#him managed to turn her concerning about her future and life about him is beyond me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kookie-doughs · 6 months

Text

Again And Again

Portgas D Ace X Reader

-Amatsuki Y/N decided to stay in the future without her sister upon meeting a friend’s son.

Chapter 13.B: Because I could not stop for Death —

Marco placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, I understand how you feel, but you need to remember that Sabo cares about you deeply. He made that choice willingly because he wanted to be there for you during your time of grief. It's not your fault that life dealt you this difficult hand. If you finally move on from Ace, then everything can go back."

"I can't ever go back," You say.

"Y/N, just gi-"

"No, Marco, time is not going to help me. Nothing will." You knew that as a fact.

"Y/N,"

"If I go back and save Ace, then none of this would have happened," you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. "I miss him so much, Marco. I can't imagine a life without him, and it's tearing me apart."

Marco gave you a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. "I know it's tough, Y/N. Losing someone we love leaves an emptiness that seems impossible to fill. But you have to remember that Ace wouldn't want this. He would want you to find happiness and keep moving forward, cherishing the time you had together."

"How would any of us know what Ace wanted? What if he only said that for me and not what he wanted for himself? He told me he wanted a future with me. He told me he wanted to marry me. Marco, how can you say he wanted me to give up on him, he also loved me too. He also wanted to be with me..."

"Y/N... Ace said-"

"Ace said a lot of things before. And he isn't here to clarify which ones right. Ace isn't here, that's why I'm like this."

Marco's expression softens, understanding the depth of your emotions. "Y/N, think about yourself. Don't go through this all over again..."

You give Marco a small smile, grateful for his understanding. "Thank you, Marco. Tell Sabo I'm sorry."

With a deep breath, your power, feeling a surge of energy enveloping you. Time distorts around you, and you're consumed by a blinding light.

As you open your eyes, you find yourself once again in the arms of Ace. This familiar yet bittersweet moment overwhelms you with emotions. You hold him tightly, not wanting to let go, knowing the weight of the future and the countless attempts that brought you here.

"Ace," you whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I've missed you so much."

Ace looks at you with a mix of surprise and concern. "Hey, are you okay? Why are you crying? I've never left your side dummy."

You manage a weak smile through your tears. "I'm okay, Ace. I'm just happy to see you."

As you hold him close, you remember all the times you've been through this moment, the countless attempts to save him, and the pain of losing him over and over again. But this time, you're taking a different turn.

In the future you chose, events unfolded according to their destined course, just as they were meant to be. You embarked on your mission with determination and courage, knowing that you had to allow history to unfold naturally, without your interference. The loss of Thatch and Ace's disappearance weighed heavily on your heart, but you understood that it was the way things were supposed to happen.

You witnessed the chaos and heartache that followed, and while it pained you deeply, you knew that you had to go through this. As difficult as it was, you had to let go of the desire to change the past and accept that some things were beyond your control.

With a sense of determination, you make your way to Whitebeard's quarters. The legendary pirate, sitting on his throne, looks at you with a mix of curiosity.

"Old Man," you begin, "I want to tell you something."

The old pirate leans back, folding his arms across his massive chest, and listens intently as you recount the tale of your adventures. You speak of the numerous attempts you made to alter the course of events, the pain of witnessing Ace's death multiple times, and the realization that some things were simply meant to be.

You share the heartache you felt when you had to let go of the desire to alter fate, to accept that you couldn't change the past. But you also tell him of the joy and laughter you experienced with the Straw Hat Pirates, the moments of camaraderie and love that made your journey worthwhile.

"I don't see where this is going," Whitebeard who listens quietly, his gaze never leaving you, spoke after you share your story.

"I couldn't save Ace," you continue, "Hundred of attempts made. Edward, give me permission to take him away."

"What do you mean?" he says, his voice rumbling like a gentle thunder.

"I'm going to let the story play out as it should until the moment of his supposed death, and then intervene to take him away." You take a deep breath, unsure of how Whitebeard will respond. But to your surprise, he smiles gently. "I've been thinking about it a lot."

Whitebeard looks at you with a mix of surprise and curiosity. "And why do you think this would work? What makes you believe that Ace's disappearance would have the same impact as his death?"

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before answering. "The loss of their brother, pushed Luffy and Sabo to become stronger, to pursue their dreams, and to protect what they hold dear.

Now what if instead of dying, he just disappear. Did they still not lose their brother? It would still create a the motivation. Luffy will fail to protect Ace from Akainu, resulting to him disappearing. They'll mourn just without the body."

"And what if that is not the reason Ace had been dying?" Whitebeard asks.

You bite your lip, trying to find the right words to explain your plan to Whitebeard. "It has to be. It might sound strange, but I've come to a realization. None of us were meant to be the main character in this story. We're all just pieces that move the narrative forward. Ace's death, as painful as it was, had a purpose in the grand scheme of things. It pushed Luffy to take time off and grow stronger. It was a pivotal moment in his journey, and without it, his story couldn't progress."

Whitebeard listens intently, his eyes reflecting both concern and understanding. "You're suggesting Ace was fated to die."

You take a deep breath before continuing, "In this time, there are only two plausible candidate as the main character. There's only two people who is to be pirate king. And that's Luffy and Ace. If it was Ace he wouldn't have died."

"So you believe that fate is real?"

You smile, "I know it is."

Whitebeard places a hand on your shoulder, his expression softening. "Okay," he smiles.

"I'm sorry... I can't save you both."

His laugh echoed the place, "You've said it yourself. I was prepared for death. What made you think saving me mattered?"

Everything played out just as your second attempt had gone.

"You were just a weakling back then, and you're still a weakling now," Akainu taunted. "You'll never be able to protect anyone, no matter how hard you try. You're just a burden to everyone around you."

You tighten your hold on Ace. His insult having no effect on you as you wait for the attack that was to come.

You look around the battlefield. The family you could never see and return to again. Whitebeard and Marco, only ones aware of your resolve looked at you with a smile.

You tightly close your eyes and ran. Hoping Akainu still thinks you are still vulnerable.

Akainu, sensing an opportunity, appeared before you suddenly, just as he had all those attempts ago. You took a step back creating distance between him and your and Ace. His powerful fist came dangerously close to striking you. However, this time its different, you pull Ace to your chest.

"Thank you for everything. I love you." You grinned towards the direction of the two who had been your rock in all your attempts of saving Ace. You then envelop yourselves with light as you activate your power.

You took a deep breath, realizing the limitations of your ability. It could only take you back 20 years in the past, and your goal time was 24 years ago. You knew what you had to do - you had to go back twice. Twice at such a small time frame meant dangers to you but it was needed. With a firm resolve, you activated your time-traveling power once again.

Finally you arrived at Kuri Beach. The memories of this place flooded back to - the first time you met Ace.

You held onto Ace tightly, the world around you blurred. The strain of using your power twice in such a short time frame was taking its toll, and you felt light-headed and disoriented.

Ace held you to keep you steady, you could feel his warmth and support, giving you the strength to stand firm.

"This is... Wano," Ace said, his voice tinged with wonder, "but it feels different. It wasn't like this last time...?"

You nodded, a sense of accomplishment comes to you. Successfully getting to the right time.

"There's people...? So many of them."

Taking his hand, you began to walk toward the village, and to his shock, the once poor and desolate village was now prospering, filled with cheerful and lively residents.

"Amatsuki-Sama?" One of the citizens gasped.

The village got quiet as surprised of your arrival. Ace was alert, prepared to attack if it came to that. But to his surprise, the village erupted in cheers.

"Everyone!! Tell Kozuki-Sama!! Amatsuki-Sama had returned!!"

"Y/N?" Ace asked, his confusion evident.

You couldn't help but laugh at his puzzled expression. "Just wait, Ace. There's someone I want you to meet. They're on their way."

Time passed, and as you sat together, someone familiar emerged from the crowd. It was Toki, your dear beloved sister. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she recognized you.

"Y/N! Is it really you?!" she exclaimed, running toward you.

You opened your arms to embrace her warmly. "Toki, I'm back, just like I promised."

Toki's eyes then fell on Ace, and she blinked in surprise. "And who is this?"

"Ace, this is my sister, Toki."

You smiled warmly at Ace, feeling a rush of courage and affection. Taking a deep breath, you turned to the curious crowd and spoke confidently, "Everyone, this is Ace, my husband-to-be."

The villagers gasped in surprise, their eyes widening at your announcement. The cheers and celebration momentarily quieted down as they absorbed the revelation.

Ace chuckled, his cheeks turning a shade of red. "Y-Yeah," he stammered, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. Embarrassed he bury his face on your shoulder. "Y-You can't just say that."

You giggled at his adorable embarrassment and gave him a playful nudge. "Well, is it wrong?" you teased. He shook his head. "Then it's nothing to be embarrassed about."

He smiled warmly, his embarrassment giving way to genuine happiness. "You're stupid," he said softly.

As the news sank in, the villagers erupted into even louder cheers, thrilled for your newfound happiness. They embraced you both as part of their own community, welcoming Ace with open arms.

The people of Wano continued to celebrate around you, their joyous laughter and music filling the air. You leaned into Ace's embrace, feeling a sense of belonging and contentment.

Throughout the festivities, you and Ace celebrated not just the prosperity of Wano but also your love and commitment to each other. The journey through time had brought you closer than ever before, and now you were in a place where you could openly share your love and affection for each other.

As the day drew to a close, you found yourselves sitting on a peaceful hill overlooking the village. The sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the land. You leaned into Ace's embrace, feeling content and grateful for everything that had led you to this moment.

"I did it, Ace," you whispered, your heart overflowing with emotion. "I saved you, and we get to live a future together."

"Tell me," He had a sad smile. "Tell me about what you've gone through."

With a smile, you began to recount your incredible journey through time to save Ace. You told him about each attempt, the hardships, and the moments of hope and despair. You shared the pain of losing him over and over again and the determination that kept you going.

"I tried so many times, Ace," you said softly, "but no matter what I did, it seemed like fate was against us. Every time, something would go wrong, and I would lose you again."

Ace listened intently, his expression a mix of awe and sympathy. "I can't even imagine what you went through," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "But you never gave up on me, did you?"

You shook your head, tears glistening in your eyes. "No, I couldn't," you replied. "You mean everything to me, Ace. I love you so much, and I couldn't bear to live in a world without you."

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I love you too, Y/N," he whispered. "Thank you... thank you for never giving up on us. You're the strongest person I know, and I'm lucky to have you by my side. Thank you for loving me..."

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I would go through anything to save you," you said, your voice trembling. "Even if it meant risking my own life or breaking the laws of time. I couldn't bear to lose you."

Ace lifted your chin gently, looking into your eyes with love and determination. "You don't have to worry about that anymore," he said.

In that moment, you knew that your love had triumphed over time and fate. You had overcome impossible odds to be together, and now, you could finally embrace the future with hope and happiness.

As the night fell and the celebrations continued around you, you and Ace stayed wrapped in each other's arms, grateful for the love you had found and the journey that had brought you back together. The adventure may have been challenging, but it had led you to this moment of bliss, and you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

You're glad you never gave up.

Previous | Masterlist

RAHHHH HERE YOU GUYS GO FOR YOU ALL

I actually prefer ending A without the next chapter but i wrote this after i got over my sad story ending phase which lasted way too long (i wrote like other stories with sad ending whahahah be prepared)

plsplspslps keep supporting me if youd like you can read the other ending while waiting for my other ztories 👀 ily all thanks for your support!!!

-kookiedoughs

Taglist?

@nykie-love-anime @gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @cinnamonrollscafe @sol-d15

#x reader #fanfiction #y/n l/n #ace #ace x reader #portgas ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece ace #one piece ace x reader #one piece portgas ace #one piece portgas ace x reader #one piece portgas d ace #one piece portgas d ace x reader

19 notes · View notes

bakerstreethound · 1 year

Text

Love that Binds, Love that Fractures & Forever Endures

Relationship: Dr. Stephen Strange x soulmate!reader

Warnings: slight angst, pining, sad stephen

Summary: After seeing that you don’t end up with him in another universe, Stephen begins to doubt if you were meant to be. Needless to say, you help remind him that you always were his despite what the other universe showed.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, repost, copy or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 810

A/N: I’m dedicating the fic to @ironstrange1991 in honor of her one-year anniversary of her finding and falling in love with Stephen. I sincerely hope you enjoy!

He knew you. He looked into your eyes and in many universes without so much a touch, he knew he loved you. Loved you so deeply, irrevocably, beyond space and time.

But what a universe was this when you were there on the sidewalk holding onto the arm of another man that wasn’t him?

He gets whisked away to another time, another memory, it’s almost like looking through a crystal ball, too many fractures of a broken life twisted and convoluted, much like his soul or multitudes of them.

When he first laid eyes on you, he didn’t know you were the one for him, that you were destined to be his. He only felt a pull a whisper of promises taunting him; never mind the promise of the poison of love that seeped through the cracks.

Wasn’t getting your heart broken a privilege? If so, why did it hurt so much?

The constellations never wavered constantly tormenting him with images of you, building upon them and breaking them into pieces, only for him to form them back together so he could gaze at them, his one constant in his universe.

******

He swallows in self-agony, burying himself in his bed, stacking books up by the bedside doing anything to pull the image of your laughing, as you clung to the arm of the other man. He knows he shouldn’t question it, but the thought of one universe where you don’t find him torments him so. He huffs, pulling back the covers, managing to dress and stand by the fireplace, the cloak draped over him, hoping to provide a sense of comfort.

He sighs and slumps down in the armchair by the fire, staring into the flames he produced. In this universe, his present, his past, and his future, it was all you.

Everything he does is for you.

But why does this phantom ache persist and eat away at him? He huffs in frustration swallowing down the scalding tea hoping it brings a sense of relief. It does for a moment, but then there’s a knock at the door and his heart thrums in anticipation laced with dread.

When you walked in through the door in all your blazing glory, he shook his head, refusing to believe the sight before him. No, it can’t be right you weren’t with him, this wasn’t the correct universe.

“Stephen?” Your voice beckons to him softly and he finds himself leaning into your touch, your hand cupping his cheek in reverence as you kneel by the chair. This couldn’t be happening, and yet, it felt so right. He feels complete, the other half of his soul aching, screaming out to yours in agony and hope.

You swallow, resting your forehead against his taking your time, however, this trance was concerning you. “Stephen, what happened?” You will your voice not to crack as he snaps out of his stupor, his breathing short and ragged.

There’s almost a wild incomprehensible look about his gaze, haunted and forlorn.

He knows he shouldn’t burden you with this weight, but he sighs in recognition, watching you intently, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders, this burden he has to bear. He doesn’t dare turn his gaze away from you, not believing you’re real, but an illusion his mind casted in desperation to have you close to him.

Yet despite this he knows somehow you are here, the only one he loved, his enduring love that spanned across centuries; the love he would always fight for to keep.

He decides to trust, oh how it took him eons to, but it was you…you were here with him and no one else.

“I saw you with another man in another universe. I don’t understand it because in every universe and timeline we end up finding each other no matter the situation but you betrayed me!” He almost howls in agony and your heart breaks to see him this way, how he pushes you away, burying his face in his hands.

Heartbroken.

Lost.

Defeated.

Confused.

You soften at his admonishment, trying desperately to understand his torment. You pull yourself off the floor to sit in his lap, carefully guiding his face away from his hands and tilting his chin up with a finger.

“Stephen,” you start softly pressing a kiss to his cheek, “everything is going to be okay. Don’t worry about all the universes for you burden yourself. In this universe, our love endures unbroken by time and I am yours as much as you are mine. Don’t forget that, okay? I’m yours for forever and a lifetime.”

He holds you to that promise when you bring your lips to his, forever sealing your vow.

“Forever and a lifetime,” he repeats, returning the kiss with reckless abandon, his arms wrapping around you for eternity and lifetimes to come.

******

@bakerstreethound @lilythemadqueen @frostandflamesfanfic @feral-for-strange @starks-hero @lykaonimagines @classickook @azu21 @strangelockd @sobeautifullyobsessed @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds @starstruck-loner @wint3r-h3art

#Doctor Strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #dr strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #doctor strange fanfiction #marvel imagine #doctor strange imagine

98 notes · View notes

sam-glade · 9 months

Text

Find the Words Tag

Tagged by @talesofsorrowandofruin here and @kaiusvnoir here. Thank you!

I'll pass it gently onto: @mrbexwrites @mjjune @scribe-of-stories @chayscribbles with the words: home, excited, eye, cold.

From @talesofsorrowandofruin: bandages, crawling, dull and extraordinary.

BANDAGES

“I would like to see what my left arm looks like, please.”

Reluctantly, she stood up, and as gently as she could, she helped him pull up his sleeve.

His forearm was bandaged just over the entry wound, and the bandages were needed only to hold some topical painkillers. The coal patterns spread up and down his arm, from his shoulder to his wrist, posing a stark contrast with the white cloth and his skin. He hissed at the sight and looked away.

CRAWLING

Tiredness washed over Ianim. The Prince kept watching him, and it was making him uncomfortable. He put down the empty glass, noticing how much his hand was shaking.

“Will you manage to get to your quarters?” she asked with clear concern. Ianim wasn’t sure if it was genuine. He had never seen her show concern before.

He ground his teeth and nodded. He was going to get there on his own, even if it meant crawling. He stood up and swayed.

DULL

This was beyond her. She sat with the First Prince and her Successor, at half past three in the night, sharing drinks, wearing only night clothes, while a Humble Keeper was tidying up a person’s remains from the adjacent room. Erya swallowed half of her drink in one go. And there she thought that the life of a Prince Consort would be dull.

EXTRAORDINARY

"I would hesitate to deliberately bind a person's life to a legend like so. Legends are a precarious tool; they are difficult to control, and they can get out of hand very easily. Once set on their course, they may force changes upon a person and lead to actions one would not have chosen to take otherwise."

"Isn't that what the White Dragon has done though? Become a legend?" Lissan asked. It wasn't just the White Dragon. Ianim was nicknamed the Lord of the People's Hearts and that reputation in part made him into the extraordinary person that he was.

~*~

From @kaiusvnoir: shake, flat, palm, and away

SHAKE

She looked at Mikkel, schooling her face into a mask of fear and concern. Mikkel’s expression reflected that.

“Madam General, you have mentioned rumours about the Shadow’s unrequited love for the First Prince,” he started slowly. “Is it not plausible that this was their motive?”

Erya hid her face in her hands.

“Why kill her then? Why not me?” she asked weakly, forcing her voice to shake. She wondered for how much longer her act would be convincing.

FLAT

“Lissan. I wasn’t aware that your medical leave’s ended,” was Gullin’s greeting. This wasn’t right. He would be the first one to know if that was the case, even before Lissan. His voice was flat, and there was no excitement in it. Lissan had hoped that he had been missed at least a bit.

PALM

Khoms looked at the arena again. The younger Sword was dancing around, avoiding lighting bolts hitting all around him. He was fast, but not as fast as some Messengers whose basic form related to movement speed. Unless the Lieutenant General couldn’t hit any faster.

“Come on, Nikols! You know I can take it,” Lissander shouted, panting just a little.

Another lightning bolt shot directly towards him. He didn’t evade it. Instead… he blocked it. With his bare hand. Lieutenant General Nikols paused, waiting for Lissander to show him his presumably badly burnt palm.

AWAY

“There are rumours which people are scared to repeat. Rumours nobody dared to say before.”

“Are you scared as well?” Anthea challenged, watching her through narrowed eyes.

“No, I simply think that they are paranoid ramblings of people who are afraid, desperate, and uncertain about their future.” Anthea looked at her pointedly. “All right, they say that the Sun King has abandoned His people. They say that He has turned away and that the princes will use this opportunity to grasp for more power.”

Anthea was predictably indignant. Rime appeared on the metal basket around her mostly empty tea glass. Erya sighed and waited out her anger; it passed quickly enough.

“Don’t smite the messenger, if you’d be so kind, my prince,” Erya reminded her dryly.

#find the word tag #tag game #writeblr #writeblr tag game #prodigal children

11 notes · View notes

capsensislagamoprh · 3 months

Text

Victor put bladed to ice. This was apparently the best way to get where he was going, but oh how he'd come to appreciate his power in the dream. He'd managed to get the toe jumps down with minimal effort, now onto the more impressive and dangerous edge jumps. It was the counter rotation that was causing him issues, and oh what an annoyance it was.

He should be able to think it and do it! The frustration was killing him slowly.

Lilia took in his bland expression as Yakov once again displayed his gruff form of discipline, bluntly telling Victor what the fey already knew. Victor waited until Yakov's attention was drawn by another skater, then slowly collapsed onto the bench, head low, shoulders slumped. It took him a minute, glaring at the floor forlornly as he was, to notice Lilia was holding something in her hand.

"Take it," she said in unusually quiet tones.

Victor looked at her hand. A single mint candy sat in the frigid palm. Decidedly off diet. As it melted on his tong, he felt refreshed, and the realized she'd infused it with glamour. He'd been starving.

"How do I do this?"

"This?"

"How," he asked around the burn of wintergreen, "do I make these dross foods? I have only had boggans to feed me the necessary requirements before. I'm... at a loss."

"I don't think you can, Victor. I think you need to find another way."

"And what is that? I train, I sleep, the cycle repeats."

"Soon you will compete. The ice in your blood will challenge the ice of the material realm. Do you think there will be no rewards if you win?"

Victor considered. He'd not thought much beyond the doing before. "What are the prizes?"

"For the humans, there are no prizes. They can get sponsors who give them money, but to compete, your level of competition, you must be focused. Disciplined. Money comes, but not much. Not at first. The sponsors, that is where the money is."

Victor waved that off. Thanks to Phichit's careful handling, he had money enough of the mortal kind. It was dross he was short on. That precious fey coin full of glamour and life. "I am not concerned with rubble's. I need," he hissed low, "a source of power."

"That too will come. When you start to win, your fame will grow and that will sustain you. The things they will give you full of hopes and dreams. More than enough for a feast and other things."

"Hum. How long until I get to that point?"

"You can start the juniors this year if you like. I do not think you are quite ready, but it could be good to start out wobbly like a foal, then grow. People will enjoy your success more."

"And the oracle?"

Lady Baranovskaya sighed. "Still no response. I know they are out there," she said with a frown.

"Then why can we not find them?"

Lilia rose a brow. "They can predict the future. I would imagine a great power like that is highly sought after. Would you not use your power to protect yourself before you became prey?"

Victor huffed. "I suppose so. Still, if not for their hiding, we'd have answers."

"If not for your need to go to the mortal realm with out proper paperwork, we'd not be in this predicament," Lilia countered. "Now, break is done. Back on ice. Work hard."

Victor watched her turn towards the ice. Rising, he let the cool glamour of mint flow thrugh him. The ice was his. He was cool headed. He definitely did not go chasing his whim to the determent of the Dream. He fell on the Euler, skate catching against the other. He got up.

He was one with the ice. He could own it and the cold air above. He was the master of the frozen. He was not at all thinking about the warmth of new adventure and exciting things. His landing was wobbly, almost sending him into a roll.

The cold was his home. It seeped into his skin and made him whole. He could manipulate it at a whim. He was in charge of the water when it froze, sized by entropy. He was the Ice King. He was far from his throne. The boards were unforgiving when his hip smacked into it as he over rotated.

He was Victor Nikiforov. He was fey, cold of blood. He was all things grace and beauty of winter frozen in an icicle of a dream. He reflected the sky and the white of the ground. He was the sparkling mirror shards of snow that waited for the break of a foot, growth of plant, melt of sun to change it into smooth, perfect ice.

He was Victor. He was an unseelie king. Only one being could oppose him and that being was missing. That that being was missing was not at all Victor's fault. After all, how could he have predicted the gates closing so suddenly? How could he have predicted the change of time flow and that he would not feel it as the world rapidly changed about him? How could he, Victor Nikiforov, have even begun to fathom that was not simply how the material world worked? He managed a toe loop, but landed in the wrong place.

This wasn't his fault. It was built into the dream that the Hero made the sacrifice! He'd done it so many times! He was always home in a few days. His toe loop was better, but his landing still off, shaky.

But, Victor had to admit, the problem was the place he sacrificed. The material world was much less flexible than the Dream. If you fell to your death here, you might actually die. It was messy, and it was unflattering. His toe loop was smoother, his landing slipped easy along the ice.

Knowing the Hero, he'd probably made more than one sacrifice on his journey in this strange land. What had it done to him? How would it affect Yuri? Would ether be the same again? Would they blame him? His toe loop was magnificent.

Practice was called, and Victor went home to consider for the first time what would happen if he broke the Dream.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14

#YoI #yuri on ice #yuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #otabek x yurio #otayura #otayuri #victuuri #gay boys on ice #fey boys on ice #WoD frame work #some other fandom stuff smoshed in #shit that happens in my head #look at them #i love them #WE SAIL THIS SHIP TO THE STARS!

2 notes · View notes

nyandereneko · 2 years

Text

Balancing Deficits

Word Count: 716

Summary: “They’d managed to check one box off the itinerary, surely they could make all the repressed yearning up to each other later. Presently, there was still much work to be done.”

Author’s Note: Happy day 7 of yumeweek!! It’s the last day and I kind of can’t believe it, I didn’t fully expect I’d actually be able to keep up with it and post every day but I’m so glad and proud of myself that I did, and I look forward to sharing even more content for these ships in the future because they make my heart sing :’) also shout out to the first piece featuring my other BigTM genshin f/o, we don’t know shit about him so I hope my characterization doesn’t end up proving completely OOC, but even if it does I guess this is my version of him I can adjust however I see fit hfieshfs as always thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Reblogs appreciated!

*****

“These are the documents detailing some of the more questionable accounts, but I can assure you my lord Harbinger that our agents are doing everything they can to—”

Nova allowed the stranger’s irritating babble to fade into the background of her awareness as her dark eyes narrowed on her prey. Tail twitching with the amusement of a curious kitten, she swatted at the delicate metal chain that hung so temptingly before her. If it had been anyone else, they wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale of their blasphemy and ignorance. And if she hadn’t donned the visage of a cat prior to falling victim to said creature’s instincts in the midst of her master’s confidential exchange, she would’ve likewise found herself on the receiving end of some admonition of a similarly grim nature.

But she was little more than a harmless kitten at the moment, and the man who’s lap she’d claimed was just the Harbinger that’d deigned to extend a hand to her in the throes of her debilitating isolation. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had incited his rare, irrational show of benevolence; it was a weakness and a curse that served no purpose in his line of work. Such sentiments had no place in any facet of his life as far as Pantalone was concerned, yet this poor unfortunate soul had somehow managed to override his defenses and brush against his own withered spirit—presuming perhaps erroneously that he even had one.

When he’d first laid eyes on her shivering form trapped in the confines of that cold steel prison, he hadn’t felt much of anything; at least that’s how things had seemed at the time. Before she’d burrowed past his defenses, before she’d torn through his heart like a desperate gale and saturated his psyche with her very being. Up to this point he’d understood that there was no room left in the Harbingers’ hearts for anything beyond their illustrious Tsaritsa and their lofty, crafty aspirations and schemes. Nova had succeeded in cracking the boundary of the world that held him hostage for better or worse, and moving forward together rather than floundering alone certainly sounded like a prudent plan to him.

As long as he had someone to rely on…as long as she didn’t mind his company.

“Take care of it, you know my expectations well,” the Harbinger counseled his naive underlings with an air of haughty disinterest. With a disappointed sigh he turned his attention to the devious kitten reveling in her playful insolence, the pressures of his mind instantly allayed by the mere sight of her. “I have more pressing matters to attend to, and I do so loathe wasting my precious time on petty excuses and paltry results. Should the task prove too demanding for you…well, I’m sure you’re well aware of how the Fatui prefers to balance their deficits.”

The nervous dejection plastered on his agents’ faces made Nova’s eyes roll as she continued her batting. They were past the point of no return, and everyone present was privy to the reality of their doomed fate. Meetings like this were largely a formality, one that had become noticeably less distressing in the wake of Nova’s addition to his traditionally monotonous routine. He didn’t want to admit it, to himself or to anyone else, but as Pantalone captured her paws in his grasp he realized there was nothing he wouldn’t do to preserve and protect the precious creature that melted into his touch like snow.

In the aftermath they slipped away to some secluded corridor together, seeking to collect themselves before they moved on to their next task. Even as her paws transformed to proper hands against his own he found himself bewildered, entranced by her mystical allure. Glove met glove where they bridged their touch, and Pantalone brazenly leaned in to press their foreheads together. Nothing more, nothing less; there was still a chance they could be discovered, and the enticement wasn’t worth the risk when they were free to express their affection within the confines of their own trusted quarters—his trusted quarters, to be precise.

They’d managed to check one box off the itinerary, surely they could make all the repressed yearning up to each other later. Presently, there was still much work to be done.

5 notes · View notes

qyrhan · 2 years

Text

Hugh (Third Of Five) x Reader

(Individuality)

Part One

[ Platonic ]

The soft hum of the engines comfortably filled your ears as you wandered down the Enterprise’s long, winding corridors. Such has been the norm after your arrival on the starship roughly a month ago.

You still had a sense of disbelief about living on a spaceship. Venturing out into the stars was merely a childhood dream of yours, though you learned all too quickly that it took only the best of the best to leave Earth’s atmosphere and into the void beyond. But now you were here, walking the hallways of a vessel tasked to explore the very stars you’d marveled at for hours and hours while on your back porch.

Here, in the future, where humanity mingled with the members of so many different species it gave you a headache every time you glossed over the multiple PADDs scattered all over your desk. Humanity actually pushed passed its differences and turned into something remarkable.

Knowing that your kind actually had a hope for the future certainly warmed your heart, even if Worf had nearly scared it out of your chest the first time you’d met. However, the cost of such knowledge loomed in the back of your mind constantly.

You remembered the look on everyone’s faces while seated in the meeting room as Captain Picard broke the news. They all seemed sympathetic to your position at the time.

“[ ],” Jean-Luc began, his hands folded together on the table in front of him, “it has come to our attention that your being here is not by accident, nor was it a simple mistake.”

Your brows knit together into a look of confusion while the captain continued.

“There are certain scientific events that may take place at any point in time, events that change the life course of a person forever.” He paused, his expression taut. “These events are what we call “temporal anomalies”. They’re unpredictable, and they form without warning. You happened to be an unfortunate victim of one such anomaly.”

A tense silence fell upon the room as you digested the captain’s words.

”So when can I go home?” You finally managed to pipe up after a moment.

Looks where exchanged, and the awkward feeling in the room amplified, as well as a beginning sense of dread that made a chill run down your spine.

“When do I go home?” You asked again, hoping they’d just misheard you.

Geordi was the first to answer, his voice filled with hesitation, “That’s where the problems start. We’ve been running some tests, checking past records and… We can’t send you back.”

Your heart dropped to the floor, fear creeping into your mind. “But what about my friends my— my family?” You placed both your palms down on the table, urgency influencing your speech. “I have to get back I— you have to do something, anything!”

”We’re doing everything we can, [ ],” Geordi tried to calm you, his expression level and sure, “but this is something we can’t change. You being sent to the twenty-fourth century is a set date in the timeline. You’re meant to be here, on the Enterprise.”

You were brought out from your reminiscing by a conversation happening nearby you.

“…And he doesn’t fight answering your questions?” One voice inquired.

”No, not at all,” another, this one familiar, replied, “he’s actually quite eager to help in any way he can.” It was Beverly. She was deep in conversation with one of her nurses, Kendra, if you remembered correctly. “I was surprised at it myself, but it’s definitely been easier asking about his implants, and running scans on his well-being.”

You trailed just behind the pair. You knew how rude it was to eavesdrop on things that didn’t concern you, but your curiosity always got the better of your common sense.

“And you’re not worried about him, well, assimilating you while you’re not looking?” Kendra asked.

Beverly merely waved her hand dismissively at her. “He’s just a boy, and if he wanted to assimilate me he would have. I think I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve turned my back on him. He could’ve taken any one of those moments, but he didn’t.”

”I guess,” the nurse gave a unconvinced shrug, “but he could just be waiting for a chance to strike. He’s still Borg after all.”

Borg? You’ve heard of that before, in a report you read on one of the PADDs back in your quarters. They were those semi-mechanical beings, right? Not quite robot enough to be machine, but they weren’t fully humanoid, either.

They were also the species that had captured the captain and turned him into… into one of them. “Locutus of Borg.” That’s what he had been before his crew rescued him.

What in the world would a Borg be doing on the Enterprise? And why would they be taking care of it? Him. You corrected yourself mentally as you remembered Beverly referring to him as such.

“Well good morning, [ ].” Beverly’s voice made you jump as you looked up at her.

You’d been caught red handed.

”’Morning.” you gave a quick smile, and decided to give up any attempt to hide what you’d been doing. “Who were you talking about? Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Kendra seemed to stiffen, while Dr. Crusher smiled warmly at you. “We have a guest staying with us for right now. He was hurt on the moon we had received a distress signal from, and he’s recovering from his injuries.”

The Borg was hurt, that would explain why he was even here in the first place. But if there was one, there should be more. Borg are never alone. At least, that’s what you’d read. You pursed your lips, intrigue bubbling up inside you as you wondered about the new arrival. What was a Borg like up close?

”Would you like to meet him?” Beverly inquired, which just about caused a smile to form from ear to ear on your face.

“Doctor I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea,” the nurse cautioned, “they’re a civilian, they don’t have clearance, and we still don’t know if he’s dangerous.”

”I’ll give them clearance,” Crusher answered, certainty on her face, “and I’ve said this before, he’s just a boy. He doesn’t mean any harm.”

You didn’t see Kendra calm at those words, so you assumed she didn’t like them very much. Not that you could argue, she no doubt knew more about potential threats than you ever would.

However, you weren’t going to pass the opportunity to meet a new species, even if that species had a bad reputation. Who knew, maybe this Borg was even nicer than Beverly made him out to be.

#star trek #star trek tng #star trek the next generation #Hugh (Star Trek)#Third of five (Star Trek)#Hugh x reader #eventual friendship #Hugh doesn’t have a tag on here??#at least not one I can find.#I miss my sweet xB

2 notes · View notes

valorxdrive · 6 months

Note

Ophelia chuckles daintily behind one hand. "Oh my. What a smooth talker you are, dear boy." She is smiling now. "True enough, I suppose. I'm me, after all." How long that would last, she didn't know. Each year, she lost a little more. She put such ominous thoughts from her mind for now. "Sora. In all truth, I don't believe you will have any cause for concern over sharing my fate. Whether you know it or not, I suspect your own limit is far beyond that of the mortal limit imposed by the Great Laws." She flipped another tarot card. World Arcana. "However, make no mistake. One day, you will find yourself up against that great limit. I wonder if you'll make the same choice I did? Will you shatter that great wall? Time will tell."

With a wave of her hand, the cards vanished. She held a finger to her lips, giving the boy a wink. "Sorry, dear. Spoilers~"

The initial tease comes wholly unexpected. Conviction hadn't often found itself layered with that idea, nearly throwing him off entirely for a fleeting moment. Composure like his always finds itself malleable with 'this' kind of unexpected. "Wha-- Mm, I hadn't exactly intended for.. Ermmmmm." In the end, he relinquishes whatever half-hearted prompt that was about to escape his mouth. Again does his mind delve into the positives of a matter such as this. Seeing Ophelia find the sweep of a second wind from more solemn corners of the heart was a victory worth keeping.

Never would he want her to be twisted too deep in that sort of oblivion. It hardly matters the span of time that they do know each other.

Short as the time has been, it's theirs, and the good faith shared between them compels him to see it extend as long as it can be managed. Thus, he comes to listen as she allows her heart's thoughts unravel on the matter. The faith that's forged, to say that with such confidence when the certainty felt so real to Ophelia when it involves her own life...

He keeps silent as the table before them unveil another part of the great Arcana, this time, a symbol that feels important reflecting off of his irises. "Could it really be at an extent like that.." Sora muses, openly but soft, initially cutting himself into silence as the irony of that statement doesn't escape him. With a heart that finds itself cemented in the newest heights of resolve, even now, how could that modesty find itself trying to peek through the underside?

"Who knows? I think in truth, that's the great thing about the future.. Least for someone like me, much as I try to handle now, not having a genuine clue of how it can all turn out, I think that's an important power in itself. ...!"

Part of him has to wonder if the sorceress knows how infectious such a quality can be! Laughter ends up being another centerpiece for the table after the disappearance of the cards. "Fine by me then. My eyes have more than enough I'm happy with as is, they'll just wait to get that point on their own terms. Which! It looks like I'm going to be needing your hand in knocking out too."

"After all, a road like mine hasn't been made by my lonesome at all. There's countless people I have to thank for that, something you're a part of now as well!"

#Anon #| Bottle Mail #And so their chronicles continue!

0 notes

learebeccasmultiverse · 1 year

Text

Title: I Love You, Always Forever

Pairing: BestFriend!Stephen Strange x OC!Rebecca (Marvel Studios/MCU)

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

Rebecca came to the Sanctum to take a break from her annoying colleagues and friends. However what she got there was just another one of her annoying colleagues and friends. But like always, Stephen was handling things a little different and made her feel less under pressure to change some things in her life.

Her love life, to be precise. It's been 2 years since they defeated Thanos for good. Seven years have passed since Loki died. And since that time Rebecca never wanted another relationship. She never recovered from this loss. She was fine with the fact that she probably never fell in love again. But her closest friends, her Avengers, weren't.

And neither was Stephen, her best friend out of all of them. And right now he was yet again trying to change her mind about this.

"You really should start dating again. You cannot sit at home and watch all the couples come and go while mourning what you had. You gotta put yourself out there, find a nice guy and settle down with him!"

Rebecca laughed repellent. If there's one way he certainly wasn't getimg her dating again, then it was telling to do it. Yet he obviously wasn't the only one with the same idea.

"Funny, Clint told me exactly the same three days ago. I really wonder why you're so concerned about my love life!"

Rebecca was running low on patience after being told the same thing over and over again.

"Rebecca, I care about you in every way. You're like a sister to me. I love you and there's nothing in the world that would make me stop being concerned about you. I know that what you and Loki had was something for a lifetime and beyond. Loki-"

"LOKI WAS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, LIKE YOU SAID! He got taken away from me by Thanos! I CAN'T love anyone the same ever again!"

She finally snapped, tears forming in her eyes. She felt bad for yelling at him after he said all those heartwarming words. Overstrained with this situation, she began to cry, making Stephen feel really bad about scratching open those scars she would probably never fully recover from. He walked closer to her and just held her in his warm arms for a moment so she could sob into his chest. After a moment, he decided to speak again. He didn't know what exactly to say however, so he decided to say what seemed fit for him right now.

"I give you one thing, you didn't end up like Wanda even though the only person that you loved got murdered. That's a good thing."

Rebecca chuckled, looking up at him. Seeing her mood lift slightly made him smile too. Surprised that it actually did help her state, he continued nonetheless, yet cautiously, since she was still very sensitive.

"What's your secret? Meditation?"

Rebecca laughed softly at that and shook her head.

"Why does it always have to be meditation?"

Stephen laughed and shrugged, loosening the grip around her a little so he could properly look her into the eyes.

"I don't know. Just guessing."

Rebecca dried her tears and calmed herself down a bit.

"If you want to know how I managed not to loose my mind like her then I'll be happy to enlighten you. It's a simple question.Would've Loki wanted this? That I turn against my friends and destroy everything and everyone because of my devastating loss and turn into a monster? The question is self explanatory."

Stephen admired her way of thinking and how strong she had been the past 7 years. Loki died, then Nat died, then Tony. And she had to withstand two nerve wracking battles against Thanos. All while she managed to stay herself and not get lost in sheer anger, devastation and vengeance. Without a warning Stephen hugged her tightly again, resting his chin on her left shoulder.

This woman deserved all the love and support in the world.

"Whatever happens, whatever the future holds, you know that I'm always here for you. Wherever I am, is your safe place."

Rebecca nodded and hugged him around his middle, pulling him even closer.

"I know. And I'm endlessly thankful for that. I'm happy that after all of this shit that happened I still have you... It feels so good that after so much change some things stayed the same. But please promise me that you will never tell me that I have to get a boyfriend again. Can you do that?"

"I have to be honest with you, it's gonna be difficult to not approach this matter, but I'll definitely restrain myself more often in future if it bothers you so much."

Rebecca nodded and smiled at him.

"Thank you, Stephen. And I love you too."

#my ocs #dr strange #stephen strange #doctor stephen strange #marvel #marvel studios #marvel cinematic universe #mcu

0 notes

oraclememehacker · 2 years

Text

A Deal (Reality Hacker)

RH had managed to get herself back together after shattering her psyche, a process that only came about because she was threatened to, or her world would be destroyed. She hated that she was able to be successfully threatened like that, but considering the circumstances there really wasn’t much else choice. The time that she had to deal with her other emotions made her think about a lot of things and how she was going to handle things in the future and beyond. And now she had just the idea of what she wanted to do. It involved her former friends and Phantom Thieves that were currently trapped in a pocket dimension.

“Ugh, this is so effin stupid. I’m tired of just sitting around and doing nothing. Why does she keep doing this to us?” Ryuji was whining and moaning as he sat in the hideout in the attic. “And pray tell what do you want to do? We can’t get out. We don’t have our powers. She can erase us from existence at any moment.” Makoto reminded him but understood why he was so upset. She was upset as well but it wasn’t like there was anything that could be done about it anyways. “Her projection of power is like a painting without a blemish. It feels like the only thing we can do is to let those blemishes appear.” Yusuke remarked as he was working on his next painting that had to do with the feeling of powerlessness.

As they were bickering amongst themselves that’s when RH would appear in all her glory, landing on the floor gracefully after warping in and looking at them all. It really was like the old days of being in the attic and looking at them as they were planning their next palace infiltration or dealing with requests in mementos as they scaled down the endless depths. Ryuji just looked at her with disgust. “What the hell do you want? To torture us some more? To tell us you’ll erase us from existence again?” “Ryuji!” Ann yelled but she wasn’t gonna be listened to this time.

“No Ann, I have a bunch of things that I want to say. Ms I’m better than everyone has been treating us like shit for all too long, holding her damn power all over us and reminding us how small and useless we are since we don’t have our phantom thieves power anymore. Well, I’m sick and effin tired of it! We are your FRIENDS Futaba, remember what friends are like? Or does that not matter to you?! We saved your effin life and you mattered to all of us! As far as I’m concerned you are no better than that false god we took down and--”

RH would literally zipper his mouth shut, and he was forced to make muffled noises at most. “What do you want Futaba?” Ren asked since it seemed she was here for a reason. “I’m here to cut you a potential deal.” “A deal?” Ann asked out of curiosity. “Oh? A deal? How intriguing. I doubt it’s going to be a fair one though.” Yusuke looked away from his painting to hear what she had to say.

“It’s simple really. I give you back limited use of your powers and you’ll be allowed back in the real world. But in exchange you will change the hearts of anyone who wants to affect the world I rule over. That’s it. You won’t even have to kill anyone. Just make them realize the error of their ways.” “You do know that’s not how our change of heart powers work, right? You know this since you were a phantom thief at one point.” Makoto pointed out shaking her head. “Maybe Ryuji is right, maybe you are no better than that cup.”

“...Then stay in this pocket dimension for the rest of your lives.” RH told them turning around and was ready to disappear. That’s when Ren would speak up. “We’ll take the deal.” The rest of the team looked at him like he was crazy. “But on one condition. That we just talk every once in a while. We won’t convince you to change your ways. All we want to know is that your safe.” Ryuji was protesting but nobody could hear him.

“Fair enough. I accept that condition. However, if you all so much as go a toe out of line I will put you back here.” “Yes, your highness.” Most of them would say that just so they wouldn’t get mad at her and forced Ryuji to kneel down. “Very well then.” She got out her little console and they would all warp to the real world, her palace, in the throne room. “Ren, you only have access to 3 personas, and the rest of you have access to your base level personas, and you won’t be able to use your powers against me or you’ll hurt badly.” That was her way of preventing anything from happening.

“But before I let you loose, I have one thing to say. I know all of you hate my guts. If I were in your position, I would hate my guts as well. I knew what I was doing from the moment that I threw you in the depths of this pyramid. And...” An abrupt pause as she determined what to say next. “I’m sorry.” That was a very odd thing for her to say, and that gave them hope she was still somehow redeemable. “But I’m not going to change anything and never will. Now go and do your jobs. Your first job will be told to you soon through your phone.” She warped them away and sat at her throne. It was a risky decision, but she put in safe guards so nothing bad would happen against her. Hopefully.

#Musing #The Oracle Navi (Futaba Sakura IC)#Short Stories (Drabbles)#Reality Hacker (Persona 5 AU)

0 notes

privateanxieties · 2 years

Text

The Things We Never Talk About

Synopsis: A health scare reveals to Peter the things she never talks about, and worse, the things she keeps hidden for fear of speaking them into being.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (she/her pronouns); established relationship, angst, worry, fluff; Basically, if you’d like to suffer and then recover in 9k words, read this.

Warnings/Spoilers: health related concerns (spoiler warning: reproductive health is included), troubled family history, horrible mothers, mental illness, tragedies, mentions of other elements related to these issues. This is quite emotionally demanding, but ends on a positive note. Also, please note that the medical info in this is intentionally manipulated for the story’s convenience. For example, you cannot diagnose certain illnesses with a blood test, but one is used here. There aren’t any bogus claims or anything like that, but medical accuracy is sweked.

Words: 9.3K

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

A half hour has passed since she received the call from Dr. Connely, and the same half hour has been spent staring at the wall farthest away from her work desk. No one has called her out for it yet, but then again, the office is mostly empty today. Few people choose to come in when the weather resembles the end times, but she happens to like torrential rain. It's especially nice when you work on the first floor, rather than the 14th, but somehow not even the thundering of rain drops can distract her mind.

She doesn't know what this means, for now or for the future.

She does, however, wish she hadn't gone for that check-up. Yes, she would've been postponing the inevitable and embroiling both her and her partner in something entirely nebulous, but she just wishes she had more time.

Peter.

What kind of world is this, where at once you're the happiest you've ever been, and then a six minute phone call severs the branch from under your feet?

Maybe she should've suspected something, or at least been more cautious, given the state of things. Family history being what it is for her, the likelihood of this outcome was sadly not that low.

And now it proves devastating.

Going home weighs heavy on both heart and mind, and ten blocks away the pitter-patter on the umbrella has become too much, so she puts it away. Not even two blocks later, she's soaked to the bone but successfully distracted, at least temporarily. She knows Peter's arrival isn't that far away, and in a moment of fear, she considers not going inside and just meandering about in the storm.

Only, it's freezing already and she doesn't want to tack a cold on to ovarian cancer.

She drips water all through the lobby and leaves a small puddle in the elevator, but when she reaches the door, her heart drops once more.

She can hear him, on the phone, in the apartment.

Their apartment.

They moved in together almost three years ago, and she remembers what he said at the time: our first home. She knew then that Peter was thinking of their future, and that he was serious. He wasn't just moving in with his college girlfriend, though they were both far beyond undergraduate studies. She knew plenty of people their age who were still living life to the extreme and not planning on settling down any time soon, but she never felt any need to explore that avenue. It was only one of many, and she'd already found her little corner of the world.

Now, something is chipping away at it piece by piece. She's almost in a trance, dripping water at the front door, but it's broken by the key turning in the lock.

A smiling Peter appears a couple of seconds later, though his eyes do widen comically when he sees the state of her.

"Hey! Did you get doused by a bus or something? You're soaking wet!", he says, pulling her inside and helping her out of her coat. She manages to gather her bearings in time, the sight of his face and the sound of his voice enough to shock her into some state of functioning.

"My uh - my umbrella broke, so I had to do without.", she responds, the lie already tasting bitter on her tongue. When was the last time she lied to him? She can't remember.

"Aw, baby. You should've called me, I would've brought you one. God, you're freezing! Let's get you out of these clothes."

He sounds chipper than usual, and she almost doesn't want to know, but she knows it's something. She knows Peter's voice and its various inflections like the back of her hand. She knows when he's happy, and she knows what excitement looks like on him. It's one of these two, quite possibly both. What a thing.

She doesn't want to let it dampen her mood even further, but it's like her mind has switched gears completely. Everything is starting to become a sign, or some kind of joke by fate. How could something happen to make him happy when simultaneously she is falling into despair? Who's making the rules around here?

She realizes she hasn't said anything back when he pauses, hands on her shoulders and expression questioning.

"What's going on? What happened?"

No. No. She isn't doing this, at least not right now. She isn't, so she reverts to a habit she hates admitting wasn't that foreign to her just a few years ago.

She makes up a lie on the spot. She did it earlier, and it was like a crack in the dam relieved some of the pressure.

"They denied my candidacy."

Fuck, how is she even going to explain this later? How did she even stoop so low as to lie about something that monumental, especially when both of them were on the verge of celebration? Especially when she knew Peter got approved for his just yesterday and was over the moon, yet wanted to wait for her news before any kind of revelry?

"What? No - no, how did? Baby, your work is brilliant. I know, I looked at it, I - Dr. Bernoff said it was one of the best he's ever seen. There's no way, there has to be some kind of mistake -"

"Well it isn't.", she snaps, and a gasp follows suit.

She couldn't help it. The mention of a doctor, even if Bernoff isn't that kind of doctor, was enough to trigger the worst in her. At the same time, it might as well be true, what she said. Doctoral candidacy approved or not, she was never going to see it through to the end now.

"I'm - I'm sorry. Pete, I'm so…"

She doesn't get to finish whatever apology she intended, because sobs just manifest from her lips as easily as those lies. Just as easily, she's enveloped in strong arms she thinks of as home more than any actual place, and the evening turns into Peter doing the absolute most to comfort her.

He goes as far as promising to look into some kind of recourse, any sort of legal avenue there might be to get a re-evaluation or see if there was a mistake involved.

All the while, the letter approving her candidacy burns a hole through the inside pocket of the rain-soaked jacket, and shame burns a hole through her.

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

A week goes by.

A week filled with terrible impulses and memories surfacing, muddling the atmosphere in their home, which she hasn't left for the past two days. It was the weekend, but they usually do something on the weekend. Peter takes it a little bit easier as Spider-Man, and they have more time to just be with each other.

This time, she infected the entire apartment with so much acrimony that Peter spent both Saturday and Sunday either out with his friends or suiting up. To be fair to him, he did try his best, but it was no match for her worst.

All week, all she did was pull away, both emotionally and physically, and the latter probably hurt him more than the former. Peter is loving in every way one might desire, but his foremost act of affection is touch. Reassurance, comfort, safety, or just plain confirmed presence - he conveys all of them through gestures unique to him.

Any other time, she'd be melting at the sight of him just being himself, but the conversion from normalcy to volatility took very little push. Maybe this isn't how people normally react when getting this type of life-altering news. Maybe the first thing they feel isn't scalding guilt. Maybe, they allow themselves to process the information alongside loved ones, instead of causing them stress by hiding things from them and acting like the world is ending for what appears to be no well-founded reason.

To think, a week ago, she thought she'd have good news. Great news, in fact. She thought maybe that nausea meant something else. She thought the ring on her finger might get another one placed next to it some time next year.

All these plans people have, and they're unaware they could crumble in a second - or, in her case, six minutes or less.

Today marks the one week anniversary of that call, so she's trying to focus on everything else, sometimes all at once. Having requested to work from home for the next few days, citing the flu, she's free to keep occupied even when she should be taking reasonable breaks. It's not like her job is labor intensive - it's her eyes that hurt more than anything else at the end of the day.

It isn't the case right now. She isn't sure where these sensations keep coming from, but all day has been nothing but discomfort. The worst of it is concentrated in her lower back, and she knows from experience that pain from her navel radiates all around her abdomen. The nausea has come back, tacked on to general exhaustion for extra misery points. She knows the doctor told her to come in as soon as any symptoms like this start manifesting, but she isn't ready for that. She doesn't know if she will be for a while.

He also said she should come in anyway, just to discuss the road ahead, but she isn't sure about that either. She can't do it until she's talked to Peter, but she can't talk to Peter today. After what she's put him through all week, she needs to dial it back a little and not drop this on him at a horrible time.

She supposes no time is particularly good for telling your fiancé that eventually, he'll have to find someone else to marry.

No one has made it. No one.

Her grandmother, dead at 64. Her mother, dead at 57. Both her aunts, with hospitals as second homes for years. Both gone.

Gone screaming and blaming.

Her mother wasn't even all there at the end, the dementia having eaten away at the parts of her that sometimes professed love for her family. There wasn't much to devour, but it did all the same. She doesn't really remember her grandmother, or granny, as she was forced to call her. Although she doesn't remember, she has an imagination and her mother's words. There wasn't much to lose, but it too was lost, to a stroke.

Auntie Marcia didn't come to the funeral, but she did show up to the will reading. Most of her inheritance was spent in Austria and Switzerland, searching for a cure for MS, when a very willing doctor took her money in exchange for experimental surgery. She ended up living less than she would have, and with a worse quality of life.

Auntie Crystal took her life at 49, the youngest of them all.

Or she was.

Despite every female figure in her life having been laid to rest, their legacy seems to have been passed forward. They all had horrible fates to deal with, but they enthusiastically imparted every bit of those on their husbands and children.

She is not doing that to Peter. She'd sooner stage a murder or melt into the sun.

But she doesn't know how to talk to him either when pain seems inevitable, so she wonders why it had to be this way. Why can't her body just… not do this to her, so she doesn't have to do this to him?

Why is shielding the man she loves from the thing she fears most not a possibility? How is she supposed to put him through what others very happily put her through?

There's no handling this with care. She knows what he'll say, or she thinks she knows. She knows what he'll want her to do, and she would do it for him at a moment's notice, but is that… is that…

Marriage was supposed to be their life. A family was supposed to be their life. Just a little corner of their own, because they happen to be pretty good at filling whichever empty space with love.

The thought tears open a raw wound, and a shocked breath leaves her. She's managed to think herself into a startled wail that has given way to painful clarity.

Still, she has enough mental fortitude left to quell the sobs and get up to wash her face. It's close to when Peter should get home, and she isn't putting more tension between them. She feels too weak for a peace offering like dinner, even if she could find something to keep down, but she can at least pull herself together.

God, twenty-nine. She won't even see forty.

She won't see Peter at forty, much as she teased him about that single silver hair on the top of his head some time ago. Even if she somehow lives, despite everything in her history that says she won't, what she isn't doing is putting him through this.

She knows what it is to live surrounded by fatal diseases. It's rarely the one thing - rather, the comorbidity rips an individual apart. You become your own worst nightmare.

She can't. He's too precious. She'd give everything to protect him from that.

Rinsing her face once more, she knows the water hasn't done enough to clear the puffiness or the redness of her eyes. He'd see through her in an instant - might even smell her tears, weird as that is. He's had moments like that before, where he sensed her distress despite hours having passed.

She doesn't want to think of what it must've been like for the past week. She's done a pretty good job of not breaking down while at home, but once he left for nightly rounds, tears couldn't not escape.

He might ask, and he might not, but most likely he will, so she might as well try to look a little more alive. Shutting the door to the bathroom, she makes her way into their bedroom, opening the first drawer of the vanity for her makeup bag.

She doesn't sit down in front of the vanity, because she doesn't want another trip to the bathroom or another splash of frigid water to her face.

She manages some improvements like concealer and blush, but it feels like painting over a cracked wall. The makeup feels cakey and unnatural, and in a small fit of anger, she wipes it off, returning her face to what it was before: crestfallen and just slightly dented. It feels like that anyway: like a permanent locking of her facial muscles into the right position for ruining any night.

Putting away the makeup, she's startled by her ringing phone in the living room, and quickly makes her way over, eager for a distraction but hoping it isn't Peter.

She makes it only two steps in before a bout of intense dizziness swirls her world to darkness.

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

Peter drags his feet on getting home, and he realizes with a heavy heart that it's the first time in a long, long time that this has happened. He can't remember ever being anything less than excited to see the love of his life at the end of a day, and if he ever was, then he longed for her touch and quiet comfort instead.

Last week he was deprived of both, and this week isn't shaping up to be any better, if the morning was any indication. He left before breakfast, which rarely happens, and when he kissed her cheek she barely mumbled a goodbye in return.

He understands. Or, at least, he tries his best. Since the news about her candidacy rejection arrived, she's retreated into a space he couldn't reach her from all through the weekend. Peter knows what this means to her, because he knows what it means for himself as well. Maybe she'd decide to try again, to go over her work and do more and maybe get approved in another couple of years, but maybe she wouldn't.

He isn't obtuse, or a stranger to her innermost thoughts. He knows what she must be thinking, and he knows she blames herself. They left the wedding for next year specifically because this year was supposed to be the end-all, be-all for their academic journey. The work was done and the papers were in order. All that was left was getting those fancy letters after their name, not that either of them cared too much. Still, he liked their little private joke of who would be more obnoxious about it: her friends or his.

Not that funny anymore, especially since he'd get to go ahead and complete his Ph.D.

He wishes he got rejected too, just to share in the misery, or maybe to not feel this guilty.

Peter is tired after a week of seeing her like this, but to be fair, any amount of sadness is too much for the person he loves. He's felt her devastation ten times over, because he knows there isn't anything he can do but watch and be there for her. She hasn't said anything about any of his proposals to go over the work together and maybe fix something for next year.

And though Peter cares and feels and loves deeply, he is human - at least where it counts - and he has been excluded from, even denied, contact with the one he adores most. It doesn't feel like she's simply sad or disappointed, intense as those emotions may be. It feels like she's pulled away from him and has no plans of reestablishing contact.

He knows it's silly, and that his own emotions are running on fumes right now, so he's prone to misinterpreting things - but there's a hunch, and it sits uncomfortably in the center of his chest every time he looks at her and she avoids his eyes.

He wants to talk, even if she doesn't. He wants to at least make sure they're ok, that this is just the first major setback they've handled together - well, maybe the second. They were, after all, sort of broken up for a week back in college, when instead of telling her his secret, he let her (by accident, of course) find him passed out in his dorm, bloody and beaten and wearing his suit, whatever was left of it.

They've come a long way, through graduation, sharing a workplace for a little while, moving in together and promising to entwine their lives for the rest of time. Yeah, Peter feels a little sentimental after a week without emotional fulfillment.

So he skips home a little faster instead of moving through molasses, thinking he can always try again and hoping she's at least open to receiving affection.

He moves past the entrance and jumps over the handrail of the first floor, and maybe he cheats a little by not walking up all the steps to their apartment. When the door comes into view, he knows instinctively that she's home, which is a little odd given the time, but he's more than fine with it.

He wonders briefly if he should ring the doorbell or use his keys, but he tries for the doorbell first. He waits for the patter of her steps, but it doesn't come right away, so he tries again.

And again, nothing.

Thinking she's in a meeting or maybe just has headphones on, he retrieves his keys and selects the one for the lower lock, but when he goes to turn it, he realizes her own has been left in on the other side. He shakes his head with an amused huff before taking out his phone and calling her. He hears it ring loud and clear inside, but again no movement. The phone rings and rings, but she is in one place, quite close to the front door based on how her heartbeat reaches his ears.

She isn't listening to music in the middle of the hallway, and Peter's hair stands up on his arms.

He wouldn't care for the front door, even if it turned out to be a mistake, but when a shove from his super strength tears it open, he doesn't care about anything anymore.

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

She wakes in a room she doesn't need to see clearly to know where it resides, and it churns her stomach before she's even gathered her bearings.

Light or day, she can't make out yet as her eyes continue to adjust, but the grip on her right hand she'd recognize sedated.

Too many hospitals she's been in, but never as a patient and never with him. A deep terror seizes her heart, thinking it a horrendous little glimpse into the future and wanting to disappear on the spot.

Her panic alerts both Peter and the heart monitor, one before the other with a considerable lapse between them. Of course he knows. He always does.

"Shh, I'm here. Right here, sweetheart."

His hand brushes the hair from her face gently, holding her cheek and wiping away a tear that escaped.

He coos and shushes her sweetly, providing much needed relief but also plunging the wound into more salt. Inevitability has arrived, and it has made it so that she has to hurt him in the worst possible way.

She doesn't even remember what exactly happened, only that she wasn't much better before waking up in here, and if she doesn't remember, it means he found her like that. Just inexplicably unconscious.

She knows how Peter worries. She knows just how deeply you must reach into his heart to succeed in hurting him. This is not a surface wound - he's confessed his worst fears once before, voice quiet and trembling, and they are living in them now.

She is making him live them.

"Hey, hey. Baby, you've gotta calm down. You're alright. The doctor's gonna see us in a minute or two, ok? I'll go get 'em."

"No - no, Peter. No, please. Please, just stay here. Please just…"

The words her mother said, ringing out inside her skull, bring the world to a stop.

Do you know what it's like… begging him to stay? Begging him not to leave you?

She gasps for breath and pushes him away, shocking both of them momentarily.

I hope you do. I hope you find out.

Peter brings her into his chest and holds her there until she calms, having not seen her like this in a very long time but unable to forget what to do. She’s been like this only once before in the entire time they've known each other, and he remembers, because she was grieving.

Her mother had just been buried, but she wasn't invited. No, she was expressly left out of the funeral at her mother's request, and Peter also remembers thinking he's grateful he never met the woman.

Something has gotten away from him in this moment; her distress shows that unequivocally. Perhaps something got away from him last week, as he dreads to believe. Whatever it is, the love of his life is trembling in his arms like a leaf in the wind, so his mission right now isn't to investigate.

But it would appear his mission is going to be interrupted no matter its purpose, because a doctor walks in with a look he instantly doesn't like.

She doesn't react.

"Oh… I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm Dr. Connely. Um… I wanted to discuss something important with both of you, and I'm afraid it can't wait, even if it seems a bad time.", he says with a firm look, yet his eyes don't hold Peter's gaze like he expects them to.

What is so important that can't wait until his girl isn't turning catatonic in his arms?

"I don't know what you two have gone through already, and you have my sincerest apologies for this. But I want you to know that we have started an investigation into what happened, and there will be consequences for the people involved."

Peter finds himself shaking his head in disbelief at what he's hearing. What on earth is he talking about? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? How is he looking at the state of her and not reacting to help her?

"You're the fiancé, Peter, yes?", the doctor asks.

"Right now I'm Mr. Parker. But yes. Would you mind informing us what's going on?", Peter returns in a rigid tone.

The man clears his throat and looks away again, shifting his position uncomfortably before taking a steadying breath.

"Please don't."

Both men turn their heads to follow the sound of her voice, one surprised and the other wishing he were anywhere else.

"Baby?", Peter asks, trying to see her face but she avoids his gaze as she removes herself from his embrace.

"We haven't - I haven't had a chance to talk about it yet, so I'd like to talk to my fiancé alone. Could you… give us a minute?"

Peter is confused, but hurt isn't lurking far behind in this carousel of emotion.

"That's… I'm afraid that's just the thing, ma'am. There's been a mistake. The diagnosis you were given last week, the - the call I gave you last week - I apologize. I know it doesn't begin to cover it, but there was a mix up at the lab. They attributed your test results to someone else, and only this afternoon did they identify the problem. I tried to call you earlier, but I couldn't get through. I am so terribly sorry."

There's silence, and then there's a sniffle.

And then a louder sniffle, but half-suppressed. She breathes in deeply, wiping away tears and rubbing at her cheeks with more force than necessary. Nonetheless, her features don't light up, but they aren't so solemn anymore. It's the face of someone who's just been through everything only to discover it was for nothing, either good or bad.

"Are you… you're sure?"

She doesn't look directly at the doctor, but that's mostly because she's trying to avoid lifting her head and catching Peter's expression. She needs to gather herself first.

"We're certain. It was a horrible mistake, and you are fully entitled to seek clarification and anything else you might feel you need in order to… to make this right. We apologize."

Her mind is mostly… quiet. She doesn't know what else to say to him, and that's because she wants to say nothing more. If possible, she wants to just stay silent for a while.

But she needs to ask.

"Could you um… tell me why I'm here, then?"

"Sweetheart, you passed out. I found you on the floor, in the living room. Can you please, please tell me what's going on here, because I feel like I'm losing my mind.", Peter says, trying his best to get a hold of himself and not freak out like he wants to. He understands both very little and too much.

To her credit, she does tearfully look at him, a plea in her eyes and brows and entire being that floors him. He knows when she's asking him to hold her without words, and despite his confusion and his hurt, he can't deny her.

"Peter… this is… I know how you - God, baby. I promise, I'll tell you everything. Everything you want, what I should've told you. I just… I need you right now. I need you.", she whispers to him, having forgotten everything about any third person in the room. No one exists but the two of them.

And Peter? Peter has never heard her begging like this, as if for her own life, and it scares him stiff.

Their moment is only broken by Connely, who is clearly not trained to handle this type of atmosphere in a patient's room.

"Your fainting episode was caused by an iron deficiency. Your levels would be normal, but in your current circumstances, you're going to have to take some supplements to keep them within the normal range."

She reacts before Peter, searching for the doctor's expression with her own tired one. Peter doesn't have much of an expression, because he's an inch away from insanity.

"I realize that this is not how you might want to find out normally, but given the extraordinary… events that have led here, and my part in them, I'm compelled to inform you that your test results were identified… ultimately. The blood work confirmed your pregnancy, which we estimate at around five weeks."

…

Nothing. Crickets. Awkwardness, perhaps, which Dr. Connely feels too harshly for a few more moments before he turns on his feel and leaves, having already fucked up enough things. The door closes with a quiet click and the room remains quiet for many unbroken minutes.

"This isn't real. I'm a clown, and this is a circus."

She doesn't mean to laugh. She doesn't. She's actually a little horrified that she does, but she also can't stop. It is by no means a natural laugh - no, it feels like her body is trying to force something out without doing too much damage, and the only way it knows how is like this.

Peter doesn't laugh. He frowns at her laughter though, and continues frowning until his forehead is frozen into position. His eyes feel like they're disappearing behind his eyebrows.

He thought maybe he'd breach insanity, but apparently it's her.

His fiancée.

His pregnant fiancée.

Oh my God.

Oh my God, she isn't stopping. She's going to hurt herself.

"Baby - baby stop. You're gonna - just stop, ok, I'm losing my fucking mind here, please?", he tries, and to his great relief, she does come to a stop with some more chuckles.

"I'm sorry, heh… I don't think I wanted to laugh. Just didn't know what to do. Still don't know, actually.", she says, attempting to fix her wrinkled clothes and tangled necklace with trembling hands. Thank god they didn't put her in one of those gowns, because that would be the only way to make this whole situation the perfect shitstorm.

Though, in fixing her clothes, she pauses briefly on her shirt, and it's almost impossible to resist the urge. Her right hand comes to rest over her abdomen, searching unsurely for some moments before settling on the spot most comfortable.

There's nothing to feel yet; of course there isn't. But it doesn't stop the rush of unparalleled emotion from tearing down every defense and every worry.

Through misty eyes, she sees Peter's hand come to rest over hers, and her lids fall shut in a moment of bliss. It's not happiness, not in the conventional sense; but she's never felt relief of this sort traveling from the top of her head to her toes. It's overwhelming in the most innocuous way, like leftover adrenaline after a rush of danger. Her feet are kind of sweating, and the only need she has in this moment is to feel him close.

She leans over to the right to reach her arms around his neck, but he surprises her by moving onto the bed, making her scoot over before pulling her into him more fully.

There they sit, together, for longer than either anticipated needing. They don't speak, because there's no need yet. There's only the security of the other's embrace and small kisses planted on cheeks and temples.

Peter is the one who speaks first, words a whisper of reverence.

"There's a baby in here.", he says, palm spread out over her belly and lips by her ear. He hasn't stopped kissing her hair for the past minute, and she hasn't said anything about it, more than aware of just how disoriented he must be.

Peter never likes flying on high emotion like this, since it always disturbs his control of his senses and induces a whole body ache. She's been there with him for many sessions when he just needed to calm down, and enlisted her help to do so, usually by touch that provides a baseline. He always says it's easier to focus with her there.

"There is.", she whispers back.

She doesn't believe in the saying that words can make something true once spoken, but it's undeniable just how monumental that affirmation is and feels.

There is a baby in there, and she didn't even get to jump for joy or scream or cry, or plan some stupid little surprise for Peter where she watches him work it out. She didn't get to have an evening or two where she's the only one who knows and smiles a million times, thinking of how he'll react when she tells him.

No. Instead, she got this. And he got worse. And there is anger, but also guilt, and a good amount of anxiety for what's next.

None of it is in his eyes, though.

His eyes, when she searches for them, are nothing short of unforgettable for what she finds in them. She's never seen him this way on any of the days and nights they've shared in life, and she can only respond with a desperate kiss that feels neverending.

Only, it does end when the door opens, but the feeling stays there, trapped between them and held in their hearts forever. She doesn't know what it is they've just said to each other, but she knows what it means, and she's free to relax for the first time in a week.

The nurse takes her blood pressure and other vitals while they somewhat defrost, returning to their more normal selves. She's told she can go home, but that until she begins taking the required supplements, she shouldn't overextend herself.

It's Peter who confirms that the recommendation is understood, and she already knows what the next months are going to look like. It brings an amused smile to her lips before the nurse has even left, but she says nothing.

They're told they can fill out the release form at the front desk, and also pick up the iron and vitamin prescription there. She tells Peter he can go get them when she sees him anxious to leave, but he waits until she has her shoes and coat on - which she's amazed he thought to bring - before wrapping an arm around her waist to guide her out of the room.

And down the hallway.

And all the way back home, which they take a cab for at his insistence.

Yes, the next eight months or so will be exactly like this, she thinks as they exit the elevator in silence.

Nothing much has been said, but tension doesn't exist between them; only tender connection necessitating no words.��However, she can't resist uttering some words when she sees the door to their apartment.

"Pete? What did -"

"I broke that."

She looks up from his side, seeing the toothy grin only partially as he doesn't meet her gaze.

"You broke that? Peter, we just installed that door a few months ago. You said we needed a new door because you didn't like how flimsy the old one was."

"Yeah, and now we'll get another one."

"The last one was almost a thousand dollars!"

"And it could've been ten thousand. Would've broken it anyway.", he confirms, not seeing her point.

He helps her past the bits of debris from the jamb, even if there's really no danger. He can't help it. Ever since they left the hospital - and honestly, before that really - he's switched modes. His entire body is vibrating with something. He hasn't been farther than a foot away for the past few hours, and he's quite fine with that. Would be hard to be any other way right now.

"Why?"

"Wha - what do you mean, why? Because you were in here unconscious!"

She looks back at him as he tries to prop up the door as well as he can, knowing it isn't fixable with any tools they might have around the house.

"You couldn't come in through the window?"

The question gives him pause, but he refuses to acknowledge that that was even a possibility. Nope, it never was. He knows how she is - if he tells her that he forgot he even could do that for a minute, she'll never let him live it down.

"Baby… did you forget you were Spider-Man?", she coos with a laugh.

"Shh! The neighbors can hear you! We don't have a door!"

She laughs as she heads into the bathroom, Peter calling after her to be careful and to leave the door open.

"D'you need to hear me pee?", she jokes.

"I hear you pee anyway, door or no door!", he calls back, chuckling at her popping her head out to shush him.

"Peter!"

"What? I don't listen, I just hear it - it's involuntary, you know that."

"I don't think I did. And now I do. And I wish I didn't!"

"Sweetheart, we're gonna go through a lot of embarrassing stuff soon, you know that right?"

"No. You mean I'll go through the embarrassing stuff, and you will look on in shock and horror and then wonder how -"

"That is incorrect! This is a team effort!", he interrupts, motioning between them.

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd be providing assistance with growing the baby."

He blanks and pouts at her deadpanning.

"Well, no - but I'll be assisting with everything else! Foot rubs, snack runs, doctor appointments -"

There's a clang from the bathroom, and Peter's feet almost move without him. The door is open, and she's cursing and bending over to grab a bottle of mouthwash she dropped into the sink.

"You ok? Dizzy again?", he asks, wanting to move closer but giving her some space. He doesn't need to be suffocating.

She closes her eyes with a sigh, hands on the edge of the sink.

"No… No, just… maybe no more doctor's appointments for a few days, ok?", she asks quietly before looking at him with uncertain eyes.

Peter exhales long and slow, taking in her tired face and dropped shoulders and realizing just how much this week has taken out of her. Or, he would realize, if he knew what actually happened, but he hasn't the faintest idea how to approach the subject. The revelation of her state complicates things, and he's willing to give her whatever she asks in a heartbeat because of how sensitive he's feeling too.

It's as though she can see his hesitation and internal turmoil, because she gives him a small smile.

"Let's eat something and talk… about everything, yeah? I want to tell you, but it's gonna… be hard. I never talked about this with you, but I need you to know it wasn't because I was hiding it. I just thought I was past it, and that it meant nothing anymore."

Peter nods with a tiny smile of his own, going back to fiddle with the door. Nothing he does helps, until he gets the idea to just snap it back into place like Tetris, hoping the frame will at least hold until tomorrow.

To his credit, it does, but the noise it makes when he jams his shoulder into the steel provokes a yelp from the kitchen.

"Jesus, what are you doing to that thing?", she calls out.

"Fixing it!"

Dinner follows almost an hour later, and they realize how little food is left after last week. To Peter, this is unacceptable and must be immediately remedied - and he says so, prompting a full laugh from his partner.

There may be a very protective streak taking hold of him, but as long as she isn't complaining, he's set to go full steam ahead.

They eat mostly in silence, but they do so on the couch, side by side and comfortable with it. When they've finished, he doesn't know who should go first, but she takes the initiative.

Cuddling up next to him and pulling a blanket over their legs, she sighs into his chest before taking his left hand in her right.

"This won't be easy to hear, just so it's out there…", she begins. Peter finds that his chest doesn't tighten up at the warning. In fact, this feels like a conversation they've almost already had in a way, because of how much his mind ran itself into the ground while waiting for her to wake up at the hospital.

The doctor's words arose many suspicions, and he knows she'll quell them now, even if he doesn't know everything.

"I went to get blood work done about ten days ago, because I'd been feeling a little weird. I figured it was… well, what it is now, because you know.. We haven't really been careful, just - at all, lately."

Yeah, he knows. She slaps his chest when she sees the stupid little smirk on his face.

"I'm being vulnerable here.", she asserts.

"Sorry, sorry - go ahead."

She clears her throat once before continuing.

"I got a call last week from the doctor we saw at the hospital, but he didn't say what I thought he'd say. He didn't tell me I was pregnant. He said - he said that I…", she stops, sucking air through her teeth and squeezing his hand.

He doesn't press, but he steadies his own mind.

"He told me I had ovarian cancer."

Peter holds in a breath for longer than necessary, but when he releases it his eyes are no less teary.

"And you - you… pff, uhm…"

He doesn't want to accuse. He doesn't. But he can't see how - how did she not -

"I didn't tell you, and you have to trust me, please, because I couldn't believe it was happening to me. I didn't want to believe it was following me, like it um… like it followed everyone else, I guess.", she says shakily, pulling away an inch in order to look into his eyes.

Followed everyone else? What is she talking about?

"Peter… in my family, every woman I've ever been related to has lived an awful life and died an even worse death. You don't know this, because I never, ever talked about it. I didn't want to. Most of them were dead before we met, and my mother… you know what my mother said. About me, to me… But you don't know what it was like to live with them.", she takes a pause, breathing in and out to calm herself.

Peter watches as if suspended in time.

"My grandmother died when I was little. My mother used to leave me with her for the summer, maybe just to get away from me or maybe because it was nice to get a break from a child she didn't want to have. I didn't like my grandmother, even as a kid. I always got the feeling she looked at me like she wanted me to know she didn’t love me, and that it might make me leave or something. I don't know. But the summer before my sixth birthday, she had a stroke and died on the spot. I called my mom to come pick me up but she didn't answer until the next day, so I slept in the house with her. I think I… I think I tried to put a blanket over her. I didn't know what to do."

She wipes away her freely falling tears before Peter has a chance to, and she pushes on despite the little sobs that escape.

"My aunt, the oldest one, she was estranged from the family but before she really broke away, she told everyone in our neighborhood - and you know, it was a small town where everyone knew each other - um, she spread stories about us. She made up things, she told some truths, but the end was the same. My mother hated her forever for having to leave her house. We only heard from her again when they read my grandmother's will and she told us she had MS. My mother wished her agony, and I suppose she got her wish, because some hack in Europe operated on her and left her paralyzed for three years. Her kids didn't even visit her once before she died, and they buried her in Austria."

She breaks to lean over for the glass of water on the table, but Peter is faster, handing it to her and wiping away her tears with his sleeve when she's done. She tries to smile at him, but can't quite manage it.

With another deep breath, she continues, realizing the dam is just about to spill over.

"Auntie Crystal was the youngest. She was diagnosed with schizophrenia at 47, but she didn't tell anybody. We knew she acted a little strange, but my mother didn't believe in mental illness, so she left her with us whenever she needed, or just - when she felt like it. At 49 she tried to burn down the house with me and my cousins in it, but I think she had a moment of clarity or something, because she brought us out of the house before anything… you know, happened."

"Fuck…", Peter says quietly, unable to help himself.

"Yeah… but then - b-but she… she walked back inside. She walked back inside and never came out. I think she felt guilty for trying to hurt us. My mom didn't believe us when we told her, so I think, for a long time, she just resented everyone involved. I never saw either of my cousins after that."

"Baby, stop. Hey, just - let's just take a break, yeah?", Peter asks, but his tone is rougher than he wants it to be. It's a lot to take in, he's trying not to be overwhelmed, but he's also unable to watch her in so much distress.

She shakes her head however.

"I know this is… I know it's so much information. But I can't ever talk about this again. I want to do it now, and I want to put it away for good. And that's ok if you don't think you can listen, you can tell me. Please."

"Sweetheart, listen to me: it's not too much. It's hard seeing you like this, but if you need to say it, I want you to. That's all I'm here for. I love you."

They steady each other with a lingering kiss as she returns the sentiment, keeping close but discarding the blanket. It's gotten a little bit warm.

"Do you remember when my mother died? That I couldn't go to her funeral because her lawyer told me she didn't want me there?", she asks, and Peter nods. He does remember, most notably because it was the first time he helped her out of a panic attack he didn't see coming. He wasn't as in tune with her back then.

"She had dementia, Peter. She couldn't even remember who I was by the end, even though I was the only one still showing up to see her. She didn't have that put in her will before she died. She must've done it years before, if not earlier. She nev - she never loved me. She never loved me. My mother never loved me."

And so the dam finally breaks, or spills, or ceases to exist at once. Whatever force it exerts as it shakes her body, it's the type of force Peter knows he can't fight with brute strength. All he can do is be the foundation she needs to keep going and purge this from her soul finally.

It's with great exhaustion and reluctance that she separates from him minutes later, but it's just to reach for the blanket again, wrapping it around herself and lying down with her head in his lap. He smiles down at her, watching her with tender eyes.

"Sleepy?", he asks.

She nods with a sniffle.

"Don't pet my hair. I'll pass out, and I have more to say."

He huffs in soft amusement.

"You sure you don't wanna nap first?"

"It's not much more. This part is about us."

"Oh… well, go ahead then."

"A gentleman, I see."

"Isn't that why you love me?"

"This is why I love you. This and a million other things. We'll be here all month if I have to list them all. I might give birth on this couch if I start."

They share a silly chuckle, and it's just what they seem to need before the next part.

"I lied to you. I didn't mean to, but I panicked. I was in shock too, I guess. It's not an excuse, but I'm trying to explain what was happening in my mind at the time. When I came home and told you that my candidacy was rejected, that was maybe an hour or so after I got the call from the doctor."

Peter can't say he's too shocked or surprised, but the confirmation of one potential avenue he'd considered still brings some form of jolt to his brain.

"You didn't get rejected?"

"No. I know it's horrible that I lied like that. I wanted to have more time to process what I just heard, and I don't mean anything by it, but I can't hide anything from you. You read me like - I don't know, something easily read."

Peter barks an unexpected laugh.

"Nice metaphor... miss Ph.D."

"Shush. I have no tangent with artsy fields."

"You painted our bedroom wall with sunflowers last winter."

"And you let me. Case closed."

"I really think you should be nicer to me. I feel very bamboozled right now.", he jokes, but immediately sees it doesn't go down well.

"Pete", she whispers, suddenly sitting up and throwing her arms around his neck, holding on tighter than he thinks she ever has before. He doesn't know what happened.

But she tells him soon enough.

"I don't know how to apologize to you. I don't know what to… say. The things I've been thinking all week, how I treated you - I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry. I didn't tell you all this so you can feel bad for me or understand me better. I told you because me not telling you is the reason I never let it go. All those memories of my mother and what she did to everybody, and what they did to her… I lived surrounded by illness all my life, and I've seen what it does to people. But I've also - seen what they can do with it. My mother drove my father to his breaking point, in part because she wanted to. Because at some point, she wanted everyone to feel how her illness wrecked her. We all shared in that misery for years. I didn't - I didn't want that to be me, and I didn't want that to be you. Least of all you, baby."

Peter's grip gets as tight as he'll allow in lieu of just absorbing her into himself. Both of them are crying freely, muffling sobs and soaking up each other's shoulders with tears.

It turns out, knowing isn't always the end goal. What Peter has wanted to know all week was not a revelation, but a feeling decades in the making. It wasn't hidden from him with ill intent, but born out of a need to protect.

He understands. Oh, does he understand.

He tries communicating it with declarations of love, and they are all received and returned tenfold. He never realized just how much she held locked inside for his sake, and it blindsides the most vulnerable parts of him. He's seeing her with new eyes now, and a subtle shift has taken place in their relationship that is entirely needed.

They'll be going forward stronger now, and more in sync than ever. He senses it in how they move in the days after their conversation.

They seem to be on the same wavelength about everything, sharing thoughts and even, one time, a craving for popcorn. They're functioning seemingly from the same weird plane of existence, as if they've unlocked some new stage in their shared lives.

The first doctor appointment is his suggestion, but only because she lets him go first when they both speak at the same time. She was going to say the same thing, apparently.

She confesses an extreme dislike of hospitals, so Peter finds a smaller clinic with a very well appraised obstetrics specialist, and they learn that they have much to learn. Despite their various accolades, neither of them knows a great deal about babies, except for how they're made.

They get reacquainted with some of the specifics that have brought them here, and Peter finds with great delight that some changes have already taken place. Heightened sensitivity is no longer just his thing, and they both discover one of those embarrassing moments he mentioned weeks ago. Well, embarrassing for her - he's absolutely delighted with just how responsive she is nowadays.

Around four months in, she finds an opportunity to seize some of the joy she feels was unjustly taken from both of them in how they found out the news of her pregnancy.

She debates for a good while if she should do it, but then it's as if fate intervenes - for once, in her favor. It just so happens that Peter's defense of his doctoral thesis is scheduled at the same time as the ultrasound she's been thinking about for days. They're supposed to find out exactly what sort of menace will be born in a few months' time, and they both agreed on wanting to know way back when. They have bets going.

Peter's feeling just a bit more confident than her, having already piled around a hundred bucks or so on his insistence that their firstborn will be a little girl. She's put forward nothing, changing her mind every single day, but she did promise to match him if he wins. Peter has teased her more than once that she just doesn't want to admit he's right.

But when the opportunity presents itself to find out before him, as his presence is unfortunately impeded, she suddenly finds herself extremely sure. Something within her just knows, even if she hasn't arrived at the clinic yet. Whatever it is, it's in agreement with her fiancé.

She isn't even a little surprised when the doctor confirms it, but her mind is running a million miles an hour with stupid little scenarios.

She wants to find the most ridiculous way to tell him, but she doesn't have time. He'll be finishing his defense any minute now, and she knows he'll check in before he can present his final statement. She needs to do something before that.

It's a text. Just a text. Yet she can't stop smiling while typing.

Good luck on your statement. We're rooting for you.

xx Your Girls xx

She's never been this yucky or sickly sweet, but she can't feel anything other than giddiness.

Especially when she sees his reply. His four replies, rather.

You owe me 97 dollars.

I knew it

I'm gonna fuck up my statement. fuck

I'm gonna make love to you all night.

She laughs copiously in the parking lot of the clinic, and when she gets home, she goes about with another surprise, one Peter thoroughly enjoys when he makes it home. He makes good on the promise he texted earlier, and they start another little chapter of their lives together.

It's fairly weird to keep discovering so much about each other; with every milestone, it's as though they see themselves in a new light. This is what it means to build: to make singular experiences into a shared foundation, and to see how everything connects moving forward. It means removing yourself from old structures, so that you may start anew.

Part of us as part of something else is how we live our lives, a give and take of trust and love, to be shared and reinforced with every new experience.

And together, they’ll go forward with renewed love.

-fin-

A/N: I welcome any feedback, whatever form it’s in, and it always warms my heart to hear your thoughts. Thank you for reading. I hope you are all alright.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm fanfiction #tasm!spiderman x reader #fanfiction #imagine #peter parker imagine #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader #fluff #angst #peter parker angst #hurt/comfort

873 notes · View notes

redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

Ben 10 lore that exists in my heart regardless of canon

- Ben’s personality in his mid-late teens is a mix of his Alien Force and Omniverse self. On the surface, he’s very cheerful and kind even if he is a bit of arrogant showoff. He makes jokes and plays around and acts as if he isn’t bothered by the things in his life. Those who know him best understand a good portion of his outward confidence and cockiness is just a facade to cover up his insecurities and to project the ideal, effortless hero. While sometimes seen as immature, most beings know Ben 10 means business as he takes his unofficial job and people’s safety very seriously. He’s clever, adaptable, charismatic and empathetic which makes him a formidable opponent and a loyal friend. Doesn’t open up easily but if you get to him, he become so dearly attached.

- Drinks smoothies so much for several reasons. Comfort food go brrr, reminds him of the good easy times with him Gwen and Kev. It’s also a light but generally nutritous food to give him energy for heroing. Anything too heavy and he’ll be puking (both from physical and emotional stress). Though he jokes about his mom’s health foods, his are a crazy concoction of add in proteins and vitamins/minerals bc he knows he’ll out and out collapse without it. (Still has on occasion bc boy still doesn’t eat right/enough)

- While Fame is exciting for him at first he soon begins to detest it. Not the fans, no, he can’t bring himself to hate the people who look up to him. But he hates the constant attention, that he can’t walk outside without being mobbed. the only place he feels safe is his hometown where most people are so used to him and his weirdness that they don’t react much anymore. Takes to wearing a cape and face shield when going out anywhere so he can actually get things done without being recognized and mobbed.

- Part of the reason Bellwood isn’t concerned with Ben is partially because ben’s been weird and alien for as long as they can remember but also many don’t realize how famous/powerful he is. Yeah that’s just Ben Tennyson over there, sometimes he turns into funny creatures- wait what do you MEAN he’s the savior of the universe?? He cried over a spilled smoothie the other day.

- Does mostly online schooling by the time he’s 15. At first he tries to do half day things to maintain something of a normal life but it quickly becomes overwhelming and dangerous him/the school. Finishes his GED early but the Plumbers and Azmuth make him take additional college level and alien courses to prepare him for his future role. Ben gripes but really does love learning all these things, especially on his terms (ADHD and stress + the public school system do not always go hand in hand). He’s a quick learner when he deems the information important and is made accessible to his learning needs.

- Ben definitely has ADHD speaking of which, it was nearly uncontrollable as a child bc his free-spirited parents didn’t believe in medicating. Ben convinced them he needed it and after some trial and error, found meds that worked. As he became more involved in heroics/growing up he had to change his medicine regimen (resulting in him being a bit more off the rails in OV) and needed antidepressants and therapy to manage it better. As an adult he has a whole litany of coping mechanisms (good and bad yes) and regularly checks in with his therapist and doctors to keep things under control.

- Has a complicated relationship with his necrofriggian children. Considers himself their mother and worries after them. They too feel a connection to their parent despite this being unusual for their species. A few visit (some more than others) while they grow while others maintain distance. Ben never breathes a word of them to the media for fear of them being targeted. Still he keeps an eye on them and ensures all 14 mature to adulthood (another rarity for the species). Checks in every now and again with the ones who don’t want to see him and those that do. Two join the Plumbers and Ben is both proud and worried. His youngest becomes partners with Rook Ben.

- Just in general loves kids, they’re his favorite fans and while he’ll grumble at pushy adult fans he always smiles and kneels down for the little ones. Not so secretly wanted to have children of his own but knew it was a risk overall and used a lot of that energy with mentoring and teaching. Eventually had Kenny later in life (late 30s-40s) and was over the moon, becoming such a loving and doing parent or as much as he could be with his hectic schedule.

- Omnitrix can’t come off, never has at any point since it first latched onto Ben’s arm. Azmuth tried and failed to get the device off, doesn’t let Ben know for many years as he feared the consequences. The watch loves and protects Ben even beyond it’s programming making him much more durable to damage and releasing energy charges when he’s threatened. Not even removing Ben’s arm would separate them. They’re stuck for life.

- Ben does have Anodite heritage but the Omnitrix actively suppresses it and uses the built up energy to power the transformations which is why ben is mostly unaffected by what should cause a massive energy drain on him. Theoretically if Ben learned to harness and safely use his Mana at an early age like Gwen he would have been fine but letting it build up without safe outlet meant activation would have killed him. Omnitrix Ben, however, went his whole life not knowing of his latent abilities and how the watch saved his life.

- Ben’s eyes get more green and glowy as time passes from the Omnitrix. At first they think its a trick of the light but by the time he’s an adult his eyes are pretty much glow in the dark. His veins light up too after long stretches of using the Omnitrix. Its vaguely unsettling to people who aren’t used to Ben.

- Max and the Earth Plumbers work so, so hard to keep teen Ben on Earth when half the universe is blowing up their comm lines asking for The Ben 10 to help with whatever problem of the day. Ben himself doesn’t quite understand when he’s younger the prestige and expectations on his shoulders. Max throws up a million and one roadblocks so Ben can live as normal a life as possible while he still can. Still, while doing that he Still overloads Ben with expectations and responsibilities on earth and beyond. He becomes a soldier again with Ben as their greatest weapon. He never forgave himself of losing sight of his grandson underneath the hero esp after Ben’s breakdown.

- Rook partnership with Ben ends not long after Omniverse with his promotion to Magister. Ben tries to play it cool but the thought of another loved one/teammate leaving his tears him apart. Max revealing that Ben most likely wouldn’t get a new Plumber assigned partner since he’s almost an adult and won’t need it and Rook accidentally missing their last smoothie run due to a scheduling mishap causes Ben to snap and have the nervous breakdown that had been building for almost a decade. He completely loses it for a little while and needs to take an extended leave of absence from school and heroics that lasts about a year. Spends time recovering both on Earth and Galvan Prime, does some diplomatic training, learns about aliens, actually confronts the stress and loneliness of his life. He comes out the other side stronger but still fragile and exhausted.

- Ben’s above mentioned breakdown brings him closer to all his friends who didn’t quite realize the extent of Ben’s burden. Rook had been under the impression Ben didn’t like him all that much so the knowledge that his departure was the final straw for friend/hero’s collapse was shocking. Ben and Azmuth also become closer, the Galvan becoming fiercely protective of the boy seeing as his Earth family didn’t do well to keep him safe. It takes years for him to get over his anger at Max for putting so much on his grandchild. Ben makes more friends, in and out of the hero business, finally gets a therapist and gets some of his burdens eased a bit. It’s not a sure fire fix and Ben has several smaller breakdowns the rest of his life but its something.

- Azmuth was straight up suicidal before he met Ben for the first time. Ben gave him back hope for the universe and his ability to create items for peace not weapons. The boy infuriates him, frightens him, frustrates him but Azmuth cannot deny in his heart of hearts that he loves Ben dearly. He’s very upset at Ben’s breakdown and doesn’t know how to handle the worst of the initail outbursts. Azmuth talks Ben down from a suicide attempt. He reaches out to Ben that he Too felt overwhelmed by pressure, thought himself only good for war. Ben’s arrival in his life saved him and now he will do the same for Ben. It’s the first positive step forward in Ben’s recovery.

- For no other reason than I like it, Azmuth primarily refers to Ben as Benjamin (mostly to annoy the kid but he likes the way it sounds too) and Ben in softer, more serious moments.

- Professor Paradox continues to flit in and out of Ben’s life. He says its because Ben is the most equipped to handle universal peril (true) but he’s also just very fond of the boy. Ben, existing in so many forms and having such importance also exists a beat outside of normal reality which Paradox identifies with. Ben is naturally attuned to time related problems because of this (instantly IDing Spanner as from the future before being told later deducing him to be his unborn son). Plus Ben named him, way back when. He’s just drawn to Ben.

- Adult Ben, while being seen as an impressively skilled fighter and champion, really has his strength as a universal diplomat of sorts. Based out of Earth, he helps mediate and defuse conflicts, advocate against tyranny and overall preserve peace and balance. He’s not perfect, he makes mistakes and sometimes is forced to become violent (and yes kill) but overall is regarded as a peacekeeper, something younger ben simply couldn’t understand.

- Gwen gets her degree and primarily does work with advocacy and teaching about magic/alien culture. While she and Ben are still close, there’s a bit of a frustrated divide in that she isn’t helping him share the burden of the universe. Gwen never wanted to be a hero and has enough worth to not shackle herself to a job that’ll burn her out. Ben loves heroing but gives too much of himself away trying to fix everything. They get into screaming arguments that it wouldn’t be so bad out there if she just helped him but she refuses to budge and says he shouldn’t make himself do so much. They always make up and thy still are each other’s closest relationships.

- Ben marries Kai in a political move, Kai is Asexual and Ben Aromantic. They didn’t love each other but they got on well enough and Ben was really feeling the stress of carrying the hero burden so Kai also being involved made him feel like he wasn’t alone. Both were also so tired of the universe constantly asking about their love life and said ‘fuck it we’re married leave us alone’. Gwen was always mad about it feeling Ben deserved better but the two of them were happy with it. They had separate rooms, mostly separate lives but they became strong friends and supports with their strictly platonic marriage. They had Ken via Invitro in an incubator and were loving if extremely busy parents.

- Also from the moment he appeared, Ben knew that Spanner was his future son, Kenny. He played ignorant and then was kind of deliberately teasing him in future encounters. He knew the rules of time and didn’t want to disrupt things further even if he was angry and worried as heck about why Ken felt the need to time travel. When future Ben catches up in the timeline, Kenny gets SUCH a lecture.

- Ben isn’t quite immortal but he’s also not entirely human anymore either. The Omnitrix not only keeps him safe from most harm but it lightens the effect of aging. Ben 10 is active many, many years when most humans would have been forced to retire. He’s not sure how long the watch will keep him alive and it terrifies him. Gwen too is functionally immortal however she ages like a normal human, then when her natural death came, shed her skin and became a fulltime Anodite. So in the end, it was her and Ben together wondering which of them will die first. Gwen has trouble retaining her humanity as pure energy and swears she’ll let herself fizzle out when Ben goes. When that’ll be however...

#Ben 10 #this took sooo long whoops #i wanna write about ben's breakdown so mad you have no idea

291 notes · View notes

hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

Gwynriel Week - Day 1

Favorite Moment Together (let's be honest, there are too many)

"I can't sleep without my favorite dagger."

"A comfort to every growing child."

In honor of meeting in the training ring, here's a little ficlet:

Reunion

Read on AO3

Azriel was surprised to find her in the training ring.

The Blood Rite had only ended two days ago. Training was postponed, both for recuperation and preparation for Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony. And yet there the priestess was, heavy breaths sending clouds of steam into the frigid night air. His shadows wriggled in response to the sight, and he was able to breathe for what felt like the first time since that day they realized the three female trainees had been dropped into the brutal war game.

She was here. She was whole. She was unharmed.

He had glimpsed her that afternoon. He knew that she had survived – had won the damn thing. But with the madness of his High Lord and High Lady’s near death, the birth of their child, everything… he hadn’t gotten the chance to settle. But seeing her in the training ring, like so many evenings before she was stolen away, filled him with such a sense of pride and bone-rattling relief.

He stepped out of the shadowed stairwell, the darkness trailing him like a cape. He would have expected a scathing remark by now about him observing without greeting, but Gwyn simply continued beating the padded post senseless.

“Even Cassian said you could take time off, priestess,” he mused. “I would take advantage. It’s not a privilege often given.” The Spymaster took her in as she turned to face him, chest rising and falling from exertion. Her cheeks were pink, freckles darkened over the flush, and sweat sparkled on her brow. She gave a smile – he could always depend on her to do that – but bruised circles under her eyes betrayed her.

“Can’t sleep?”

Gwyn rolled her neck between her shoulders and flexed her fingers. “Surprising as it may sound, Shadowsinger, being kidnapped and dropped into the most brutal warrior initiation in Prythian can be quite nightmare-inducing.”

Azriel regarded her, tilting his head. Of course. He was a fool not to realize it, mind too preoccupied with knowing that she was safe, and knowing that she had conquered.

He hadn’t shared with anyone how terrifying that week had been for him. Cassian probably suspected, but Azriel made a living and a lifestyle of keeping his expressions schooled and his emotions carefully locked behind several different doors. Knowing there was nothing he could do hadn’t made the fear easier to bear, but it had made the imperative focus on finding Briallyn in that time easier to deal with. His mind had often drifted, though. Far more than he was comfortable admitting. The Blood Rite was appropriately named. It was less an initiation and more like a war. It was brutal and bloody, and knowing the caliber of warriors that Gwyn would have to face made his insides twist.

But knowing the Illyrian opinion of females, and knowing what could happen to her if even one entitled brute got ahold of her and had a taste for flesh…

The blood had frozen in his veins as soon as it was confirmed that she was gone.

The world had not been kind to Gwyn. Their first meeting had not been under pleasant circumstances. In his mind he could see her on that table, trembling and sobbing, as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. He had sworn to himself that if anyone touched her during the Rite he would hunt them down afterwards and show them exactly what the Spymaster and his dark blade were capable of. But in front of that vengeful bloodthirstiness was the stark realization that she may not even survive.

There would have been no more meetings like this, time together that he had begun to crave.

“And what of you, Shadowsinger?” She flashed that teasing grin. “If you say you’re in search of another dagger I might start thinking you’re just making excuses to see me.”

Something inside Azriel snapped. There were no thoughts, no words. He strode the few steps between them and pulled the copper-haired priestess against him, snaking an arm around her back while his other hand pressed her head gently against his shoulder.

“Surprising as it may sound, Berdara,” he breathed, his lips brushing against those soft chestnut-red strands, “sitting and waiting for a week, not knowing if someone you care about will survive the most brutal warrior initiation in all of Prythian – and being powerless to do anything about it – can be quite nightmare-inducing.” He breathed her in, the scent of her and the feeling of her body against him the final confirmation that she was alive and breathing and here. Gwyn breathed in against him, as well, winding her lithe arms around his lower back.

“Az…” she whispered.

“I nearly went mad, Gwyn. When I thought about never finding you out here again…” That was exactly what had gone through his mind. Without his realizing, she had become quite an important fixture in his day-to-day life, and when he had thought about not experiencing her competitiveness, or seeing her triumphant grin when she perfected a new skill, or hearing her call him ‘Shadowsinger’ as scathingly as she could manage – it had shredded him. When her arms tightened around him he felt his heart might burst with warmth.

“It sounds as if you didn’t have confidence in my skills, Shadowsinger,” she snickered against his chest. His shoulders shook with a laugh.

“Never. I know you were trained by the best.”

The priestess snorted and pushed away from him, fixing him with a skeptical look and raised eyebrow. His scarred hands came to rest on her hips. “It must be tiring lugging that enormous ego everywhere.”

“I’m a strong and powerful male. It’s nothing.” He flashed a crooked grin. “I appreciate your concern, though, priestess. Or shall I call you Carynthian?”

“It has a ring to it.” Gwyn gave a nose-crinkling smile. When Azriel looked into her eyes they were soft, a thin sheen of wetness reflecting the glittering stars. He tentatively raised a hand and tucked a stray copper strand behind her ear before tracing those callused fingers over the freckles splattered haphazardly over her cheek.

“I am enormously proud of you, Gwyn. And impressed. And relieved beyond words that you’re home safe,” the Illyrian admitted, not at all ashamed of the honesty.

“There was a moment,” she began, reaching up with her fingers to caress the hand at her face, “when I was hit with that arrow. We were so close to the end, and I hadn’t allowed myself to think until that moment that I might not survive. So many things flashed through my mind in a rush. I… I saw your eyes, and your smile, and heard you laugh. I remember wishing I’d had more time. You’ve become… quite important to me, Shadowsinger.”

Her words were a salve to a heart he once thought broken beyond repair, a tonic to an aching soul. He smiled wider than he could ever remember, grateful that they had been given this chance. The shadows seemed to agree, twirling around their arms and into her hair. Gwyn giggled, a melody made of hope and starlight.

“Sorry about them,” Azriel grimaced, lowering his hand to find his way to her hand and catching a few of her graceful fingers between the mottled skin of his own. “They’re drawn to you.”

“Who can blame them, really?” the priestess – the Carynthian – tittered with a sly grin.

The shadowsinger chuckled. “I certainly can’t.” Pink bloomed over Gwyn’s cheeks – spring roses under freckle constellations – and his grin grew smug. Oh, yes. He liked how it felt to be the cause of that.

Keeping their fingers entwined he pulled at her again, wrapping his other arm around the middle of her back before pressing his lips into her hair. And she didn’t flinch or freeze, which was a consideration he should have had perhaps before he chose to do so. Her fingers fidgeted with his and her shoulders lifted before a contented sigh brought them impossibly tighter together.

“I look forward to our evening training sessions continuing far into the future, Carynthian.” Voice deep and hushed, Azriel leaned his cheek on the soft pillow of silken copper. He wasn’t used to being so forward, and he still found it intimidating to outright speak his heart. He was a man of action, and he could only hope that those helped his cause.

“Maybe a nice dinner or two, as well, Shadowsinger.” He smiled, wide and bright and so unlike the spymaster most knew.

It seemed they heard each other loud and clear.

@gwynrielweek

#gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel supremacy #gwynriel #gwynriel headcanon

146 notes · View notes

tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Meant To Be - Loki x Fem! Reader

Summary: Much to your displeasure, your parents have promised you away to the God of Mischief of all people.

Tags: Arranged Marriage AU, Light Elf! Reader

Warnings: Aside from Loki hating himself, nothing.

Words: 2878

I Masterlist I

A/N: Some good old-fashioned, ‘redeemed after The Avengers and the other movies didn’t happen’ Loki. Like, really cheesy, self-indulgent 2012 stuff. I just want to ignore all misery that happens in the series okay?

“Ew! Stop it!”

You were eight at the time when you and Loki first met, by means of negotiation between both your parents.

If only you knew that this encounter should be the first impression of what should be your husband in the near future...

Frigga and Odin could only plead for their son to be on his best behavior - but well, it’s the God of Mischief we’re talking about. Must be hard to inherit such a title from your very birth.

Just when you put the little bonquet of flowers he had picked up for you towards your face to admire it, several little spiders emerged from the blossoms.

“You’re no fun.” The raven-haired boy stood a safe distance away from you, arms crossed as his gleeful laughter turned into a broad sulk. "And your ears are weird.”

“I hate you!” you screeched in your childish rage, throwing the flowers to the ground and trampling onto them. “Where’s your brother? Thor is way nicer than you!”

“Well, why don’t you marry him then?!” he mocked to cover up his hurt pride, picking up a handful of dirt and throwing it in your direction.

“I don’t need any friends anyway...” the little boy whispered to himself, running away from the scene with tears filling the corner of his eyes.

“I don’t need anyone. I’m way better than all of them!”

Not even Frigga was fast enough to catch up with him, while Odin uttered some fake apologies to your parents, promising them that everything will go as planned.

You on the other hand were running towards your mother, tightly grabbing onto her dress. “He’s mean! I wanna go home!”

As Queen of the Light Elves, your mother was a being full of grace and composure - and you were hoping to one day become such a formidable person as well.

She bowed down to your height, petting your hair as you rubbed the mixture of tears and dirt from your cheeks. Just her bright smile alone would sometimes be enough to make you forget about your worries - but not today.

“My sweet child” she cooed, cradling you in her arms. “One day you’ll understand.”

However, this would be the last time you paid Asgard a visit - at least until now. Because no matter how deeply you wished to never meet him again, the words your mother spoke on that day haunted you all those years:

“For this is your duty as a princess.”

[Present Day - Asgard]

It felt so unreal when you stuck your head outside of the wooden carriage, the wind playing with your hair as your glare wandered over the rainbow bridge you were crossing.

Silence strained the air, your parents unable to do even so much as look into your eyes. Hel, how you wished this was only a dream.

Behind you was a whole company of Light Elves, transporting all of your belongings to what should be your homecountry from now on.

Now there was no way back, that much was sure.

You were supposed to meet your soon-to-be husband on that very same day, one day before your wedding to be precize.

One could only guess why you weren’t allowed to visit Asgard again for all those years, even though you were practically born just for this reason - for this person.

To become Loki’s bride was your involuntary purpose, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be truly free.

Maybe your parents thought the God of Mischief to have a bad influence on their growing daughter, pulling you into his harmless yet dishonorable schemes. Or they simply feared you to refuse marrying said man if you got to know him better, finding out just what kind of person you were promised to.

Not that your parents were pleased either...everyone in the Nine Realms knew the stories.

To Odin, there was no point in hiding the disgrace his adoptive son had brought over Asgard. Not only was he responsible for an attack on Midgard, sacrificing thousands of lives for his own sake, drunken by greed for power.

But all of you were shocked to hear that Loki Odinson - or rather Laufeyson - was never Asgardian to begin with.

A Frost Giant.

Among your kind, they were known to be one of the most terrible abominations in the nine realms, and murderer of countless of your kind - and this should be the father to your future children?

Only thinking about this cruel twist of fate made you want to vomit...

So why did you agree to proceed with the preparations as if nothing had happened? How in Alfheim’s name could you reject their offer to wed you to Thor instead of that lunatic?

Was it that through your upbringing and royal duties, you had lost your own free will? Or simply fear of stepping aside the path that everyone had prepared for you?

It was probably the fact that you didn’t want to get into true love’s way...you and Thor stayed in brief contact through Heimdall, and you just knew how much that human girl meant to him.

You were kinda jealous, though...the concept of being in love was foreign to you, having a vague idea of it from novels only. But real life just wasn’t meant to be that was, was it?

You couldn’t escape your fate, that was what it was - for this treaty would unite both kingdoms, bringing peace and wealth for all of their inhabitants.

No way you could be so selfish as to decline...even if it meant you had to suffer for the rest of your life.

“My Ladyship, we have arrived!” a guard spoke as he knocked on the carriage door, with your parents hinting that you needed to step out first.

The very same guard now yelled from the pit of his lungs, making you feel the whole Kingdom of Asgard could hear. “Now arriving: Lady Y/N Y/L/N, eldest Princess of Alfheim and heir to the throne.”

You heared the people whispering as you took your first, insecure steps, blinded by the bright daylight.

“She’s so pale, like ice” or “Why are her ears like that?” were rather nice comments compared to others plainly calling you ugly, scary or a ‘disgrace’.

Of course your Kingdoms had been in a war for several decades, but this was long in the past - before your very birth, even. So what’s the reason you should bear with such hostility in the place everyone expected you to call ‘home’ from now on?

One thing was clear from the very beginning: You would never belong here.

“May I?” a dark, husky voice interrupted your self-pitying. You blinked heavily, still trying to adjust to all those golden surroundings, until your blurry vision finally cleared up.

“C’mon.” The voice belonged to the man in front of you, looking gravely nervous with sweat dripping from his forehead. He was reaching out a hand for you to take, and you gladly accepted since you didn’t want to embarass yourself further by falling out of the carriage.

And still, you managed to somehow miss a step and fall right into his arms. “Oh my, so clumsy” the man snickered as he catched you, clearing his throat as you grabbed onto his chest to regain balance. "Not very graceful for someone of your status.”

“And you are-” The words got stuck in your throat when you stared back into those eyes, their emerald green awaking memories you’d rather forgotten entirely. “L-Loki!”

“Exactly, my dear. The one and only.” Smooth and calm, he pecked a kiss on the back of your hand, andyou couldn’t help but admire just how well he had aged: His wild locks were combed back, sharp features complimenting his face as he tried his best to give you his most innocent smile.

Yet you kept your guard up, always expecting him to somehow embarass you just for the fun of it. “When it comes to him, always expect the unexpected” Thor once warned you, and you won’t forget about it that easily.

“It’s a pleasure finally meeting you” was your firm declaration, only to be rewarded with a scoff. “You are speaking to the God of Lies, Lady Y/N - there is no use in trying to deceive me” he whispered into your ear, making you shiver in unpleasant anticipation.

“Carry her belongings to my rooms” he dismissed the servants with a simple gesture of his hand, offering his other arm for you to cling on as he escorted you through the palace.

The giant halls were almost empty, nothing like back on Alfheim where you and your brethren would enjoy each other’s company in midst of nature. A sole tear escaped your eye when you thought back to those carefree days, which are now over.

“Are you alright, m’lady?” Much to your surprise, your fiancé sounded honestly concerned about your well-being. “If you are tired, we can postpone our tour of the palace until you’ve rested.”

“May I speak from the heart?” You gulped after finishing that sentence, scaring yourself with all the stories you’ve heared about this mad troublemaker.

Somehow you had the feeling that if you were to overstep your boundaries with that brute, it would have consequences beyond your imagination. He might seem generous and polite right this moment, but what would someone like him do if you enrage him? Countless images were circling in your head, one worse than the other.

Loki furrowed his brows, exhalinge deeply. For him, your expression was an open book to what you were thinking right now.

“Y/N, my dear Lady, if you want it or not: Starting tomorrow, we share a bond. I am deeply sorry that a veritable flower as you are had to end up with someone like me, but I promise to treat you as well as possible.”

Turning around so you’d not detect how it hurt him to speak from the heart, he added with a shaky voice “Yet there is no reason for you to hold back your hatred for me. No harm will come your way, I swear upon the little honor I have left.”

Even though his words made you feel a deep sympathy with the god, you weren’t quite sure if you could decipher truth or deceit in them. Maybe he just wanted to lure you into saying what you truly thought of him?

He’s right - you will have to spend the rest of your life with him, so don’t mess this up from the very start!

“I-I don’t hate you!” was the first thing you blurted out, grabbing onto his cloak. Loki turned around, rising his eyebrow as he scanned your face for any hint of a lie.

Althrough it was the truth, at least to a certain extend. You’ve seen each other only once, when you were still little. The rest is all tales and rumours, but you personally don’t have a reason to despise him.

There was no way you could promise to accept his past or heritage, let alone forgive him - yet as long as he’d treat you with respect, you’d return the favour.

“T-There’s just a question on my mind this whole time...aren’t you mad? I-I mean someone like- well...like you...” you gestured around awkardly, almost making him crack a smile. “I mean...I thought you wouldn’t let your parents dictate your life.”

Another deep sigh escaping his mouth, this times with his eyes closed. “This isn’t about Asgard or my adoptive parents. I choose my own path.”

Suddenly, Loki wrapped one arm around you, flicking his fingers with the free one.

“Hold onto me” he ordered indifferent as he casted his spell, teleporting both of you away before you could even comprehend, let alone ask him what he was doing.

It happened in the fraction of a second, yet felt like hovering through an empty space for an eternity.

“Now open your eyes.” You hadn’t even realized that you squeezed them shut during the shift, slowly opening them while Loki lifted your chin with his index finger.

The environment was magnificent. Had you ever seen something this beautiful in your whole life?

Obviously you had no clue where you were, but this was the first time seeing so much untouched nature on Asgard. There were flowers blooming in all colours imagineable, clear rivers crossing the lands in between grassy hills, and animals nearby a small forrest.

“It’s not like I didn’t educate myself about the Light Elves and their way of living” Loki stammered, unconsciously intertwining your fingers with yours as he watched you admiring the view. “So I could make you comfortable here, I mean.”

He plummeted down on the grass, still a little wet from the morning dew, and gestured for you to do the same. It was weird, actually, but also somehow adorable - how the infamous ‘Silver Tongue’ had lost his ability with words. “I’ve done very little right in my life full of wrongs. Hurt a lot of people.”

“Mmmhh” you hummed approvingly, not knowing what else to say - yet for some reason, you didn’t let go off of his hand, squeezing it ever so slightly.

“And even though I can’t possibly redeem myself, I wish to change for the better.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “I just never knew how to start.”

Loki Odinson really was full of surprises. He was nothing like the child you’ve met long ago, and the complete opposite of what you imagined the ‘God of Mischief’ to be.

You had expected a power-hungry, selfish and cruel man to wed you - and yet there he was: Insecure and broken, only a shell of the person he once was.

Just what had you missed all those years? What things happened to break someone’s will like this?

And was he truly beyond repair?

“Those past weeks, I have visited Alfheim more times than you could comprehend” he giggled nervously, avoiding your eyes. “Concealed, of course.”

Well, that sounded kind of weird, but you knew better than to talk someone down who was just opening up to you. So your sole answer was “What for?”

“There was no way a criminal like me would still be seemed fit for this ceremony - and yet I was given this chance anyway. My mother told me that it was you who insisted on carrying on the arrangement, so...I just wanted to know what person would be willingly ruin their life.”

Something different was shining through the god’s orbs, and you couldn’t quite decipher it. Was it hope? Hope, that if you had given him a chance, his life could lead into a different direction? To change himself from the burden that was his birth title?

“I-I guess I don’t want to mess this up like I always do” he whimpered barely audible, before staring at you in shock and embarassment. Until now, he hadn’t realized just how vulnerable he made himself.

Just what the hell would you think about him now? You probably had lost any respect, or thought himself to be crazy. How weak...

So he was quick to put on the confident facade again, wearing his smug grin as if that all was just part of a big joke only he’d understand. But even though you barely knew him, he couldn’t fool you.

“Sometimes it’s enough just to try.” Your head turned from the sight of nature to your fiancé and back several times, before you brought up the courage and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering “So you can’t really mess this up.”

“Gladly you don’t seem to know yet just how much misery I cause.” He kept that thought to himself, to not scare you away.

“I am aware that you could never love someone like me, Y/N. But I can provide for you, dedicate myself to making you content with being my wife. My newfound purpose.”

The purpose of a war criminal - that sure put yourself under a lot of pressure. And still, it made you somewhat proud, and grateful as well. Because it was the first time someone valued you as a person, and not the princess of Alfheim.

Unaware of how much time had passed, both of you would get used to each other’s presence in silence, enjoying the nature while you processed this eventful day.

Exhausted from the long travel and all that rollercoaster of emotion, you soon found yourself dazzling into sleep onto Loki’s shoulder. If only you could see him adore you, staring in awe that someone could actually feel so safe in his presence.

Carefully, the god picked you up, gently lifting you on his arms to make your way back to the palace, where everyone was frantically searching for both of you. Well, Loki was used to trouble - but right now, it was worth it.

May it be right or wrong, and even though you couldn’t explain this sentiment, you had a good feeling when it came to the things that were just about to come.

“You won’t regret your decision, Y/N Y/L/N. On my side, I assure you a bright future.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #Loki/Reader #Loki/You #Self Insert #Fanfiction #Arranged Marriage #Writing #Marvel #Asgard

280 notes · View notes

amyscascadingtabs · 3 years

Text

give you my wild, give you a child

"stupid numbers, think they’re so great. i'd love to see numbers give you a baby."

inspired by that one line in 8x08 renewal, because he really did give her a baby.

read on ao3

It's been three days and Amy can't stop crying.

Sometimes she thinks it's stopped, that she'll finally have a stable moment to talk to her husband or eat a meal in peace or facetime some of the twenty or so relatives on her list, but it feels like it’s never more than minutes before her emotions swim to surface again and something new brings out the vibrating sobs that have seemed to characterize this day. As it turns out, even newly pregnant Amy has got nothing on three days postpartum Amy.

That she cries about the big, life-changing things doesn’t surprise her. When she wakes up after a night of minimal sleep and sees Mac in the bedside crib next to her, she cries because she’s so grateful; that everything went well, that their baby is finally here and that he's perfect beyond words. Then she cries because she thinks about what could have happened if it hadn't gone well, because she gave birth in a makeshift birthing suite in a police precinct, and so many things could have gone wrong it’s a miracle nothing did. When she gets out of the shower, she cries seeing herself in the bathroom mirror, because she's proud of her body in a way she's never experienced before. Then she cries because she also barely recognizes the person staring back at her, still looking six months pregnant except with hospital underwear and nursing pads in her bra. When she has breakfast after feeding Mac and tries to read the newspaper, she cries because so many terrible things are happening in the world all the time, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to protect this child from a world that sometimes seems to be getting more and more cruel by the day. Then she cries out of guilt for feeling that way, because she’s supposed to be enjoying this baby bubble, and what kind of mother even is she for daring to think about anything but her baby right now?

As the day goes on, however, her reasons for crying begin to feel increasingly ridiculous. She cries because she’s so relieved to be drinking regular coffee again, then because it doesn’t taste the same as decaf and she’s gotten so used to it that the caffeine tastes weird now. She cries because the coffee goes cold anyway when Mac begins to whimper and suck on his fingers in the way he seems to do whenever he’s hungry and she has to drop everything to feed him another time. She cries when Jake turns on the television and a commercial for diapers comes on, because she can’t believe they get to buy them now. Then she cries when Mac has finished eating because the red flannel she borrowed slash stole from Jake won’t button properly, and she realizes one of the buttons has gone in the wrong hole and she has to redo the whole thing. When Jake offers to help her with it, that makes her cry too, because the way he’s not laughing at her right now but patiently trying to solve her problems is making her feel so loved she doesn't know how to thank him.

The thing that makes her cry most of all, though, is watching Jake and Mac together. She always knew that sight would drive her crazy, and it’s part of the reason she wanted to have kids with him so much in the first place, but not even in her most indulgent fantasies about their future could she have pictured this. As grateful as she is over the fact that she gets to be a mom, getting to see Jake be a dad is a close second. He loves their son so much, and Mac so clearly loves him too, and Amy has to remind herself of the nine months she's spent carrying this child by herself in order not to feel jealous when Mac stops fussing the moment Jake picks him up. He looks so tiny when Jake holds him, the back of his head fitting perfectly in Jake's palm, and the care with which he’s handling him keeps making her emotional. He's always talking to him, sometimes whispers she can't hear and sometimes praise for her which she can, and that makes her cry too. He even chats to him when he changes his diapers, which Amy hides behind the door frame just so she can hear, failing to stifle a giggle when he asks in a fake interrogation voice what Mac has to say to his defense for making such a mess. He wakes up with her in the middle of the night when she has to breastfeed to get her endless glasses of water and granola bars when it makes her feel starving, and then he lets Mac burp him in the face and spit up on the back of his shirt before he falls back asleep curled up on his chest. He leans his chin on the top of Mac’s head to smell that perfect baby scent, running his finger over those cute neck rolls, and the smile on his face when he looks back at Amy makes her completely lose it, because this is what she dreamed of all along.

This is what she imagined when they visited her brother Christian’s new baby shortly before they got married and Jake spent the better part of an hour making funny faces to the child in his arms. This is what she panicked over when he said he wasn't sure if he wanted kids, because she had always thought. This is what she thought of those nights after another timed round of unenthusiastic sex, trying to keep the hope alight until that single line would once more tell them not this time. She had felt it in his teary smile when she showed him that first positive test, in how hard he'd squeezed her hand at their first ultrasound when their baby’s heartbeat had filled the room, in the absolute joy on his face the first time he’d managed to put his hand on her stomach just in time to feel their son kick, and now it's right in front of her and almost too much for her heart to take.

She's so tired, and she's sore and overwhelmed and worried about a billion different things, but she's never felt so grateful.

That's what makes her cry floods at three a.m. when Mac seems to have finished eating and she comes back from the bathroom to find Jake still sitting up with him in bed, holding him with a hypnotised look on his face. He doesn’t even seem tired, even though he must be, is just looking at his son like he’s holding the entire world in his arms and doesn’t ever want to let go. She always knew seeing him with a baby would be incredible, those surprisingly toned biceps curling around a fragile little human and those heart eyes focused on one thing only, but maybe she hadn’t expected not being able to watch it without breaking into tears.

“Jeez, Ames,” he says when he looks up, the expression on his face changing to one of concern. “Are you okay? Honestly?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles and dries her eyes again as she sits down on the bed. The skin on her cheeks is stinging at this point. “I just can’t believe this is my life.”

“Why not?” Mac’s pacifier glides out of his mouth, and Jake puts it back with two fingers before he can notice anything. “We’re right here, babe. We’re very much real.”

“Sometimes I thought it was never going to happen.” She hiccups. “All the times we’ve been apart. The months we fought to have him. How freaking long and exhausting being pregnant was. And now I have him, and you, and I’m just so grateful I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“That’s why you’re crying?”

“I think I don’t even know why I’m crying anymore. I’m so sleep-deprived.”

“Yeah.” Jake smirks. “But I get it. I’m really, really grateful too.”

Mac makes a short gurgling sound that Amy takes to mean he agrees. She reaches out so his hand can wrap around her ring finger, feeling him squeezing it tight in the cutest grip. The grey striped pajamas has little mittens on it to keep him from scratching herself, but Mac gets upset whenever they pull them down, so Amy figures they'll just have to keep filing his nails instead. Their son is already both opinionated and stubborn, and she loves it about him, because she loves everything about who he is. He's perfect, and he's hers, and she still can't quite believe it even though he's right there in Jake's arms. It's all her dreams coming true, and it's making all the hard things feel so worth it.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for giving me a baby,” she whispers. She’s too tired, barely even knows what she's saying anymore, but looking at the two of them, all she can think about is how incredibly lucky and thankful she feels.

Jake blinks in disbelief, grinning at her. “Wait, I gotta make sure I heard this right. Did you just thank me for giving you a baby?”

“Uh-huh?”

“And you're serious about this?”

“Well… yeah.”

“So you mean after nine months,” he says, still wide-eyed, “of you telling me, minimum a couple times a week but pretty much daily toward the end, that I could never understand what you're going through, and then you shouting some lovely descriptions at me whilst you were literally pushing him out, and also earlier this evening when you cried because I can't breastfeed him for you – you’re thanking me?”

“Some of it was a team effort,” she insists. “You helped.”

“Oh yeah, my nards sure are loving the credit.”

“Don't be gross.”

“Sorry.” He smiles, a little bashfully, stroking his fingers back and forth over Mac’s forehead instead of looking at her. “But Ames, c’mon. It was a pretty limited effort compared to what you did.”

“Maybe they’re not the same thing.” She leans her head on his shoulder. Mac is still holding on to her finger, but his grip is getting looser now. “But you were part of it too, babe.”

“Really?” He’s blushing. “What did I do that was so special?”

“Let's see. You didn’t laugh at me when I kept crying at everything the first weeks. Rosa made fun of me on a daily basis, but you just hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay. You let me sleep in when I had days off, even though I pretended I wanted you to wake me up. You fixed food for me without telling me what it was, and put it in front of me before I could feel sick thinking about it.” She shakes her head at the memory of those, few but complicated, weeks, and how hard they’d had to work around it. “You kept telling me I looked great even when my body kept changing and it all felt weird, and helped me pick out maternity wear when I didn’t want to do it on my own. I don’t know that I would have taken barely any bump pictures if you hadn't made me. You listened to all my research about the best strollers and pacifiers and cribs, and you did those courses and read all those books with me, and you came to almost every scan and held my hand so tight every time. You came home with onesies and hats because you thought they were too cute not to buy, and you gave me massages whenever I wanted them, and you even slept on the couch a couple nights at the end when I got angry at you for snoring. You barely even complained about it.”

“I complained a little,” Jake mumbles. “When you couldn’t hear me.”

“Fine. And lastly, you rode a horse through the city to get to me while I was in labor, and you didn’t even act like seeing him be born was gross.”

“I mean, it was a little bit gross.” Jake lifts Mac so he can kiss his forehead when he whimpers. “No offense, bud. I mean you looked perfect, I didn’t think you looked like a slimy alien even for a second, didn’t cross my mind, et cetera.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Point is, babe, you were there. You're here now. I know I did the actual work, but you were the one who made sure I could. I don’t know how I would have made it through without you. So… thank you.”

He doesn't give her any witty comebacks for that, only a shy smile.

“I love you,” Amy all but whispers through the tears that fight their way through her determination to keep them in. “Both of you. So much.”

“Love you, Ames.”

She kisses him, putting her hands on each side of his thighs so she can reach over Mac. Kissing is a lot more complicated than usual when both his hands are busy and none of them wants to risk crushing their son, but it's still nice, feeling his soft lips on hers and squeezing his lower lip between both of hers for just a moment before pulling apart.

“It's hard to kiss you while you're holding a baby,” she says, and Jake grimaces. “That might be the only bad thing about it.”

“My bad. I’m just going to put him down so we can make out all night.”

“Don't you dare. He currently doesn't have a boob in his mouth and he's still not crying, you're not doing anything to risk that now.” Amy pulls the comforter up to her chin. “Wake me up when he needs to eat again and not a second earlier.”

Jake chuckles at her as she turns out the light and snuggles up close to him, but he makes no move to put Mac down or even protest, and she didn't think it was possible to love him even more. Her heart has definitely grown with becoming a mom, much like everyone told her about, but most seem to have forgotten to prepare her for how much it would also grow when it came to her partner.

“I still think I’m the one who should say thank you,” Jake whispers just as she closes her eyes, and Amy can't help but smile. “If we're talking about who gave who a baby.”

“Jake, just accept the praise.”

“Oh, yeah.” She doesn't need to see his face to know that he's grinning. “I’ve locked it in a little box in my brain and I’m gonna keep it as gloat material forever, bringing it up when you least expect it.”

“That's great, babe.”

“Mm-hmm. We both know the truth, though.” Jake's left hand strokes over the top of her head, and Amy has to look up to see that Mac is still resting safely on his right arm and doesn't seem to have noticed a thing. Another tear fight its way down her cheek at the thought of how safe he must feel with him. This time, she doesn’t even bother to wipe it away.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #b99 fanfiction #no eps this week but i finally finished this haha!#pls enjoy <3 #also thank u niamh and ajit for helps with all the reasons amy would be crying!!!#oh also the three people who voted on the title thank you

90 notes · View notes