response every chance he gets. He doesn't tell you much about the front, but he tells you about the 107, how they've become a second family to him, how he can't wait to come home to you. He tells you to start looking for a white dress because the moment he comes home he's getting down on one knee. 

And kneeling at your bedside. Clutching your hands so tight that your knuckles turn white. You pray with every ounce of your being to God that he would be coming home just fine. 

For months, all you have is his love letters. You read every single one each and every night over and over again. By now, you're sure you can recite them from memory. Some nights, you can hear his voice reading them back to you as you drift off to sleep. 

Just short of a year, a loud banging booms through your house just as you're about to leave to visit Bucky's mother.

"I'm coming!" you shout. More banging on your door. Each one more frantic than the last. "I said I'm coming!"

And still more banging even as you reach the door. This time, you whip open the door, ready to curse whoever is causing that ruckus to high heaven.

That doesn't happen.

Not when you see what soft smile is waiting for you on the other side. Not when you're greeted with those steel blue eyes that you've spent a year yearning for. A soft gasp lodges itself in your throat, "Bucky?"

He's fine. He's home. He's here, standing before you. Nothing else matters except the love that you were sure was going to be timeless. 

"I'm home, Doll."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hey!! could you do one where it is where Grace dies but you take the bullet because y/n and Tommy love each other but, he is married, however you get shot, but you live? You are also like childhood bffs and always have loved each other?? Please please please!!!

Heyo, Looks like you have deactivated but I wrote this anyway. Hope it finds you if your still on here. Tried to make this angsty!

PG13 - Usual Peaky type stuff - reader gets her heart broken. Big kiss finale but no smut

You stood there on the train platform amongst the rest of the Small Heath population that would be praying and grieving. Watched as the Shelby boys and your brothers piled onto the train to meet whatever plan God had made for them. Tommy, your best friend stood there a moment longer than the rest. His eyes wide and a smile on his face. He looked caught in a tough decision as he looked at you. Eventually he made up his mind giving you one last squeeze and peck on the cheek. Your eyes watered, but you both promised to write. 

You should have kissed him. The thought ate you alive the entire time he was gone. Out of all the things to worry about, and there was a lot, it was that thought that had you tossing and turning in your sleep. 

You worried about your family, your mother was with Polly back in Small Heath. You and Ada were here with your Aunt helping with the farm, as your cousins had followed your brothers into the war. 

It was busy work, but it was quiet. The radio was only allowed after meals for a short time. Other than that you were engulfed in silence and conversation with Ada. That silence brought you as much rest as it did unease. One rainy afternoon you finally followed the loose string in your mind and realized it was proudly attached to your heart. Tommy was your best friend but your body betrayed your mind so easily thinking of the way he held you an extra second longer on that platform. The way he signed his letters: With love, Tommy. When he hesitated…. you should have kissed him. The thought of his lips on yours, the way he always made you laugh and the general affection he had towards you chased you everyware. Through the fields, feeding and cleaning the animals, everyware you went he went with you. You hoped you managed the same for him. 

It was a dark time, but sometimes you look back on that time in your laugh and miss the more innocent parts. The war ended and thankfully everyone you had sent away was coming home to you. 

However it was your turn to leave. You would miss them by a day, on a train to London for a schooling program. Your Aunt set it up for you and you would be away a whole summer. Tommy was disappointed but you had a feeling he might surprise you by going to London once everything back home was settled…. You were worried about him, his letters changed as the war dragged on. Years of missing him, and you couldn't even imagine the evils he was facing. 

The summer felt like it dragged on forever, Tommy still wrote to you frequently. 

Finally the time for the reunion was here. You sat anxiously looking out the window at the late august sun shining brightly over the countryside, then eventually the city. It was near impossible to sit still knowing he’d be there waiting for you…. 

The Small Heath you had left behind was a very different place than it used to be. Tommy was too busy to meet you at the platform and you wished that’s where the disappointment ended. But it was the first blow of many. 

He was married. Took over the family business from Polly. And had stolen a massive amount of guns and had it hidden in a grave that was meant for a man that he pretended to kill in front of the Italians. 

You thought you all got along fine with the Italians? You shook the thought from your mind and looked at him staring at you with his blue eyes. The only part of him that was the same, except for the lifeless undertone. You looked at him unable to process everything. You thought back to how you thought this would all work out, then back to him, a completely different person, with a completely new life. That clearly didn't have a spot for you. 

His wife came over from the bar that he had bought. Slid into the seat next to him. She was prettier than you, blonde, nicer frame, nicer eyes, nicer accent, older than you, probably more experienced. She flipped her blond hair and smiled at you - definitely more experienced. 

How stupid could you be waiting on him. 

Your head started to spin, better to get out of this as quickly as possible. 

“Well, glad we could finally catch up. I’d love to stay and chat but I have to head back to the house to see everyone.” 

“I’ll walk you home.” He responded sharply. You could see something had bothered him about this mess. You knew him well enough, but couldn't bring yourself to care. 

“It was lovely meeting you Grace, hopefully next time we can spend more time together!” You said cheerfully swallowing the venom in your mouth. 

“Yes, I’d love that. Tommy talks about you so much” She smiled at you. A million things came through your mind that you wanted to say. But you simply slipped out of the bar without another word. 

You made it home. Your mother thankfully sent you to wash up before coming to sit down with the family. 

It gave you enough time to splash water on your face and cry silently under the sound of the sink running. How stupid could you be? All those years…pining, obsessing, lusting, dreaming - all of it time wasted. Regret swallowed you entirely. Your mother knocked on the door and said something in Romani that had you opening the door. 

She pulled you into a crushing hug. 

“What happened?” You could tell that she already knew what the problem was. Was it so obvious to everyone but him? Or did he know too and just not give a shot about your feelings. 

“He doesn't love me” You whispered, saying it outloud only made it worse. 

“Eh, it's better that way. You don't see it now but you will.” She ran her hands through your hair. 

“There is a lot to discuss, but we will put on our best face for dinner, eh? Deal with this after.” She patted your back firmly and you tried to push everything down. She’d been cooking and cleaning for three days for your big arrival. All of her kids back home where they should be. You’d hold it together out of respect for her and nothing else. 

You survived the night, the pain soothed by the excitement of seeing your brothers. They were in better shape, or they were better at hiding it than Tommy was. The night dragged on and Polly, Ada, John, and Arthur came round with pales of beer and a bottle of whiskey to celebrate. They were much happier to see you then expected. It was enough to get you to sleep with an empty head. 

The weeks dragged on and you went to work, bringing in good money for the house, not that it was needed as the business was expanding. But you were almost certain you’d be leaving to go back and live with your Aunt. The farm was all you thought about now. All the open spaces to hide in, how the air seemed to wrap around your worries and keep them off of your shoulders. The city was the complete opposite. 

Tommy had some kind of party happening at his new house. You dreaded the thought of going but everyone was going and you had expectations to live up to. You knew that it was important to go and not show weakness, but you also were trying your absolute best to avoid Tommy and Grace.

A dress and 45 minutes of your mother trying to make you look presentable, she had you out the door and into the family car. 

“We’ll make sure he keeps himself in line” Your eldest brother said while lighting a cigarette. “S’not hard considering his whole family is as pissed about it” 

“Do us all a solid and get under her skin a bit, eh?” Your other brother chimed in with a crooked smile giving you a firm slap on the back. 

“She’ll do no such thing. Leave your sister alone.” your mother scolded but you could hear in her voice that she was only pretending. 

The night was classy. People were impressed with you, good job, smart, pretty. People were dragging their son’s over to be introduced. You swore anytime someone put their hand on your low back or upper arm you could feel his eyes on you. 

This progressed like this for a while Grace seemed to get more and more irritated as people wanted to talk with you. Tommy was eventually dragged into a conversation with you. He refused to make eye contact, but he passed off as friendly. You caught a glimpse of Grace’s blonde hair approaching out of the corner of your eye. You looked around to see if there was a way to escape the conversation without being rude. In your scan of the room you noticed a man with a gun, moving with a steady pace towards Thomas.  

You assumed he must work for Tommy, but something in the pit off your stomach told you differently. Intuitively, when he raised his hand you moved to step in front of him, shielding Grace in the process. 

An enormous noise echoed through the room, leaving a deep burning sensation in your shoulder. Looking down you saw redness everywhere, Tommy looked like he was screaming but you couldn't hear what he was saying. Next thing you knew you were looking up the ceiling, John's blurry figure on top of you, looking horrified, but no matter how hard you tried to comfort him you just couldn't manage. 

“KEEP HER ALIVE” Tommy’s voice finally broke through the haze. You heard him screaming at John to keep you alive. Then everything faded out. 

______________________________________________________

You were in and out for a long while. You knew you were at Arrow House, you knew that you saved Tommy’s life but failed to save Grace. 

You hated her, and somehow you hated her even more for dying. She had one fucking job, now you felt as if you were drowning in an ocean of guilt. You hated her, but it wasn't her fault that Tommy chose her. You didn't think she deserved to die for it. 

More problems. All this boy seemed to bring to your life. And yet he sat in your room late at night when everyone had gone to bed. Your eyes would flutter open to see him asleep in the chair by the fireplace. 

Eventually you were allowed to move about the house. But it wasn’t safe for you to leave yet. Things were not easy on Tommy, and you hated how easily you fell back into the role of supporting both families. 

With things being so busy, Polly had you helping with bookkeeping. Bringing over paperwork when she came by to visit. Her and your mum made you promise that you wouldn't tell Tommy, and once things settled down they would take over the responsibility and it would be like you were never involved…. Seemed strange but you were so bored you agreed to do it. 

_____

You woke up to Tommy yelling. It wasn't that unusual these days. Nightmares followed him in his shadows, and almost every word out of his mouth was hurtful. You heard him yelling about needing the accounting papers, your sleepy eyes focused on them sitting on your night table. 

Without thinking you scooped them up and padded downstairs hoping to shut him up so you could go back to bed. 

You entered the room to and walked over to his desk placing the papers down. His eyes caught yours and you heard Polly’s voice in your head making you promise not to tell him. He threw the phone across the room causing you to flinch. 

“WHY DO YOU HAVE THEM?” You’d never really been afraid of him until this moment. Yeah, you’d seen him do unspeakable sins, but you’d never even been close to the receiving end of such rage. 

“I was - uh - I was -” Your breathing was uneven. You’d been wanting to rip his head off for the past three months and yet now that you had your chance you just wanted to cry. 

He let out a sign pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Look, who gave you the papers?” His voice was low, a strange mix of murderous and defeted. 

“I wouldn’t ever tell or rat -” 

“I know!” He snapped, causing you to jump. “I know you’d never turn your back on the family.” He said in a more collected manner. “I just need to know who gave you the papers?” 

You paused for a moment. Why shouldn't you have the papers? You were smart enough to handle the books before the war. Why not know? 

“Who do you think? Look, if you're so confident I wouldn’t betray the family, and we both know I’m smart enough to do the bookkeeping - Then why is this such a big - Why did you choose her?” It’s not what you wanted to say, but the words rushed out anyway. You could tell he didn't want to talk about this. Heck, her body was placed in the  ground a fortnight ago. Bringing it up like this was not what a good friend would do, but he stopped being your friend a long time ago. 

“We're not having this conversation.” His voice was so cold it made you shiver. But his reaction only told you that there was more to the story. 

“Yes we are!” You demanded. “Don’t you think after everything I deserve it? After everything you don't even want to try to fix this friendship?” tears were welling up in your eyes so you closed them for a moment taking a deep breath. 

When you opened them he was staring at you in a way you didn't all together understand. 

“She came from the same world I keep getting sucked into. What happened to her was something that was always a possibility for her in that lifestyle. She needed a husband and I wanted her connections. Seemed like a good fit.  I -” His eyes had a glimmer that told you that it was a good fit for a few more reasons that he wouldn't tell you. This only made you angier. He told you bits and pieces of what happened between the two of them and you sat there trying not to punch him. 

“And what, I’m not smart enough? I’m not tough enough to handle the almighty Thomas Shelby? Despite being his best friend since before primary school. Despite working hard the whole war with thoughts of you living rent free in my head. Months heartbroken over a fucking ridiculous marriage. I have plenty of connections - I - ” Chest heaving you begged yourself to stop but couldn't help yourself. “ All this over some fucking spy, I can't believe I thought she was better than me for even a moment.” You stared him down for once, feeling a strange primal sense of satisfaction over your words. They hurt him deeply, for once you were the one dishing it out. An entire childhood following this boy into every type of trouble, now it was your turn. 

“I don’t want you to go where I’m headed.” He said evenly, his eyes colder than snow.

“Why?” You demanded. 

“Your mother and aunt worked hard to keep you safe. Put you through school to get away from all this mess. That’s all this is. Mess. Expensive, dangerous mess. I won’t have it sink it’s claws into you.” He looked desperate. Suddenly you wished he was out of breath for other reasons. “Not you. I’m trying to do at least one thing right.” 

You thought about his words. Considering the way he wrote to you the entire time you were apart, this would make sense. He came home and got mixed up in a different world. He certainly wasn't the same man. 

He thought he could break your heart so you’d leave Small Heath. So you’d have a chance at a normal life, a safe life. 

You had options…. Make him say it, all of it outloud so you could be sure. You could leave, take the out he worked hard to give you. Seeing him leaning across his desk towards you. Flustered and beyond angry…. You could also just.. Lean forward and kiss him… 

You leaned across his desk as quickly as you could and pressed your lips against his. He reflexively grabbed your neck. His hand loosened once it registered what was happening.

It was more than you imagined, your whole body was consumed with the way his lips moved on yours. You struggled to force air into your lungs, and eventually he broke the kiss. 

“You’ve never been a good man. No point in starting now.” You rasped, face flushed, eyes wide in the warm lamp light. He thought about your words for a moment, his face almost breaking into a smile. Suddenly you wanted, more than anything, for him to forget Grace, forget the war, forget his mum, all of it. Every last bit. You would do anything to take it from him. Anything to get that smile back. 

He gave you a nod then pressed another kiss to your lips. You cupped his face, standing up to move closer to him. You moved your knee onto the edge of his desk and his hands gripped you tightly, guiding you up onto the desktop. You should feel embarrassed kneeling on his desk in nothing but your nightgown, but he held you against him in a way that made it feel like the most comfortable place on earth. Your body was burning from the contact, yet you couldn't be physically close enough to him. His hands ran all over you, careful to be gentle with your healing shoulder.

He had a lot of work to do before you’d let him in or trust him properly, but you finally believed that he would rise to the challenge. 

And finally you got to kiss him.

Tags: @kpopgirlbtssvt

#Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby #Peakyblinders #Peaky blinders imagine #Peaky blinders request #Tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby request #tommy shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x reader

[undertaleimages]

Dunno if you still answer cheating asks but...

Ok, my love, this will be long so please bear with me.

S/O walks in on the Skele's (you can choose any skele) with some stranger doing the horizontal tango.

S/O leaves behind a little brown envelope, and when the skele picks it up. It contains a pregnancy test.

I'd like to know how they'd react. The more angst and heartbreak, the better.

Also, no, the S/O will not accept an unfaithful man to be her child's father.

Listen, I got you! Prepare for the heartbreak! I picked my three favorite boys! I hope you don’t mind!

You clutched the little brown envelope to your chest, feeling your soul flutter. Nerves and excitement bubbled inside you. You wanted to laugh and scream and cry, but you held yourself together. You were pregnant with your monster soulmate! Ever since the doctor confirmed your pregnancy, you had become distance though. Would he want a baby? Sure, you two had discussed it, but you never thought it’d be possible and you two never agreed on anything. You took some time to yourself as you tried to figure out what to do. Finally, you decide to tell him. You had always imagined telling him he was going to be a father in some cute pun-filled way. You finally settled on a heartfelt (and still pun-filled) letter. Something you two could hang on to and laugh over in the many years to come. But, as you approached your shared bedroom, and the sounds of the bed squeaking filled the hall, your excitement died and anxiety began to chill you to the bone. You gripped the door knob tightly, but fear froze you, catching your breath in your chest. Finally, you opened the door to reveal the truth. There, staring at you in shock was your boyfriend and a stranger. You couldn’t bare to look upon the scene any longer, bolting out the door and into the night.

UT!Sans: Sans removed himself from the stranger and called after you, but you were long gone. The stranger awkwardly gathered their things and hurried out as Sans continued to stare at the door, trying to manifest your return. You weren’t coming back though. He quickly dressed and made his way out to find you, but something on the ground caught his eye. It was a brown envelope with his name on it. Frowning, he picked it up. Inside was the pregnancy test and a note. If he had any color in his face, it would have drained away. His eyes scanned the letter. Normally, your terrible puns would have had him rolling on the ground, but now, they only brought guilt and shame. He finally understood why you had been so distant. You were nervous about telling him. Sure, you knew he was good with kids and he tolerated them, but he never really encouraged the idea of having one! Heck, he didn’t even think it was possible! He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and quickly called you. Straight to voicemail. Fair... He tried again. Nothing. Again... He called Toriel, Alphys, Undyne, Grillby... No one knew where you were. He began to panick. He texted you, begging and pleading with you. He just wanted to know you were safe. To know his baby was safe. Nothing. No response. Radio silence. Sans pulled on his jacket and went out into the night to try to find you. He made his way to the Snowdin Inn where the bunny working the counter confirmed you had checked in, but made it very clear that he was NOT welcomed. Knowing you were at least safe and warm, Sans made his way back home. He left you one last voicemail. “hey... i’m sorry about... the cheating thing. you had grown distant and i thought... i didn’t realize... listen, i want to make this work. i want to have a kid with you. please... just call me back so we can work this out.” The next morning, you returned to his house and packed a suitcase. Sans tried to say something, but nothing came out right. Before you left to stay with Alphys and Undyne, you turned and looked at him for the first time since last night. “You will never have a relationship with me or my child.” Sans watched, defeated, as you marched out of his life. And for the first time since meeting you, he wished, prayed for a restart. 

UF!Sans: Sans promptly kicked the stranger out into the cold, tossing their clothes into the snow before stomping up to your shared room. He was cursing you, cursing the stranger, and cursing himself. It was your fault he cheated! You were the one growing distant! You were probably cheating too! He had to hurt you before you had a chance to hurt him. Sans moved to slam the door closed, but something stopped it with a snap. He reached down to pick up the brown envelope. He grunted, already in a nasty mood, as he torn it open. Out fell a now broken pregnancy test and a piece of paper. Sans froze. He didn’t need to read the note. He knew. He stood there, trying to process it all. Monsters and humans can’t have babies together! It was impossible! Right? At least, it had never happened before. Besides, he hated kids! You knew that! But... was that why you were distant? Where you afraid to have a child with him? Where you afraid he’d reject you? Where you scared that your child... his child wouldn’t be safe in the Underground. Your behavior suddenly made sense. He cursed loudly and stormed out to find you, but you had disappeared. He called your number, texted you, but nothing. You were gone. Anxiety and panic set it. You were out there alone, pregnant with his child. What if you get hurt? What if you freeze to death? He called your phone and left a message. “get home now. we gotta talk about this. i screwed up okay? are ya happy? i admitted it! i shouldn’t have cheated and i was wrong and stupid! now get home before ya get hurt!” He waited by the door all night, but you never showed up. He was just dozing off when he heard you walk in. You wouldn’t even look at him and made him feel even more disgusted with himself. He followed you to your room. He watched helplessly as you packed, begging you to reconsider, promising to fix things. You walked out, of the house, your last words echoing in his skull. “I’m moving in with Toriel. You will never be a part of our life.” Sans sunk to the floor and for the first time ever, wept.

US!Papyrus: Papyrus barely processed what had happened. One moment you were standing there, the next you were gone. He felt like he hadn’t seen you in days. He sent the stranger away and sat on the edge of the bed, your shared bed, in silence. What happened? You had become distant, nervous, quiet. He missed you and maybe that’s why the stranger’s advances had been a welcoming change. But the second he saw you, the being with the stranger suddenly felt all wrong. They were no substitution for you. Papyrus let out a long sigh and rose from the bed. He’d talk to you about what happened, explain how he was just missing you, and how it was moment of weakness. He’d tell you how much he loved you and needed you back and he’d do whatever he could to fix your relationship. Shuffling to the door, he noticed a brown envelope with his name on it. His stomach fell when he looked inside. He didn’t bother reading the note, knowing exactly what all this meant. You two had talked about kids not too long ago. He had brushed off the questions, saying the two of you had Sans and that was enough. He had been joking, but now he realized that that answer must have made you distant and nervous. Sure, having children wasn’t at the top of his to do list, but having them with you? He’d give anything to have a real life, a real family with you. Why hadn’t he told you sooner? He looked out the window into the night. Snow was falling softly. He knew you wouldn’t have strayed too far, and he was right. He found you at the Inn, checking in. He called out your name, but you wouldn’t even acknowledge him. Papyrus frowned, but he knew there was nothing he could do. He returned home, sending you a quick text. “i want a family with you. i should have told you sooner. we can talk about this tomorrow. please... stay safe.” The next morning, Papyrus awoke to you stuffing your things into a bag. He tried to find the right words, but nothing sounded right. Instead, he watched dumbly as you made your way to the door. “I’m going to live with Asgore,” you said softly. “Don’t you ever try to contact us again.” Papyrus watched helplessly as you disappeared from his life, a sob shaking him to the bone. 

#undertale #undertale sans #underfell sans #underswap papyrus

[whiitemateria]

∗ 34﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  somewhere  they  shouldn’t  be .

Everything changed in '02. It kept right on changing. Kunsel made it a point to take patrols through Sector 5 after those MIA/KIA notices came through, after radio silence. After emails sent, never read. After letters written, never received. He kept track of people important to Zack; those people steadily became important to him, each in their own ways.

Loss after loss after staggering, harrowing loss. Time marched ever forward. Everything changed in '02. It kept right on changing as much as some things never changed. The away missions became more frequent, the brief check-in visits dropped off, the excuses for coming down to the Slums dwindled, the surveillance increased. Shackles. Chains.

It has been eighteen months since he last made this patrol. The man stalking through the darkened streets, following the trail of verdant growth like a ghost in the moonlight, is no longer the helmed faceless Second Class SOLDIER. That man died under operating table lights to become the honed thing he is now, the last of the old and the emissary of the new zeitgeist of corporate warfare--but death is just a transformation, isn't it?

He could not blend in with the black uniform and bronze blades strapped to his back even if he tried. He should not be here, questing wraith in his own skin, but he is here, drifting along the path between the Gainsborough residence and the Church.

Aerith kept her eyes on most people, the ones who passed through. For as many people lived in the slums, when you live somewhere nearly your whole life, you recognize face after face, even if you don't know them, and you silently smile when you see them at the same restaurant, stopping to talk to the same people - life was being lived. Or so she liked to think; she often wondered if that was particularly naïve of her, but in the end, what did it mean if you staggered through life with sadness, without seeing the beauty in the mundane?

There was one figure she had not seen in some time. She first noticed his absence a year ago, when at random, she noticed the uptick in wererats in the slums. 'Huh,' she thought, 'Didn't someone come through and clear those out, sometimes?'

Every few months after that, she would wonder about him. Of course, as she was quite clear he had been SOLDIER, she could only assume he met the same fate as so many others; a sorrowful thought, one that gave her pause the day the realization came to her, but soon enough the thoughts of the man who seemed to linger just outside her peripheral were - gone.

That is, until she came across an unfamiliar sight on her trip from the Church to home - the figure of a SOLDIER stood taut and yet somehow unsure of itself.

At first, she wonders if they'd sent someone new after her.

Then, she just wonders.

So, she makes her way over, rounding the figure from one side to the other so she could better make her presence known. "What's a SOLDIER doing here? I haven't seen one of you around in a long time."

@steeleidolon

#WHEW. hope this is okay #steeleidolon #v; it'll be different this time

[vintage-marina]

A woman out of time (james norrington x f!reader) chapter 2

TW: suicidal thoughts, idk what the word is but the reader is seeing things that isn’t there

You washed your face and looked into the mirror, the circles under your eyes were enormous and it looked like you hadn't slept in days, what indeed was. Every time you closed your eyes you saw the battle of Wakanda or you saw the faces of people that you had murdered. Murdered, you had murdered them. You screwed your eyes shut and clung to the sink for dear life, a sob escaped your lips. I don't deserve this, you thought to yourself, your victims should be alive not you, them. Not you, Vision, Vision deserved it. Or Wanda, Bucky, Sam, Peter, T'Challa everyone besides you. T'Challa, yes he deserves my place, but he isn't here to take it isn't he? You softly hummed a song to yourself, a method to soothe you. After a few minutes of humming, you opened your eyes. Red, your eyes were red, you touched your cheeks and you realised you were crying. You stared into the mirror, you saw yourself but you couldn't reconise her. You stared to face and noticed the scars on it, they were small and were from the bomb that exploded right in front of you and you noticed the burn on your neck. You didn't found them ugly, but you didn't love them either. They were a part of you now and you couldn't do anything about it, just like your arm. You felt neutral about them. You picked up your toothbrush and brushed your teeth, the feeling of guilt slowly washing away. You knew that that feeling would never go away, but just like your therapist said you must learn to live with it, if you wanted to live your life in a somewhat peacful state.

Ever since half of the population died you didn't knew what to do, you felt like you didn't belong in the group that they called themselves the Avengers but you also didn't fit in as a civilian, so in the chaos that Thanos left you packed your bags and moved away, after you were fully healed ofcourse. You left everyone a handwritten letter and then you moved into a little old house on the shore.  

You heard the telephone ringing, you walked toward the livingroom and picked up the phone. Maybe it was Steve, Natasha or Tony you didn't knew. You wiped your tears away, stupid ofcourse because the caller couldn't see them. ''Hello, with Y/N'' you said into the phone, it was Natasha. ''Hey Nat! How are you? No, I'm not crying why did you think that?'' ''You know that you don't have to lie to me right? But if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to'' ''Yeah, I've been crying but I'm fine now. '' The last part was half a lie, you were fine but a few minutes earlier you weren't. ''Im glad to hear that you are doing alright, sometimes it is just so hard you know?'' You hummed in agreement, not knowing if she talked about her past or about the guilt she felt with the whole Thanos hassle. '' But, Y/N/N, I, no we have something important to talk about. Scott, you remember Scott right?'' ''Yeah, I remember him, he was snapped right?'' ''We thought that too but a few hours ago, he showed up on our doorstep of the compound.'' ''So he wasn't snapped away, you mean'' now it was her turn to hum in agreement. ''Y/N, what I want to tell you is that we can bring them back and we want you to be there,'' you smiled a little and you whispered: ''Ofcourse, I will be there'' ''We will pick you up in an hour, see you then'' ''See you Nat'' Natasha hanged up and you pressed the telephone to your chest and let yourself fall on your little couch and let out a laugh. A few minutes ago you felt on a point of breaking down and now hope streamend into your veins.

An hour flew by and you saw in the distance three figures walking, one blond headed, one red headed and one had dark brown hair. You openend your door and welcomed them inside, ''Hi guys'' you said to them and gestured that they can sit down, you went back to your little kitchen and brought back some drinks and cookies. You sat on a chair and turned your eyes to Scott, ''so you just showed up after 5 years of radio silence?'' ''Yep'' ''how?'' ''I got stuck in what they call the Quantum Realm'' ''What the hell is that?'' you mumbeled, ''Alright so, that realm is a microscopic universe on its own and if you want to be there you have to be really tiny. Time works different there and basically I got stuck there'' ''What do you mean time works different there?'' you asked to him. ''Well, I was missing for 5 years right'' you hummed in agreement, ''but for me it was 5 hours. So I thought what if we can navigate that universe and can enter it at a certain point in time but then exit the realm at another point of time.'' Your eyes widend and your brain couldn't proces it really, ''I don't understand what you mean and that doesn 't make ant sense Scott'' he sighed and then said: ''Timetravel'' ''Like back into the future type of thing?'' you said to him, ''Wait how do you know about back into the future Y/N?'' said Natasha surprised, you turned to Natasha ''I saw it on the television ofcourse!'' Steve furrowed his brows and said: ''How have I never heard of that movie?'' you shrugged your shoulders and focused your attention back to Scott. ''So how do you guys want to timetravel, I still don't understand how you guys want to do this but I'm in.''

At the compound

After you guys could convince Bruce to help, things had happend quickly. First of all he was green, that was pretty weird for you and for the rest of your team. He explained to your group that he emerged himself and the Hulk together, you were pretty grossed out about this and was scared to asked how he did that. Secondly, you couldn't convince Tony to help out wich was disappointing but not surprising, after all you two held contact and you knew that he had a family. You understood that he was scared to loose his life or his family so you didn't try to persuade him into helping your group instead you were chatting with Pepper. Thirdly, without Tony's help was Bruce all alone on how to make this time travel thing. You hoped that he knew how to make this thing, but you weren't so sure about it. Scott was the test person and when he was gone you thought it finally worked but instead he was a teenager, then he was a baby, then he was a grandpa and then he was finally back to normal. There was panic and not just a little! Natasha was relieved when she saw that Scott went back to normal and Bruce spread his arms out and said proud: ''Timetravel!"

''But it didn't work really work'' you noticed, ''yes but also no'' Steve shaked his head and then Bruce said: ''What? I see this as an absolutle win''

Night time

A radio was playing a soft melody. The woman who you stared at didn't move a muscle, she looked like a dear in headlights. Time moved slow, to slow for her and sweat was forming on her forehead. You didn't even knew her name or why you were here, you only knew you had one job. The room reeked of blood and it was coated on the floor, you raised your arm and pulled the trigger before she could even scream. You could hear her body fall, finally you woke up and you could hear your heart racing. You clenched your jaw and stepped out of your bed, your feet touching the soft floor, you hummed softly trying to calm yourself. But you couldn't hear yourself, all you heard was the soft tune of the radio. Shuffling in the dark is never easy, your fingers touched a wall and your eyes went wide. Blood, why was there blood on the wall. You squeezed your eyes and then you saw the pattern on the wall. It was dark green with little leaves and flowers on it, your hand flew towards your mouth when you realised you were not in your bedroom anymore. You turned your head and then everything went back to normal. You didn't saw the blood splatters and the wallpaper anymore but you were in your bedroom?

The next day

A lot happend during the day, Tony showed up out of nowhere. Thor was back, who looked like shit. Rhodey suggested to go back in time when Thanos was a baby and to strangle him, which you found very amusing and Clint showed up with tattoos and a sad background that he killed people just because his family passed away. Everyone grieves differently I guess, some people like me you thought are gonna live in solitude and other people are gonna kill people for the fun of it. So now you were lying on the floor next to Bruce, Natasha and Tony trying to figure out where the stones are. Tony, Bruce and you were arguing about which place and time is the most convienent but Natasha broke your quabble. ''Guys, if you pick the right year there are three stones in new York'' ''Shut the fuck up'' ''You're a genius you know that right'' ''Whoah'' were the three things that were said in unison to her.

After five years you finally wore your suit again. The med pack on your bag felt familiar and you almost forgot how thick the leather was, the only bad side was that you now had to wear a mask. On your wrist was a watch and after twenty explanations from Tony you understood how to work with that thing, above your suit you wore another suit were you would timetravel in. You are going to travel with Tony, Scott and Steve to New York 2012 because Tony could help you with your suit when you didn 't knew how to work with it. ''Can someone please explain to me why I would have to wear a mask again?'' Actually you did know why, because the four of you didn't want to risk that 2012 Steve would regconise you. The Avengers and you were walking in unison and you guys formed a circle. Natasha and Steve looked at eachother and she said to him smiling: ''See you in a minute'' a machine whirred above you and you clicked on a button to summone your helmet and then you were shrinking.

It was a really weird experience to say atleast, your tummy was doing cartwheels and you felt your fingers (but not from your vibranium arm) tingling. You saw blue everywhere and it looked like honeycombs. You marveled at this, but then someone's elbow went into your ribs and you flew out of the orbit. Instead of going right with the others you went straight ahead. Shit, shit shit! But everything went so fast you didn't even had more time to think about it. A flash happend and you had your eyes shut. Your vibranium arm was stuck into something but not for long, whatever your arm was in was ripping and flew down with you. You could hear yells and cursing and then you fell on the ground. Well, not ground but on wood? You heard it crack underneath you and you thought you had fallen through the floor. Something is strange here, you didn't hear any cars, you didn't hear airplanes and you certainly didn't smell the fumes. You sniffed again, and you regconised it, it was salty and now your ears heard the soft waves of the ocean. You were on the ocean, you cracked one eye open and right in your face was a small man with dirt on his cheeks and wearing a mullet. ''Witch! A witch is on our ship!'' Fuck.

#james norrington #james norrington x reader #james norrington imagine #norrington #commodore norrington #potc #elizabeth swann #will turner #jack sparrow #henry turner #commodore norrington x reader #marvel #fanfic #marvelcrossover #avengersinfinitywar #avengers endgame #avengers

[teacup-crow]

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

Fun bit of survivors’ guilt for @badthingshappenbingo, based pretty heavily off Don’t Poke the Bear and Variations on a Theme. Post-finale.

They take it in turns to keep watch for when he wakes up: Doug, Reneé, Isabel, first names still such a novelty. Just his luck, he opens his eyes to the impassive face of Captain Lovelace.

“Hi, dickbag. Sore head?”

“Unnnnhh…” he whines as if he’s lying under a ton of rocks rather than a cosy quilt on Renee’s living room floor. His face is a patchwork of bruising. “Aspirin?”

She takes pity, and passes him two and a glass of water. The sitting up takes longer than he thought it would.

“You look terrible. Lucky for you, Renee makes a mean chilli con carne. Never would have guessed she could cook.”

“No thanks, I should, should be going-”

“You need food in your system, that’s non-negotiable. First thing’s first, though, you’re having a shower, and you either go willingly or get dragged bodily, because you goddamn stink. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles automatically, and he remembers the Colonel - Warren? Was it on a day he could call him Warren? - once saying something similar and his head pounds. ((“mr jacobi, of all the irresponsible, stupid shit i have seen from you this really takes the-“))

“Bathroom’s on the second floor, just past the master bedroom. Dominick put a pile of clean clothes in there before he left for work. And it’s Isabel, okay? Not sir. Not Captain. Never again.”

***

“Who did this to you?”

He grips his mug of sweet tea like it’s thousand dollar whiskey. He’s still ashen. “I did this to me.”

“You beat the shit out of yourself? Okay, yeah. Don’t buy that one.” Isabel repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”

“Just some guys I pissed off. I don’t know how many. I don’t know who. Happy now?”

The room goes silent. Isabel continues:

“And did you go provoking them deliberately?”

Not for the first time, Renee wonders whether they should have included Doug in this little intervention. He’s been through so much just like the rest of them, but he doesn’t know it, and he’s clearly freaking out at the situation.

“Why would he want something like that to happen? He looks terrible!”

“I don’t know, Doug,” Isabel says levelly. “Care to answer, Jacobi?”

He’s not on a first name basis, apparently.

“Not… I didn’t... no. No, no, no. I was too drunk and… picking fights, but suddenly there were too many of them, okay? But I got out. And if I want to drink then that’s my own problem, so thank you for the hospitality but-“

Renee cuts in there. “When you drink yourself into a stupor, get attacked by a gang in a back alley, and stumble into my doorway at 0300 hours after six months of radio silence, it becomes our problem.” Her look of pity makes his stomach churn even more than the chilli did. He breathes in, hold, out; in, hold, out; in-((alana’s breathing technique and why why why is she everywhere in everything why does he have to see her out of the corner of his eye when it’s been so long he can’t properly remember her face-))

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

“You are a good man and you saved every single one of our lives and we need to understand why you’re so intent on throwing yours away.”

Jacobi starts laughing then, guttural laughs that worsen the ache in his head and bones but he can’t seem to stop them. “...me? I’m a good man? Oh my God, Lieutenant, that’s hilarious. Give us another.”

“You need to take this seriously! This is a form of self harm! You could have died!” Isabel is pacing up and down. She and Renee do good cop, bad cop like it’s a professional sport.

“Boo fucking hoo. And the world would forever be worse off for my passing.”

Isabel stops, and turns back towards him with some heat in her gaze. “I have lost too many crew members who deserved to die far less than you do. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you need me to reconfirm that you are a an asshole? Do you need to hear about how Fisher, and Hui, and Fourier, and Lambert were all far better people than you will ever, ever be? Or will you accept that you are good in there? That deep down you’re on the right-“

“We burned their letters.” He’s staring at the duvet he’s wrapped in, running his finger over the flowers on the pattern. “Okay? Still think I’m a good person?”

“...wait. What?” She laughs a little, in shock perhaps. “But you told me…”

“I told you what I needed to tell you to make you trust me. We burned your crew’s letters. Lambert’s… I remember those especially. His hands were shaking really hard when he wrote them, weren’t they.”

It’s not a question.

Isabel stops pacing, and Jacobi grins again but it doesn’t reach his bruised eyes when he looks up at her. “More than mine, even. You could tell he was sick. They didn’t make any sense. We laughed at them. The irony of a Communications Officer who can’t communicate. Are you listening to me? We read their letters and we burned them and we laughed about it-“

Renee loses her softness. “Jacobi, that is enough!”

Isabel has a hand on her chest as if something has hit her there. She counts to ten in her head, ((fisher’s technique to try and stop her fighting with sam, never worked but still stuck in her head, or this copy of her head, or whoever she is now-)) and leaves the room.

They hear her slamming drawers in the kitchen.

Doug glances at Jacobi and shakes his head, before hurrying after her.

“How could you,” Reneé says. “How could you.”

“I don’t know. Will you let me go and ruin my own life now?”

“Never,” she replies. “Because, God help me, you’re still a member of my crew.”

At that, his eyes prick with tears he can’t explain. He rolls over on the air bed, and closes them.

***

“Lovelace?” Jacobi finally makes himself walk into the kitchen, grimacing like each step is on hot sand. The words are monotone. “I’m so sorry. What I did and said is... inexcusable.”

“Nope. That’s too large a word for your vocabulary. Come back to me with an apology Renée didn’t script,” Isabel snaps, going back to scribbling in a sketchbook.

“Look, I’m not much good at this-“

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m… really used to people yelling at me and hitting me until they feel better. Or you can shoot me if you like!”

“Jesus. Well, I am not about to do that to ease your guilt. You look like you’d snap if one more person poked you. So apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry…”

“For?” Isabel prompts over the top of her book.

“I’m sorry for burning your crew’s letters.”

“You did what you were ordered to do. It is what it is. I’m not condoning it.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jacobi realises she’s waiting for him to continue. “And… I’m sorry for bringing it up. That was… needlessly cruel. It sucked.”

“It really did,” she replies, putting the book down. “Tell you what: that sounded somewhat genuine, and Goddard brought out the shit in all of us. You look so pathetic, I’m going to forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I don’t bear grudges. Not anymore.”

She holds out a hand, and he shakes it. “Thank you.”

“Wow. That actually hurt for you to say.”

Jacobi nods. He sits down across from her at Renée’s huge darkwood table, and thinks about how she and Dominick must have bought this when they moved in together with plans to have people over for dinner every other night. Maybe even plans to have kids.

He wonders if Dominick ate at it alone while his wife was gone.

“So, you gone on that holiday yet?”

“No, actually. I’ve legally been dead for about seven years, so getting a passport is proving pretty tricky.”

“I can imagine.”

“Where have you been, anyway? We tried to get into contact with you. We drove down to your old apartment - got your address from the Goddard database - but it was cleaned out.”

Jacobi looks sheepish. “Yeah, well, I’d mostly been staying at Alana’s for the last few years or overnight at… yeah… so I’d not been a very good tenant and turns out they took ‘lost in space’ as the perfect opportunity to kick me out. So I’ve been sofa to sofa, on the streets a bit-”

“For heaven’s sake, Jacobi. We would have helped you, you stupid asshole! All you had to do was ask and you could have stayed here! Renee and Dominick would probably even let you have a cheese collection or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Guess the amount of drinks it takes for me to lose my pride is somewhere over eighteen?”

“How do you have a functioning liver?”

They sit in an almost comfortable silence for a few minutes, Isabel reopening her sketchbook.

“I never knew you drew.”

“You never knew me outside of a life-threatening situation.” Isabel sighs, twists the pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think I did. Before. The old ‘me’, I mean. But I was bored and I can’t get a job because of the ‘being dead’ issue, so I thought I should take up a hobby or something. Might be therapeutic. I’m not very good at it…”

“Can I see?”

“I, uh,” Isabel suddenly looks uncertain. “I drew her. Maxwell. I drew everyone, actually. Are you sure you want to look?”

“Yes.”

He leafs through the pages, at first simple doodles before branching into full portraits. Eiffel, upside down and smoking a cigarette. Hilbert, looking troubled at a shadow behind him he can’t quite see. Two ghostlike figures in lab coats staring out at the star, the man with a prophetic terror etched on his face - must be Isabel’s old crewmates. Mr Cutter smiles up at him with far too many sharp teeth in sharper lines where the pencil was pressed far too hard and he turns the page quickly. There’s Kepler, mid-whiskey speech and it almost stops his heart. He pauses. Maxwell.

In the picture, her eyes are shining as she stares at Hera’s console, fingers nothing more than a blur - the three-day stint she spent trying to get the AI online. Aside from the orange and blue of Wolf 359, elsewhere in the book Isabel has barely used colour, but here the room is bathed in a serene green light from the screens. Behind Maxwell, Jacobi sees himself, little more than a stocky, sketchy outline, waiting for her to finish.

He looks so proud of her.

He looks so… content.

After staring for a long moment, Jacobi closes the book and hands it back. “Thank you.”

“You can keep the pictures of them, if you like,” Isabel offers, but he doesn’t know whether he would like, so he says:

“Tell me about your crew.”

“What?”

“Your old crew. Tell me about them. Was Lambert the one staring at...?”

“No. No. No, that was Kuan Hui, our senior astrophysicist. He was whipsmart and funny and fearless, until the time Goddard Futuristics played around in his brain, stretched out his perception of time. He was completely alone in the dark for two weeks. His smile never really reached his eyes after that.”

Jacobi sips tea awkwardly, even though it’s cold.

“Something like that, it stays with you. At least he had Fourier, though.”

“That’s the woman behind him?”

“Junior physicist. Victoire Fourier had eyes like stars. Cleverest person I’ve ever met. She played six instruments, spoke four languages and she had the most gentle soul. She used to read to Hui when he got sick with Decima. Coughed up every organ in his body. I thought it would break her, but she was made of stern stuff. She vanished off the space station in the final days and I still don’t know what exactly happened to her-”

“I… do. If you want to know, I mean.”

Isabel shakes her head. Then pauses. Then shakes her head again. “I get the feeling whoever is to blame is long gone.”

Jacobi shrugs. “Who else?”

“Well, there was Mace Fisher. Fisher… Fisher died because of me, not Goddard Futuristics. Asteroid shower tore him from my hands. He had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was sensitive, sensible, grounding. A real older brother type. I- I didn’t deal particularly well with his death. Well, you know that much.”

((Pill popper!)) Jacobi gulps more cold tea.

“And Lambert?”

“Sam Lambert. Officer Samuel Lambert had a stick up his ass. He was whiny, and authoritarian, and he treasured his copy of Pryce and Carter more than Reneé and Kepler combined did. He drove me nearly insane, and I drove him likewise. The best second in command you could ask for. A damn good man. Sam got sick after Hui, so we knew what was coming. What it meant. He was brave, though. At first.”

((“C-Captain, please shoot me, please, it hurts, it hurts, Captain, please, I just want it to-”)

She falters.

“Lovelace?”

“Yup?”

“You know, it’s not even really about the Hephaestus. I keep… it’s insane, but I keep thinking about… I was an explosives guy for the Air Force. Before Goddard. A trigger failed and two men died. Andrews and Sullivan. I haven’t thought about them in years and suddenly-“

“They’re everywhere?”

There’s a sudden understanding between them.

“They’re everywhere. Them and Maxwell and Kepler. They’re in mirrors, in the back of my brain, around corners.”

“Flashes of them.”

“And if you just reach out far enough, maybe-“

“Maybe-“

“Maybe.”

((let’s go be monsters)), Jacobi’s brain echoes. He grits his teeth.

“Did it stop for you? When does it stop?” He finds himself asking. Isabel doesn’t answer.

#wolf 359 #bad things happen bingo #Daniel Jacobi #isabel lovelace #w359

[cuuno-moved]

after it all (or: boomer fucking dies)

inspired by @sleepsart's incredible comic

tws for: a very graphic car wreck and death (but it gets a semi-happy ending)

They woke up in a dark room.

That’s it. That’s all they knew. It was dark, and they were cold. Not cold in a ‘freeze to death’ cold, but in a ‘put on an extra sweater before you go out’ cold.

They didn’t have an extra sweater. They didn’t even have a sweater. They stood there in their baggy white t-shirt and light grey sweatpants, and they shivered.

They missed their hat.

They didn’t even know what their hat looked like, only that they didn’t have it, only that they missed it.

They called out, a few times. A plaintive little cry for help, met with an echoing silent indifference.

It was quiet in a way nothing was quiet.

Not even their footsteps against the ground filled the silence, the quiet thunks hardly doing anything to fill the sickening empty void.

Finally, there was light, and they could breathe.

It was still dark, of course, it wasn’t that kind of light, but there was light.

It was a woman.

It was a giant woman, nearly too tall to take in one look, with a long black veil, and a long red dress. A ring shone on her hand, a diamond the size of their head.

She was watching them.

They weren’t sure how they could tell, but they could.

“Hello.” They murmured, although they were still far enough away that she couldn’t possibly hear them.

“Hello, my child,” She responded, calmly and beautifully, and she knelt. “I’m sorry you ended up here when you did.”

“Where am I?” They asked.

“You’re safe. You’re home.”

“I’m cold,” They said, pulling at their tshirt. “Why am I cold?”

“It’s often cold here,” She said, apologetically. “Sometimes it’s not, but often it is.”

“Ah,” They said, understandingly, although they didn’t understand at all. “Who are you?”

They felt the woman smile, although they couldn’t see it. “I am the lady of the crows, I am the final hope, I am the mother of night, Angelwife.”

“Trixtin,” They murmured, reverently. “Goddess of Death.”

She nodded, and they sank to their knees.

“Who am I?”

“Remember.” Trixtin said, gently.

“I can’t,” They moaned, tugging at their shirt. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Yes you can.” She said. “Now remember.”

And they did.

It was a beautiful day, the day they died, and not just because they were finally going to be free. The sun was a beautiful shade of blue, the sun was shining and there was just a hint of a breeze. It was beautiful. It was freedom.

Hannah had turned on the radio in the car, and as some generic pop song played, she tapped her fingers against the wheel, bobbing her head. Her little pink sunglasses sat on the tip of her nose and she took a sip of her cherry soda as they raced down the road.

They were almost like any other friends on vacation, any other young adults, fresh out of high school, exploring the world.

For a moment, they tried to pretend they were, that they were sat beside Hannah on a road trip across the country or whatever, instead of running from a fighting ring, desperately searching for her brothers, who may or may not have found some sort of paradise-

“Boomer.” She said, sharply. “I can hear you overthinking from here.”

“I just… I’ve been in there for years,” They said, tiredly. “I’m not even sure where we’re going.”

“I told you,” She said, laughing. “Punz sent me a letter. There’s an SMP, it’s safe. He’s on good terms with the admin, we’ve got special permission to enter.”

Boomer hummed, pulling their knees up to their chest. “I miss him.”

“So do I,” She said. “So do I…”

It was quiet for a bit, before they spoke again, quieter this time. “Do you think they’ll send anyone after us?”

Hannah sighed, running her fingertips over the leather stitching of the wheel. “No. Hypixel has so many players, we’re hardly a drop in the bucket. Us leaving is like… it’d make it worse if they admitted that they let us get away. Pretend they’re in control. Pretend we’re not a threat on the outside.”

“Are we?”

She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. They weren’t going to do anything to try to stop Hypixel. They weren’t going back. They weren’t going to try to help anyone else escape.

When Technoblade finally got out, when he was released, he told the news he would never go back. For months, the news proclaimed in big letters: ‘Hypixel legend Technoblade swears to never return.’ The players cursed his name. They told each other that if they ever excaped, they would help each other.

They wouldn’t though.

They weren’t revolution leaders.

They were kids and teens and tired gladiators, sick of fighting, sick of the pain of death and respawning and despairing.

Boomer let their head rest against the window, bouncing off the glass. “You know where we’re going, right?”

Hannah tapped the GPS with one long, acryllic nail. “Yeah, baby. Only two more hours.”

Boomer nodded, smiling. “Okay. Okay, good, that’s alright then. We’re good.”

“Take a nap, Boom,” Hannah said, reaching over to grab their hand. “I’ll take care of us, don’t worry.”

Boomer chuckled. “I know. Night, Rose. Wake me up when we get there.”

They woke up two hours later to Hannah cheering.

“We’re there!” She cried, beaming at them. “We’re safe!”

They stretched their arms up, cracking their back. It was getting dark out, but it looked like rain was on the horizon. It was still beautiful, trees and valleys and beautiful mountains.

They felt their heart swell.

They weren’t sure what happened next.

One moment, they were watching the clouds brush across the sky.

The next, a cow was in the road and Hannah yanked the wheel to the side.

The car went off the road.

Their head slammed back, then forward, and then, suddenly, they were upside down.

Their chest hurt.

Their stomach hurt.

They were bleeding.

They couldn’t breathe.

“Hannah?” They rasped, craning their neck.

She was still in her seat, at least, her eyes unfocused and wide. There was a cut on her forehead, and the blood ran into her hair, turning the brown curls rusty. As soon as they choked out her name, she seemed to snap to attention.

“Boomer?” She murmured. “Oh- oh god.”

She reached down to her seatbelt, rattling it, and finally, it unlatched, releasing her, and she fell hard.

“My seatbelt is stuck,” Boomer choked out. “I can’t… I can’t move.”

“No-” Hannah gasped, and crawled closer. “No, no it can’t be.”

She pressed the latch, then tugged, then yanked, then she let out a scream, ripping at the belt itself.

“Hannah,” Boomer said, grabbing at her hand. “Hannah get out. Go. Save yourself.”

“No,” She hissed, almost ferally. “No, I’m not fucking leaving you.”

“What more can you do?” They murmured. They were losing blood fast.

“...I’m going to get help,” She promised, pressing her lips together. “Just… stay here. Don’t die on me.”

“Okay,” They lied. “Okay.”

She wriggled her way out of the car though the shattered windshield.

They blinked.

It was raining.

They were bleeding.

It hurt.

There were footsteps.

They blinked.

Two pairs of hands were tugging on them.

They opened their eyes.

They were being held.

A man stared down at them.

He was talking in a soft humming tone, his hands pressed against their neck.

They couldn’t feel their legs.

They blinked.

It was all so dark.

They couldn’t see.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Punz laughed, flicking at their forehead. “Open your eyes!”

They did.

They were alone.

No, Hannah was here.

The man was here, too, his voice still deep and reassuring.

His solid black eyes shone with tears.

He was crying for them.

He didn’t even know them.

They were so tired.

They pressed their hands to the ground.

They were laying on the grass.

Hannah was carrying them.

They were falling.

They were in a car.

They were in a tournament.

They were alone.

It was cold.

Trixtin watched them.

They stared back.

“My name is Boomer,” They said, quietly. “I’m Boomer.”

“Yes you are,” She agreed. “You are Boomer.”

“...I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Who was that man?” They asked. “The one who held me, in the end.”

“His name is Sam, he will look after Hannah as long as he can. They buried you, in her garden, by the rose bushes.”

“Will they be okay? Hannah and Punz and Purpled?”

“... I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“Can I go back? Please? I don’t- I have to help them. I’m too young-”

“You can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

At that, she hesitated, thought it through. “It isn’t your turn.”

“That’s bullshit.” They spat, even though they knew cursing at a goddess was ill advised in every way that counts.

“Oh?” She sounded almost laughing, like a mother who’d caught her child with his mouth full of chalk. “Why is that?”

“I didn’t get to fucking live, man. I didn’t get to stop all that bad shit from hurting them.”

She seemed to blink. “Oh…”

“Can I at least have my hat?”

There was a pause, then, before she sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” They said. “Thank you so much.”

Death hummed, standing slowly. She towered into the misty darkness above them, and for just a moment, Boomer saw under her veil, saw her skeletal face and shining ruby eyes, and then she turned, and walked away, and they were alone.

Alone.

#boomerna #mcyt #dream smp #toby writes shit #misstrixtin #mumza #hannahxxrose #who else is relavent here... #idk #death tw #car wreck tw

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!

─➤ Ushijima Wakatoshi sent you a letter, would you like to read it? #CC of the letter directed to : @babythotshq​.

──➤ #𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : angst, song letter. ─➤ #𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 : “When I Was Your Man” by Bruno Mars. ➤ #𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : slight injury.

❝𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞.❞

His orbs never left once the wilted color of the ceiling, nor did he dare to blink, surely because his subconscious had already made him prisoner jailed in his own thoughts. What did he fear by blinking? Did he fear to wake up in trance from this nightmare? Did he fear being left breathless by the umpteenth realization that you were, indeed, not laying next to him? Ushijima Wakatoshi was laying on his bed. His orbs never left once the wilted color of the ceiling. His arms were spread open (but oddly respected the limit of where your body would usually occupy), like a martyr begging for forgiveness and mercy to the higher beings. But his salute never came, his prayers fell in the deaf ears of vacuity. Ushijima Wakatoshi was laying on his bed. And found himself unable to move. And upon lacing his shoe laces to head out and commit to his morning run, despite being three hours late, he threw a last glance at your shared bedroom, which had become singular with time. He felt his own legs attract him to the edge of the bed, like an old habit poisoning his rational thinking and arbitrary, but was rendered weak and let himself be invaded by the toxins secreted by his own body. It was only when his shinbones hit the wooden surface of the bed that he snapped out of his reverie, and realized that the bed was empty. And realized that there was no forehead left to be kissed this morning, again.  He stepped back from the bed, his steps were cautious and testified of the fear slowly embedding his actions, now the toxins were spreading onto his bones and muscles, it was no longer a burden on his mind, it had metamorphosed into a metaphorical chain wrapped around his muscles which forbid him from enjoying the liberty of his movements. A shaken step caused his to stumble backwards, knocking the radio throning on the shelf behind him. And when Ushijima’s eardrums were expecting a loud bang, to which he did not even shut his lids in anticipation, he was met with a song. Your song. The shock of the radio against the floor had caused the sudden musical eruption of a song which often throned amongst Ushijima’s happiest memories. Now, upon hearing it, he could barely discern what the words meant. It all sounded like a blur, or rather, as if the musical keys had changed. He even wonder if the singer hadn’t released a new version of the song with new lyrics. Ushijima Wakatoshi didn’t go on his usual morning run on this day, he gave in to the assault of emotions and the whimpers of nostalgia hidden between two words sung by the singer, the pain found comfort in the melody of the song.  ❝𝐌𝐦, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝.❞ Each volleyball season ended with a gala organized by the Volleyball Club Association, it was the perfect occasion to give back to charities and at the same time celebrate the victories of this season. Ushijima had the habit of growing oddly quiet whenever this season would arrive, the nerves of knowing whether or not he had been voted as the best performing winged spiker were rendering unable of forming any word. 

And like every year, you were accompanying him. 

You found yourself to be cherished under the flashes of the photographers, exposing in front of the public eye a relationship which was burning with the fire of a Phoenix. Only, to the private eye, you had doubt regarding the renaissance of your idyl. Your love was burning, indeed, burning amongst the unforgiving inferno of a romance which had turnt into a mere illusion. 

Being at a public event, it was common for Wakatoshi to answer the journalists’ question, and being someone quite reserved himself, the preying eyes of the interviewers often gravitated about his private life— who is he dating? Is he single? Does he have someone on his mind? 

A journalist gathered enough courage to approach him, and you thought it was your time to affirm yourself— as the galas went by, you and Wakatoshi grew and grew closer, and this year was your first time as his official romantic date. A grin had already bloomed amongst your facial features in anticipations to his answers regarding his private life. 

“Ushijima-san, thank you for allowing us to ask you several questions. Now, everyone knows you as this relentless warrior on the court, but do you also happen to have the same success on the court as in your private life?” The journalist asked, a gleam of hope shone in the irises of her eyes.

Ushijima hesitated for a short instant which seemed like an eternity, the metaphorical gears in his head were working with difficulty, and the words connected to one another without ever forming a complete sentence, or at least, one which reflected his thoughts. “No, there is no one in my life except volleyball. And I believe it will always remain this way.” He announced to the journalist in response, despite your obvious presence next to him. 

And as the words were drowning in your eardrums, you felt yourself gradually disappear under the haunting sensation of being forgotten. His hold on your hand also seemed to be gradually becoming numb, as if you had truly obtained all the characteristics of a ghost after his reply. After he stated that you meant nothing to him, and will never mean anything.

“Y/N, I’m pleased to see you are happy to be here, should we continue, my love?” His question provoked the rise of a cacophony of miserable whimpers inside your head, not only did Ushijima failed to see you for who you were, but he also failed to perceive your most vivid emotions. ❝𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.❞ You were sitting on the edge of the bed, the back of your calves rocking softly against the wooden surface, your skin had already adopted a spectrum of reddish and purplish tones from all the bruises caused by this constant rocking of your legs against the edge of the bed, you were bruised from waiting for him, you were bruised from loving him. 

“Y/N? I ignored you were waiting for me, you should have gone to sleep instead.” Did this tone remind you of your lover’s? Or did it remind you of yet another lecture given by a parental figure?  “I tried, trust me I tried, Wakatoshi. But I can’t sleep without you anymore... You’re, you’re always abroad and I can never catch you. It’s like I’m dating someone who only exists through phone calls and texts... It’s like all this time I’ve been dating a ghost.” Your lower lip began to tremble under the heavy weight of the words pouring from your mouth, “I don’t even know if I want you anymore or not. I can’t tell if your presence is hurting me or not, I don’t know who you are anymore to me.” The last words died on your tongue in a shameful whisper, your orbs solely focused on the ground. 

Wakatoshi’s hand reached for your shoulder, like a metaphorical saving hand trying to save your from drowning in your most horrible nightmare but as your fingertips were about to touch his and be saved from the misery hovering above you like a sword of Damocles, a sudden sob ripped apart this moment of solace and you felt all alone again, shut away from the world, an exiled soul in a loveless abyss.

Ushijima knew you couldn’t find deliverance in his presence anymore, he knew that in your eyes, he had become a poison you needed to find an antidote for. Each second spent with him felt like pure agony, and he felt eaten alive by his own guilty for having fallen asleep to the sounds of your rocking sobs like the most miserable lullaby. 

❝𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧.❞

The absence, the ignorance.

Two cruel elements which, once associated to one another, signed the end of your relationship with Ushijima Wakatoshi. You had left him a letter with your most beautiful calligraphy, soon ruined by the uneven spheres caused by your tears. You even left him a bouquet of flowers, an attention he used to pour a lot of importance in at the beginning of your relationship when it was still blooming. Now your relationship was wilted, colorless, and already falling apart. And just like that, a petal had fallen on the wooden surface of your kitchen counter. His kitchen counter.

Ushijima tried to make up for your absence by concentrating the burning hole in his chest left by your absence by unleashing his frustration in his spikes. At first, he was applauded by his coach, and his performances were worthy of his peers’ praises.

But the same spikes infused with frustration were now infused with a rare kind of genuine hatred when you sent him a text saying you had found someone else, someone who had more time too, but the last straw was that you had apologized.

Said rare kind of genuine hatred wasn’t directed to the person you were dating, even less you. It was directed to himself, Wakatoshi Ushijima, and how in the deafening silence he managed to give birth to the loudest emotions.

And the praises turnt into worry.

Like your compliments turnt into whimpers.

It was the same circular scheme.

During training, as the palm of his calloused hand slapped the leather surface of the ball, picturing his own face on the martyr of a ball, Ushijima cried out in pain.

He ignored if the origin of the pain emanated from the way he had just dislocated his left wrist, or was it coming from the final rupture of his last heartstring as he had witnessed himself coming undone under the weight of his emotions, his memories, his regrets.

And the praises from his coaches regarding his spikes were now made vocal for another player. And the praises, your praises, regarding himself were now made vocal for someone else whose name wasn’t Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Someone who had the luxury of time.

Someone who had the privilege of loving and being able to be loved.

Someone who wasn’t him.

❝𝐃𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧.❞

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshot #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima hcs #ushijima oneshot #hq ushijima #ushiwaka #ushijima #ushijima x you #haikyuu wakatoshi #wakatoshi #hq !! x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu

[axelbluesworld]

Alone in the lake

Riley sat on the floor of her room staring at nothing, this whole week had been very stressful, and the worst thing was that Jack had died.

Many times she said that she hated most of the things that Jack did. She hadn't realized then that those little things were the most missed of him.

His irritating laugh, his constant jokes, his jokes and references to old movies, his obsession with rock and his great love for Brus Willis

Her phone rang on the ground for the third time in the last hour, but she didn't bother to pick it up because she knew exactly who the call was from.

Mac had been calling her all day, and all she did was ignore him, she didn't want to talk to him or anyone else unless it was Jack, but he was gone.

She tries to suppress her feelings and let go of the worst pain, which is extremely difficult.

Without realizing it, tears were already falling freely down her cheeks after almost 3 years, and the only time she was able to see him again was from inside a coffin.

Once again, her phone vibrated on the ground, and finally, giving up, she decided to answer.

"What do you want, Mac?" she asked

"I just wants to talk to you Riles, I need to know how you are," Mac said.

"I'm completely fine, you don't have to worry," Riley said calmly.

"Riles ..." before Mac could say anything else, she hung up.

She hit her head against the wall and groaned in annoyance. She wasn't sure who she was upset with, she just knew she was upset.

At that moment she hated the whole world for every second she was away from Jack, she was sad, angry and hurt.

She didn't know how long it had been since she was sitting on the ground and she didn't care at the time.

Suddenly, she heard a sound coming from the hall, immediately became alert and walked to see who it was.

She picked up a baseball bat from her room and walked down the hall. She put the bat down when she saw the person in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked a little annoyed.

"I needed to see you" answered Mac

"How did you get inside?" she demanded

Mac simply smiled and showed her a small hair clip that was now bent over.

"Why don't you imagine it?" She rolled her eyes and went back to her room.

"Where do you think you are going?" Mac said, taking her hand.

"To my room, and if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone," Riley said.

"Riley, I just want to help you" said Mac

"Mac, I really appreciate that you want to help me, but I'm completely fine," Riley said.

"I know you are not, I know you Riles" said Mac

Riley just lowered her head and sighed as she looked at the ground, Mac walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms.

"Talk to me, Riley." said Mac

"It's so hard to get over all of this, he promised me that we would spend all our time together when he comes back and I didn't know at the time that that was the last I would hear from him, I miss him so much," Riley said.

"Riley, I know that losing Jack is one of the hardest things that can happen to us, but I promise you that from now on everything is fine, fine, I will be with you at all times, and we will overcome this pain together" said Mac

"Mac, this is more complicated, Jack was one of the most important people to me, but you've already lost a lot of people, I don't want to bother you with my pain too" said Riley

"Riles, you and I are a bundle, remember? We support each other no matter what, I'll be there for you as you will be here for me, I don't want you to be sad Riley," Mac said.

Riley shed several tears, Mac looked into her eyes and gently wiped away the tears that had stained her cheek. They stayed like this for a couple of minutes, just hugging.

"Let me take you somewhere," Mac said out of nowhere.

"where?" Riley asked

"Don't ask, it's a special place," Mac said.

"It's too late," Riley said when she saw that it was 9 PM.

"Do you have time to sleep," Mac joked.

"Okay, but tell me where will you take me" he asked again.

"I won't tell you," Mac said.

Mac led Riley to his car, and they were both silent for a couple of minutes, Riley watched as Mac turned on the radio and then Wilie Nelson's music began to play.

"Wilie nelson?" Riley asked a little amused.

"Jack liked it, this music makes me remember him," Mac said.

"I remember" she smiled a little but became serious again.

Mac drove in silence for a couple of minutes while Riley just stared out. Riley moved from her place and looked at Mac with a serious expression.

"Why are we leaving town?" asked Riley

"you will see?" He playfully winked at her

"Are you planning to kill me?" Riley asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, where i'm taking you, no one will be able to find your body," Mac joked

Riley shook her head and leaned her arm against the window to look out, they drove about 25 minutes until they finally reached their destination.

The place was a forest quite far from the city and the people themselves, everything around it was very dark, and the only thing that lit up were the lights of Mac's car.

"where we are?" Riley asked when he got out of the car.

"you'll see" said the words from before

Mac took a flashlight from the car and guided her down a path that was there in the woods, Mac held her hand as they walked through that dark place.

After a few minutes they came to a clearing in the middle of that forest, but the clearing was not the only thing there, right there was a small pond that was illuminated by the light of the moon.

"Where are we Mac?" Riley asked him again.

"It's a place that Jack and I found a few years ago, he and I used to come here to get rid of the stress of work," Mac explained.

"So this is where you two disappeared when no one found you," Riley said.

"Jack said he wanted to keep this place a secret from everyone else. He and I were very close, sometimes we just need a place where he and I can be alone," said Mac

"Why did you bring me here?" Riley asked

"Because you need what I needed years ago, a quiet place and someone to help you overcome the pain, I know you are a very strong woman, Riley but I want you to know that sometimes it is okay to cry when you feel sad, Jack was the only person I went to when I felt bad and we both came here and since he left the only person that has been for me has been you and you should know that now I will be the one who is there for you "said Mac

Before Mac could say, anything else, Riley threw herself into his arms to hug him, Mac immediately returned the hug, wrapping his arms around her.

"Thanks Mac, thanks for bringing me here" she said against his neck

"Anytime, Riles" Mac gently kissed her head

They stayed like this for another minute until Mac picked her up off the ground, and she panicked because she knew what she was about to do.

"Mac, put me down, don't you dare do it" Riley yelled, hitting him on the shoulder.

Mac just ignored what she said and took her to the lake and then threw her into the water.

"You are a fool" she yelled annoyed

"But that's how you love me" scoffed Mac

Riley was not happy, and without him being able to do something, she took his legs and made him fall into the water as well.

They spent most of the night in that little pond enjoying a quiet and fun time.

When it was 2 in the morning, they were both in their underwear by the fire that Mac had made to dry their clothes.

Neither of them was bothered by the fact that they were both literally in their underwear, they had seen each other half naked before and there was no one around, so they were fine for the moment.

Riley lay down on the ground to get a perfect view of the stars. She looked at Mac who was looking at her.

"That's a children's story, but right now I want to believe that Jack is up there next to the stars, watching us from above," Riley said without taking her eyes off the stars

“When I was a kid, I believed it, and maybe I still do. So when I was little, I really liked astronomy, I thought my mother was there somewhere, "Mac said.

"Maybe she is, she and Jack must be up there" she said pointing to the stars.

Mac got up from his place and took his clothes since he was close now and started dressing. Riley did the same as well and followed Mac to the water's edge where Mac had sat.

They both stayed a few minutes just looking at the water, the stars and the moon were reflected in it, and it was a spectacular sight.

"I love you," Mac said out of nowhere.

"what?" asked Riley surprised

"I love you, I love you as more than a friend Riles, I know you don't see me the same way, but right now I don't want to keep this to myself" said Mac beside him.

"Seriously?" Riley asked

"Yeah, I've been in love with you for a while, and I never had the guts to tell you," Mac said.

He turned to look into her eyes and Mac put his hands on her cheek and slowly approached her, Riley didn't know how she reacted to everything she had just said, it was what she had wanted for so long and now she could have done it . that, and that made him nervous.

"Can I kiss you even once?" Mac begged inches from his face.

Without thinking twice, she nodded and slowly her lips met his.

It was such a soft, sweet, tender, affectionate, intimate kiss, there were so many emotions in that simple kiss. Riley gently ran her hands through Mac's hair as one of Mac's hands rested on his waist while the other rested on his neck.

They parted when shortness of breath was present, but kept their foreheads together, Riley looked Mac in the eye and leaned in closer to wrap her arms around him for a hug.

"I like you too, I love you too" he said

"in cerium?" asked Mac

"very cerium" said Riley

Mac moved to leave the hug and stand up, reached out to help her up.

"There's something else I want you to see," Mac said.

"What?" she asked

"Come with me" Mac took her hand and led her to a nearby tree.

On the tree were engraved the letters "M + J" and just below were other letters "BFF" she knew what each of the letters that were there meant

He looked at Mac and saw small tears trickle down his cheek. He smiled a little and then saw her.

"Jack wrote this the first time we came to this place, he put the M for Mac and the J for Jack, which are the initials of our name, and then he put the BFF which stands for best friends forever," Mac said.

"Typical Jack," Riley said with a smile.

Mac smiled back, pulled out his knife before crouching in front of the tree. Riley watched him do worse, wasn't sure until he got up.

Mac had engraved the letters "R + M" with a heart next to his initials.

When he stood next to her, she jumped up in his arms and kissed him on the lips. When they walked away, Riley smiled at him and he took her hand to lead her to the water's edge.

"I wish Jack was here" said Riley

"Me too, but now I'm happy because I have you" said Mac

They both enjoyed that moment alone at the lake, they missed Jack, but now they knew that everything was going to be fine because they had each other.

#macgyver #mac x riley #macriley #riley davis #angus macgyver #jack dalton

[kyber-kisses]

Southern Nights

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: cursing, angst, sad!boi dean hours, very slight canon divergence.

Summary: When the British men of letters start killing American hunters, Dean panics for the readers safety.

A/n: had this idea tumbling around in my head for awhile and finally decided to write it. Hope y’all enjoy and feedback is greatly appreciated! (I also based this off of Flower Power by Greta Van Fleet so go and give it a listen!)

Things had not being going smoothly to say the least. Not smoothly at all.

Taking a deep breath Dean rested his body weight against the drivers side door of Baby, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he waited for Sam to finish up his phone calls. Thirty minutes ago they had walked out of the morgue from seeing Eileen's body and now apparently their mother was missing.

“Are you done yet?” Dean sighed, holding up his wrist to check his watch impatiently. The only answer he got from Sam was a finger being held up, telling him to give him another minute.

Another groan and Dean was letting his head fall back against the roof of the car. A minute later he heard Sam saying his goodbyes followed by a click and he was lifting his head up again.

“Well?”

“So, yeah- I’ve finished calling around about all the hunters who’ve died in the past few weeks. And um-“

“And um what?”

“They’ve all had years of experience. If this really is the British men of letters, I think their trying to wipe out American hunters.” Sam explained, watching Deans face for a reaction. The older Winchester pinched the bridge of his nose,eyes squeezed shut, no doubt frustrated with the whole situation.

“Oh well that’s just fan-freakin-tastic.”

Another few seconds past and then Deans eyes snapped back open, Jade irises now wide as he pushed himself away from the car.

“Shit, Y/N.”

Immediately understanding where Deans mind was going, Sam was already rounding the side of the vehicle to get to the passenger door. “When was the last time you talked to her?”

“I don’t know, four weeks ago- maybe five?” Dean spoke quickly, yanking open his own door and quickly sliding in, keys already in the ignition. “Try calling her. We need to make sure she’s alright.”

Tapping furiously at his screen, Sam nodded as he pressed the device to his ear. “Already on it.”

Dean was back on the road and driving before he even had a destination, his eyes darting between the asphalt and Sam as he waited for an answer.

“Anything?”

Shaking his head, Sam pulled the phone a away from his ear, flinching when Dean let out a string of curses. “Damn it, here-“ taking a hand off the wheel he fished his own phone out, tossing it across the seat towards his brother. “Try mine.”

The hunter waited in agonizing silence for another minute or so before Sam shook his head once more. “Nothing again.”

It took everything in Dean not to hit his head against the steering wheel in frustration in that moment. He needed to know that you were safe. That you were still alive and well. “Fuck- okay. Um, try calling Jody. She might know where she is.”

You and Dean were complicated to say the least. The two of you had crossed paths and become friends a lifetime ago and nothing had ever been the same since. It was easy to see by anyone that You and Dean had feelings for each other, but even after years of friendship neither of you had ever truly acted on it. Sure there were the knowing glances and smiles, and the occasional instance where the two of you found your fingers tangled together, but that was it. No more. No less. Probably because internally you both knew that this life wasn’t made for romance.

But that didn’t stop Dean from loving you. Not at all.

Dean focused his eyes back on the paint strips in the center of the road, trying to ease himself. It wasn't unusual for you to go radio silent for weeks on end. You had a busy schedule, never quite standing still enough to catch a breath before rushing off on another case, but with everything happening, Dean was worried.

Dean considered you to be a wild, energetic type. You were the type that loved diving head first into anything you found interesting. Sometimes you decided to learn a new language just for the hell of it or pick up a random hobby like archery. There was something about moving that you had always loved. You were drawn towards instability the way magma's drawn through cracks in the earth. Even when you were younger, you had had a quality that sucked people in, made people flock to you as if you were some emissary from the land of glamour. (Dean knew that truth though, you like most hunters came from a shrinky dink town in the middle of nowhere USA. . . The farthest thing from glamour.) Dean remembered when they had first found the bunker and offered you to stay with them. You had hissed a little through your teeth, before politely declining. Sure, you stopped in every once in awhile and stayed a week or two but never longer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched as Sam talked softly to Jody on the phone, his brother letting out light hums and nods as he jotted some stuff down on the back of an old fast food napkin. A moment later he was thanking the sheriff and hanging up.

“She got anything?”

“Kind of. She says she hasn’t heard from her in a few weeks either, but last time she checked Y/N was hunkered down in some place outside of Fairhope, Alabama. She had been working a rugaru case but that was the last she heard of her.” Sam explained with a light shrug.

“Okay, alright.” Dean nodded, glancing back over at his brother. “What do you have written down?”

“An address. Jody said if we go looking for her to start here. She thinks this is where she was staying.”

Leaning slightly over, he read the messy scribbles on the napkin before nodding and looking at the clock. “Alright, if I gun I think I can get us there by evening tomorrow.”

His brother gave him a solid nod before plugging the coordinates into his phones GPS, and giving him the first set of directions. The only thoughts running the older Winchesters head being please be alive. You need to be alive. Because if the British men of letters found you and did something to you, he would never forgive himself.

*. *. *. *. *. *. *.

Dean managed to hit it spot on because a day and a half later he and Sam were quickly lurching to a stop at the end of an old dirt driveway as dusk began to settle. The sky turning to a deep shade of blue as the sun went down, taking the dusty pinks and oranges of the sunset with it. The first fireflies could be seen through the trees, and Just beyond the house, the grass sloped down to the calm waters of the Mobile bay.

The tires crunched loudly against the gravel before Dean slammed the breaks and threw the impala into park, practically vaulting out of the vehicle at the sight of your car.

“Y/N!”

For the past several hours fear had begun its agonizing and chilling climb up Deans spine and now that he was finally at the end of the GPS route he was terrified of what he might find.

No answer.

Dean was frantic as he and Sam bolted up the steps of the massive front porch, throwing open the old screen door probably with enough force that it should have been pulled from its hinges. “Y/N, Dammit!”

luckily the open layout of the house was easy to navigate and Dean quickly found no signs of forced entry or a struggle. All your stuff was still here though, he recognized your backpack and laptop along with one of your canvas jackets.

That’s when he saw the flicker of firelight just beyond the window, music seeping through a partially open one. Quickly pushing past Sam he kicked open the back door and rushed out.

unfortunately the sound scared the hell out of you and you were falling out of your hammock, hand flying to your chest as if to stave off a heart attack.

“What the fuck?!’

“Y/N!” Instant relief rushed over Dean at the sight of you unscathed before him, sitting startled in the grass, the firelight from the pit giving you a sort of glow. . . but that feeling was quickly ripped away and replaced by anger as he clenched his jaw and walked closer. “What the hell Y/N?! You ever heard of picking up a damn phone?!”

On top of being startled to death you now had to add confusion, your eyebrows raising as you pushed yourself off the ground and crossed your arms, watching as the elder brother stormed across the grass, Sam slowly following behind.

“Excuse me?”

“Both Sam and I have been trying to call you! The least you could do is call us back if you don’t pick up originally!”

Holding a hand up in defense you stared down the jade eyed hunter. As surprised as you were to see him, you were beyond confused at his rage. “Woah, calm the fuck down. What the hell crawled up your ass?”

“Do you have any idea what’s been going on these past few days?!”

You gave him one of your famous are you kidding me looks before moving down a step. “I’m sitting in a hammock and drinking, Dean. Does it look like I fuckin know?”

“I was afraid you were dead!”

“Well clearly-“ you gestured time yourself. “I am not, now you mind calming down and telling me what’s going on and how the hell you found me?”

Deans jaw clenched before he sharply inhaled through his nose, whipping around to look at his brother as if saying “can you believe this woman?” As much as he loved you, you could be infuriating at times.

“Only if you tell me why the hell your playing house in some small ass southern town!”

“Fine, fine.”you nodded, raising your hands in defeat. A moment passed before Dean let his shoulders fall and walked closer, only to sink down onto one of the wooden seats of the picinic table, Sam close behind. Leaning against the trunk of the tree besides you, you let an uncomfortable silence fall between you and Dean as he looked around at the surroundings, Sam unfortunately caught in the middle of it.

“Sorry, Y/N. I have no idea why he’s in such a mood.” Sam tried.

“It’s fine, Sam. It’s not like I haven’t dealt with an angry Dean before.” You gave him a small smile before reaching for your glass of peach whiskey.

“Really, Alabama? Alabama?” Looking back towards you, Dean gave you weird look as if judging your taste.

“What? I like the humidity. Plus, this place is quiet.” You shrugged. “Now please fill me in on why you felt the need to track me down and check in on me, because dudes, you’ve never once done that before.”

The two shared a look before Sam let out a sigh, crossing his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. “It’s the British men of letters.”

“Oh fantastic, what do those tea sipping idiots want now?”

“It’s not what they want, it’s what they’re doing.”

Another wave of silence.

“Okayyy. You care to elaborate?”

“They’re killing off American hunters. Hunters with years of experience under their belt. They’ve already killed Eileen, and we think they might have mom.” Dean explained.

“Shit.” You paused, finding the proper words hard to find. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, suddenly feeling extremely guilty for not keeping in touch. “And you thought-“

“They were gonna come for you next. Yeah.”

“I should have called you guys when my phone broke a few weeks ago just to inform you that you wouldn't be able to reach me that way anymore. I’m really sorry.”

Dean looked like he was on the verge of another fit but luckily Sam caught it and stepped in before anything could escalate. “It’s fine Y/N. What matters is that your safe.”

“I know, I know. I just- I feel bad. You guys are welcome to spend the night here instead of in some cheap motel room, and tomorrow If you want I can help you guys figure this shit out. Get coordinated. It’s the least I can do to make up for being a shitty friend and making you guys worry.”

“If you have enough room we’ll gladly take you up in that offer.” Sam smiled, rising from the bench before pulling you into a hug. “How’d you even come by this place?”

“One of my families old hunting safe houses.” You shrugged, pulling away. “And don’t worry about room. There’s a bedroom and a pullout sofa in the sun room to the back of the house. Perfect amount of space for two grown ass men.”

“Oh no, we’re not taking up your space like that. I can sleep on the floor.” Dean shook his head as he now stood in front of you, the anger and annoyance seemingly gone. (Dean never could stay angry at you for long.)

“Dee, it’s fine. Really. I usually fall asleep in the hammock anyways. I find it more relaxing than any memory foam mattress.”

“Seriously?”

“yeah, seriously.” You shrugged with a light grin. Dean let out a soft chuckle before the two of you fell into silence once more. This time finding it to be acomfort. You both watched as Sam walked back around the side of the house, no doubt heading back to the car for their bags.

“I’m sorry for getting angry earlier. I was jsut super worried-“

“I know, I get it. It’s not the first time you’ve done that.”

You observed as Dean looked down at his hands, the hunter clearly ashamed of his earlier actions. Somewhere in the grass crickets began chirping, a bullfrog adding into the sound every once in awhile. As you watched him you could see the bags under his eyes, the heavy slump of his shoulders. Your usually vibrant Dean wasn't shining like usual.

A deep sigh left your lungs as you found your hand moving to cup the side of his face, his head lifting just enough to see the sad smile on your lips. “You look tired Mo ghraidh.”

Dean let out a soft chuckle at the words (even if after years he had yet to figure out what they meant. Once again, you and your eagerness to learn random languages), his eyes crinkled as he returned the same smile, leaning into your touch. “Oh I am tired.”

“You've been busy.”

“that's a fucking understatement.”

“Well,” You sighed, lightly patting his cheek before leaning in to press a kiss to where your palm had been. “You can tell me all about if over breakfast tomorrow, and then you can get my rundown.”

“sounds like a deal.” He swallowed, almost losing his words as he took you in. The firelight dancing across your skin and making your eyes blaze to life. God, you were beautiful. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Dee.” Your smile slowly grew as you pulled him into a tight hug, feeling him bury his face in your neck. Hugs like this felt like home. It felt peaceful and calm. . .something you hadn't been in a very long time.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Dean woke slowly the next morning, the house eerily silent as he threw back the sheets. Either you and Sam were stealth artists in the morning or he’d slept like the dead. The sunlight made the hunter squint as he trudged tiredly towards the kitchen, his eyes not used to seeing sunlight in the mornings after getting so used to a dark bunker. Sam was seated at the kitchen counter, an empty bowl of cereal next to him as he spoke softly to someone on the phone, probably Jody or Donna.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” Sam slightly lifted the phone from his ear. “Y/N poured you coffee. It’s on the table.”

Mumbling a tired thanks, Dean used the heel of his hand to rub at his eyes, yawning as he moved passed Sam to wrap his hand around the mug you had left. It was only when he was sinking down into one of the vacant seats did he let his eyes search the room for you. It was easy to see that you weren’t there though. The only occupants in the house being him and his brother. Slowly sipping on the coffee in his hands he waited patiently for Sam to finish the call. When he hung up he finally allowed himself to speak.

“You seen Y/N this morning?”

“Yeah, I think she’s out back.” Sam grinned over the lip of his own mug as he watched Dean turn his head to look out the back windows. “Surprised the two of you weren’t snuggled up last night with each other.”

“Stop it.” Dean warned, turning again this time to glare at his brother.

“What? Isn’t that how it is?”

“No! And you know it. And don’t give me the whole but so many people can see it crap. You know this lifestyle aint built for romance . . .or whatever.” he muttered the last words before suddenly pushing himself up from his seat once again and heading towards the back door, coffee still in hand. Eager to leave the conversation behind.

in truth Dean wanted nothing more to be with you, Truly be with you. To hold you like you were meant to be held. To tell you he loved you. To drown you in kisses. But this life wasn't built for it. You both knew that, that was why you didn't make any bold moves towards each other. Arms length away meant safety and safety meant living.

In the morning light it was much easier to take in the surroundings, the steps to the back porch ended at the grass before the partially overgrown lawn went down to the waters edge, a weather worn dock leading out onto the blue waters. It took him a moment for his eyes to find you but when he does hes almost taken back. Your laying on the dock, one foot tangling over the water while the other was tucked up, your sunglasses perched on your nose as you hold an open book above you, clearly reading.

It’s a sight to say the least. You look calm. Content even. And that’s a very rare thing to see on you. For as long as Dean has known you, you have always been a person in motion, always busy with something, wether that be pacing the bunkers library nose deep in a lore book or swinging a machete at vamps. It’s a foreign sight to see you doing something that doesn’t involve monsters in any aspect. He pauses for a moment where the grass ends and the dock begins before stepping out onto it, the light creak making you look up from your book as he walked towards you.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Sam told me I would find you out here. You get up early?”

“I’m always up early. You know that.” You smiled, closing your book and dropping it onto your chest. “I’m surprised your up. You looked tired last night.”

“Yeah, well. My sleep schedules kinda fucked already.” Dean sighed, crossing his arms before deciding to sit down next to you.

“You look grumpy. What happened?”

“Sam happened. It’s nothing.”

Swinging your other leg back onto the dock you slowly sat up. “Doesn’t sound like nothing. You wanna talk about it?”

“Oh ho, no way.” He shook his head, leaning back on his palms and tilting his head up towards the sun. 

“Well alright, fine.” You shrugged, You knew when it was a good time to prod and when it wasn't. This was one of the latter.

“What are you doing out here anyways?”

“Reading, what does it look like?” you quipped, popping to your feet before bending down to pick up your book. “plus, I need the sun. Hunters tend to get pale when they only work in the dark.”

“maybe i should lay out her then.”

That got a laugh out of you.

“What?”

“Dude, you lay out here for an hour and its gonna look like you got bitch slapped by the sun. . .no offense.” You joked, holding out a hand to hoist him up.

“Nah, you're probably right.”

“I would pay good money to see that though.”

“You're such an asshole.”

“I know.” giving him a pat on the shoulder you began walking back towards the house, the hunter watching you closely as you retreated.

There was something different out you. The way you carried yourself and the way you spoke. Most people wouldn't catch on but he did. Something was off. He could practically feel it radiating off of you in waves, even if you were acting like everything was normal. You were acting uncommonly lighthearted.

“You said last night you were gonna tell me why you're all the way out here in some small town USA. Care to fill me in?” He suddenly spoke, following you off the dock.

There was silence for a moment, almost as if he caught you off guard. “I told you, it’s a family safe house. I was staying here while hunting the rugaru. Just needed a week to rest up before I headed out again.” You shrugged.

A week to rest up? When Sam has talked to Jody she had said you had been out here for almost five. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you walk up the back steps. There was something else you weren’t telling him.

“You found a new case yet?”

“Oh uh. . . No. No I haven’t.” Shaking your head casually before holding the door open for Dean and stepping inside.

There was his second hint that something was up. You were the type of hunter that was always on their toes, looking for the next case before one was wrapped up. Dean didn’t know how you did it. Sure he could do some cases back to back, but he needed breaks every once and awhile.

“Rugaru case must have whipped your ass, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure did.” You mumble.

Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off when you beat him to it. “Let’s get to work on figuring out how to handle these British bastards, okay?” You gave Dean one of your soft smiles, running a hand through his hair as you passed by and entered the kitchen.

Watching you go, Dean felt a new sense of worry grow in his chest. You weren’t acting like you. Something was eating at you, and the thought of you being in pain broke his heart.

SPN Taglist:

@familybusinesswritingbro​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​ @callmekda​ @jordangdelacruz​ @orphiceseum​ @andthatsmyworld​ @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl  @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @idksupernatural @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester  @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue @noahandthegiraffe @hhiggs

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #spn x reader #SPN #bi-danvers writing

[orionares]

BTHB: Comatose, Part 3

---------------------------------------------- The tears come easily. 

For the next hour or many, Elliot lets the tears fall for everything in the nine month battle against William Lewis. 

He cries for the pain- the cigarette burns, the days without sleep, food  or water, the trial, the damn Russian Roulette. His heart shatters at the dangerous possibility of Lewis inflicting the one trauma they had spent over a decade fighting against together. 

When he runs out of tears, Elliot lays his head on the edge of the bed and blocks out the cacophony of nurses, doctors and staff working busily in the hall. There’s a throbbing headache that builds with every passing second of the truly dark, guilt fueled thoughts itching to spill over. 

He’s already inches above the abyss; he can’t let this push him over.

“You know,” Elliot whispers, “I didn’t have any plans of how we’d discuss why I left. Writing the letter wasn't an impulse, but giving you the letter after Kathy’s death. Now, I- I wish I could rewrite it.”

He pauses to wipe the sudden heat from his face. “I- I would say that you shouldn’t forgive me. You shouldn’t, Liv. I don’t deserve- I…”

The stress induced twitch that Eli had identified during the failed intervention returns as Elliot twitches while pushing away the same dark thought that’s repeated in his mind since opening the file- This is on you.

A knock on the door breaks into his thoughts and he lifts his head to see Fin standing at the door, eyes flickering between Olivia and him. 

“She’s fine,” Elliot yells out. “I, uh, know about Lewis.”

“Damn,” Fin mutters under his breath. He shakes his head before closing the room door closed behind him. The sergeant’s fatigue is clear as he moves slowly to an open chair on the opposing side and lowers himself down slowly. “Rollins tell you?”

Elliot glances back to Olivia. “You didn’t tell me about it.” 

“Because it wasn’t something to say over the phone,” Fin shrugs, “and it wasn’t my story to tell. I wasn’t going to say You're alive and coming back? Great! By the way, Liv almost died while you were gone.” 

“I think I had created some imaginative world of where she moved on but was ok while I was overseas. And then I’d created another fantasy where things settled and I’d close the case on Kathy’s murder and we’d,” Elliot reach out and rests his hand on Olivia’s, “reconnect. I’d beg, plead and woo my way back in earning her trust. And now-”

“Elliot, you screwed up,” Fin states, maintaining his calm demeanor, “You have your reasons for going radio silence and I get that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you abandoned her. And with Lewis- blaming yourself for what happened isn’t going to change the fact that it happened.”  

Elliot opens his mouth to respond but Fin continues without missing a beat. “You think that you're the only one feeling guilty about that day? I was here, Stabler, and I still blame myself for what happened.”

Elliot nods weakly as Fin stands and circles the edge of the bed. The detective winces when Fin rests a hand on his shoulder and asks, “You are staying, right?” 

The answer catches in his throat, leaving him left with another weak nod. 

“Do you love her?” 

“Am I that obvious?” Elliot chuckles. Fin rolls his eyes and repeats his question, “You love her?”

“Yeah.” Every time he says it aloud, finally admitting  his love for Olivia, somehow brings a mixture of relief and guilt. 

“So fight for her,” Fin advises. He pats her shoulder and heads for the door, calling for his shoulder, “Start by going home, getting something to eat and see your kids. And if you can’t bring yourself to leave, at least go get something to eat. Alright?” 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

She dreams of life as ‘the other woman.’

In this possibility, she meets Kathy in a cafe while dropping off Eli; however, unlike the handful of times she had met Kathy with Eli in reality, the usually hidden tension between them is out on the surface. She still has Noah, now no older than two years old. He's sitting in her lap babbling happily as the two women sit across from each other in thick silence. 

Kathy fiddles with her coffee mug in her hands and avoids eye contact with Olivia. Her jaw is clenched, highlighting the tension across her face. 

"Eli had a great week with us," Olivia stammers to Kathy, who puts up a hand to cut her off. Every weekend starts like this, the two women in Elliot Stabler's life staring each other down. 

"You don't have to play nice, Olivia," Kathy retorts.  She glances over her shoulder towards the bathroom where seven year old Eli has run off to. "You can just drop the kids off and then leave with your son. You certainly don't need to do it for me."

"But Elliot-"

"Elliot's gone, Olivia!" Kathy snaps. She pushes the cup to her left and ignores the drips of coffee that spills over the edge. "My husband chose you and my God, this arrangement of having to see you every other week feels like a jab in my heart!"

A jab in her heart.

She'd scream those words back at Kathy and plead for an understanding to her allowing Elliot to ghost her if she had the chance.

But Kathy had never believed Elliot had completely locked her out of their lives. Reality or not, to Kathy, she will always be the other woman.

The sound of Noah’s happy babbling disappears under the sudden ringing in Olivia’s ear. She isn't shifting seamlessly between possible outcomes like she had before- no, as the ringing intensifies, Noah, Kathy and the patrons of the small café disappear into darkness.

And for her? Olivia drifts into the darkness, unaware if she'll end up back in another possibility or back on solid ground. 

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh My God.”

His eyes widen at his daughter’s voice from the doorway. Elliot sighs and lifts his forehead from the soft edge of the bed to see Kathleen staring mouth agape at Olivia. 

And also Eli.

 His youngest has his head low with his hair covering his eyes. Eli appears hesitant to be near him as he’s been so since the car accident and the failed intervention over a month earlier. Kathleen leads him into the room, fighting off the tears forming in her eyes at the sight of Olivia. 

“Dad, I’m so sorry,” Kathleen sniffles. She approaches his side slowly and scans him head to toe with the same uneasiness and concern Kathy once would. “Is she- will she wake up?”

“They’ve weaned her off some medication that was allowing the brain to heal,” Elliot replies. He runs a hand over his face and then looks past his daughter to Eli. “Hey, Buddy.”

“We wanted to come by,” Kathleen explains with a quick glance to Eli warning- We came to this conclusion together, right ? Right? 

“Yeah, I should have come home,” Elliot stammers. He stands up before his body rocks slightly with fatigue. Kathleen immediately grabs his arm and guides him back down in his seat. 

“Dad, when was the last time you slept or gotten something to eat?” She asks. Eli’s eyes flicker with worry but he doesn’t move from the door frame. The fatigue that’s been at bay since speaking with Fin comes in the form of a tension headache. 

“I’ll grab something from the cafeteria downstairs,” Kathleen exclaims without a further word from her father. She quickly pulls off her grey peacoat jacket and lays it on the foot of the bed. Kathleen quickly walks over to the door, whispers something in Eli’s ear and is out the door before Elliot’s rattled brain realizes it. 

Eli takes a step closer to the bed and tucks his hand in his pocket. Half expecting him to pull out his cellphone, Elliot straightens up in his chair when his son instead stairs directly at Olivia with trepidation. 

“Did Mom like her?” Eli asks in a small voice. It’s one of the few rare times that Elliot’s heard Eli ask about his Mom directly since the funeral. That’s on me, he thinks anxiously. 

“She-uhm- I...your Mom and Oliva had a unique relationship,” Elliot states as blankly as he can. The conversation about the ‘other woman’ has been one that he’d hope to have years from now. “They got along-”

“Why did she keep asking about Olivia?” 

Elliot watches his son avoid eye contact with him, instead choosing to stare at his father’s hand, once more resting on top of Olivia’s. “Because your mother didn’t believe that I cut her off. Your mother was so good at hiding things from you about what had happened in New York. We tried our absolute hardest to build a life for you in Rome outside of the life we had in New York.” 

Eli takes another step closer, leaving an inch between the foot of the bed and himself. He opens his mouth and then shuts it, scrunching his nose while rethinking his next words. “Did you and Olivia break up?” 

“What?” Elliot exclaims. He snorts out a laugh and then mutters, “No, Eli. Olivia and I were never together. She respected your Mom, your siblings and you.” 

Elliot watches his son’s brow furrow in concentration just as Noah had done the night before. “Everyone kept talking about Olivia behind your guys’ back. I thought she was a story or a secret that we weren’t allowed to talk about. And then we came home,” Eli admits shyly, “ You look at her different than Mom.” 

The detective fidgets with his wedding band with his thumb and index finger, replaying the bits and pieces of the failed intervention that he can remember. His kids had gravitated to Olivia like muscle memory, especially Kathleen and even Eli, from his memory, had appeared somewhat trusting of the strange woman in the apartment. 

“Dad?” Eli’s voice breaks into his thoughts with awe, “You like her.” 

Elliot looks over to his unconscious ex-partner and sighs as he takes in the half inch cuts on her chin and forehead. Admitting the truth he’s dodged for two decades to his youngest feels like a betrayal without Kathy by his side. 

How does one tell their child- I stayed with your Mom even though I shouldn’t have? 

He flinches when the presence of his son appears right next to him. The absence of an answer, a denial or an attempt at a misdirect is more than enough to admit what everyone around him already knows. 

“Did Mom know?” 

Elliot nods and chokes, “Yeah. She did. I’m sorry, Eli.” 

Elliot once more expects an outburst or a retreat from his son but instead he feels his son’s long hair and chin rest on his shoulder. 

It’s everything he needs at this moment. 

“..Sty…”

Elliot turns his head towards Eli and asks, “What?”

Eli jerks back, eyes wide from the sudden move. “ I didn’t say anything.” 

Elliot’s heart drops into his stomach and he freezes up. His ex-partner- the love of his life- may be waking and all he can feel is fear. Questions explode in his mind- what if she doesn’t remember what happened? What if there are lingering problems? What if she decides that she doesn’t want anything to do with me?

What if she never forgives me for Lewis?

“Dad, I think she’s waking up!”

What if I lose her? 

“Dad! Should I call the doctor?”

Breathe. 

Elliot finally brings himself out of his daze and finds himself looking directly into a pair of brown eyes. He’d cry in relief if he could. 

Instead, Elliot runs a hand down her cheek, whispering, “Hey, Liv. Welcome back.” 

A/N: One....ish chapter left. 

#olivia benson #elliot stabler #law and order svu #svu #bad things bingo #bad things happen bingo #bensler #law and order oc

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele WW2 Extension - Friends, Falls, and Close Calls

Notice from the RAF: This letter has been scanned and sensitive information has been removed for the safety of our nation.

Mum and Dad,

The British, Americans, and Canadians are planning an offensive for next spring, and training has already started. After four years of war, it’s about time we start to actually push back. A few towns in the south of England have been evacuated for us to stay and I feel badly sleeping in someone else’s bed while they are forced out of their homes. However, I must admit that it’s much more comfortable than the bunks on base. Charlie and I have met a few American soldiers here as they came over for training too. Their officers feel much more intimidating, but I suppose that’s how the work gets done. After four years it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with harsh orders and demands. Charlie and I are still flying our same plane and it’s nice to have that consistency. Not that it’s a terribly big deal to keep flying the same plane but it makes us feel like better pilots!

Anyway, I have to go. We have a drill in a few minutes and they wait for no one! I love you both lots.

Your son,

Richie

April 30, 1925

“Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr- good weather for a flight today.”

“Very good weather, Pilot Charlie.”

The boys were in the Besson’s front lawn in the spring afternoon with their toy planes in hand, running around with them held up to recreate their path of flying. They were mimicking the sounds of engines with their lips as they ran in circles around the perimeter of the yard. At seven-years-old, pretending to be pilots was their way to escape their little hometown and let their imaginations truly soar. It was their favourite little game.

They tried to speak over each other as they dialogued back and forth, making up a story as to where they were flying and why. The adults sat on the front porch with their tea, talking amongst themselves while the kids played, unphased by the boys’ shouting and little engine noises as they ran in circles together.

However, the two seven-year-olds weren’t terribly coordinated or good at looking where they were going and they ended up running right into each other in the middle of the yard, smacking together hard and both toppling backwards onto the grass. The impact stunned them into silence and they stared at each other with wide eyes, Charlie’s only going wider as he saw the blood trickling down his best friend’s chin.

Neither of them spoke for a moment and Richie finally lifted his hand to his mouth, finding his front tooth knocked out and his gum bleeding down his lips and chin. The boys just stared at each other, unmoving, their seven-year-old brains too in shock to even know what the heck to do next.

“Are you boys alright?” Corbyn asked from the porch as the four adults looked over at their sudden silence.

The boys turned to their parents with wide eyes, Richie’s blood dripping onto his shirt and the adults gasped at the state of him.

“Richard!” Christine gasped and jumped up to tend to her injured son.

Richard only broke into a grin and shrieked with laughter, “That was so cool!”

Christine stopped at the edge of the porch as the boys literally rolled on the grass in fits of laughter, obviously unhurt by their crash. Corbyn stood beside his wife as they watched their son wipe his chin with his shirt before turning to the grass to look for his missing tooth. When he found it, he jumped up and ran over to his parents, holding it up to them.

“Look! My tooth fell out!”

“I think your best friend knocked it out.” Corbyn laughed, holding out his hand to take the tooth from Richie.

“I’m sorry.” Charlie mumbled from a few feet back.

“Accidents happen. It was going to come out eventually.” Corbyn assured him.

Charlie nodded and shuffled up the porch to his mother’s outstretched hand, a small pout on his lips while Richie was taken inside to clean himself up and get a new shirt. Elizabeth pulled Charlie onto her lap and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he leaned back against her and Daniel passed their son a little tea biscuit from the table. Charlie smiled softly at his father and munched the treat gladly as he waited for his friend to return.

Moments later, the front door burst open and Richie came running about outside in clean clothes and a washed face and jumped down the front steps of the porch, “Come on, Charlie!”

May 20, 1943

“Come on, Charlie! Pull up!” Richard shouted from behind him.

The empty bullets flying around them only rose their anxieties as Charlie tugged hard on the joystick, but the plane wasn’t responding.

“It won’t fucking budge!” Charlie swore loudly, slamming his hand down against the dashboard as if it would help. “Piece of shit fucking plane, go up.”

“Well bloody well do something! They’re coming up behind us!” Richie ordered, panic apparent in his voice.

They chose a sharp dive instead, ducking out of the way of the next round of empty shells. Eleven thousand metres above the earth and under training fire from their officers and their controls were malfunctioning. They could only thank God it wasn’t real enemy fire or they would be done for.

Even still, the skies were filled with other RAF pilots deep in their training for dogfights that were to be expected once Operation Overlord was sent into action the following year. There was a lot of be done. Training was pushing them harder than normal and running drills in the dead of night to keep them on high alert at all times. It seemed the lack of sleep had caught up to Charlie and he had forgotten about the routine check of the plane that morning, missing the obvious malfunction in the wing.

To say he was panicking was an understatement and his anxieties only made Richie worse too, the two of them struggling to dodge their officers’ training fire by weak seconds. They were honestly yelling at each other in the cockpit, speaking over each other and arguing over directions and orders and the fact that no matter what they did they couldn’t go up.

“Did you not check the wings, Charles?” Richard shouted angrily.

“No! I forgot! We were in a rush! We were already late because you-”

“I didn’t do shit! It’s your job to check the plane before training! Fuck! What the hell do we do now, huh?! We’re going to crash and it’s going to be all your fault!”

“Stop fucking screaming at me for a second!” Charlie yelled. “Let me think!”

Richard grumbled unpleasantries under his breath as he glanced around them to make them aware of their officers’ ‘enemy’ planes in relation to their location. A flick caught his eye and he turned to the left to see a small flame sparking on their wing.

“Oh…shit. Charlie, we’re on fire. We’re on fucking fire, mate!” Richard said quickly, literally reaching forward to tap his best friend’s shoulder.

Charlie looked out the left side window and his eyes went wide as the small spark easily caught into a larger flame, “Christ. Okay. We gotta fucking land, right now.”

Charlie flicked a few switches on the dashboard, and they pushed down into a dive. The wind whipping past them only seemed to make the fire larger and Charlie turned on their radio to alert their squadron of their emergency landing as they made their way back towards the training base. Richard watched with wide eyes as scraps of metal flicked off the plane as the fire was eating them bit by bit.

“Oh God.” Richard whimpered, looking down to the dashboard in front of him to check their location. His eyes caught on the photographed painting of Saturn taped to the side of the display and he bit hard at his bottom lip, “Come on. Come on. Come on.”

“I see the base. Unbuckle, Richie. We’re gonna have to run. This thing’s gonna fucking explode.” Charlie said, keeping one hand on the dash to steer while his other unclipped the straps keeping him in as well as his large parachute in order to get an easy exit.

The plane was nearly shuttering and the cockpit was getting hot as the fire grew bigger and they were almost sure the wheels were about to snap off with how hard they hit the field beside the town they were training in.

“Pull back!” Charlie shouted loudly and both of them yanked hard on the controls to screech the plane to a stop.

The moment they were still, they clamoured out of the cockpit – Richie nearly falling right off the opposite wing as he jumped out and made a run for the town to get as far away from the plane as possible. Charlie stopped and turned back.

“Charles! Get the fuck out of there!” Richie screamed after him as he watched his best friend run back to the plane. “Are you mad?!”

Charlie held his hand over his mouth behind the smell of burning gas as he reached into the cockpit and snatched the photograph of him and his father from where it was taped to the dash. He then ran after Richard, toppling right into him with a startle as the plane exploded seconds later into a huge burst of flames. The two best friends hit the ground together, hands over their heads in fear they were still too close but after a moment they looked up to their safety. A few crew men were rushing over to tend to the destroyed plane as it sat in the middle of the field and burned black smoke high into the bright blue sky.

Charlie rolled over onto his back, panting, and pushed himself into a sitting position. Richard followed, giving his friend a hard shove to the shoulder.

“Bastard. We could have fucking died…and not even honourably: in training, for Christ’s sake.”

Charlie let out a deep exhale and held his face in his hands for a moment, the sweat dripping from his hairline making a trail down his cheek and across his jaw, and he took a few breaths before looking down at the photograph he ran back for. He held it to his chest and looked up to the sky through his breathlessness. “I’m sorry, Richie. I should have checked the plane. I’m a fucking fool.”

Richard sighed and tucked his knees up towards his chest as they watched their plane burn, “Nah, you’re not. Accidents happen.”

Charlie sniffled and nodded lightly, glancing back down at the picture in his hand, “I didn’t grab your photograph.”

“That’s alright.” Richie assured him. “Real thing’s hanging in my bedroom back home anyway. One more second over there and they’d be pulling you out of that mess of flames.”

Charlie didn’t answer, just stared down at his picture.

“You didn’t grab any of Mary’s things.” Richard noted.

Charlie sniffled and shrugged, “This was the only thing I could even think of, truthfully.”

Richard smiled at his best friend and they looked back to their plane. There was a moment of silence as they sat on the grass together.

Richie spoke up first casually, “What was that Mary said about this being a ‘lucky plane’?”

Charlie cracked a small smile at his best friend’s teasing joke and nudged him playfully with his elbow. Richard draped his arm around him and they leaned together quietly, watching their once beloved plane destroy itself into flames. 

Taglist: @randomlimelightxxx​ @hopinglimelight​ @hiya-its-amber​ @chanelwonders​

#✉ #why dont we #daniel seavey #corbyn besson #daniel seavey fanfic #corbyn besson fanfic

[toomuchtv95]

Struggling Chapter 1

Characters: Jay Halstead, Hank Voight, Antonio Dawson

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Eventually) 

Word Count: 3.1k+

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Sadness, Talk about PTSD and Anxiety, Swearing

A/N: I know this chapter is a little boring, but it’s only the first chapter. I promise the rest shouldn’t be. 

Series Masterlist

This morning was one of those mornings where you felt like you weren’t going to get through the day. After taking your medication, you started to feel better. You had called your dad saying you were going to be late and he didn’t have to ask. As you arrived at the district, you half waved to Trudy as you headed up the stairs. Upon arriving upstairs, you could see that the team was deep in a case. You glanced at Antonio's empty desk, and it doesn’t look like he was even here. As you discarded your jacket on the back of your chair, your father appeared in the doorway of his office and you knew he was looking for you.

“Everything alright?” You walked into his office and sat down on the couch.

“I’m fine. Just having one of those days.” You looked down at your fingers not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“Are you sure?” Your father sat next to you on the sofa, pulling you into his side. You let out a small sob not realizing you were holding back. After a few minutes, the tears stopped and you gathered yourself. "Listen why don't you take the day off?"

“If I go home. I’ll just be worse. My therapist says that I need to keep my mind busy.” You stood up from the couch and headed outside to the bullpen.

“Okay, you and Halstead today.” Your father spoke from behind you, causing you to look at him with some confusion. “Antonio’s out today. Something came. Halstead, fill her in on the case.” Your dad disappeared into his office.

“I’m about to head out. Fill you on the way.” You nodded your head as you walked back over to your desk grabbing your jacket before following Jay.

After Jay filled you on the case the two of your sat in a comfortable silence until you decided to break it. “So, how’s the security job going?”

“It’s good. Never thought I would be working in the marijuana business.” You let out a chuckled as you stared out the window.

“It’s the new thing and hey, medical marijuana has been proven to help people who need it.” Pulling away from the window you glanced at Jay who was still skeptical about the whole thing.

“Hey, if your so fond of it I can get you in.” You looked at Jay who you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Yeah, no. I’ll stick to chasing bad guys, but thanks for the offer.” Jay pulled up to the curb in front of the address of the house the two of you were looking for. “This is the address?” You pointed to a red brick house with a white porch swing.

"Yeah, that's the address." The two of you walked up the sidewalk towards the house and as you approached the house you got this bad feeling.

The two of you stood in front of the door as Jay knocked. “Sarah Watson. Chicago PD. We need to ask you some questions.”

“Well, someone’s home there a car in the driveway.” You stepped to the side to see if you could get a look inside which you did, and you saw a body. “Jay. Body.” Both of you drew your guns before Jay kicked in the door. You made your way towards the body and when you saw here there were stab wounds to her abdomen. You squatted down to check her pulse, but it was too late. You shook your head no to Jay before he headed upstairs.

You slowly made your way through the living room and just as you were about to head into the kitchen you heard squeaking of the floorboards from behind you. As you turned around, Michael Watson, slammed you into a nearby wall causing you to drop your gun on the floor. You struggled against the wall and luckily Jay came up and grabbed Michael. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You let out a breath as Jay handcuffed Michael. As you grabbed your gun from the floor, Jay grabbed his radio and called the situation in.

“Hey Y/N the usual?” Gabby appeared behind the bar with a rag in hand and then leaned forward on the bar top.

“Actually, I’ll take a whiskey and make it double.” You took off your coat and hung on the back of the chair before taking a seat.

“Rough day?” Gabby poured you your drink as you nodded your head slightly. “Okay, well let me know if you need anything else.” Taking a sip of your whiskey, you looked around the bar to see the crowd starting to pick up.

After having a few drinks, you started to feel the alcohol take effect and you needed to stop before you do something you'll regret. You said goodbye to Gabby and made your way through the crowd and once the cold air from outside hit you, you instantly became sober. Walking outside, you leaned against the brick wall and everything started to hit you at once. Your eyes were burning, and your chest felt heavy as if it were someone who was sitting on top of you. You were so sick of crying. You were sick of being alone, but you couldn’t even imagine where to start to find a new life.

Pushing yourself away from the wall, you wiped your tears and composed yourself. As you rounded the corner, you bumped into someone causing you to look up from the ground. “Jay.” You breathed out and took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

“Well I saw you leaving the bar upset about something and I just wanted to make sure you got a cab okay.” Jay looked at you and he could see the tear stains on your face along with the puffiness in your eyes. “Come on let me take you home.”

“Okay.” You nodded your head as Jay guided you to his car. The car ride back to your apartment was quiet which gave you time to put yourself together. As Jay pulled up to you, apartment building, you just sat there not wanting to go inside to an empty apartment.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Jay reached over and grabbed hold of your hand causing you to look up at him.

“I’m just having a rough couple of days.” You pulled your hand away from Jay to unbuckle your seatbelt. You opened the door and climbing out. "Thanks for the ride, Jay. I'll see you Monday at work." Once you made it inside your apartment, you leaned against your door and closed your eyes to hold back the tears.

After gathered yourself yet again, you took a hot shower, changed into your PJs, and grabbed a water from the fridge there was a soft knock on the door. Setting the water on the counter, you walked over to the door and opened it to see Jay standing there with a bag of Chinese take-out. All you did was give him a soft smile while opening the door wider for him. “I couldn’t go home without making sure you were okay.”

“Come in.” You closed the door behind him and headed back into the kitchen to grab him a drink. “Can I get you something to drink?”

"I'll take water." Jay set up the food on the coffee table, while you grabbed a bottle of water from Jay and silverware.

“You didn’t have to come back, Jay. I’m okay.” Handing Jay his water, you sat down on the couch as he handed you a carton of food.

“I know there something going on with you lately. You’ve more distinct than usual.” Jay took a seat next to you and took a bite of his food. Over the last 2 years, you have been debating on telling Jay about your late husband, because hiding it in for this long is no good. But you didn’t want to tell people because you didn’t any empathy from anyone.

"Ever since I left the Army, I've been struggling with anxiety and PTSD, and some days it gets the best of me.” Jay knew the basics about your time in the Army just as you did about his time in the Army and you weren’t lying when you said it started since the Army, because it’s kind of did. It got worse once your husband died.

“Yeah, I know what that’s like.” Jay took a sip of his water.

“I’m on some medication that helps, and I use to see a therapist once a week, now it’s about once a month.” You stared in front of you at nothing in particular. “Some of the stuff I saw, it’s hard to forget.”

“You know if you ever want to talk, I’m here.” You turned to look at him with a soft smile. “Now how about some TV?” You nodded your head as Jay grabbed the remote from the table and turned on the TV.

The rest of the night, you and Jay sat on the couch eating take-out and watching some corny movie on TV before the two of you fell asleep on the couch. It wasn’t till you woke up in the middle of the night to see that you Jay had moved to the other couch and you couldn’t help but smile. You quietly got up, not to wake Jay in the process. Grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch, you gently laid it over Jay before turning both TV and light and heading into your bedroom. As you laid in bed, you stared up at ceiling fan and you couldn’t help but think that Jay could have left at any point of the night, but he said and you couldn’t help but smile. Turning onto your side, you opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a photo of you and Ryan. In less than a week, it would mark the 2nd anniversary of your husband's death and it still felt like it happened yesterday that those people in uniform knocked on your door.

That was the day your world flipped upside down. You two were only married for about 6 months and you barely enjoyed being married. The two of you got married a month before he was called back to active duty and it was hard for you two to communicate. The first two months, you talked through video chat and letters, but as the months went on the conversations started to fade. Tears started to form in your eyes as you thought back to all the years you spent with Ryan. You closed your eyes as you quietly cried yourself to sleep.

The Next Day

Waking up this morning, Jay was gone so he must have slipped out before you woke up. Jay, of course, left a note saying he had to work his security job, and he would call you later to check in on you. You spent the morning cleaning up the mess you and Jay had created when you heard a soft knock on the door. You were confused about who it could be, so you answered the door with caution. Slowly opening the door, you saw Antonio standing there with his hand in his pockets.

“What are doing here?” You let Antonio in before shutting the door behind him.

“Thought we could grab some lunch since I have the weekend free. The kids are with Laura this weekend.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me just change.” You disappeared into the bedroom and changed into a pair of jeans and a plain black shirt. Walking over to your gun safe, you punched in the code and grabbed your gun and badge.

Once you and Antonio arrived at the diner that you two usually have lunch at, and you ordered your lunch. “So, what’s the real reason for lunch today?” You sipped your coke as you looked at Antonio who had a concerned look on his face.

“I’m just checking in.”

“Next week marks two years since Ryan was killed.” You played with the ice in your cup with the straw. “And I still struggling to move on.”

Antonio reached over and held your hand for comfort. "I don't know how to say this without upsetting, so I'm just going to come out and say it.” You looked up at Antonio not ready to hear him, but you know he wasn’t going to stop. “I think the only way to move on is to say goodbye. You’ve been holding on for something that not going to happen. You loved him and I’m not saying you need to forget him but you need to move on so you can be happy again.”

You pulled away as you saw the waitress come with your food. You both thanked her as she left you to eat. “How do I do that?” You picked up a fry and took a bite.

“I don’t know. You gotta figure that out for yourself.” Antonio took a bite of his burger as you ate some of your chicken wrap sandwich. “Whatever you decided I will be there for you.”

The two of you ate in silence before you spoke up. “Jay drove me home last night after having a couple of drinks and having a minor breakdown. Then he came back with food and won’t leave until I was okay.” Chewing another fry, you looked up Antonio who had a small smile on his face. He always liked the thought of you and Jay together as more than friends, but you didn't see Jay that way or you didn't for a long time, but now you weren’t sure how you felt. You've and Jay got a lot closer in the last couple of months. “He spent the night.”

“Really?” You could hear the shock in his voice.

“Nothing happened. He fell asleep on the couch and I went to sleep in my bed. He left in the morning and left a note saying he had to work his security job." Antonio raised an eyebrow at you. “Shut up. We are just friends. I don’t like him that way.”

“You know it’s okay to like or fall in love with someone. Ryan would want you to be happy.”  You didn’t say anything else and just continued to eat in silence.

After lunch, Antonio dropped you off at home and now you needed to figure things out. You had gotten a text from Jay which you replied and went on to doing something you needed to do. Making your way to your bedroom, you opened the top drawer of your dresser and grabbed the envelope that was marked with your name. Taking a deep breath, you sat on the floor with your back against the foot of the bed and started at the letter. There were tearstains on there from when you had first gotten the letter and all the other times you have read the letter. Opening the envelope, you pulled out the letter with shaky hands.

Dear Y/N,

I’m sitting in our bedroom, the night before I am set to deploy, and I don’t know how to start this letter. Expect to say that I love you and that you meant the world to me.

If you are reading this letter, it means I’m gone. I hope my death wasn’t a long painful death. Writing this letter brings me pains me as much it does for you to read it.

The last 3 years of my life with you have been the best, and I hope they were the same for you. I can only imagine how you’re feeling. Angry, upset, pissed, sad, the list could go on, but with time it will all go away, and you will be able to be happy again. I know that you hate me for leaving, but it’s my job to serve this country. So, do whatever you have to do to let the anger out. Scream at the top of your lungs, hit the boxing gym, or whatever to let the anger out, just don’t hold it in. Then once you let the anger out, lean on someone for support. I know you will try to be strong on your own and push people away but don't.

Be happy, I want you to be happy. I need you to be happy. I need you to move and find someone. I know you think I’m crazy for telling you to find someone after I’m gone but I don’t want you to be alone. You deserve to happy. You deserve to be loved by someone. You deserve to have the life you want. I’m not saying right away but in time you will be ready, and when you are, don't let anything get in your way of finding love again. And when you feel like you found that someone, you’re going to have to let me go. I’m not saying to forget me, because I wouldn’t want you to, but I would want you to share your life with someone and to be happy again.

Hate me all you want, but I need you to let me go when the time is right. Don’t hold on to me for too long because if you do then you will never be able to find love again. With all that said, I hope when you find him, he's the one. I hope he makes you happy. I hope he gives you the life and family you want.

I’m sorry we didn’t get the life we wanted. I know we barely had time to be married. I know we wanted a future together and I am sorry that it’s not going to happen now. God, did I not think this was how it was going to end. I thought we were going to be with each other till the end of time. I hate that I had to write this letter. I hate that I had to leave you and especially hate that I will never be able to hold you again and tell you that I love you. I never in my life did I imagine I would find someone to share it with until you came along. When you came into my life, I knew I was in trouble. I never believed in love at first sight until I meet you. I can sit here and list all the moments we had together but that would just make you cry even more, and I don't want to do that to you.

So, like I started this letter by saying I love you, I am going to end it in the same way. I love you, don't forget that.

-Yours always, Ryan

As you folded the paper back up, you held it close to your chest as you let out a weep. No matter how many times you had read this letter, it means more to you now then it did when you first read it. Letting go and moving on is the first step to being happy again.

Series Taglist: @hehurst23 @tyzerman91 @ceotoddross-blog @halstudandruz @corebore123 @myplaceofheavenorhell @baker151910 @katierpblogg @talicat713 @kadygirl @esauthor @jay-haisteads @onechicago18 @secretsinflame @weepingbluebirdmentality @jasminfelling @lovecatystuff @oncechicagolove @bellag1128 @yzas-stuff @mxgdx7 @andreiaafaria @fullwattpadmusictree @itsdesiree86 @mamanurin @lil-bita-everything​ @ngwelburn @lisemaria0719 @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @chrisrandumness @perfectnightbouquetgoddess​ @Ima1986 @123happyllama @delcateswift @gfountainsblog @pollyyates24​ @scatchia​ @ld-1204​ @daenerys-targaryen​ @beachfan412 @theelvishmermaid​ @fofisstilinski​ @levelneunzehn​ @wemma554 @wicked-laugh​ @totalllytrashy​ @onechicagofan20​ @wearesodrica @haileymatthewss​ @danielacastellon​ @smalltowngirly05​ @faithhasnowords​ @music-is-my-escape71​ @olihju​ @detective29 @sevschicago​ @lifeisalohaa​ @singingtree2012 @nikki1dxx​ @mandybug39 @mheart27​ @lovecatystuff​ @alex-blackmoon​ @beckisaurusrex @kicksomeasskatherine​ @miranda0102​ @fearless-to-die @readbasoeverything @deedee220802 @zizzlekwum​ @melmenya​ @lovingfanofupstead​ @thevelvetseries

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #Chicago PD #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

Summary: Historia Reiss could not have approached Mikasa Ackerman with the idea of joining a band at a better time. After a falling out with Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger, Mikasa decides to take her up on her offer joining alongside Ymir Langnar (bassist), Sasha Blouse (drummer), and Annie Leonhart (guitarist). With their new keyboard player and lyricist, they set off on a journey that takes them away from their hometown. After winning battle of the bands, they score a record deal. As they set to record their first album, their past begins to catch up to them.

RATING: MATURE

Ships:  Mikasa/Eren, Historia/Ymir, Levi/Hange, Armin/Annie, Pieck/Jean

Other Tags:    Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, girls supporting girls, Alternate Universe, music inspired, their friendship is super important

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES: December 26th

PROLOGUE: TIS THE DAMN SEASON

Somehow watching Star Wars the day after Christmas had become a tradition for Eren, Armin, and Mikasa.Maybe it was because Christmas was rough for all of them. So they had made their own little tradition.

It had started in high school when Armin and Eren were in complete disbelief that Mikasa had n ever seen Star Wars. They had just exchanged gifts including a book Armin received from Eren about the special effects in Star Wars.

“How can you have never seen Star Wars? Didn’t we watch it with you when we were younger?” Eren asked her as he picked up wrapping paper from the floor.

Mikasa simply shook her head.

“Well we’ve got to change that. Armin, you still have the dvds?”

“Of course, I do. I’m not going to get rid of Star Wars.”

“Right, right. You think grandpa would care if we came over tomorrow?”

“Hey, what if I have plans tomorrow?” Mikasa asked.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” Armin turned his head to the side.

“Well no...but..”

“Okay, great. So tomorrow at Armin’s place.”

And that’s how it had started. Mikasa wasn’t sure if she actually liked Star Wars or if she just loved her two best friend’s reactions to it. Armin and Eren performed their favorite lines as they watched. One time they had bought shitty cheap lightsabers to have a battle one year which resulted in both Eren and Armin getting a black eye.

The venue changed frequently, a different person hosting each year. No matter how bad things got, how many family members died, none of that matter.

Because every December 26th, it was time for them to settle in front of the tv and watch Star Wars.

Until this year.

This year, there was no settling in front of a tv.

There was no exchanging of gifts.

This year, there was radio silence between the three of them.

All because of what had happened last year. It was New Year’s Eve. Armin, Eren, and Mikasa had gathered together. Mikasa had her father’s ring. She was going to ask Eren to marry her.

She was kneeling in the kitchen but Eren’s eyes were numb.

"I'm just going to be honest with you, Mikasa. I just dated you so I could know what it was like to fuck you. And I have to say, you're as good as I'd thought you'd be. But now  I'm done with this. You're just a slave who does what everyone else wants them to do. A people pleaser. I can't be with someone like that."

"Eren…" her voice cracked.

"I've always hated you, Mikasa."

BAM!

There was a connection of a fist to Eren's jaw. He stumbled back.

"How dare you say those things to her!" Armin yelled at him. Eren swung at Armin, hitting him. Armin punched Eren again. 

Mikasa pulled Armin off of Eren and shoved him to the other side of the kitchen. 

 "I don't need you defending me!" She screamed.

And then Mikasa ran from the house.

And Eren spat blood.

And Armin disappeared from the house

But the box holding Mikasa's dad's ring sat on the table all the same.

Mikasa sat in her room, watching the steam rising off of her cup of tea. Her book of lyrics sat in front of her.

She wondered about Armin and Eren. How were they doing? Were they coping okay with Eren’s father dying last year…..No.

She took a deep breath as she looked at the blank page in front of her.

She and Historia had written thirty six songs as options for the new album but that didn’t matter.

She had to keep writing. It was a way out of her head while still coping with everything.

If she wrote, she didn’t have to think about her dead parents, Armin’s dead parents, or Eren’s dead parents. She didn’t have to think about Armin’s grandfather dying earlier this year and how Armin had to be alone this year. She didn’t have to think about Ymir and Historia still fighting and what that meant for the band. What did that mean for the band?

Write.

Just write.

She took a deep breath.

Just as she was about to write, there was a knock on the front door.

She could hear Levi talking to someone.

Was it his partner?

She wasn’t sure.

She was stalling.

She needed to focus on writing.

The door to her room opened. Only one person didn’t knock when they came over so she didn’t bother to look behind her. The thud sound of someone falling onto her bed and the smell of whiskey only confirmed what she already knew.

“Things didn’t go well?” Mikasa asked, now she was really stalling.

“Oh no, things went fucking great. Can’t you tell?” Ymir’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I went to get drinks with her sister and her. Her sister hates me. She thinks Historia can do better.”

“Did she say that?”

“No. She just...I don’t know. I think Historia told Frieda what happened last week. Maybe, maybe she’s right. Maybe Historia is better off with someone like Reiner or that farm boy…”

Mikasa put her pen down before turning around.

“You and I both know you don’t mean that. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I’ve never seen you feel sorry for yourself before. What did you say to me when all that happened? Pull yourself together. Fuck her sister. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is your feelings and Historia’s. Fuck everyone else.”

“I think I said fuck a few more times in there.”

Mikasa nodded before she turned back around.

It was a strange friendship they had.

It had started due to the fact that Historia and Eren were normally nominated for king and queen of the high school dances. Since they could not dance with who they wanted to, they ended up dancing with one another.

Then Historia had come up with this idea for a band. An idea that would cement Ymir and Mikasa’s friendship.

A knock came from the front door again.

“Mikasa!” Levi yelled from downstairs.

She looked over at Ymir. The other girl was currently wrapping herself up in Mikasa’s blankets. No one outside the band and Levi knew that Mikasa was back in town for the holidays.

“Mikasa!” She heard him yell again.

She took a deep breath before she left her room. Eren couldn’t be here. He didn’t know. Not to mention he probably never wanted to talk to her again just like she didn’t want to face him again. If he was here, she’d….

She’d do something.

“Sign the delivery paper so this man can do away,” Levi gestured to the man holding a box and a scanner.

“I told you, sir, it can only be signed by..”

“I don’t care.”

Mikasa signed the paper, the man handed over the package, and Mikasa closed the door. She pulled the tab to open the cardboard box. Inside she found a smaller box. She dropped the cardboard box. She didn’t open the smaller box.

She already knew what was inside and who had sent it.

“What is that?”

“My father’s ring. He returned it.” She held the box out to Levi who stared at her for a moment. “Keep it safe for me, will you?”

The older Ackerman just nodded. Mikasa picked up the cardboard box off of the floor and threw it into the trash. She didn’t notice the letter inside that had floated to the floor. Levi would find it hours later.

#mmtylif #my writing

[hargreeveslftv]

The Occult: DOOMSDAY | an umbrella academy series

prologue + chapter one | word count: 3,382

PROLOGUE ( song | dangerous - big data (ft. joywave) )

The rain pelted the windows of the store, illuminated by the neon sign hanging inside the glass.

Her arms filled with books to put away, Melanie Hargreeves gazed upon the rows and rows of bookshelves lining the back wall of the room, each section organised by use, placing the books back into their spaces as she moved back and forth in front of them.

As lighting strikes outside, the woman jumps slightly, startled by the loud clap of thunder rolling not far away.

Knowing now that she would be drenched by the time she got home, Melanie let out a heavy sigh, and dropped the remaining books on the counter behind her to be sorted in the morning.

She takes a round of the building, switching off the neon sign and the various other lights brightening the store, the swirled letters reading “Psychic” now dark as she walks through into the back room.

Melanie makes quick work of putting on her jacket and scarf, pulling the hood of her coat up over her black and purple hair as the radio in the back room cracked in protest at the weather disturbing its signal.

As she moves to turn it off, her fingers hesitate to press the button, the breaking news tune stopping her in her tracks and immediately catching her attention.

“We’re going now live to a breaking story. Eccentric billionaire Sir Reginald Hargreeves is dead, with his cause of death currently unknown. Sir Hargreeves was the founder of the illusive-" With a sharp shove to the radio, it skids back into the wall, the sound of rain and heavy breathing the only soundtrack playing in the darkened room.

And with that, Melanie becomes an orphan yet again.

CHAPTER ONE | when we bury our friends… ( song | I think we’re alone now - tiffany )

It took years for Melanie to train herself out of waking up at six am every morning, an act of spite towards her upbringing, but today, it seemed like the progress she had made was out the window.

Instead, Melanie laid on her side, watching the early morning cartoons playing on her TV, the muted pictures doing little to occupy her mind as the fears and thoughts of the day swirled through her head.

Would anyone else show up? Would Klaus finally make an appearance after disappearing last month? Would Mom be okay now with ol’ Reggie dead?

The endless questions raced through her brain as she decided to abandon her bed, walking through her small apartment to her fridge and grabbing a cold bottle of water to drink while she got ready for what she hoped wouldn’t be an eventful day.

As she walked back down the hallway, she couldn’t help but stop in front of the bedroom door that sat beside her own.

Slowly, Melanie opened the door quietly and hopefully, a spark inside of her wishing that her best friend had made his way home in the night.

Yet, her stomach drops, as she sees Klaus’s bed undisturbed for yet another night.

Today would mark day thirty-one since she last saw him, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t worried about him. While Melanie understood her brother’s issues and addictions, knowing he would follow whatever desires he had at the time, he was still her only best friend that she could talk to properly these days, given…

Melanie shakes herself out of her thoughts, closing the door and moving into her own bedroom to get ready.

The rain from the night before had passed, leaving Melanie grateful as she starts the trek back to the one place she avoided like the plague, the academy.

She knew Klaus went back more often than she did, but never bothered to ask him about what he saw there when he did venture back. The only times Melanie bothered was mother’s day and the anniversary of Ben’s death, the two days a year when she would even pass through the same street as the building she grew up in.

The death of her father barely passed as an excuse to go back, but she wasn’t going for him, she was going for herself.

Melanie took a deep breath as she finally rounded the corner, and stopped dead in her tracks as she looked up at the tall, dark, towering building in front of her.

With shaky hands, Melanie walks through the front doors, the smell of the building immediately sending her back to her childhood, visions of her past playing before her eyes before she’s pulled out of her thoughts by a man dressed in all black walking down the stairs.

"Hey, Diego.” Melanie greets softly, happy to see she isn’t the first to arrive.

“I didn’t think the family reunion would be starting this early.” He comments, making her laugh bitterly as she shoves her hands into her pockets.

“Yeah, you and me both. How’d you find out?” She asks, leaning against one of the large pillars to the side of the room.

“News. You?"

"Radio.” She shrugs.

Diego scoffs as he looks to the side, before glancing down to his feet.

“Was nice of Pogo to only call Luther and not the rest of us.” He says bitterly, earning a nod from the equally annoyed woman standing across from him as she pushes herself away from the pillar.

“Who’s here, just me and you?” She asks, glancing through the large doors leading to the living room.

“Allison’s somewhere, Luther should be back on earth too. Not sure about the others."

Just then, a loud crashing comes from the end of the living room, causing both Diego and Melanie to shift into their default fighting positions.

Positions that relax when Klaus stumbles into view from beside the bar, making both siblings sigh as Melanie storms into the room, picking Klaus up and pulling him into a tight hug.

"Oh, hey Mellie, how’s it hanging?” Klaus asks casually, hugging his sister before cowering back as she smacks the side of his head.

“And where the hell have you been for the last month?” She asks angrily, watching him closely as he lifts his hand to rub at the sore spot on his head.

Her attention is caught by a white band on his wrist, reaching up and spinning it around to read it.

“Don’t they have phones in rehab?” She asks.

Klaus looks at her guiltily as she stares at him, sighing and throwing his head back as he walks around her, flopping down practically on top of Diego as he sits on one of the couches.

“I got caught again and didn’t want to worry you, besides you already had enough on your plate as it is.” He replies, excuses rich in the air and making Melanie roll her eyes.

“I thought we agreed you’d stop making decisions for me?” She reminds him.

“I take it you guys are still close.” Diego comments, shoving Klaus onto his own side of the couch.

“Like traumatised peas in a pod, Mellie and I.” Klaus muses, gesturing to her as she sits down opposite them.

“Is Ben here?” She asks Klaus, immediately feeling energy beside her after speaking his name.

“You tell me, I’ve already been into daddy’s liqueur cabinet.” Klaus says with a wave of his hand as he falls face first into the plush throw cushion beside him.

“Well it’s either that or Dad’s a friendlier ghost than a parent.” She jokes, turning to where she feels the energy next to her.

“Hey Ben.” She greets.

“So,” she asks, both Melanie and Klaus unable to hear Ben’s soft response with Klaus’s drugged up state, “when’s the rest of the gang getting here?”

Just over an hour later, for the first time in years, all the living Hargreeves children sat in the same room.

With Allison and Diego sitting beside the fireplace, Luther on a couch of his own, Melanie and Vanya opposite him and Klaus shuffling around in the bar, the only thing lifting the awkward silence was the sound of clinking bottles.

“Um,” Luther speaks, “I guess we should get this started."

He stands up, looking over his siblings before looking back down to the coffee table in front of him.

"So I figured we could have some kind of memorial service, in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at Dad’s favorite spot.”

Allison frowns as she looks up to Luther over her drink.

“Dad had a favorite spot?” She questions.

“You know, under the oak tree.” Luther explains, frowning at everyone, “We used to sit out there all the time, none of you ever did that?"

"Will there be refreshments?” Klaus interrupts as he waltzes through. “Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner."

"What? No. And put that out, Dad didn’t allow smoking in here.” Luther scolds in reference to the cigarette cradled between his fingers, but is interrupted by Allison.

Melanie leans back into the couch and stares at the ceiling, wishing she was anywhere else but here as Klaus crashes into the spot between her and Vanya, throwing his arm around her shoulder and making her regrettably look back into the room.

“-there’s still some important things we need to discuss.” Luther says.

“Like what?” Diego asks suspiciously.

“Like the way Dad died."

"And here we go."

"I don’t understand, I thought they said it was a heart attack.” Vanya speaks up, with Melanie quick to back her up.

“Yeah. Diego said the official autopsy concluded it was heart failure. What’s there to discuss?” She asks, head tilting to the side.

“Yes, according to the coroner.” Luther nods.

“Well wouldn’t they know?” Vanya defends.

“Theoretically."

"Theoretically?” Allison asks.

“I’m just saying, at the very least, something happened.” Luther defends. “The last time I talked to Dad, he sounded strange.”

“Oh, quelle surprise!” Klaus gurgles, spitting droplets of alcohol onto Melanie that she brushes off casually.

“You shouldn’t make fun of his accent, Lulu, the… bigger guy than you, doesn’t smile upon those who talk ill of the dead.” Melanie jokes, grabbing the drink from her brother’s hand and taking a sip from the deep rounded cup.

“Strange how?” Allison asks, waving off the antics of Klaus and Melanie.

“He sounded on edge, told me I should be careful who I trust.” Luther explains, earning a groan from Diego.

“Luther,” he says as he stands up, “he was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles."

"No. He must have known something was going to happen.” Luther argues, before turning to Klaus.

“Look, I know you don’t like to do it, but I need you to talk to dad."

Klaus looks up at him in surprise, gesturing to himself before he speaks while Allison scoffs as she takes a drink.

"I can’t just call Dad in the afterlife and be like, "Dad, could you just… stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?”“ He explains, taking the cup from Melanie’s hand and leaning forward.

"Since when? That’s your thing?” Luther challenges, more annoyed by the second.

“I’m not in… the right frame of mind!"

"You’re high?” Allison asks.

“When isn’t he?” Melanie muses as Klaus laughs, agreeing with Allison.

“Yeah! I mean how are you not, listening to this nonsense?” He asks, falling back into the couch again.

“Well sober up, this is important.” Luther demands, before looking up again. “Then there’s the issue of the missing monocle."

"Who gives a shit about a stupid monocle?” Diego asks rhetorically.

“Exactly. It’s worthless. So whoever took it, I think it was personal. Someone close to him. Someone with a grudge."

"What’s that supposed to mean Luther?” Melanie asks, sitting forward and frowning up at him.

“Yeah, where are you going with this?” Klaus asks.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious guys?” Diego asks, taking a step closer to Luther. “He thinks one of us killed Dad."

Luther looks around the room, a slight trace of guilt on his face not distracting from his silence at the accusation.

"You do?” Klaus asks, shocked he could ever accuse them of something like this.

“How could you think that?” Vanya asks with hurt in her voice.

“Great job Luther, way to lead.” Diego mocks.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Melanie argues, defenses building by the second.

“That’s not what I’m-"

"You’re crazy, man. You’re crazy.” Klaus argues, done with whatever bullshit family meeting they were having.

Diego is the first to leave the room, with Klaus not far behind.

“Sorry I’m just gonna go murder Mom, be right back.” Klaus responds to Luther’s protests.

Vanya quickly follows the lead of her brothers, with Melanie tagging along behind her with her hands clenched into fists.

“Pogo should have let him stay on the moon.” Melanie says under her breath.

With each of the siblings splitting off to calm down, Melanie bypasses her room, not having ventured back into it in years, and instead moves to the room where she knew she could get comfort instead of flashbacks that made her toes curl.

As Melanie opens the door, and carefully sits down on the end of Ben’s bed, she lets out a deep sigh of frustration from dealing with everything that’s already happened throughout the day.

“If you were here right now, I’d be dragging your ass to get donuts and blow off the rest of whatever is going on here.” She speaks aloud, hoping that Ben’s energy would make an appearance in the room.

It was a complicated situation, the one between Melanie and her departed best friend.

The easiest thing for Melanie was to sense when Ben was near, and when she could, she would talk to him, and fill him in on everything he might have missed while following Klaus, knowing he was more strongly tethered to him than her.

Some nights, when Klaus would come home for once, Melanie would sit with her books and try whatever she could to bring him back, him sitting with her though the sleepless nights, trying as hard as he could to manifest to her.

It was easier for Ben to manifest when both Klaus and Melanie were in the same small area, Melanie explained to him one night, after talking to some of the mentors she had picked up after leaving the academy.

“For ghosts to manifest, it’s easier if the people they’re tethered to are in close proximity, meaning they can roam between them more freely, and conduct energy from both to communicate.” Melanie read from her book out into the air, candles lit around her, chalk drawn in intricate patterns across the floor, and Ben sitting across from her on the cushion she placed for him.

“So while Klaus can see you whenever he’s sober enough, it’s a bit harder for me to see you cause I don’t have his abilities. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll figure out how to hear you again so you can be the one talking again for once.” She joked bitterly, her hope for a proper reunion slipping away with every failed spell and conjuring.

“I’ll always be here for you either way.” Ben tries to reassure her, but just like every other time, his words fall on deaf ears.

As she sat in his room, she couldn’t help but remember their first mission together. The bank robbery that unveiled the umbrella academy to the world.

Melanie killed two men that day, hovering into the building through the hole in the ceiling Luther had made on his way in, and snapping the men’s necks with the dark purple beams extending from her hands as they raised their guns towards Diego.

She remembers Reginald walking in after everyone was dead or incapacitated, an arm filled with their coats and a handkerchief handed to Ben to help with the blood drenching the boy. Melanie rolled her eyes behind her father’s back, taking Ben’s hand and leading him to the water fountain after grabbing a box of tissues from the front desk. She carefully cleared the blood from his face, asking him in a whisper to tell her about the book he was currently reading to try and distract him.

Ben was thankful, and told her quietly about the novel he had snuck into the academy, recommending it and knowing she would actually read it if he did. He did his best to ignore the fact she was staring at him as she helped, and she did her best to comfort the person who’s sadness made her heart ache.

She still remembers standing beside him on the steps of the bank, the bright camera flashes popping in their faces as Reginald spoke to the gathered media.

Melanie stopped her reminiscing as she suddenly felt Ben’s energy beside her, reaching up to wipe the gathered tears away from her face with the sleeves of her shirt.

“Hope you know I still miss the shit outta you every day.” She laughs.

“I miss you too."

Melanie is pulled out of her thoughts as the sound of music starts playing throughout the house, something their father never allowed.

"Luther.” Melanie shakes her head, a small smile on her face as she stands up.

After all of the stress, maybe it was a good idea to try and shake it out instead of holding onto it.

Standing in the center of Ben’s room, Melanie starts slowly swaying to the music, the Tiffany song reminding her of all the times she’d collect Luther for dinner and hear it playing in his room.

As she got into the groove, and danced around the room, she couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t the first time she had danced alone in this house, but knowing someone wasn’t about to bust in and punish her for having fun? It felt like she was actually allowed to breathe.

But then, her breath catches in her throat as loud thunder and crashing is heard from outside.

Melanie nearly crashes into Allison and Luther as the siblings bolt down the stairs, Diego being the first one to crash through the back doors as everyone follows him out.

“What is it?” Vanya asks as Melanie follows her, standing between her and Diego as the giant whirling blue portal filled the courtyard.

“Don’t get too close!” Allison warns, grabbing Luther’s arm to stop him from moving forward.

“Melanie is this one of yours?” Diego asks, to which she shakes her head furiously.

“Definitely not mine.” She denies as the wind whips her hair away from her face.

“Looks like some sort of temporal anomaly. Either that or a miniature black hole. One of the two.” Luther muses, confusion covering everyone’s faces.

“Pretty big difference there, Paul Bunyan.” Diego says sarcastically as Klaus finally makes an appearance, running out and crashing between Luther and Diego.

“Out of the way!” He yells, fire extinguisher in hand.

“Klaus don’t get too close!” Melanie calls as he tries to put the portal out.

When the extinguisher fails, he throws the whole thing into the portal, Allison calling out to him once it disappears.

“What is that gonna do?"

"I don’t know! Do you have a better idea?” Klaus asks dramatically.

The portal cracks with electricity again, the whirling noise near defending.

“Everyone get behind me!” Luther demands, Diego stepping to his side.

“Yeah get behind us.” He agrees, Melanie clinging onto his arm in fright as her other hand reaches to hold Vanya’s.

“I vote for running, come on!” Klaus encourages, but none of his siblings move to follow him.

The sound of screams come through the portal, and Melanie swears she can see an old man through the static.

But before she can ask if anyone else sees him too, a person falls out of the portal and onto the ground in front of Ben’s statue, laying motionless for a moment before starting to move and pull themself up.

Cautiously, everyone takes a step forward towards them, their eyes going wide at the sight in front of them.

“Holy shit.” Melanie says under her breath as she steps out from behind Diego, still holding Vanya’s hand.

“Does anyone else see little number Five, or is that just me?” Klaus asks.

Five looks down at himself, before looking back up at his siblings.

“Shit."

chapter two out now

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