#it just makes me sad to think he's catatonic my boy deserves better

[jaimelannistex]

day 1293: una mccormack still refuses to wake julian bashir from his coma

#imma getchu outta there #it just makes me sad to think he's catatonic my boy deserves better #ds9 #deep space nine #bashir #julian bashir #enigma tales #garashir

[6sakusa]

‘worth more’ part 3, oikawa tōru.

a/n: im dedicating this part to @humanitysvertigo for motivating me to write & inspiring this piece with your song suggestion ‘like you do’

warnings: implications of toxic relationship, mild swearing, anGST, me not proof reading.

“you’re an idiot.” iwaizumi grabbed the setter by the collar in a brash attempt to knock some sense into him. more often than not he’d been constantly named as too aggressive for his own good but the ace knew exactly what oikawa needed in order to be brought to attention and there was no way in hell that he was about to let him get away with this.

“i’m not in the mood for this right now.” oikawa scoffed shoving off his bestfriend as he picked up another ball from the pantry preparing himself for another serve.

“i don’t care what you’re in the mood for, this isn’t good for you, how many times have i told you to cut this shit out.” iwaizumi launched towards the male, he was now raising his voice as he made reach for the ball. it was insane how much he would get riled up when it came to oikawa’s safety even though he hated to admit it.

“why are you like this.. you’re all like this, why are you trying to stop me? i need to get better, i need to do better, i need to—“ his words were cut off by a swiff headbutt from iwaizumi causing him to go crashing towards the ground.

“don’t you ever get tired of saying selfish shit.” it was obvious that anger was building up within the ace, but if you didn’t know him well enough you would miss how it was interlaced with pain and sadness. the sight of his bestfriend hurting himself took a toll on him too regardless of if he showed it or not and he couldn’t bare the sight of oikawa mistreating both you and himself. growing up together iwa found himself as the boys sole protector, as if he was his responsibility and now as the days grew longer it seemed as if the burden was almost getting to heavy to carry. the last thing he wanted was to have to walk away from the friendship because it was becoming too stressful and draining, no, because part of iwaizumi was oikawa and he couldn’t imagine his life without the selfish boy.

“don’t you wanna win? why do you play iwa? are you content with the participation awards? because i’m not.” the setter grit his teeth as he reflected back on his recent loss. the way the ball had hit the ground just a hair out of his reach, the way the score was so close and the taste of victory was almost on his tongue, the fact that it was their last try at going to nationals, the way it was his own kouhai who had beat him, the way he had disappointed iwaizumi above all. he had to make up for it, he had to make up for all of it.

“i play because it’s fun.” the ace shouted shoving him further into the ground. “i play because.. i like it, i like volleyball, and i like playing with you and the rest of the team, it’s made me who i am today.” his voice softened and he finally let go of his bestfriends collar, inhaling a deep breath as oikawa watched with wide eyes. “what does volleyball mean to you now? do you just want to be the best at what you do for something you don’t even find fun? look around, think about all the people you’re hurting.” he referred back to you.

“i’m doing this for you guys as much as i’m doing it for me—“

“no you’re not, we’re in our third year now, it’s done oikawa, it’s over.. there is no next game, there is no next tournament, there is no next time, and that’s okay because these past three years have been the best of my life, there’s nothing else i could have asked for, you’re the best partner anyone could ever want, my bestfriend and the best setter.” iwaizumi sighed collapsing backwards, hitting his own head as the words just kept tumbling out.

“really?” there was a newfound light in oikawas eyes, one that the ace much preferred in comparison to his gloomy figure that would always pop out when he was being much too harsh on himself.

“yes really, you are the best setter—“

“no.” oikawa cut him off unexpectedly. “really? i’m your bestfriend?”

“are you shitting me? you’re an idiot, who else would it be? we’ve been friends since we were kids.. stupid crappykawa.” he mumbled off at the end noting how sappy the setter had turned him.

“you have a way with words iwa-chan, or maybe you’ve just gone soft on me hm?” he joked around lifting the tense atmosphere off the two of them.

“and now you’re all smiling and shit? you were just depressed two minutes ago” iwaizumi clicked his tongue at the sight of his friend, he wondered how he was always able to switch his mood up so easily. sometimes he was envious of his ability to do so, he wanted nothing more than to turn off the nagging voice at the back of his head sometimes that would tell him—

“what can i say? i’m suddenly feeling inspired.” he looked up to the ceiling as if he was in some soft of romcom and iwaizumi scoffed at the sight of it. sometimes he wondered how he’d ended up with a bestfriend who was so cheesy.

“well good because aoba johsai isn’t the whole world, there’s a volleyball career waiting for you anywhere on this planet, but nothing everything is replaceable like that.” iwa successfully recaptured the setters attention with his last words.

“what do you mean?”

“y/n... she’s not replaceable but you treated her like shit today didn’t you? i saw her sitting out in the rain so don’t even try to deny it.” he gritted his teeth at the thought of it, the way your fingertips were icy cold, your warm tears juxstaposing the freezing rain, your clothes absolutely drenched and your catatonic state of pure silence as he walked you home. there was only one person who could be the cause of such pain, and he was standing in front of him now.

“the rain?” oikawa jumped to alert now, he knew he wasn’t in his right mind when he had spoke to you, all that was going through his head is that he was a burden that you needed to rid yourself from, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you or didn’t care about you or could live without you.

“what did you say to her?”

“i said i didn’t need her..” his heart clenched as he recalled the events, how could he be so foolish? and then to let you sit out there while he was ignorant to the entire situation as he stood there selfishly serving the ball over and over again.. “i scared her.” he swore he was on the verge of tears as he forced out those words, nothing hurt more then seeing your eyes wash over from love to fear in the matter of seconds as he towered over you. and for what? all you were doing was trying to help.

“well why are you still standing asshole? go to her, i’ll clean your mess up.” the ace sighed staring at the vast amount of balls sprawled over the court.

“no i can clean it up, don’t wo—“

“shut up, go.” he was interrupted by iwaizumi who had his best interests in mind as he always did.

“i owe you one.”

“you always do.”

—

finally changing out of your drenched clothes you could barely bring yourself to move, you’d already turned down food and avoided questions when your parents had ask why you were practically dripping onto the floor. it was too much to even speak, it felt like a part of you was gone, someone you had planned your entire future with just didnt need you anymore in the blink of an eye. you were even reconsidering your university options just to be closer to oikawa and now he had tossed you away like a tired ragdoll. you had been warned about oikawa before, plenty of people named him a playboy, even his own bestfriend had warned you to stay away but something had left you so drawn to the male that it was unexplainable. it was a feeling that only those who had experienced it would know, it was true love, if soulmates existed you were sure he was yours and never in your life had the thought of even breaking up crossed your mind.

the two of you had gotten into heated arguments before and many times it would end with you in tears or him storming out but he always came back. why hasn’t he come back? was it truly over? were you just not enough for him? you knew how important volleyball was and you always supported him but you hated seeing him overwork himself. did that make you a bad person? maybe you were, maybe he was right and you weren’t being the supportive girlfriend you were meant to be, it was your fault, you should be better right?

“y/n?” your thoughts were interrupted by a sickeningly familar voice and you turned to see the very boy that you were just thinking about. there was no doubt now that fate existed, otherwise why did things always end up like this?

“what are you doing here?” you narrowed your eyes at the setter, scrambling to wipe the tears off your face. you hated looking weak more than anything but you couldn’t help the dent that the entire situation had left in your heart.

“iwa-chan told me what happened and your parents let me in, were you crying?” he moved closer towards you, watching as you tried your best to stifle your tears as if nothing happened. you knew it was a pathetic attempt, you really did, but you couldn’t help how badly you wanted to be strong. you flinched backwards, causing him to halt his movement as he was making his way to cup your cheek.

the sadness that washed over his eyes in that moment was almost unbearable for you to witness. of course it would pain him that you would flinch away from his hands like that, it looked as if you were afraid.

“w-what? why are you flinching? i would never hit you, i love you.” you hated the way you knew exactly when he was telling the truth and when he was lying, and right now tōru oikawa was being the most genuine that he had in a long time. one part of you wanted to pull away so badly, to tell him that he treated you like absolute shit, that he didn’t deserve you and to scream and shout at him to get out. but the other part of you, the stronger part, wanted nothing more than to revel in his embrace, for him to whisper sweet nothings in your ear and promise how he was going to marry you one day while he played with your ring finger reminding you over and over again how much he loved you, because no one loved you like he did.

“please.. say something y/n.” he clenched his jaw as you stared at him with empty eyes, he couldn’t bare the thought of knowing that he was the one who had done this. it was always him who had caused you pain and suffering and now he was wondering if he had made the right choice by coming here.. if he hadn’t you would get over him one day wouldn’t you? you’d probably find someone who loved you without the grief that he always provided, someone who made you happy without requirement, someone who could give you a life that he couldn’t. what he didn’t know was how much you wanted to tell him how no one else mattered to you and how you had felt this way since the moment you’d met him but your mouth wouldn’t say the words you wanted them to so badly.

“why.. why do you always do this to me.” your voice cracked and you couldn’t hold it in any longer, your eyes glossed over before tears spilt out uncontrollably. you moved to clutch your own body, burying your head in your knees as you cried your heart out to your boyfriend who immediately moved to embarace you. what shocked him is how cold you were to the touch, you were sure to get sick tonight so he would stay by your side the entire time if he had to.

“i don’t know.. all i know is how sorry i am.” he pulled you closer so that you were not facing his chest as he brushed the hair out of your face and rubbed your back soothingly. “i cant explain it y/n-chan, i mess up really badly sometimes and i don’t know why, all i know is that life isn’t the same without you in it, since i met you everything just seems brighter, like it’s all worth it.. no matter what i say to you i will always love you.”

you cried harder as you came to the realisation of how weak you were for him.

“you’re the only person i can’t bear to lose y/n-chan, you’re the most selfless person i know, please don’t ever walk out of my life, i’ll do better i promise.” a tear rolled down his own eye as he imagined how empty things would feel without you, he wondered where he would get the willpower to wake up everyday.

“you promise?” you looked up at him with tear stained eyes through those beautiful eyelashes of yours, and how could he not love you when you still looked so pretty even when you were crying over him.

“i promise.” he hugged you a little tighter, wanting to memorise this moment for everything that it is.

“then i’ll stay by your side forever tōru.” you smiled softly at the thought of the rest of your life with the boy you always intended to spend it with.

“and i’ll marry you one day y/n-chan.” that day you fell asleep in your boyfriends arms as he stroked your hair and coddled you with promises that you’d remember for decades.

what the two of you didn’t know was how iwaizumi sat in the gym, motionless with a pained expression on his face and a slow tear rolling down his cheek as he led the boy he’d loved since childhood right back into your arms as he always had. he even stayed cleaning up for the rest of the night before practicing how he would face the two of you in school the next day with a smile on his face. as long as his bestfriend was happy he told himself.

because oikawa was wrong about one thing, there was someone more selfless than you.

#haikyuu #anime #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu season 4 #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #iwaoi angst #iwaoi #hq iwaoi #implied iwaoi #iwaoi fic #haikyuu iwaoi #oikawa angst #oikawa fic #oikawa tōru #oikawa fluff #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi x oikawa #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu oikawa #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi hajime #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi fanfic #iwa chan #iwaizumi #iwaizumi imagine

[your-highnessmarvel]

For Better or For Worse

Requested by Anonymous: Now we ALL know Chris wants kids. If you don’t know that you’re not a real fan. But what about a fic where the reader can’t have kids and she wants to break up with Chris because she thinks that’s what’s best for him?

AN: ok this is like... really angsty and i got carried away in it and idk... im kinda sad today. on another note! i got a B+ on an essay exam i thought i canned so yay

Warnings: angst, language

*gif not mine

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MASTERLIST

You reread the text message again.

Hey baby. Sorry for not being able to make it today with you. I am hopeful! Let me know as soon as you get out! <3

Your left knee bounced. Your stomach twisted. The TV in the left corner of the room buzzed some news about COVID-19, but you couldn’t care less. A stranger next to you shuffled his feet and it was so loud. It resonated in your skull, climbing down your spine. 

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped up. The doctor stood with a smile on her face, dossier in hand, door open behind her. 

“Yes,” you said. 

“Come with me.”

You followed her through the door, the back of her white lab coat stark. It felt like you were following her to your doom; to the pits of hell and beyond. Your heart raced as you passed through the familiar doors and sat on the same leather chair as before. 

But last time you were with Chris. Last time, he was here, holding your hand, as nervous as you were. 

“Okay, Y/N, how are we doing today?” the doctor asked, sitting directly in front of you. You had a queasy feeling, watching her sparkling white smile and her vivid eyes. 

Did she have good news?

“Nervous,” you admitted. Your mouth was dry. You just wanted to know the results. 

The doctor’s face went soft and she opened the dossier, revealing a small stack of papers; all the tests you’d done with her. 

“It is as we feared, Y/N,” she said, hands on the table. “All the tests show that your eggs are barren. I am very sorry. I know how much having a child of your own means to you and your husband, and I know this must be terrible news. There are, however, alternatives, like adoption.”

There was a burning so intense in your chest that you feared you’d pass out. It was like someone lit a fire between your ribs and was cooking you from the inside out. Involuntary tears spilled from the edges of your eyes, gliding down your cheeks, clinging to your jaw as desperately as you’d clung to the hope of baring Chris’s children. 

Your hands balled into fists. Eyes closed. Breathing slowed. You could hear the doctor speaking, but it was as if through water. She was saying something about this process of multiple tests, all of them negative, proving that you really wanted to be a mother and that would be a plus on the adoption forms and you’d be considered a good candidate. 

You didn’t want to adopt! You wanted to conceive a child, half of you and half of Chris. To have a piece that was the both of you, together. To see if your child would have Chris’s smile or your hair or his little dimples. You wanted to see which part of your character they’d inherit. Or maybe they’d be more like Chris. 

“I...” You looked up through tear filled eyes, but only say the shape of the doctor who’d just told you you’d never have children of your own. “I’m going to go.”

“Would you like me to call your husband?” she asked, seeing your state. 

“No.”

The last thing you needed was to tell Chris right now. He’d been so hopeful that this final test, this final and last try would be a miracle. Even if it was just one child, one would be enough, one would be your saving grace. 

He’d hate you. Of course he would. With time. There is not a thing in the world Chris wanted more than children. Little boys and girls running around, playing hide-and-seek. Teaching his daughter to drive. Teaching his son to cope with his feelings in a healthy way. Showing his kids the aquarium. Snow fights. Autumn leaf piles. Swings. Sand boxes.

He’d resent you. Of course he would. With time. He’d find a way to leave you because he couldn’t stand to know his biggest wish was dead. He’d marry someone else, someone fertile, someone able to give him a piece of himself fused with a woman he loved. 

He’d forget you. Of course he would. With time. After his children would be born and they would grow up in front of his eyes, he’d forget the woman with a rotten womb and empty ovaries. 

You hadn’t noticed, but you’d somehow managed to walk out of the office, down the stairs, and out into the parking. The sun was out, high, hot. Sweat formed on your forehead, in the palm of your hands, behind your knees. 

You had a sudden, harsh thought. You knew exactly what to do. 

You texted Chris to call you when he had the time. You got into your car, like a ghost, like a phantom, and sat there holding the wheel. It was warm and hard, the heat of the summer cooking up the car. You looked in the rearview, at the empty backseat. There would never be a little one sitting there, in a baby seat or as a kid or as a teenager with their friends. 

There would never be.

The phone rang. 

“Hello.”

“Hey, babe, how did it go?” There was so much hope in his voice; the ring of his tone and the cracking. He had so much hope and you were about to squash it between your fingers like ants. 

“Where are you?” You tried to sound normal, neutral, but there were still tears drying on your cheeks. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Chris, where are you?” Now, you sounded angry, impatient, and you hated it, hated the way you were talking to him. He didn’t deserve it. 

He gave you the place he was at. “It’s a set so come by the back gate and I’ll be waiting there, okay?” His voice was harsher, less hopeful, and there was a hint of knowing. Knowing exactly what you were coming to say. 

You drove there in silence. No music. No humming. Catatonic. Your mind was blank, the roads busy, the streetlights bright, your thoughts a mess. There was an ache in your stomach, deep and hurting, as if you’d been cut open from sternum to belly button, and the wound was festering. 

You were minutes away from ending the most beautiful part of your life. 

You parked awkwardly on a curb but who cares. The little walk from your car to the gate was hard, your knees trembling, feet numb. Chris was waiting at the gate to let you in, a wary look tearing his features apart. 

As soon as you were through, he put his arm around your shoulders and kissed your forehead. “Y/N,” he mumbled. “Are you okay?”

He smelled so familiar and felt like an anchor. It was an instinct to lean in, forehead against the crook of his shoulder. It was all so familiar. The glint of the ring on his finger. The smell of the detergent he used at home, the one you washed all your clothes in. 

“Can we talk in private?”

His eyes slid down to the ground, a tick in his jaw. He knew. But he didn’t know all. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, but pulled you along to his trailer. 

Inside, it smelled like his cologne. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink and you smiled because Chris never liked to wash his dishes and you were always the one picking up after him. He liked to vacuum though, and it showed in the pristine floors and sparkling shelves that he’d dusted. 

He grabbed your hand and led you to the couch. He sat beside you, shoulders turned to you, eyes searching your face. He saw the dried tears. The trembling lower lip. 

“It was negative?” he asked lowly, running his fingers over your knuckles. 

“Yeah.” You bit your lip. “Again.” 

He sighed and leaned his head on your shoulder. There was a moment of silence where you just stared at the blank TV screen, listening to Chris breathing against you. 

“We’ll find another way,” he said, lifting his head. “We’ll go through another round of IV.”

You shook your head. “The doctor said I’m barren, Chris,” you said, fighting tears. “There is literally nothing we can do anymore.”

He grabbed your hand with both of his. “Adoption.” He said it as if it was a miracle cure. 

“No, Chris, I want a child of our own.” You bit your lip, tears fighting to slip from your lashes. “A little girl with blue eyes or a little boy who is as stubborn as me.” And this time, you did cry. And you saw just how hard Chris was fighting his own. 

“It’s alright, baby, hey.” He took your head in his arms, bringing you against the safety of his stern chest. 

You let yourself sob against him, wetting his sweater, grasping onto his shoulder. He rubbed his hand up and down your back. He set his wet cheek against the top of your head. 

Hiccuping, you pulled away from him, wringing your hands. “Chris, I... I’m...” you trailed off, raking a hand through your hair. “I’m gonna... go live with my mom for a bit.”

He frowned deeply, suddenly changing from sad to confused in a matter of milliseconds. 

“No, Y/N, no, no, why?” He leaned in, looking at you deeply, blue eyes searching yours. He held onto your hand so tightly it almost hurt. 

“Chris, you don’t deserve this,” you said, sniffling. “I’m never going to give you a little girl to teach her how to drive or a boy to go to shows with. We’re never gonna have babies in the bed with us in the morning. We’re never going to watch little league games. Daycare. Potty training.”

He stood, thumb to his lips. He was angry, tension roiling in his muscles. “I can’t believe it,” he growled behind clenched teeth. “I can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t want you because you can’t have biological children with me. Do you think I only want you for that? You’re not a machine, Y/N. You’re not broken. You’re my wife. I pledged to love you for better or for worse. We will work through this. I promise you.”

He knelt before you, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. He grabbed your hand, held it to his heart, looking up at you imploringly. “Don’t ever think that. Ever.” He reached up to wipe a tear from your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. Yes, I want kids. But I want you, more than anything. We’ll get a dog. Or a cat. Or both. But I’m not separating from you, okay?”

There was a hole in your chest, and it was aching, and it was healing, and you wanted to cry from joy and fear and powerlessness. “Oh, Chris.”

“No,” he said, lip trembling, tear rolling from the corner of his cheek. “No. Don’t leave me. Don’t. We will work it out.”

You leaned in, kissed his cheek, where the tear was settling, tasted the salt of it. “Okay.”

He sighed of relief, embracing you softly. He pressed his cheek against yours. He was shaking like a leaf. “I love you, and I want you to remember that forever,” he whispered. “I won’t let you go for anything in the world.”

You nodded against his shoulder. “I love you too, Chris.” 

He pressed his thumb against the ring on your finger. The ring he’d given to you on the day of your wedding, where he’d vowed to love you forever and always. Where he’d kissed you in front of both of your families. Where he’d tied himself to you in the holiest of ways, binding you to him and to his care, and vice versa.

He was remembering you, remembering himself, the reason why that ring was on your finger. For better or for worse. And this was the worse, but you’d live it together. You’d overcome it together. No matter what.

#chris evans #chris evans xreader #chris evans x you #chris evans x yn #chris evans x y/n #angst #fluff #oneshot #imagine #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

[metellastella]

Oneshot: Injury by a Firebender: The Dragon of the West and the Avatar

“Don’t touch me.” the monk said sharply. 

Iroh’s bronze eyes blinked in bewilderment at the harsh reprimand from the lighthearted airbender.  He had gone in to hug him, because he was clearly upset after their training session. The boy had been burned before, and this one had been simple enough for Katara to heal. So he wasn’t sure what had suddenly caused this shift in mood. 

“Are you all right?” the fatherly man asked with a tinge of panic. 

The boy was silent. 

His silver eyes cut into him. Iroh began churning up thoughts, trying to puzzle out what might be wrong, as he had when Lu Ten had gotten into moody episodes or angry fits.

“Aang,” the man said with a choked noise, “I am so, so sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” But the words were not forgiving in tone. They were hard. They projected ‘I understand this, but my feelings are very different from welcoming you back into my space right now.’ 

“What can I do to make it up to you? To make you feel better?” 

Aang’s shoulders screwed up. 

“Just . . .”

He breathed three times. 

Iroh recognized how he expanded his diaphragm as far as it would go, sucking in all the life-giving air his lungs could stand, and then releasing slowly like a leaking gas tank. 

The words from tutors from his own boyhood spoke to him, 

‘Picture you are drawing in the prana, the life force around you, and with each breath out, imagine you are cleansing yourself of fear and weakness.’ 

“You don’t normally act angry or forceful like Zuko,” the airbender analyzed. “But you do have your rare moments. If you could just . . . be extra quiet for the next few days, that would be a spiritsend.”

“Of course. I will be totally silent, if that’s what would help.” 

The monk relaxed further.  “What made this one worse? Was it something I did specifically?”

The monk opened his eyes and gave him a strained smile. “Toph and Zuko see you as the father you never had, Sensei. Or,” he corrected, “Does the Fire Nation use Sifu?” “Either is fine.”

“Or do you prefer Master?” “Aang, it really doesn’t matter. You insist on this formality, even though I’ve told you it’s not necessary.” 

“You see it as formality,” the monk bowed his head. “We saw it primarily as affection.” 

“Ah! Well then I am honored.”

“It is not a sign of dominance or status,” the monk went on. “But, like ‘Uncle,’ from Zuko, a friendly honorific.” “Like -chan! Or -san.” “Exactly. Like family.” 

The boy was silent for a few moments, and his brief happiness vanished.  “I had my own gurus, so although I want to see you as a parental figure, it feels as if I am betraying the dead by doing so.” The words dropped on him with all the force of the boy’s ten ton bison slamming into the ground. 

Tears gathered in the old man’s eyes. 

“It’s not your fault,” the monk said again, much gentler this time. “I want to like you, Master Iroh. But, the man that you, as a boy, kowtowed to as respect to an elder? He brutally murdered my elders.” 

Iroh couldn’t breathe. “Katara complains at me how ‘Zuko reminds me of my dead mother, and how am I supposed to deal with that,’ well.” The preteen laughed harshly. “I have to go meditate after she says things like that, or I will end up saying some very nasty things to her. She is like a noblewoman who complains that it is too hot, while fanning herself. I am the peasant out in the fields, toiling away to serve her up her dinner plate.” Iroh was convinced that he was having an out of body experience. He hadn’t felt this completely flattened by confusion since Mahimata, the Earth Spirit essentially mentally tortured him. 

“Nobody seems to understand exactly how much pain I’m in.” The boy went on in a monotone. “When we started out our journey, I would cry almost every day, as a normal person grieving their entire extended family’s death would. Sokka totally understood. He’d hug me, and rock me. Katara on the other hand, could not handle it. Grieving periods for one person are usually about at least a year, the monks would say. We had a couple of elders join the Spirit World, during my lifetime. So. If we were going to do some simple math here, how long would I need to grieve just every single one of my boyhood playmates, aside from an entire population of my people?” Iroh was beginning to feel faint from lack of oxygen. 

“Katara could not see me like that. It drove her insane. She’d let Sokka handle it. And I didn’t understand why at the time. I was hurt. I was beyond hurt. She acted so motherly all the time, and then when I needed her most, she abandoned me? I didn’t say anything to Sokka about it. I just cried. And tried to do what the monks said, look for the gratitude in the situation. A way to look at things from a positive angle. Impossible task, surely. I’d like to see the Mechanist be good enough at problem solving to unravel that one. After several meditation sessions, I finally ferreted out a way to look at it differently. This was ‘good.’ His macho attitude didn’t extend into berating a younger boy to ‘be more manly’ as you might expect.” 

He repeated the deep breaths. 

“Because, if both of them, my new family, had been unable to comfort me . . .”

The stab through the veteran’s heart was more painful than any blade that had ever gotten through his defenses and sliced into him. 

“Katara saw me as the savior to the world,” the monk said distantly. “So, not only was she hurt by my pain, because her empathy is strong. Every time that would happen, she would think that the world was lost, that we really couldn’t do it. I was too broken to be able to do this. Later on, she said, ‘Aang, we can just run away. You are only one person. You can’t solve this. There’s too much history. Too many people involved. I’ll bet my soul to some wicked spirit, that when the Avatar was established, the elder spirits never expected him to have to do something like this!! This was all a mistake. A slip of Fate. Surely, we need to just let you talk to them, and they’ll say the same thing!’” 

“I was very tempted by that offer,” the Bridge Between the Worlds said ponderously. “What if I just found some secluded spot for a couple of weeks, in order to go into deeper meditation trance states, and negotiate my way out of my responsibility? Were the spirits that merciful? Maybe.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe I should ‘have faith’ that the spirits would be fair to me, a poor little boy who did nothing to deserve this.”

Several more breaths, and Iroh could feel the wind around him reacting this time around. 

“I had a dream, where Roku spoke to me. He apologized for how he acted. That I needed more empathy from him, too. That he was not just my Guide, but also my elder who loved me.” 

A loud sob escaped him, and his element whooshed in response. 

“And now, when I sleep, I am in his arms. Like a baby who sleeps next to their mother. Sokka doesn’t have to do it so much, although he is still completely willing, and reminds me daily. Katara has gotten a little better.”

His next breath out was like a release valve, preventing overload from a too-full tank. 

“Nowadays, Roku murmurs things to me like, ‘It’s ok if you fail, Aang.’ ‘Just try your best.’ ‘That’s all any of us can ask from you.’ ‘You won’t be penalized by the Spirits.’ ‘You won’t even hear a harsh word from any of us Avatars.’ ‘And we most certainly will be there to comfort you.’ If I die, whether by disgruntled protestors, or by assassins trying to re-ignite the war, then the Air Nomads will truly have left the world. I try, during my meditations, to rein in that all-encompassing, all-too-likely scenario. Meditation is meant to quell anxiety after all,” he said a bit bitterly, “and all its attendant visualizations. I guess I am just lucky that, although my anxiety is centered on the entire world, I also have more powerful meditation states than the average person as well. It is suited to the task.” he said flatly. 

His silver eyes glanced around his surroundings. 

“Had I been born somewhere else than the Air Temples, where meditation for bending is not taken so seriously, I’m not sure what mental state I would be in. I could be catatonic, for one. I’m sure I would’ve hurt or killed people in fits of rage by now, Avatar Spirit involved or not.” 

He paused. “There has never been a child Avatar in the Spirit World. Ever. None of the spirits I have talked to in dreams knows what will happen if that comes to pass. Will I be a child in perpetuity? Some of the more feminine ones cluck over me like a mother hen and say, ‘You poor dear, you will feel very lonely here, should you die.’ ‘You will be the only one of your kind here, just as you are on the Material Plane.’ ‘We will lavish you with attention, little one.’ ‘You deserve paradise after death, probably even more so than any human who has ever existed.’ ‘Don’t be afraid.’” His tears drew tracks down his cheeks. 

“‘You’ve never had a mother, have you, love?’ ‘Your gurus were so mastered in their minds that they could provide that feminine touch to you.’ ‘We don’t mean to disrespect their culture, dear, but it seems terribly sad to us, still.’”

He let out a broken chuckle and quavered in a slightly otherworldly voice, “Roku, you brute, you had better take over as the next Avatar’s Guide if that happens. Expecting a child who had barely begun to live to mentor a sixteen year old? The fire fields will freeze over before we let you off the hook.’” The boy wiped his eyes. 

“I have lots of ‘people’ rooting for me. Not only rooting for me, but allowing the possibility that I will fail. And that, is what every boy and girl in the world needs.” 

#Avatar The Last Airbender #aang #zuko #iroh #airbender #air nomads #fire nation

[toxicpineapple]

22 amamota please !

Amami shows up to breakfast with a grimace, glancing around the dining hall. There are only a couple people here; Momota, off by the kitchen, and Akamatsu, sitting upright in her spot, looking almost catatonic. He sighs. Who could blame her, really, after Iruma’s execution last night. He knows they were close. There’s a large part of him that wants to go over and comfort her, but... mm. He’s hesitant, and not because of Akamatsu, but rather because he’s not sure what he’d say. Every day that passes here the more he remembers his old friends (Miyake, Sako, Sonada) and he just... doesn’t know how to comfort her anymore. Doesn’t know what reassurances he’d even use.

Instead, he walks over to the kitchen and joins slips in after Momota, letting the door swing shut behind them. He’s in here to get food, presumably. Amami isn’t sure how they’re all going to manage with Toujo gone. He can cook somewhat, just, his meal options are very limited. Like he can do your traditional Japanese style breakfast provided you’re good with the fish a little burnt. And the rice in his onigiri is usually pretty crushed, but it’s edible. Eatable. You could eat Amami’s onigiri.

Hmm. Anyway. Amami leans against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest and watching Momota walk over to the sink. And for a moment Amami thinks he’s going to wash his hands, but instead he grips the edge of the sink, bracing himself against it. Amami raises his eyebrows. Is he okay?

It’s difficult to see Momota’s face at this angle. Or to make out what he’s thinking. Amami hums, “Momota-kun,” and watches the other boy jolt, full-body, releasing the sink and scrambling to turn around, to face Amami. His face is pale, and his expression is a bit distressed. Clearly, he didn’t hear Amami coming in, or else he wouldn’t have bent over the sink like that. Actually, Amami doesn’t know if he’s ever seen such an expression.

“Oh, hey, Amami,” Momota’s smile is bracing, but convincing. Amami would be more convinced if not for what he just saw. He won’t call him out, though. “Sorry. I’m like, really hungry. Didn’t get to eat dinner last night.”

“Yeah, I getcha,” Amami chuckles, pushing off the doorframe and walking into the kitchen. He plucks a banana from a basket in the middle of the kitchen, peeling it as he speaks. “Me either. The investigation and trial kinda went through dinner.” And nobody wanted to eat after seeing Iruma’s execution, Amami thinks, but does not say.

Momota seems to understand, anyway. His lilac eyes crinkle at the edges, in sympathy. “You’re doing okay? You and Toujo were friends, weren’t you?”

“As much as I’m friends with everyone else here,” Amami shrugs. “Yeah, I’m upset.” Desensitised, though. Terribly, awfully desensitised. When he came across Saihara’s body in the library, way back in the beginning, it was dread rather than disgust or horror that churned in the pit of his stomach. A gross, sticky feeling of, not again. “How‘re you holding up?”

“It sucks, man,” Momota sighs. “This is... yeah, it...” he runs a hand through his hair and clasps it on the back of his neck, looking, for a long moment, deeply disconcerted. His gaze fixes on a spot on the floor and stays there. Amami looks somewhere else, so Momota won’t feel fussed to make eye contact with him. “Yeah.”

Amami wants to say, This isn’t my first rodeo, Momota-kun, you don’t have to feel guilty about not having as much composure as I do in the face of it, but he wouldn’t even know where to begin about explaining that. He doesn’t even know for sure if it is his first rodeo or not, or if the deja vu that’s been hitting him since he got here is just incidental, linked to some other experience that slipped from his mind like his talent. Whatever the case, he doesn’t end up saying anything, just gazing in silence off at the far wall.

And then Momota lets out an awful sounding cough into his sleeve.

Amami bristles, gaze shooting back over to Momota, his eyes going wide. Momota straightens a bit, opening his mouth to speak, and then hunches over again, burying his face into his sleeve and coughing some more. The coughs are ragged and guttural, hoarse and painful-sounding. Amami winces just hearing them, feeling his own throat tightening in sympathy. Amami opens his mouth to speak, but Momota’s coughing is too loud, too intense, and Amami can’t get a word in.

When Momota stumbles, Amami catches him, arms instinctively curling around his midsection. Momota is bent over at the waist, his forehead pressing into Amami’s chest as he shudders. One of his hands, his free hand, grasps at Amami’s shoulder, and he rasps out, “‘m fine, sorry,” before coughing some more.

“You’re not fine,” Amami says, his brow lowering. “Momota-kun, wh--”

“Don’t worry,” Momota slurs, hoarsely. He swallows hard, which Amami registers because he can feel Momota’s adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and the coughing fit stops. His breathing is much too controlled for it to have happened naturally. When he lifts his head, still quivering in Amami’s arms, there’s blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. “It’s fine, it’s just a cold.”

“That’s not a cold, Momota-kun,” Amami replies in a low voice. “It-- You sounded like you were dyi--”

The door to the kitchen swings open with a bang, and Amami turns quickly, his grip tightening automatically on Momota, bringing him in to his chest. It’s Akamatsu standing there, his eyes wide with alarm, her expression panicked.

“Are you two okay?” Akamatsu asks, her voice tight. She’s breathing heavily, as though she ran to the door. “I thought I heard coughing.”

Before Momota can reply, Amami curls his arms further around the other boy, keeping him in the protective embrace, and smiles. “It’s alright, Akamatsu-san. Momota-kun just has a head cold.”

“Ah,” Akamatsu blinks. “Are you sure? It sounded--”

“It’s really okay,” Amami cuts her off, and feels guilty for it when he sees the way her brows pinch together. He doesn’t even know why he’s lying. If Momota is sick, this is a big deal. It’s just that Momota is still shaking in his arms, shoulders tense with coughs he’s not letting out, and his first instinct was to lie about it which means he doesn’t want people to know. Amami couldn’t say why he doesn’t want people to know. (Maybe he doesn’t want to make himself a target? That would be understandable, they’re in a killing game, after all.) But his chest is tight for some reason. “You can go back to the dining hall, we’ll be out in a second.”

The look Akamatsu gives him is skeptical. “Well, okay,” she says. “Feel better, Momota-kun,” she frowns.

“Yeah, thanks,” Momota mumbles, his voice muffled by Amami’s shirt.

When the door swings shut behind Akamatsu and her footsteps recede, Amami turns his head back, looking down at Momota’s trembling form. Momota is taller than Amami, actually, but hunched over like this, Amami’s gaze has to point downwards to look at him. Amami opens and closes his mouth a few times. He’s not sure what to say.

Eventually, Momota asks, “Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Amami lifts one of his hands, idly stroking his fingers through Momota’s hair, cupping the back of his head. In most places his hair is stiff with product, but at the base of his skull his hair is soft, and Amami thoughtlessly twirls his fingers in it as he speaks. “Lie?”

“Mhm,” Momota nods into his shoulder. Amami isn’t entirely sure why he hasn’t straightened up yet, but he doesn’t mind. Momota is awfully warm. (Though whether that’s a result of a fever, or just Momota, he couldn’t say.)

“You lied, too,” Amami points out. “Probably had a reason for it, right? I didn’t wanna sabotage you,” he pauses. Thinks about it. “But I’d like it if you could be honest with me about what’s going on with you.”

Momota doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“You don’t owe me anything, of course,” Amami says. “If you don’t want to tell me about it, I’ll accept that and move on. Can’t promise I won’t have an eye on you, but,” he chuckles, “I think I’m kind of entitled to that, so--”

“I don’t think I have very much time left,” Momota whispers. Amami stops talking, abruptly, his eyes widening. He doesn’t know what to say. “I’ve been... this has been happening on and off since I woke up in this place. ‘N it’s only gotten worse,” Momota chuckles. “I’m just trying to hold on until we can get outta here, but it’s... hard.” He’s tense in Amami’s arms, his hands fisted in the fabric of his blue shirt. “Sorry you had to see that. Probably kinda scary to see me coughing like that, huh? My bad for not being more careful.”

“Don’t apologise,” Amami frowns. “I... you’re not going to die, Momota-kun.” Momota laughs into his shirt. “Really, I mean it! You’re not going to die.”

“Sorry if I’m a little skeptical,” Momota pulls back, grinning, his expression sad. “You’re probably right, ‘m not gonna die, it’s just, y’know,” he shrugs. “You don’t hafta reassure me about that shit. I’m braver than that.”

Amami scowls. “Don’t be stupid. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you’re not going to die because we’re going to get out of here.”

“Mmm,” Momota blinks at him. “You think that?”

“I know that,” Amami wrinkles his nose. “I’m gonna get everyone out of here. And I’m gonna do it soon, before anything happens to you. I mean that,” he adds, when Momota gives him another skeptical look. “I have--” ah, shit, what is he saying, “an advantage, over everyone else here. So you can trust me when I say that.”

“An advantage,” Momota repeats.

“Right,” Amami nods. “And I’ll show you if you want,” he says, despite the knot forming in his chest. “So just--”

He bites his lip. Takes in Momota, the odd, vulnerable look on his face, the fact that he’s still basically in Amami’s arms. He remembers the way Momota took on Hoshi as his sidekick after the game started, the way he’s been encouraging everybody else here this whole time, lifting everyone up. No, this man doesn’t deserve to die here of some illness. He deserves to escape. He deserves to survive.

“Don’t say you’re gonna die,” Amami breathes out. “Okay?”

For some reason, Momota takes a moment to reply, opening and closing his mouth. Amami is aware his gaze is heavy; actually, his eyes have been burning a bit this entire time, so it’s not impossible that he might just burst into tears on the spot here. Maybe Momota can tell.

Then a smile appears on Momota’s face. He shifts forward, and slips his arms around Amami, pulling him into a proper hug this time. As Amami lifts his hands to reciprocate, he ignores the fact that Momota is still shaking and squeezes him tight.

“Thanks, Rantaro,” Momota says. Amami feels a lump rise in his throat. “You’re right. I shouldn’t talk like that. And I believe you’ll get us all outta here! With my help, of course.”

“Of course,” Amami says quietly. Guess this is just how it’s going to be, now. It’s just like the time limit they got back in the very beginning, before Saihara died. Only this time there’s only one life on the line, and somehow this one feels much more urgent.

Amami closes his eyes and holds Momota close.

#amamota #drv3 spoilers #death mentions #idk just take it

[favefandomimagines]

Hesitate (p.p.)

Summary: you saved Peter and now it’s time for Peter to save you.

AN: inspired by the new Jonas Brothers song, ‘Hesitate.’ I know the spoiler ban is lifted buuuuut ENDGAME SPOILERS

You were his rock. The only thing that kept him from giving in to the pit of sorrow and guilt that made its way into his stomach.

After Tony, you were there. His shoulder to cry on, the voice of reason, and the person who gave him the unconditional love when he thought he didn’t deserve it. You felt as if being Peter’s lifeline distracted you from your own personal heartbreak.

You lost the only father figure you had. Steve Rogers adopted you after the battle of New York, after saving your life. He took you under his wing and you were truly was his daughter. And he was your father. Losing him took something from you that you’d never get back.

So, you made sure Peter knew that whenever he needed you that he could call you and show up at your Brooklyn apartment. It saves you from having to be alone with your own thoughts.

But one day it all became too much for you. Peter was in Europe, Wanda was in Romania and Sam was off God knows where. You only had Bucky and you didn’t want to burden him with your issues.

What triggered you was a picture of you and Steve. He took you to Coney Island one day and you got your picture taken in front of the ferris wheel. It made you remember that he’s not coming back. He went back in time to be with Peggy and you understood that. She was one of the most important people in his life back in the 40’s but you thought he loved you. You thought you meant more to him.

It broke you down. For the first time since it happened, you lost all your strength and broke.

Bucky arrived at your apartment and could hear the sobs before he got to the front door. “Y/N?” He called before entering.

He opened the door and saw you sitting on the floor with your knees pulled into your chest. “Y/N, what happened?” Bucky asked, rushing to you and kneeling down at your side.

You couldn’t find the words to answer him. Every time you tried, they came out as broken sobs. “You need to tell me what happened, okay doll?” He said trying to soothe you.

The only person he could think of who would be able to help you was Peter.

“I’m calling Parker.” He muttered as he stood up and fished his phone out of his pocket. Bucky was still getting used to the whole technology thing but it was pretty simple to dial a few numbers.

“Uh, Sergeant Barnes? Why are you calling me?” Peter asked when he picked up. “Look, kid. I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t an emergency. It’s Y/N.” Bucky said.

Peter feared the worst when he heard that. Were you hurt? Did his enemies find you? Were you dead too? “What’s wrong with her? Is she okay?” Peter questioned. “No she’s not. I think it’s a panic attack or something. She won’t stop crying. I’ve never seen her like this.” Bucky explained.

“What can I do? I’m in London right now, I can’t exactly get there in a couple minutes.” Peter replied. “You try like hell to get here because Y/N needs you. And only you.” Bucky said before hanging up the phone.

He picked you up from the ground and the two of you made your way back upstate to where Bruce was.

‘He’s a doctor, he can fix her.’ Bucky thought. Bucky cared for you deeply. Especially because you’re his best friend’s daughter. Steve made him promise he’d look out for you and he intended to keep that promise.

Though you had stopped crying when you got to the new Avengers facility, you had gone into a catatonic state. You didn’t talk to anyone, not even Pepper when she arrived.

You just sat there, staring at the wall. Pepper had a good idea of what might have caused this.

The woman pulled Bucky aside, far enough so you couldn’t hear.

“Ever since Tony, Y/N has been putting Peter first. Which is amazing and just like her but it didn’t give her time to process what happened with Steve. Her best friend and boyfriend is out of the country and she had nothing to distract her from the pain. Everything she bottled up just spilled out.” Pepper explained.

“She hasn’t talked to anyone about Steve?” Bucky questioned. “She hasn’t talked to me. And I’m guessing she didn’t talk to you either.” Pepper answered.

Bucky looked back at you and he felt a sense of guilt wash over him. He was supposed to be looking out for you. He should have made you talk about Steve so you’d feel better. But he thought you just needed time.

“I called the kid. I told him what was going on with her.” He told Pepper. “She needs him, right now. Just like he needed her and it’s time for him to return the favor.” Bucky added. 

It had been a few hours, you still hadn’t talked, you hadn’t eaten. Bruce, Pepper and Bucky grew even more worried. You sat in the kitchen, messing with the food on your plate, none of it looking appetizing. 

“Y/N, you need to eat.” Bucky told you. You stopped moving your fork around and looked up at him. “What’s the point? Everyone I love leaves me anyways.” You said quietly. Bucky was happy you spoke but sad for you. “That’s not true.” He said. “It is though, Buck. My real parents abandoned me, the only father I’ve ever known went back in time and left me here, Peter left me to go to Europe.” You replied. 

Your voice didn’t rise nor did it fall. It remained a steady volume while you spoke. 

Before Bucky could reply to you, Peter entered the room coming to a halt seeing you. 

Your mouth fell slightly agape, but you soon grew confused as to why Peter was here instead of London. 

Bucky stood up to leave the room, stopping next to Peter before he left. “Please talk to her.” He said to the boy. Peter nodded his head as Bucky left the room. 

Peter walked towards you and took a seat at the chair next to you. “Y/N, what’s going on?” Peter asked softly. You looked at your hands as your lip quivered and tears welled up in your eyes. 

“He left me.” You whispered. “My dad left me. I mean, I get it. Peggy was his first love and he deserved a happy ending but did he think of me? Did he think what would happen to me if he left?” You added. 

Peter’s heart broke for you, not knowing how bad it was for you. He had no idea and you hadn’t told him how you were feeling. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way?” Peter asked, moving to hold your hand. “You were going through such a hard time with Tony and you needed me. I felt as if I started to talk about my own problems, you would think I didn’t care about yours.” You answered. “You saved me, Y/N. Now I’m going to save you too.” Peter told you. 

You looked up at him before you broke down in tears. Peter moved to hold you and squeezed you tightly. You cried into his chest as he held on to you. A part of him felt guilty for burdening you with his problems and not letting you talk about yours. 

“You were hurting, Pete. You were taking it so so hard and I had to make sure you were okay.” You said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you felt as if you couldn’t talk to me about your dad.” He told you. “I didn’t want to talk about it. It hurt too much so I distracted myself with making sure you were okay.” You answered. 

“But you needed to talk about it too, Y/N. Bottling it up like you did isn’t okay.” Peter rebutted. “I know, I’m sorry I let it get this bad.” You said. “It’s okay. Just make sure that you talk to me, okay?” He said soothingly. “I will.” You replied. 

The two of you stayed there for a moment before he spoke. “I love you, Y/N.” Peter said. “I love you too.” You said. “I will always be here. No matter what happens, I’ll be here.” Peter whispers to you.

And he kept that promise. Peter was always there whenever you missed your dad, whenever you had a nightmare or whenever you needed someone but you didn’t want to annoy Bucky. And he didn’t hesitate to drop whatever it was to be there with you. No matter what, he was there.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tony stark #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #michelle jones #imagine #marvel imagine #spiderman #spider-man: far from home

[mitchsmarners]

SEMI CHARMED LIFE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | 2.8K | TEEN

“You guys have kept in contact this whole time?” Bill asked, brow disappearing underneath hair line as he looked like his old friends in amazement. “And you guys are.. what? Room mates?”

Eddie avoided looking at Richie as he answered. “Yeah, uh… room mates. Something like that.”

[or: the adult!losers reunion, done 2000s sit-com style, just like we all deserve.]

PREVIOUSLY ON SEMI CHARMED LIFE: “Maggie, she… She had a stroke. They were still in the air and the airline medic can only do so… she didn’t make it. I’m so sorry, baby.”  “My mom’s dead?” “You can make my daddy come out of his room.” Frankie said once more, patting Stan on the shoulder with her tiny baby hand. Stan swallowed and looked up, eyes finding Eddie and seeing nothing else. Eddie let out a short sigh, before gesturing towards the hallway for Stan to go.  “Wow...” Eddie chuckled slowly.  “You’ve got some      serious    issues, Beverly Marsh. Get the fuck out of here.” | “So, what are you going to do? About your job?”“I’m going to have to find something temporary, or I’m going to lose my apartment.” “No average person could afford to live in them,” Ben said wisely. “That was the point. I should know- I designed them.”   |  “My boyfriend… the father… I’m not sure if he’s the smartest. He’s an amazing boyfriend, I love him so much. But I’m sure if I can rely on him, when it comes to money.” I want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me these past few weeks. You’ve really changed my life for the better! It means so, so much to me. I hope we can continue seeing each other.

Mike could tell that the only thing keeping Eddie from having some sort of screaming fit was his husband’s hand resting in his lap. It was looking rather like a Kaspbrak family doggy pile on top of Eddie. Richie hadn’t remained standing for very long, still feeling the kind of tired that only sadness to give you, and flopped down onto the couch almost immediately. Eddie had forced everybody away from him, tucking up underneath Richie’s drooping head and immediately started carding his fingers through Richie’s matted curls. Frankie had immediately curled up at Eddie’s side and started mimicking the patting of her father’s head. Marty had been rested on Richie’s chest, and everytime a different person attempted to hold her she let out the smallest, most pitiful of cries. Mike was pretty sure he’d never heard another living thing sound so sad.

Richie’s eyes were closed, but Mike didn’t think he was sleeping. Mike wasn’t really paying attention to Richie anyway-- he was looking at Eddie. More specifically, to the tightness of his jaw and rough posture of his shoulders. Mike liked to believe that he, above every person this world besides Richie, knew Eddie Kaspbrak the best. He’d known the moment Beverly had come into the apartment that the fire would’ve been light under Eddie, and he was surprised it had been so long since Stan arrived and Eddie the Volcano hadn’t erupted. 

Mike had been trying to catch Eddie’s gaze, but he’d been more than stubborningly avoiding it. 

The conversation in the room was hushed, almost non-existent. Maybe they all thought Richie was asleep, or maybe the moment just felt too power to interrupt. Or maybe everybody could tell how close Eddie was to snapping at somebody, and they just wanted to keep it from happening. 

Ben leaned forward, tapping his fingers against Beverly’s shoulders. She startled, looking around to him and Ben nodded towards the kitchen off the end of the living room. They both stood and moved through the living room, trying to pretend they weren’t drawing attention to themselves. 

“I have a suggestion for you.” Ben said in a low voice. “I quit my job at the architecture firm. After everything that happened with you, I realized I needed to take more control of my life. I’m living with Mike right now, he’s letting me crash on his couch, and it’s great but I need to get my money. A job. Get my shit together. And it all got me thinking that the happiest I’ve ever been was when I was designing those houses.”

“They’re beautiful houses, Ben.” Beverly said softly, nodding at him. She remembered the awe she’d felt seeing them, knowing that Ben, her Ben, had made them like that. She smiled at him and he gave her the smallest, half smile in return.

“On the outside, they’re beautiful. Inside they’re empty.” Ben said lightly, eyes looking far away. Beverly bit her bottom lip. “I know you need more secured living, something big to work at so I was thinking of asking you if maybe you’d like to help me design houses.”

Beverly’s mouth dropped open, heart starting to race in her chest. “You… you want me to help you? After everything I did.”

Ben clenched his jaw, seemingly looking anywhere but in Beverly’s eyes. “Whatever happened between us romantically doesn’t change that you were one of the most important people to be most of my life.”

“You know, we keep saying that but is true?” Beverly said quietly. Ben frowned at her, tilting his head to the side. “Like, we’re all here, but it's a little like sitting in a room full of strangers. We’ve been separated longer than some of us were even friends.”

“I have to agree with Beverly.” A deep voice came from behind them. Ben and Beverly both turned around, Beverly’s stomach dropping to her feet when she spotted Eddie leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed and he was frowning at them. The bags under his eyes were obviously even from nearly a foot apart, and Beverly felt her heart clench in sadness. The deep tiredness over her former friend’s face was killing her, filling her with a sickness in her chest that she couldn’t explain. “Sometimes it’s like I don’t know any of you guys at all.”

“Eddie…” Beverly said quietly, her voice coming out as hardly more than a whine. Ben glanced between them with wide eyes, shifting between his feet and looking ready to take a run from the room. “Do we need to do this now?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, stomping towards the fridge and grabbing a can of ginger ale from the fridge. “I’m just here to get a drink for my husband. You’re the one who invited themselves somewhere they weren’t welcome.”  

Beverly winced, eyes closing with shame. Ben let out a low whistle. “Eddie, come on.” He said, shaking his head. “Don’t you think that’s a little-”

“A little what?” Eddie asked coldly, pursing his lips together harshly. “She kissed my husband, then accused me of stealing him from her in the first place.” Ben’s mouth dropped open and he turned to look at Beverly in half-horror, but Eddie barrelled on. “Not to mention, it seems as though you’ve introduced my children to Stanley Uris without my or Richie’s permission!”

Beverly and Ben glanced at each other then quickly dropped their gazes away. “Eddie, we just needed to his help because we’d misplaced Marty and-” 

“You WHAT!” Eddie shrieked, slamming the can down onto the counter and glowering at the pair in front of him. “You better be fucking kidding me, because if you’re not-”

Stan walked in, eyes wide and mouth in tight line. “What is going on?” Stan asked, glancing between them all and looking highly put on. 

Eddie let out an angry huff of breath, eyes flashing. “Oh, no. You? You fuck off.”

Stan annoyed expression quickly melted into something weaker, something almost fearful. “Eddie…”

“No.” Eddie cried. “Don’t you Eddie me! You can walk in here and give some stupid emotional speech to Richie when he’s already vulnerable all you want, but that’s not going to work on me. You can trick Richie into forgiving you, because maybe it was bound to happen, Richie’s a forgiving person. But it wasn’t just Richie you screwed, Stanley. You did something horrible to him, but you didn’t have to deal with anything that happened after. You weren’t there as he fell apart, and you sure as hell wasn’t there to pick him back up, and put him back together. That was me. You did what you did, and paid absolutely no consequences for it. You went off to school, and you say you felt guilty this whole time, but facts are: I sat in a tiny New York apartment with a border catatonic, empty Richie Tozier for a year and help him through what you did. Me, not you. You did nothing. So, yes, maybe Richie forgives you because that’s who Richie is but…” 

Eddie stepped closer to Stan, right into his face. There were tears tingling in his eyes, and Stan swayed slightly like he may fall over. Beverly shuffled backwards, stepping into Ben’s side. 

“I will never forgive you.”

Eddie pushed past Stan, who had gone pale and lower lip was shaking, and stomped out of the kitchen. He didn’t move towards the living room, instead taking a hard left and fleeing from the home. Stan pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes and let out a soft exhale. Ben moved towards the entryway, noting as Mike came from the living room. 

“Eddie, he-” Ben gestured towards the front door.

Mike sighed and nodded. “I was sort of waiting for that, yeah. I’ll go talk to him.” Mike put his feet on and disappeared out the front door, grabbing a pair of Eddie’s shoes off the floor. Ben fiddled with his hands, debating if he should go but simply turned around and moved back to the crowd of his old friends in the living room. Mike and Eddie had always had a strong friendship that Ben wasn’t sure he’d ever felt with anyone. 

Ben got back into the living room and immediately made eye contact with Richie. The other boy was now sitting up, albeit a little slouched and sideways, with his youngest baby daughter cradled in his arms. The look of deep concern was settled on Richie’s face was mirrored on little Frankie’s face as well, both looking up at Ben as though he held more answers then he could have ever dreamed of. Stan and Beverly hadn’t come back into the room.

“It’s okay,” Ben said stiffly with a nod. “Mike is talking to him.” 

Frankie nodded as seriously at a three year old possibly could, settling back up against her dad’s side, but Richie looked much less convinced. Bill reached out and patted Richie lightly on the shoulder, but Richie pulled back from the touch. “You guys don’t need to stay,” he said in a low, empty voice. “I’m fine.”

Bill looked towards Ben, exchanging nervous looks. The little baby in Richie’s arms cooed softly and Richie’s gaze dropped down to her, softening. Blocking out the rest of the room, the rest of the world. It was just Richie and his girls. 

Audra smiled. “We’re not going anywhere. We need to stick together in times like this. I know we don’t know much about each other, but I like to think we’re a family. A family is what’s most important.”

Stan and Beverly moved back into the room now, Stan with red eyes and Beverly rubbing at his back. Patty stood quickly, moving to wrap her arms around her fiancee’s middle. He hugged her back quickly, leaning down to bury his face against her shoulders. 

Bill let out a half disgusted scoff. “That’s rich,” he muttered under his breath. 

Every eye in the room turned to him, even Richie’s. There was a rough silence for a moment, while Audra’s eyes narrowed. “What that was, William?” 

“Oh, nothing, baby.” Bill said in a sugary sweet voice. “I just think it’s interesting to hear a speech about the importance of family from the woman who’s cheating on the father of her unborn child.”

Audra’s mouth dropped open. Bill glared her down. Ben scratched the back of his neck and glanced at the ground. Stan and Patty glanced awkwardly at one another, then quickly averted their gazes.

“Seriously?” Richie grunted under his breath, rolling his eyes. He stroked a soft circle under the sleeping baby’s eye. “This conversation is important right now?”

The conversation barrelled on over top of him. 

“What are you talking about?” Audra asked, shaking her head. 

“I saw your letter.” Bill said, scowling at his girlfriend. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me these past few weeks. You’ve really changed my life for the better! It means so, so much to me. I hope we can continue seeing each other? What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? How long has this been going on, Audra?” 

Stan started coughing, grabbing at his chest and turning away. Audra gave Bill the most disgusted, annoyed look that Richie thought he’d ever seen on a woman’s face. “You idiot. That letter is from Stanley.”

Richie cupped his hands over little Frankie’s eyes just as Bill jerked his head to look at where Stan was standing, looking like a deer in headlights. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Bill lunged at Stan, knocking objects off the table in his haste. He shoved his hands against Stan’s chest, knocking him backwards. Patty let out a startled noise as Beverly wrapped a hand around her wrist and tugged her away the incoming fight. 

Frankie whimpered against Richie’s arm and he felt anger rush through him. “Hey, fuckwads.” Richie hissed. Bill and Stan both turned towards him, eyes widen and both breathing heavy. “This isn’t a scummy downtown bar, this is my fucking living room! My children are here! Get control of yourselves or get the fuck out.”

Bill and Stan both managed to look ashamed for a moment before the fury moved back over Bill’s face. “You’re going to stand up for him? After everything he did to you? He’s screwing my girlfriend!”

“I’m not screwing your girlfriend, man.” Stan said, pinching the brim of his nose. “I’m giving financial advice! She came to me, because she wasn’t sure if you could handle being a father or being responsible at all! And given the fact that you’re running drugs around town to make money, I think she has the right idea.”

Stan’s eyes blew wide open. Bill clenched his jaw. Richie closed his eyes.

“What?” Audra, Ben and Patty all asked in unison. 

Outside, Eddie paced along the front walkway, knuckling the tears away from his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so upset, so scared. And maybe that was a lie, because he remembered that night in their first New York apartment back in ‘96, with Richie’s non-responsive expressions. And he could certainly remember Richie trying to stumble up those stairs, crying and stammering, and the trip to the hospital that night. 

“I brought you shoes.” Mike said, tossing them forward. Eddie turned around and watched them bounce to the ground in front of him. “In case you’re thinking of making it a run for it. I’m sure you can find a mechanic job in another city.”

Eddie gave him a withering look. “I’m not running away. I might chill out here until Stan and Bev leave and then-”

“And then what? You’ll go back in?” Mike challenged. Eddie looked up to his house and swallowed roughly. “Didn’t think so. Come on, Eddie, what the hell is happening? You easily could have gotta Richie out of that room, we both know it. So, what… what happened?”

“You weren’t there last time.” Eddie said with a croak. “This was… this was much like that. The emptiness… just the way he looked, acted. It was so similar. I cannot do that again, not me and not my girls. I-”

“So, what?” Mike asked with a sharp raise of his brow. “You’re running then? Just taking off? Take a little Eddie vacation, fuck Richie and the girls.”

“No. Fuck you,” Eddie rubbed angrily at his face. “You don’t get it. When he came to you, that was already better. Already a huge improvement! I can’t do that again, Mike.”

“Did Richie stop taking his medication?” Mike asked lightly.

“No.” Eddie said, sounding slightly horrified.

“And he always seems to be improving, right?” Mike continued. “He’s outside of the room. He’s even talking a little bit, right?” Eddie nodded begrudgingly and Mike gave him a small. “Eddie, this isn’t going to be like 1996. He lost his mother, and he’s hurting, but he’s here. He’s not leaving. But he needs you to try. Not to get along with Stanley or with Bev, fuck that. If you don’t forgive them, then you don’t. You don’t ever have to. But if you walk out on Richie now, I’ll have to hit you and I’m twice your size.”

“I’m not walking out on him!” Eddie cried, openly tearing up. “I would never and I could never. This isn’t even about that, really. I’m just… fucking scared. And you know what? All I want is to call Maggie and can’t-” Eddie voice shattered on his final word and bent over at the middle. Mike came over and grapsed both of Eddie’s shoulder, making a hurt sound. “Go inside, Eddie. Your family is hurting, too. Hurt together.” 

Eddie straightened up, wiping at the tears on his cheeks as fast as the tears were coming down. He nodded, gave Mike a watery smile and rushed past him into the house. He stumbled towards the living room, barely hearing the sound of people yelling at one another. It all stopped when he almost fell into the living room. There was a hush over everybody, them all looking towards Eddie framed in the living room doorway. 

Richie lowered baby Marty towards Frankie’s little arms, and stood up on shaky legs. “Eds…”

“You can’t go away.” Eddie said through a shaky voice. “You can’t, because God, Richie, I need you. We need you. You can’t go away again. You- I-” Eddie broke off with a whimper, squeezing his eyes closed. 

Richie let out a rough sob, moving slowly forward and wrapping an arm around Eddie, hand coming up to cup the back of his head. “I’m not going to go. I’m okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

Eddie pressed his face further into Richie’s chest and let himself be held by the love of his life. All the other problems could be fought later.

#reddie #reddie fic #my writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #scl tag #semi charmed life #me? dropping at fic at 130 am so it's doomed to flop? #hahah yep!!!

[thisishawkins]

The Parting Glass

This is the follow-up to The Beautiful Ones. I didn’t expect to write this, it just kind of happened. Please, enjoy!

- K

____________

Of course, you did not expect to die in Teller-Morrow parking lot. But, you had a feeling, and stinging realization, really, that you'd die young.

After all, Teller deaths are early-onset and bloody.

*

Gemma was catatonic.

She was the last to arrive to the lot, tires screeching and leaving hot, black marks on the cement.

The sound rang in her ears when she spotted Jax clutching someone, his upper-half huddled over whoever it was. But, the white Cortez adorned feet gave it away.

Opie had tried to tell her it was you, but she had hung up the phone as soon as, “You need to come to the lot.”, left his mouth.

Her stomach dropped and her mind raced simultaneously, pushing her to book it out of her Cadillac, leaving the door wide open, and the headlights cast over the dark lot.

The ambulance was parked nearby, having already pronounced your status, but Jax wouldn’t let you go, at least until Gemma arrived.

She pushed through the guys, wishing that her eyes were deceiving her, that this was just another nightmare.

One of her children was holding the other, one moving and one not.

She couldn't recollect what happened after.

Out of all the things Jax had witnessed and done, this scared him the most: his mother in this barely responsive stupor.

She'd been in it since the ambulance took your body.

Her throat was still sore from her anguished yells and wails.

She sat at the head of her kitchen table, smoking the last of her morning blunt, the arm holding it balanced on the other as she stared off into space.

Jax just stood to her right, placing his keys on the countertop as he stared at his mother, tears building at the rims of his eyes.

“Ma.”, his voice broke.

He'd slept four or five hours, max, in the near two days since you'd passed.

Gemma didn't even react, her gaze still focused elsewhere.

Jax took a couple steps closer, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Mom.”, he repeated just a touch louder.

She looked at him then, his face seeming like a beacon in the darkest of night.

She quickly stubbed the blunt out, still looking at her son, her only child left. A sad smile replaced her unreadable expression, and a tear crept down her cheek.

“Jackson.”, she replied gently.

She stood up from her chair, bringing him to her in a tight embrace, closing her eyes as she felt more tears coming.

Jax held her just as tight, a lone tear making its way down to his mouth.

He heaved suddenly, grief bunched up in his chest and sorrow in the back of his throat.

“We have to bury her.”, he told her.

Gemma slowly pulled away and looked at her son, seeing the pain in his eyes made her fragile heart crumble even more.

She nodded, “I know, baby, I know.”

*

Though Teller-Morrow was closed, Gemma was in the office anyway, grabbing a couple of photos of her three children that she had in the desk, pulling them out every once in awhile.

As she ducked down to look into the drawer, there was a distinct knock on the doorway between the office and the shop.

“Sorry to bother you, Gemma, but I have to give you this.”

Her head popped up then, her left hand pushing her bangs away from her vision.

Chucky held an envelope in his non-wooden hand, his eyes glassy as they spotted the broken-down state of Gemma, something that looked so foreign on the Queen of the Bikers.

Brows pulled together, she stood up from the office chair, stepping toward Chucky.

He gave her a small smile as he handed her the envelope.

Before she could say anything, he was gone, walking back through the garage.

She flipped it over in her hands to reveal one word on the front.

Mom

She immediately recognized the handwriting.

She snatched her glasses from the desk and placed them on the bridge of her nose, her eyes scanning the word over and over.

Slowly stepping toward and sitting down on the worn, plaid office couch, she passed her thumb over the inked words, as if memorizing their feeling.

Gemma opened it carefully, not wanting to ruin it, remembering that you always folded the tab in, never licked the stale glue to seal it because of the taste. A smile nearly made its way to her lips at the memory.

She slipped the letter out of the envelope and unfolded it.

Mom, it said in black, thin script.

If you're reading this, I've gone to wherever Thomas and Dad are.

Please do not get lost in your grief over me. That is easier said than done, but it will only ruin you and break the club more. And nobody wants that, especially me.

Although I've had my misgivings about this life, I know that I made the right choice by staying. There was no me without my family or the club.

I have to admit, this life has been good, despite our definite misfortunes. You, Dad and Clay built an empire, and raised us the best you could. The club is our family, even if it is messy, brutal, and completely insane. But, I'm glad it was my life, even if at times I told you that I wanted out.

However I left this world, I want you to focus on our love and what we had rather than what you've lost. Family is the only thing we have, you taught me that. So, cherish life as it is now. Love Jax, Tara, the boys, Opie, and the club more because I'm not there to do it.

Remember that time when you took Jax and I to Big Sur, when Dad was in Ireland? That was one of the best days of my life. Even though we were all still grieving over Thomas, I felt happy. Like I could still feel that even though we had already been through so much.

It made me realize that as long as I had my family, that my big brother and my mother were safe, everything would be okay.

So, in the end, you will be okay, too.

Thank you for always being the most strong and supportive mother that a daughter could ever ask for.

I will love you forever, and I will see you again.

Y/N

Gemma didn't want it to end, because she could hear it as if you were in the room with her.

So, she read it twice more, tears covering her all the while.

Before she could read it another time, she heard the rumbling of a bike.

Pushing herself up from the low perch of the couch, she walked up to the blinds, two polished fingers spreading two apart.

It was Clay, not Jax.

She watched as he gingerly got off of his bike.

He began to make his way towards the office, but he stopped, looking back.

She knew what had caught his attention.

The cement was still stained with your blood.

_________

Opie was at a loss, really.

Like with Donna’s death, he needed retribution. Revenge was the name that would haunt him, nothing else, and his dreams would be a plague on his mind until he retrieved it.

But, this was a different hurt, much deeper. It only made him feel worse, feel guilty. But, why?

Lyla had taken the kids to the park, giving Opie the time and space to cope.

But, he would never fully cope. Not him, not Jax, not Gemma, not anyone.

He was standing in the kitchen, nursing his third cup of coffee, and the house was silent, cold even.

There was a knock at the front door, and Opie immediately set his mug down before stocking over to the front door.

He jerked it open, revealing a small, twitchy man.

Chucky.

Brows pulled together, Opie grumbled, “What’re you doing here, Chucky?”

He opened his mouth then closed it, not really knowing how to begin.

Instead, Chucky settled with holding up an envelope.

Opie beckoned him with his hand, and Chucky handed it to him.

He looked down at its face, and it read in a familiar script.

Harry

Before he could ask Chucky, he was already pulling out of his driveway.

Opie barely remembered to close the door.

Leaning against the counter, next to his mug, he opened the envelope, unfolding the neatly folded contents.

Opie,

The front got your attention, didn’t it?

He smiled for once, thinking about the amused expression that had to have been on your face when writing that.

You know, thinking about when we started calling you ‘Opie’ makes my head spin. Feels like another world away, and it is.

Anyway, if you have this letter, it means I’m gone.

However I died, I hope it doesn’t leave wounds too deep. The club doesn’t need more baggage, more weakness.

I hope it’s not too much to ask a few things of you, considering the circumstances.

Look after Jax. I know that he can take of himself, but he’s much better when he has his brother on his side. That is asking a lot, with all the shit that has gone on, but whether you think so or not, he is on your side. Always has, always will be.

He is going to get reckless, we both know that. He’ll get lost in the pain and revenge. And whoever killed me, that’s exactly what they want. So, don’t let him, the club, feed into that. Don’t allow that hole in our family, our club, expose us to our enemies. You can avenge me, but try and do it quick, and get over it. The club has worse things to worry about.

So, please don’t go chasing my ghost.

You don’t deserve more pain, you carry around enough, so I’m sorry for putting this on you. I wish I could have helped you more than I could have. Truth is, Ope, I’ve been in love with you since I was nine years old. You’ve been my savior, my best friend. Don’t be mad that I never said anything. You’ve had Donna, and Lyla, and you need them. They make you happy. I couldn’t ruin that, even if you did feel the same.

Cherish Lyla and your kids. She’s good for you, and your kids need you.

And, once my death is settled, make Jax realize his place. He told you once - you can’t be half in, half out. So, he can’t either. Get rid of Clay, whether it be Mayhem or cutting him off. The club needs it.

Wish I had the chance to tell you this in person.

I love you.

Y/N

He placed the letter onto the counter, and his hands went into his hair before they covered his face.

Opie loved you, he knew that now.

He shook his head, hands still covering his now stinging eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”, he mumbled, voice breaking, “I love you, too.”

_________

Tara lowered Thomas into his crib, having just fallen asleep after over an hour of crying for Jax.

She was defeated, to say the least.

Not just with the boys, because they could sense that something was off.

Abel had even asked where his Aunt was, and if he could go visit her later.

Luckily, Jax was there to explain things as lightly as possible.

Though she'd witnessed and fixed many people in her career, she'd never been so scarred from failing to help you. And seeing Jax, Gemma, and the club in such a mess made her feel worse.

If she couldn't help you, or her family, what was she to do? Afterall, if it wasn't for her not having a weapon, you probably wouldn't be laying in the morgue at St. Thomas.

Although Jax didn't blame her, she had a feeling that Gemma might, which was a storm that she wasn't ready to endure.

“Alright, Abel, ready for a bedtime story?”, she asked him with a tired, gentle smile as she walked into his bedroom.

He sat up in his bed, with three books that he was silently picking through with a round of 'eenie-meenie-minie-mo’.

He finished before he nodded, hugging the chosen one to his tiny chest.

She sat on the edge of his bed, and Abel gave her the book.

“These are some nice choices, Abel. We've never read these before.”, Tara commented, eyes scanning over them.

“They are ones that Aunt Y/N gave to me.”, Abel's small voice replied, his mind remembering when she took him to buy them.

Tara gazed at him for a second, feeling tears prickle at the edges of her eyes, blinking them away.

“You're such a smart boy.”, she told him, heart clenching.

He beamed.

Tara began reading the book he picked, but near the end, he asked her, “When will I get to see Aunt Y/N, again?”

She stopped mid-sentence. It took Tara all that was left in her not to tear-up. Instead, she let out a small sigh, and shifted her eyes from the vibrant pages to Abel's blue, Teller eyes.

“Someday. She's gone away for a little while. Remember what Daddy said?”, she tenderly replied.

“She's with Grandpa.”, he responded.

“That’s right. And even though she's not here, she's still with you right here, okay?”, she said, pointing to his heart.

“Okay.”, Abel answered, a small frown slowly forming.

Tara finished the book, tucked him in, kissed his forehead, and walked toward the light-switch.

“Mommy?”, Abel asked, and Tara turned around.

“Can I write a letter to Aunt Y/N?”

Tara's heart sank, barely being able to smile, and nodded.

“You can tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”, he smiled.

“Good night.”, she told him.

“‘Night, Mommy.”

*

It was around 8:30, and it was nearly dark outside when Tara's phone rang. The caller ID said it was the office phone at the garage.

“Hello?”, she said, expecting Gemma or one of the guys to reply.

“Tara, it's Chucky.”

“Oh.”, she replied, surprised, “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I mean, Jax and the guys are fine.”, he explained, “I just have something for you. From Y/N.”

Confused, she sputtered, “O-okay.”

“Is it alright if I bring it to you? I don't mean to intrude or-”

“Oh, no, no, it's fine.”, Tara told him. She was still confused, and a little worried.

“Okay, I'll be right over.”, he answered, not really knowing how to end the call.

Sensing this, she told him, “See you soon.”

*

Twelve minutes later, Chucky was at the front door.

Tara looked through the peep-hole before she answered, feeling the cold metal of the hand-pistol in her backside that Jax gave her.

She opened the door, and Chucky supplied his small, slightly uncomfortable smile that was normal for him.

He took something from his back pocket, and it revealed to be a single envelope that had Tara's name on its front.

Taking it in hand, she stated, “Thank you.”, meeting his anxious eyes.

He offered a quirk of a smile and a nod before making his way back to his car.

She shut the door, and turned all of the locks, brows pulled together and her mouth set into a small frown.

Stopping a second to make sure that Thomas wasn't crying, she continued on toward the kitchen table, taking a seat.

Tara glanced at the front once more before opening the creme envelope.

Tara,

If this has made its way to you, I am no longer with you.

I know we've had our differences, but I want you to know that I love you, and am glad that you are with Jax, the mother of my nephews, and my sister.

I cannot emphasize enough how important you are to our family and the club.

With that in mind, please decide on the life you want with us. I can except and completely understand your desire to leave and have Jax leave with you, but make that decision final. Do not keep switching sides. Either stay and replace Gemma, or leave and rebuild. If you don't make it clean-cut, it's going to be bloody.

And I do not want you to get hurt, especially because of the boys. They need you, and so does Jax and the club. And Gemma, whether she would ever admit that or not.

Tara mouth quirked up into a smile at that, allowing herself to cry.

I'm happy that we've grown closer, finally another woman other than my Mother to share the struggle of being amongst the sea of (stinky) men. God, have you smelt some of them lately?

Tara chuckled through her tears, feeling as if she was sitting across the table from you rather than reading your last words to her.

Anyway, you get my point. When the time comes, let the boys choose what they want. Imagine, Thomas a doctor and Abel an auto-mechanic/biker, or maybe even reversed.

I know that both you and Jax don't want this life for them. Truth be told, I don't either. But, I don't think we really have a choice in the matter.

Just take care of them, and my brother. Remember, all of us love them.

Good luck.

Love,

Y/N

By the end, Tara was pacing around the kitchen.

“Dammit, Y/N.”, she thought, carefully sliding the letter back into the envelope.

She wondered if anyone else had received letters, and when she would expect Jax home, in her arms and clean of the blood he was bound to be spilling.

___________

Needing something to do other than think about you and club business, Chibs was fixing up a bike that a retiree had brought in a few days ago.

He had just taken a break, failing to scrub away the oil and grease that had worked it way into the divots of his handprints, when Chucky walked into the garage.

“Aye, Chucky.”, Chibs greeted.

“Chibs.”, he nodded, “I-uh, need to give you this.”

He handed the letter to Chibs, and without a word, like with Gemma, he was gone.

Chibs's brown eyes studied the front of the envelope, which in thin, black script read Filip.

He opened it with care, hoping to not taint it too much with his soiled prints.

Chibby,

If this letter is in your Marlboro-loving hands,

He grinned at the comment, though sadness still evident in his eyes.

I am no longer here to steal more cigarettes from them.

The grin immediately disappeared.

I am so thankful for you, my Scotsman, one of the best men I've ever known.

Although Jax and Gemma are bound to get lost in their grief, despite me writing letters to them as well, you need not get lost in it, too. Focus on fixing the club rather than revenge. It'll blind everyone from what SAMCRO needs instead of giving it what it deserves.

I know you will do the right thing, not matter what it takes.

Whatever happens, make sure you and your family are safe, and that my family and the club are settled. You and Bobby are the only ones that I trust to do what is best for all of us.

Please, take care of them. Help Jax. We both love you so much.

I'll see you later, ready to share another smoke and a smile.

Love,

Y/N

A couple of tears met his salt and pepper goatee and jawline.

Filip Telford would always miss you.

___________

It was near one in the morning when Jax finally parked his bike into the lot.

It took a big part of him to not look at the stained cement, another permanent reminder that his little sister was dead.

He'd found some leads about who was responsible for your murder and why, the specks of blood on his Air-Force Ones were evidence of that.

Your wake was tomorrow, and it seemed like he was barely close to finding any answers. It drove him mad.

Your death was also a nail in the coffin to his fate. He was going to die bloody, too. After all, that's what Tellers do.

For once, he was the only one in the lot.

He strode into the clubhouse, going towards Church.

Turning the knob and opening the door, his eyes were already set on the gavel.

It and the reaper were bathing in moonlight, beckoning him over.

He didn't sit down at his throne. Instead, he looked from the moon to the gavel, tracing the gavel with his fingers, noting the way his rings caught the light, contemplating how life got to this.

Jax's blue eyes flickered to his seat. Something white sat on the black leather.

A letter.

His heart stopped at the all-too-familiar script written on the front.

Jax took it in hand, before going straight from the table to the bar, grabbing a beer.

Before he knew it, his hands and feet were climbing up the ladder to his favorite spot, the chirping of crickets accompanying his steps.

It wasn't until he had taken a sip of his beer that he opened the envelope and retrieved the letter.

Jax,

I'm gone, and I'm not coming back.

I know it's in our blood, but please do not get lost in the hatred, the revenge, the self-loathing. That's asking a lot, but I don't need you to die with me. Everyone needs you.

Dad didn't want this for us, and I know that he was right in wanting that. But honestly, who would we be without the club?

A smile full of sorrow crept onto his face, his eyes already glassy.

Once you've sought revenge, leave it at that. Get Clay out of the picture. I don't care if we still need him. We are all better cutting that tie.

Then, lead this path away from a bloody end. One of us has to make it out.

Get the club out of all of this mess. Whatever you have to do, do it, because someone else is going to die along with me if it continues.

I've been thinking about everything for awhile. What Dad did, his manuscript, what Mom and Clay have done, and what's in our hands. You and I have wanted out at some point, but we've always came back. Why? What is so alluring? The violence? The power? Is it fate?

Are we the good or the bad ones?

I wish I had these answers. If one of us did, life would be different, and much less gruesome.

I'm sorry that you and Tara didn't get the life you wanted together. You both deserve happiness. The boys deserve a future without all of this. But if fate is real, it has other plans.

If we had a choice in the matter, I'd be alive, right?

Do not make our parents mistakes. Set things right. I'm sorry that I'm not there to help you do that.

And, do not put my death on yourself, like I know you will. The weight you carry is unimaginable. I wish I would be there still to help lessen the burden.

Take care of our family, and our club.

I love you, big brother. I hope I won't see you soon.

Good luck,

Y/N

Jax wiped away the wetness that coated his face as he stuffed the letter into his kutte.

What would he do without you?

At that, his gaze landed on the bleak night sky, only a few stars blinking back him.

He stared at the biggest, closest one.

“Hi, little sis.”, he greeted aloud, a trembling smile making its way onto his exhausted face.

“I will.”, Jax told you, nodding, “I will.”

#my post #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa #masterlist #mine #enjoy punks!

[lokiarsene]

like yesterday, here's a bullet list of my thoughts for episodes 18~21

thoughts on episode 18:

oh no, it's the beach episode.

-- i really like how they show the way the PT take care of futaba. ren patiently cleaning up her room in between hours at the florist, them playing vidya with her, or just having lunch together in montage moments is very sweet. it makes me wish the anime had much slower pacing, more slice of life-y kind of drama.

-- watching yusuke, ryuji, and futaba lose their freakin minds over good curry is VERY relatable.

-- i still don't understand why ann and makoto thought that a two piece frilly bathing suit was the way to go with futaba. a one piece that she could wear under a long wrap or a hoodie would've made so much more sense... but >male gaze

-- have i told y'all how fucking tired i am of the sexualization of the teenage girls in p5 yet, and how it is one of the several things that fuckin ruined this game for me

have i?

well here it is again

none of the previous games were as bad as this b t w and p4 had one of the dungeons be a STRIP CLUB.

-- yusuke and his lobsters are wonderful.

-- oh god i forgot COMPLETELY about the whole 'mental shutdowns' thing in this game's plot. i think because it's all so pointlessly convoluted. p3 had something similar but even there it was just people turned catatonic for weeks on end when the monthly boss-shadows drew near.

i think the reason i find this so hard to understand is because from p3 to p4 the rules of shadows didn't really change so much. p3 had the persona users go up against shadow bosses; p4 had people confront the shadows within themselves, either accepting them completely (which then turned into persona), or the shadow 'absorbed' the person and ran rampant as a monster. neither of those rules really contradict each other, but in p5 personal shadows for persona users are gone completely, and how you deal with other people's personal shadows doesn't even involve them being present to complete the merge.

mona says that persona users can't have palaces, but persona users in 4 could and DID have 'dungeons' within the shadows' worlds. these dungeons dealt specifically with what was at the core of the shadows' emergence--a deep secret and a hidden truth that caused the shadow to grow, a place that was a replica and a distortion of reality based upon that suppressed truth. so that sure sounds like a fucking palace to me.

so....................... unless there's like, multiple realities folded into our own, and persona users can only access certain ones.................. i'm just super confused.

like, i know it's because the rules change game to game, but p3 to p4 didn't have any contradictions, and p2 didn't contradict anything in p3, either. it just went from a full party of wild card users to a singular one.

-- i'm glad ann's getting a little screentime here. i was just thinking about how other characters' development was lacking after makoto and futaba got so much focus.

-- mona's so sweet to ann ;-; now that he has a human form in p5r, i hope they become really good friends. she needs a kind guy friend that'll be reliable~ plus he makes her laugh.

-- sojiro talking about the anniversary of wakaba's death is......... really interesting........ considering that screenshot of futaba sitting next to a woman with the exact same haircut as her "deceased" mother.

-- ren reassuring mona that he absolutely has to be human, that he will return to who he used to be once they figure out what's happening in the metaverse is jsut jdfklasd

AND HIS LIL ROUND OF APPLAUSE WHEN MONA TALKS ABOUT ALL THE THINGS HE'S GOING TO DO TO KEEP THE WORLD SAFE ;-;

AND THAT SHOT OF HIM SLEEPING CURLED UP ON REN'S STOMACH

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

-- listen i know mona isn't rly a cat but he's the BEST cat

thoughts on episode 19:

oh it's the hawaii episode.

-- man what the hell kinda budget do these school's got that they can just go overseas with dozens of students on a yearly basis? that's impressive.

-- ryuji: "whoa, awesome! ..... i don't really get it, but awesome!" fjdsafds okay that got a laugh outta me. good one, ryuji.

-- ren: "i'm excited, too." (said in a monotone) fjklsadsl BLESS THIS BOY

-- ren's FACE when he learns that futaba installed a spying app on his phone and can hear him/see pictures he takes is...... kind of hilarious. especially if you have the headcanon that he and akechi send dumbass snapchats to each other a lot--which i do. and which you do now, too.

-- mona's depression is ten times more sad because he's a cat okay :c why they gotta make the cat so cute

-- ren, ryuji, and ann's lil sleepover is adorable. especially since ann chastises ryuji for not knowing one of the basic rules of a sleepover: if you start talkin' about your crushes, you gotta start with your own~ thems the rules lads

-- rip principal bloatneck.

-- honestly that truck shoulda at least TRIED to stop.

-- "A LO HA." goddammit that's adorable

AND HE GIVES THE LEI NECKLACE TO MONA FJDSKFJDSKL ren you're so SWEET.

-- I TOTALLY FORGOT THAT MONA CALLS SAE "ONEE-NO-NIIJIMA" FJADSKLFJDSKL ahhhh it's so cute.

-- the PT targeting okumura, who is essentially the dave thomas with political ambitions of the persona 5 world, is far funnier now that i phrase it like that.

-- ANN, OF ALL FUCKING PEOPLE, SAYING THAT THEY PROBABLY BROUGHT THIS RECENT TROUBLE ON THEMSELVES, IS A FUCKING STUPID WRITING DECISION. I CAN'T BELIEVE SOMEONE DIDN'T LOOK AT THAT AND GO, "ANN WOULDN'T SAY THIS. ANN HAS NO REASON TO SAY IT." god. lmao PLEASe let p5r be a goddamn second draft.

-- mona's totally right that ryuji's just concerned with getting popular and his dick wet. like,,, that's why this argument only made me hate ryuji more than i already did. he gets pissy when mona points out the truth.

god he sucks lmao

I'M SORRY I'M SO SALTY YOU GUYS

LOOK I'LL SAY SOMETHING NICE: SAE AND AKECHI ARE COOL

-- i really like how guarded akechi's face looks in his conversation with sae, and how off his guard he looks when she tells him that she's not going to hold back, especially since the culprit is doing such dire, awful things. he's not exactly surprised, but he's definitely uneasy and shaken by what he hears. which makes me wonder who he’s really concerned for--himself, or for ren (and the PT by extension, but akechi only really seems to care about ren, so).

the reason i like that is because the okumura arc in p5 is really where akechi's mind starts its downward spiral. principal kobayakawa's death obviously rattled him, especially since the only reason the principal died was because shido saw him as useless and disposable, something akechi is desperate NEVER TO BE. and it's that + what happens with okumura that really kicks him over the edge.

i hope p5r will give us the chance to pull him back from it. he deserves a better chance than the game's subpar writing gave to him.

thoughts on episode 20:

-- ren wakes up in a panic because he thinks he sees mona on his bed ;___________;

-- goro snoopin' on the PT's LOUD, TOTALLY CONSPICUOUS conversation in front of okumura foods' HQ is kind of adorable if you remember he clearly loves star wars (HE HAS A LIGHT SABER), and the camera cuts to his face right as they're talking about big bang and outer space lingo.

-- oh, haru. i really wish you were the black mask. that would've been so much cooler--and an actual twist. her total hopeless panic about being a beauty thief could still be a thing (because it is actually endearing), it'd just be an act. but that's me talkin' fix-its again.

-- i really like the scene of haru defending mona to the PT on the rooftop, then cutting to show just how strained her relationship is with her father. she exists to be useful to her father's ambitions and nothing else, and that scene really drove home just how painful that is for her.

-- REN TWIRLS HIS HAIR BETWEEN TWO FINGERS WHEN HE'S DEEP IN THOUGHT. AHHHHHHH I FORGOT HE DID THAT

-- oh hey remember how the game went through the trouble of showing how haru's fiance is a sexist, violent, animal-hurting piece of shit and then promptly failed to actually separate her from him in game (i think you only can do that in her s-link?? the s-link you can barely finish in your first run of the game??), and in t hEN SHOWED HER IN THE CAR WITH HIM LATER, LOOKING HORRIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE?

god this story makes me so fucking mad lmfao STOP PUTTING GIRLS IN PHYSICALLY OR SEXUALLY VIOLENT PERIL AND NEVER ACTUALLY ENSURING THAT THEY'RE SAFE, YOU DAVID CAGE LEVEL OF HACK BULLSHIT WRITERS.

-- ryuji running into the attic, all worried about mona, with a first aid kit, is..... very good. very good and endearing. good on you, ryuji.

-- haru gently encouraging mona to tell the truth is also really good. idk if i just missed it in the game or what, but i really like how she's presented in the anime. she's like a counterpart to ren--soft, sincere, observant, patient, yet she's made of pure steel beneath all that.

thoughts on episode 21:

-- WHY WAS HARU'S GRANDFATHER GIVING COFFEE TO A FIVE YEAR OLD

-- haru, the reason your father's heart grew twisted is thanks to capitalism. you gotta change the heart of capitalism.

-- not to be all poochie here but whenever akechi isn't on screen, all i can ask myself is whERE'S AKECHI?

-- HOW CAN I TAKE THE EVIL DAVE THOMAS SERIOUSLY WHEN HE'S DRESSED LIKE FUCKIN MEGAMIND?

-- okay see this is where i'm thrown completely out of the story or even really liking haru. haru just listened to her dad's shadow saying he would PIMP HER OUT TO HER FIANCE WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT. and she still is just like ~no i want him to go back to being kind~

bitch are you nuts

are you NUTS

youR DAd SHOULD DIE AND YOU'D BE BETTER OFF

CONSIDERING HOW THE GAME GOES, YOU ARe BETTER OFF

god. i'm getting so mad again lmao

-- ren approaching haru to point out that if the truth of her father's crimes comes to light, she'll forever be associated with him (and with all the harm and ruined reputation that brings) is, once again, further reminder of just how... damn good ren is. he doesn't hesitate to speak from the heart nor does he ever fail to listen to someone else speak from theirs.

-- also not for nothing but uh

how did the cops not like

figure out how the PT phan-site was set up within the first few months and track it down to mishima? was that ever addressed at all?

-- honestly another reason why i get so fucking mad about this okumura stuff is the game goes SO FAR OUT OF ITS WAY to make you feel BAD that he died, when he was by all rights a fucking shitheel monster, yet when akechi dies it's like 'oh well. that sucked.' fuck off, atlus. the death of a greedy, heartless CEO isn't more sad just because his gaslit daughter is conditioned to be sad about it.

i understand that a large part of the shock after okumura's death is because the PT don't know if they did anything wrong. but okumura was in no way a good person. he was in no way a person whose redemption overruled all the hurt and harm he did. that has been the case for EVERY PT target before this, so why the fuck is okumura suddenly so different? why SHOULD he be?

the difference between him and, say, akechi is that okumura et. al. all made those choices on their own to do terrible things. they delighted in it, they enjoyed it. but akechi, much like futaba, was forced into a cycle of self-destruction--it’s just that in futaba’s case, her self-destruction targeted herself, and akechi’s was quite literally weaponized and used against others. he approached shido as a young teenager and was then used by him for years.

a teenage boy being used as a magical hitman by his shitlord father is far more deserving of sympathy and redemption than grown adults who willingly make the decision to harm, abuse, and prey on others. but no, the game didn’t want to do that.

this is another big problem i have with p5's second and third acts: it's so tonally dissonant and sloppy. it's like they didn't try to actually be as rebellious and hellraiser-y as the first act WANTED to be, and it all ends up being such a limp-dick shriveled mess of "let's fight against this rotten society!! ......... as long as it in no way actually upsets anyone or does any REAL change." fuck off lmao

that's not me even commenting on the "twist" and how it needed to be explained MULTIPLE TIMES to the player for it to make any sense.

and it still doesn't make sense to me btw.

so that's another thing i hope p5r fixes.

-- rip evil dave thomas megamind.

-- akechi floating the idea to sae that the phantom thieves had nothing to do with okmura’s death is............................ interesting.

#this is the ask tag #p5 anime #some slight salt in this post y'all

[liliaeth]

I generally avoid anti Scott posts, mostly because they tend to be filled with delusions, and are based on nothing but irrational hate against Scott for daring to be a better man than any of their faves.  So they tend to judge him for small mistakes and act as if he’s the worst for not being perfect, while giving their faves a complete pass for all the much worse crap they pull, because they have the ‘sad’.

But there’s one thing that keeps showing up in their silly attempts at discourse, one of those things they tend to pull completely out of context and try to use as if it somehow shows Scott as the bad guy. (after all, they have so few things to cling to, so after a while you get used to their ‘biggest hits’ of excuses as to why they claim to hate Scott.)

This notion that Scott was a monster for telling Derek, in front of supposedly catatonic Peter, that ‘the hales might have deserved what they got.

Derek: He was. Now he's barely even human. Six years ago, my sister and I were at school, and our house caught fire. 11 people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor. Scott: So - What makes you so sure that they set the fire? Derek: 'Cause they're the only ones that knew about us. Scott: Well, then - They had a reason.

See, this is one of those scenes they keep coming back to, and why is that, because Scott for once, is not considerate of Derek’s (and Peter’s) feelings.

The context they ignore though, is what Scott knows about werewolves up to this point. And I’m not talking about what the Argents made clear through Chris talk about dogs suffering from rabies. I’m talking about Derek and Peter’s behavior towards Scott and others. And what Derek himself told Scott about werewolves.

Remember this little scene from Pack Mentality

Derek: You think you attacked the driver? Scott: Did you see what I did last night? Derek: No.

Scott: Can you at least tell me the truth? Am I gonna hurt someone? Derek: Yes. Scott: Could I kill someone? Derek: Yes. Scott: Am I gonna kill someone? Derek: Probably.

This is what Derek himself told Scott about werewolves. That sooner or later he was going to hurt and/or kill someone. That no matter how much Scott didn’t want to hurt anyone,and was begging for some hint that he couldn't possibly have attacked someone against his will, that sooner or later he was probably going to end up killing someone. That is the information Derek gave a scared sixteen year old boy about werewolves.

And this is after Derek had been stalking, physically assaulting, and threatening this same sixteen year old.

This is after the alpha without a thought, assaulted Scott, bit him, altered his body against his wishes, after the alpha had been taking over his mind, making him run with him, trying to make him kill with him.

This is after the alpha had also been stalking him, not talking to him, not trying to make any kind of actual face to face contact of explaining what he’d done, or why, nope, just trying to turn Scott into his slave, getting him to do his dirty work for him.

That is the kind of context Scott had when he said the line: “Scott: Well, then - They had a reason. “

Because after all, that’s the reason werewolves, both Derek and the at this point unknown Alpha, had given Scott. And keep in mind that Scott says this line after he’d already spent that night risking his life to save Derek, the man who had shown him no kindness, who had treated him with violence, scorn, and abuse, who had broken into his home to threaten his life.

But somehow to them this line erases everything bad Derek or Peter did to Scott and made the child in the situation the bad guy.

Because they forget that this line of Derek comes after what Scott said, not before it:

Derek: Like what? You tell me what justifies this. They say they'll only kill an adult, and only with absolute proof, but there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that fire. This is what they do. And it's what Allison will do.

After all, Scott unlike Stiles, did not research the fire, and did not know  who all the people that died in the fire were. Not until this moment when Derek tells him there were innocents involved.

But then they expect Scott to give Derek all the sympathy, while never expecting the full grown adult to give the child any of said sympathy in return.

And ‘that’ is a huge part of why the antis claims are so nonsensical in the extreme.

#scott mccall defense squad

[reibertweek]

Reibert Gift Exchange Present

My secret Santa gift to Chuchu (@b00kcake). I’m not in town at the moment, but I wanted you to enjoy your gift on time. Please enjoy—Fea (@perfectackeracy)

Liberio, morning.

The sun’s rays make themselves shy between the buildings, barely able to make the mist fall in the street. The alleys were just as lively as the ambient cold: only a few sounds could be heard. While merchants were opening their stores quietly, others were staying inside their homes for the rest of dawn. They would get up to work while their Marlean fellows were profiting off their day.

Such is the life of a day off in Liberio.

The same thing applied for the military personnel. While the most cherished of them all, the warriors of Marley, had a privileged status, they were still devils at their roots. No devil needed a rest. Unless it’s for morning groceries.

That’s how cadet Reiner Braun spent his early morning before heading to the headquarters. As mornings were cold in this season, he headed to the marketplace, wearing a scarf and a cap, holding his basket and keeping pocket money safe, when the stands were barely set up. He’s gotten familiar with the merchants and never failed to get the fresher ingredients—that held the advantage of being rewarded with his mother’s delicious meals. As he was going back home, he encountered another boy, carrying a package from the drug store.

That boy was none other than Bertolt Hoover, his fellow warrior candidate, with a kind heart and tender eyes. Both boys were surprised to see each other that early in the morning.

“Ah- Bertolt? What are you doing here this early?” Reiner began.

“A- Ah… Just picking something from the drug store.” Bertolt scanned Reiner quickly.

He looked so different with his winter attire and stuffy nose. Combined with the basket filled with bags, leeks and potatoes in full evidence, he could’ve been mistaken for a random citizen minding his business. Of course, with the armband indicating their affiliation....

“You… went to the marketplace?”

“Ah, yeah! Just picking stuff for my mom.”

Curious, Reiner inquired, “What’s inside that bag?”

“Medicine. It’s for my father. Winter is coming close and…”

He does not finish his sentence. His father was chronically ill and the winter showing up means his health was at risk. It was up to the son to fetch some medicine that would allow him to see another year. The silence was quickly becoming unbearable.

“Why don’t we walk back to my house together?” Reiner proposed, breaking the ice.

Bertolt was taken by surprise by the proposition,but agreed nonetheless.

They walked side-by-side, on the pavement, while the sun was getting higher and higher in the sky. Eventually, the inhabitants’ roofs could no longer mask the bright disk. The colors already made the street more colorful. Bertolt smiled, admiring the landscape. Not a single cloud was seen in the horizon.

“It looks like this is going to be a good day to train. Despite the cold.” Reiner noticed Bertolt’s smile. “Better give ourselves at 200%, today.”

“Eh? You don’t want to take a day off?” Bertolt replied abruptly, “After all we never… have time for ourselves.”

Reiner side-eyed Bertolt following that remark.

“...Don’t tell me you want to slack off?”

“N-No! That’s not what I meant! We-”

“Do I need to remind you if we slack off, we’re losing our way to become honorary Marleans?”

Bertolt paused, taken by surprise by Reiner’s remark. Reiner was right about how serious the training was. Despite how talented Bertolt was, he felt rather insecure about not getting a titan. Any mistake, and he could sit on the bench.

Yet being postponed for the next thirteen years wasn’t a bad thing. What was so great about ending your life that early? Why wouldn’t they wait for thirteen years more and stare at beautiful mornings like this one? War was scary anyway.

“Besides… Marley will be able to help your dad if you get chosen, right?”, Reiner interrupted Bertolt in his thoughts, trying to remind him why it was important. Bertolt couldn’t deny the benefits becoming a Marlean warrior would grant: privilege, care, honors… maybe it didn’t only have negatives after all.

“You’re right… It’s just that-”

“That what?”

It would’ve been nice if we’ve gotten a day of freedom.

“N-Nothing.”

Bertolt couldn’t usher those words, not even in front of Reiner. Hell, the idea of Eldians thinking about getting a whole day off was inconceivable. Less of all Marley warriors. What they worked for was indeed a dirty job. But in this world, there is not another possibility to ascend in social status, or any other way to prevent your parent from dying an early death.The best way was to be sent as a soldier. Dropping everything off on a whim would be status suicide.

“Hey.” Reiner tapped Bertolt’s shoulder. “Y’know, if we get to accomplish our mission in time and serve our country well… maybe they’ll let us off. Out of the internment zone I mean.” He stared in Bertolt’s deep, dark green eyes for a moment before focusing again on the pavement, slowing down his pace a bit. “...so you can enjoy other frisky mornings like this.”

Bertolt appreciated the thought and slowed down to match Reiner’s pace. That grocery basket was weighing on the shorter boy and he was well-known for being the one with the worst grades. Bertolt let him win in certain areas sometimes, so he wouldn’t feel sad and worthless at the end of the round. The persistence he showed was fascinating, up to the point he would even use his strongest asset to impose his authority over the group.

“D-Do you want me to-”, Bertolt offered to carry Reiner’s basket.

“Ah, uh no. It’s fine, don’t worry.”

Sometimes he wondered what could push Reiner to go onwards. He told him it was for the sake of his family, just like him. But another, deeper reason was lying underneath: he wanted to become a hero, the glorified warrior who will save the world. That’s why he was willing to put his life on the line, willing to sacrifice his life, and possibly a part of himself in the process.

Reiner was truly amazing.

“...I don’t know how you can keep going like that.”

“Eh?”

“You said you were going to give yourself at 200% today? Even under that cold?”

Reiner paused, “Well yeah, I’m just gonna bring mom some groceries and get to training. Besides, it’s chilly today, but bearable. We’ll make it for sure.”

Bertolt pressed the medicine package against his mouth. “I envy you…”

“What did you say?”

“I envy you for having something more important than your life.”

The words came out of Bertolt’s mouth, as he was staring right in the road’s direction. It’s not the first time Bertolt made that kind of mystical and vague comment. Aside from his meek and gentle personality, it gave him a certain charm. Despite the two of them being friends, Reiner couldn’t understand what was going through Bertolt’s head. Starting with him sticking up for him and following him everywhere. How could some warrior prodigy stay alongside the big mouth at the bottom of the group? What did he see in the blonde-haired boy, exactly?

“Well, you wanna help your family just like I wanna do something for mine, so…” Reiner hid his jaw in his muffler. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

In these moments, it wasn’t uncommon for Reiner to feel like a pinch in his heart whenever Bertolt felt depreciative. Despite being the strongest of the group, he was still weak at heart. He couldn’t stand pain, despite growing with a parent constantly suffering. Maybe his mastering weapons allowing for a quick and efficient kill was fitting: his victims wouldn’t even understand what would happen to them the day he enters the battlefield. He’s supposed to become a warrior after all, and yet he lends a shoulder for people like Reiner: weak and underappreciated. It was still amazing, how fast he accepted Reiner.

Maybe he indeed deserved better than that.

“At best, we’ll accomplish this mission together, ok?” Reiner tried to reach his hand.

Yes, maybe he deserved more attention.

“We’ll be together, right?”

Maybe he deserved more acknowledgment.

The air was becoming hotter and heavier all of a sudden. Reiner’s surroundings were getting confusing.

However, he didn’t deserve to be left behind like that.

“Then why did you leave me behind?”

“WAIT-”

The next thing Reiner saw was his hand reaching the ceiling, his vision recovering from the blurry awakening.

Was it a dream, or a nightmare?

Reiner couldn’t remember the exact nature of the dream. Probably a mixture between a memory and his conscience guilting him, even in the most comfortable dream. He used to find respite from it when he was falling asleep, but now, it’s impossible.

Reiner peeked at the window: it was still morning. The first sunshine rays were coloring the sky a bright purple. He didn’t fall asleep for long, probably two or three hours. After his expedition on Paradis, dreams like these unfortunately didn’t last long. That morning also had a cold air. Neither freezing nor daylike-warm.

It’s just like this morning… Yeah, that definitely was a memory.

Reiner was feeling groggy after waking up so brutally. Maybe grabbing a painkiller would be nice before snagging an hour or two. As the new vice-captain of the warriors, his programm is a lot more different than the one he used to have as a kid. More responsibilities, more paperwork… It was dull for sure but it kept his mind busy. It’s not like any activity was stimulating nowadays. Not even the ones he used to do as a kid.

It’s been years now since he returned to Marley. He should be happy he came back in a single piece, as he promised years ago, but a permanent void took place in his heart. Everything he dreamed of was denied from the start, along with the lives of his team members. It was all for naught.

He couldn’t even remember how he ended up back on Marley’s docks. It’s only after the climax of the final battle he took note of his near catatonic state. During the first week break, all Reiner sought was loneliness, just to allow the tears to flow, just to calm down. It was the first time in his heart he experimented something as a permanent heartache. A mixture of grief, yearning and regret. The kind of sensation that would happen when Reiner was seen talking to a friend who wasn’t there anymore, or missing a shoulder to lie on. The trauma was so draining he ended up skipping meals and shutting himself down.

The young warrior kids were around and it was fun babysitting them, but it could never fill the gap left by his friends’ death. Bertolt’s in particular. No matter how Reiner felt, Bertolt’s absence always took a toll on his nerves. Life was getting so hard Reiner was afraid he would forget his pretty face, his large forehead, his prominent nose and most of all, his tender eyes. How gentle they were when they laid on him, as the tall brunette was extending a hand for him, telling him to stand up.

He still had that coat of his. He didn’t know how it ended up in Pieck’s belongings, but it’s the only recent trace left of him. When he couldn’t sleep, he snuggled against the inside of the fabric and breathed the fragrant leather. Imagining it was his missing partner, he whispered apologies while wetting the coat with his warm tears.

Maybe time and solitude helped him understand what Bertolt went through during all these years. What it was like to feel tainted and miserable. Time froze for him. It’s almost like he was reverting to the same loser he’s always been, before he became a warrior. At the very core he was weak and unacknowledged… something only Bertolt could understand. Something that he, alongside other things, should’ve confided instead of handling everything. But now he’s gone.

“I miss your face… and that voice yelling my name, looking for instructions.”

After taking a painkiller, Reiner stared at the horizon from his window. There’s still a couple of minutes before the call. No time to take a short rest. Even today, Bertolt’s absence still pains him. Not so long ago, they used to share a tent. Now… who knows what happened to him. Aside from the current war, no strikes from Paradis were heard yet. What about all these victims? The people he deceived? Surely they were going to make him pay, right?

His life was just like that now. War after war, he risks his life, clinging to that thin thread that keeps him alive. Whether it’s luck, Gabi or her friends. No possibility to move on, or hope for a better tomorrow as his life expectancy is getting shorter everyday.

That’s right… people like him weren’t allowed anything nice. Not after they’ve left not only their friends down, but everybody down. It’s only fitting they would be forgotten and abandoned. They were just that despicable.

Bertolt deserved much better.

Bertolt didn’t deserve to be stuck with such a piece of trash like him.

Bertolt deserved a position of vice-captain, make Marley stand and take care of the kids instead.

Only the sweet liberation death offers could grant him peace. Maybe there’s a chance he can redeem himself there. Confessing so many untold words, embracing the other for comfort, sharing the moments that can make the heart feel at ease, from the softest to the most lustful ones.

But for now, he will carry what’s left of their memories till his dying breath.

“Bertolt… Let’s be together again once this is over.”

#reibert #reibert ss #reiner braun #bertolt hoover #submission

[klaineanummel]

Story of My Life 7/24

Kurt reflects on the past twelve years of his life, coming to realize that one man in particular has affected him far more than he ever thought he would

Welcome to day seven of my @klaineadvent fic, written for today’s prompt, Genuine. I... don’t think that I filled the prompt very well. It’s like... a bit of a stretch. Oops?

WARNINGS: Kurt/Sebastian (sorry to those of you who liked Adam!), some Blaine pining related angst at the end.

Oh, I keep forgetting to mention this, but please make sure you are keeping an eye on the dates for each part. It’ll help with situating when this is happening. I’m hoping to make a timeline soon that’ll state everybody’s birthdays and what ages they are at which points in the story. 

Hope you all enjoy, and see you tomorrow!

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Read on AO3

October 15th-16th, 2014

“This is so pathetic.”

“Tell me about it. They’ve just been sitting there for days.”

“It’s really sad.”

“I’m glad you called me over, this is really something else.”

“They aren’t even eating ice cream or crying, they just… sit there.”

“I think Rachel has gone completely catatonic at this point. Hold on, let me check something.”

A flash goes off, and Kurt can’t ignore his friends any more. “Can you three fuck off, please?” he asks, turning to Cooper, Tina, and Elliott, aiming his dirtiest glare at them.

“He lives!” Tina cheers.

“Hard not to when you three won’t stop nattering over there about how pathetic Rachel and I are.”

Elliott is the one who comes close, sitting on the edge of the coffee table and leaning forward. “Kurt, you know I love you, but you have to admit, this is getting kind of pathetic.”

“I will admit no such thing,” Kurt says, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling his legs up onto the couch with him, trying to get away from his friend.

“Come on, Kurt. It’s Friday night and you two are sitting in your sweatpants, staring at literally nothing, like zombies.”

“We’re heartbroken, and misery loves company.”

“Please,” Elliott rolls his eyes, causing Kurt to scowl. “Adam left almost two months ago, so you have no excuse, and Rachel,” he turns to her, and Kurt looks too, finding his friend still staring vacantly ahead. “You already knew that Brody was a douchebag, so these two weeks of moping is really over the top and unnecessary.”

“Brody was a douchebag,” Cooper chimes in, and Kurt sees Tina elbow him.

“Listen, I can mope as long as I want,” Kurt huffs. “Adam was the love of my life, and he barely gave me any warning before jetting off to England to fulfill his dreams of leaving his boyfriend in the dust.”

“He was not the love of your life, come on, Kurt,” Tina says, coming forward and sitting next to Elliott. “Yeah, he was your first serious boyfriend, and he was a great one, but love of your life?”

“He may have been,” Kurt says, turning away from them as much as he can. “I guess we’ll never know, since apparently going back to England was more important than making things work with me.”

“That’s not fair, Kurt,” Elliott butts in. “He got a role on the West End. Granted, it was ensemble, but still. That’s basically like getting a role on Broadway.”

“Fine, but he could have told me about it beforehand. He could have told me he was auditioning, so that I would have some warning, and he could have asked me if I wanted to try long distance instead of just abandoning me.”

“I know, Kurt. You know how I know? Because you’ve been a broken record about this for almost two months now. It’s time to get off the couch, get out of the sweatpants, and move on.”

Kurt scowls. “You’re a terrible motivational speaker, Tina.”

“No,” Rachel suddenly speaks up, making everybody turn to her. “No, she’s right.”

“What?” Kurt stares at her with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

“She’s right. So is Elliott. Adam left a while ago, and I already knew Brody wasn’t good for me. We’re wasting our time, and dragging everybody down with us. It’s time to move on.”

Kurt stares at her for a few moments, and she stares right back. Her eyes are filled with more emotion than he’s seen since she showed up at their apartment two weeks ago with a bag and the words, “He cheated,” on her lips.

“We should go out,” she continues when nobody else speaks.

“Go out?!” Kurt practically shrieks as Tina pumps her fist and says, “Now you’re talking!”

“Yes, Kurt,” Rachel says. “We should go out. It’s Friday, we’re all single, and we deserve to have some fun. Let’s go dancing.”

Elliott and Cooper hoot in agreement, and Tina claps her hands, excited. Kurt stares at Rachel for a few more second, then sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “But I’m not having any fun.”

“Then you’ll miss out,” Tina says, cackling. “I’ll call Sam and Mercedes and let them know.”

“I’ll call Quinn,” Elliott says.

Kurt frowns, turning to him. “You still talk to Quinn?”

“Yeah, all the time,” Elliott replies. “Ever since I made friends with you I’ve been more invested in actually keeping my class-friends around, and Quinn is cool.”

Kurt does remember enjoying the project he and Quinn worked on in the class they shared during the fall semester. He nods, then says, “You better warn her that I’m not going to be any fun.”

“Oh, trust me, she’ll know as soon as she sees your face,” Elliott says, smirking at Kurt. Kurt flips him off, but then forces himself off the couch and to his room, finally changing out his sweatpants for some skinny jeans.

Much as he’s loathe to admit it, his friends are right. He already feels better.

*

The club they attend allows people over eighteen and under twenty-one in, though they’re forced to wear bright red wristbands. Elliott, Rachel, Tina, and Quinn all smirk at Kurt, Cooper, Mercedes, and Sam as the bouncer puts on their wristbands, giving them all stern looks as he does.

“I hate this,” Cooper grumbles as they walk into the club. “I feel like a toddler.”

“Whatever, I already knew this was going to blow,” Kurt replies.

“Oh, come on,” Mercedes loops her arm through Kurt’s. “You’re telling me you’d have more fun lying around at home then out with your friends?”

“Or at work,” Kurt says. Since Adam left, he’s practically buried himself in work, to the point where Isabelle has had to ask him to take on less hours, wanting him to focus on his schooling as well. “I’d be there right now, actually, but Isabelle doesn’t let me stay past nine, or on the weekends anymore.” Her far-too-concerned, “This is only supposed to be a part-time job, Kurt,” rings in his ears, and he shakes his head.

“Well, I think you’re lame, and a party-pooper, so I’m going to dance with my boyfriend, and you can come join us if you feel like being less of a downer.”

She disappears onto the dance floor, leaving Kurt and Cooper awkwardly standing by the bar. He glances around and sees that Rachel, Elliott, Quinn, and Tina have all disappeared, too.

Cooper is looking around, then seems to land on what he’s searching for and says, “Hey, I’ll find you later, okay?” before running off. Kurt watches him disappear into the crowd, assuming that he’s going to try and dance with Rachel. He shakes his head, knowing his friend is headed for definite heartbreak.

He walks over to one of the few empty barstools and hops onto it, calling the bartender over and asking for a Coke. The man nods, glancing at his wristband, and grabs him a can. Kurt pays him right away, then pops the can open, ignoring the glass the bartended places next to it.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

Kurt turns to see a man around his age (with no wristband) standing between him and the person on the barstool next to him. He’s tall, with sandy brown hair and green eyes that seem to be staring right through him.

“What gave me away?” Kurt asks, inconspicuously placing his hand over the top of his hand.

The man shrugs. “The fact that you came in with like, ten other people, but instantly came to the bar instead of going out to dance.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows. “You noticed me come in?”

The man smirks. “You’re surprised by that?” He drags his eyes over Kurt’s body.

Kurt blushes and takes another sip of his drink. Despite his reluctance to come out tonight, he has to admit that this feels nice. Being noticed like this. Being approached by a total stranger.

“I’m Kurt,” he decides on, extending a hand to the man.

The man chuckles, but takes his hand. “Sebastian,” he replies. He keeps his hand on Kurt’s and says, “What are my chances of you saying yes if I asked you to dance?”

Kurt looks the man over. He’s attractive enough, tall and slim, and his grip on Kurt’s hand is firm, which his father always told him was a good sign. “High,” he says.

The man raises an eyebrow and gestures to the dance floor. Kurt nods and sets his almost-empty Coke can on the bar, letting Sebastian lead him onto the dance floor.

Maybe coming out wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

*

The following morning, Kurt wakes up with an arm slung around his waist and a warm body tucked into his own.

For a moment he forgets, allowing himself to cuddle closer to the man behind him. Then, his eyes widen as he remembers that Adam is in Essex.

This isn’t Adam.

He turns around, his memories of the previous night confirmed at the sight of Sebastian sleeping behind him. He tenses, eyes wide, then ever-so-carefully extracts himself from Sebastian’s hold. Sebastian doesn’t seem to care much, turning over and continuing to sleep without a problem.

Kurt pulls some pyjamas on quickly, disbelief running through his entire body.

He had a one-night stand.

He can’t even blame it on the alcohol, because neither he nor Sebastian drank last night. He can’t blame it on anything other than recklessness and impulsivity.

Oh, god, his friends are never going to let him hear the end of this.

He tip-toes out of his room and heads to the kitchen, wanting to get away from his room and the strange man in it. He freezes, though, as soon as he enters the kitchen.

Because sitting there, in the breakfast nook, across from Cooper, is Blaine.

“Kurt!” the boy grins and hops up, hurrying to Kurt to give him a giant hug.

“Blaine,” Kurt says, hugging him back carefully. “You’re here!”

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise Cooper, and Mom has a bunch of meetings here this weekend, so here I am!”

“Surprise Cooper? Why?”

Blaine frowns, glancing at Cooper in confusion before looking back at Kurt. “Because it’s his birthday?”

Kurt’s eyes widen, and he turns to Cooper in shock. “Oh, my god. I totally forgot your birthday.”

Cooper waves a hand in dismissal. “It’s fine. You were otherwise occupied,” he winks at Kurt, who blushes at the implications. “Speaking of which—”

“So when did you get here?” Kurt interrupts, shaking his head discreetly at Cooper.

“Just a few minutes ago, actually,” Blaine says. “Mom dropped me off and then had to run to a business meeting. We’re all going out for dinner later.”

“Sounds fun,” Kurt says. “Make sure your mom stops by before you two leave. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Of course,” Blaine says. “Or, you could join us for dinner! I’m sure mom wouldn’t mind.”

“No, no, I can’t impose. What kind of friend would I be if I crashed his birthday dinner after forgetting it was his birthday?”

“A shitty one,” Cooper says, and Kurt nods in agreement. “Though I know how you can make it up to me.”

Kurt shakes his head again, worried about what Cooper might say. “Oh, yeah?”

Cooper nods. “You know your friend Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“So, I totally made out with her last night, and I’d love it if you gave me her number.”

“Oh,” Kurt’s eyes widen, totally surprised. In all the time he’s known Cooper, he’s never seen him so much as look at a girl other than Rachel. “You… Wait, what?”

Blaine squeaks, and Kurt glances down, wondering if the subject of his brother making out with a girl is uncomfortable for him. Instead, though, he finds him staring behind Kurt, and Kurt turns to see Sebastian standing behind them, pulling his sweater over his head.

“Hey,” he greets once he’s fully clothed, then moves toward Kurt and pulls him in for a hard kiss in one fluid motion. Kurt is so shocked by the action that he doesn’t even close his eyes, staring just past Sebastian’s forehead, wondering if the ground can just swallow him whole.

When Sebastian pulls away, he says, “I have to go, but you were a pretty good fuck, so I left you my number.” He winks at him, then heads to the apartment exit, waving over his shoulder and calling out, “Call me!”

Kurt stays frozen where he stands even after Sebastian leaves. He doesn’t want to turn around, isn’t ready to see the look he knows he will find on Blaine’s face.

“He’s forward,” Cooper says, and Kurt winces.

“Is he, uh,” Blaine clears his throat, and Kurt shuts his eyes. “Is he your new boyfriend?”

Kurt groans quietly and, hesitantly, shakes his head.

“Oh,” Blaine says, and Kurt forces his eyes open, turning around hesitantly.

He was right. Blaine looks like he just saw someone kick his puppy.

Kurt sighs and walks over to Blaine, wrapping him up in another hug. Blaine clings to him instantly, and if anything, it just makes Kurt’s heart break more.

“Hey, what do you say the three of us go get breakfast at the Spotlight Diner?” Kurt asks, staring at Cooper pleadingly over his head. “I think Sam is working, and I have to see how he’s holding up after last night.”

“That sounds like a great plan,” Cooper says. “Blaine, you okay to wait while Kurt and I change?”

Blaine nods against Kurt’s shoulder, then slowly extracts himself from his arms. He smiles hesitantly and Kurt smiles back, heart somewhere in his throat.

Cooper and Kurt leave the kitchen together, and as soon as they’re out of Blaine’s sight, Cooper says, “Jeez, dude. Talk about the worst time to have your first ever one-night stand.”

Kurt groans and says, “I know, Cooper. Trust me. I know.”

Part Eight: Health

#klaine advent 2017 #klaine advent: genuine #klaine fic #klaine au #klaineanummel fic #multi chapter #fic: soml

[askmisakokaagandcaim]

Misakos backstory part 2

After working for a few hours with Carrick, they headed off to their tents for the night. Carrick followed Misako, making her look over her shoulder and raising her eyebrow. “You following me, Carrick?” He chuckled. “No, I sleep in the same tent as you.” She nodded. “Alright then.” She went to the tent, holding it open. “After you.” He nodded to her and went in, going to the bed beside Misakos. She looked in seeing two others in the tent. One was a human, medium in stature with a shaved head. He looked up at Misako, with forest green eyes. He smiled. “Hello, who are you?” Misako glared at him. “Misako. Who are you?” He shivered at her stare. “I..Im Evan.” She bowed quickly. “I’d say it's nice to meet you. But it's not.” He looked away from her. The other looked at her in an odd manner. Another elf, with black hair and snow white skin, yellow eyes looking at her intently. “Hi. Im Neri. Please forgive Evans extreme rudeness.” He gave her a small smile. “Nice to meet you.” She nodded. “To you as well.” She went to her cot and pulled the blanket over her head, going to sleep nearly instantly.

After a few days of working, Misako easily began to pick up how to take care of weapons, nearly passing Carricks skill. He watched her intently, with surprise, as she quickly and easily cleaned and cared for weapon after weapon. Carrick took an almost immediate interest in Misako, asking her questions about tieflings, samurai and her personal history, occasionally striking a sore spot, making her get upset with him. She always forgave him quickly, he’d flash a silly smile, making her smile slightly. They became close friends in the time they had together, as she taught her.

Inevitably, the day came when Carrick had to leave. As he packed his things from the tent, Misako sitting on the bed beside him, looking rather dreary, Arjhan came in. His face looked rough, and upset. Carrick looked up with a smile, but it dissipated quickly. “Arjhan, what's wrong?” He sighed heavily, running a hand over his head. “I’m… I’m so sorry Carrick. I tried to convince them otherwise.” Carricks face turned into a look of fear. “What are you talking about?” Arjhan sat down beside Misako, putting his face in his hands, looking like he was about to cry. Misakos head tilted in confusion. “Whats going on?” She looked back and forth between Carrick and Arjhan. They both welled up, Arjhan sniffling. “I'm so sorry. I tried..” Carrick sat between Misako and him, gently rubbing his back, as he wept as well. “It's okay. You tried.” Arjhan quickly turned and hugged Carrick, as he hugged back. “You were always like a son to me, Carrick. When I found you as a little boy, wandering the streets, I couldn't just leave you. You were so helpless..” Misako looked at them confused. Carrick pulled Misako into the hug. “Misako, I’m being put into the Division, to be a soldier.” Her eyes widened as she stood. “I thought you were done your service.” Carrick shrugged, as Arjhan continued to cry. “I guess the higher ups changed their minds.” Misako made her hands to fists, and bit her lip, holding back tears. “They can't just do this to you! It's not right! It's not fair!” She stomped her foot on the ground, making Arjhan look up, sniffling. “Misako, just because I’m sad, doesn't mean I won't punish you for improper behaviour.” Misakos second set of eyes opened, both sets giving off a red glow. “I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them all!” Arjhan stood. “Misako, that's enough. Settle down this instant.” She screamed at him. “How are you so calm!? They're sending a fifteen year old into the line of duty! This is ridiculous!” Tears started streaming from her top eyes, as drops of blood came from the bottom ones.. “I won't let them do this to you Carrick!” She looked at him, who was sobbing gently into his hands. Arjhan grabbed her arm, and pulled her back. “You need to stop this, now, or I’ll have no choice but to punish you for insubordination.” She ripped her arm away and growled. “You think I give a shit?” Arjhans jaw dropped, then closed, as he straightened himself out. “Fine. You don’t give a shit now, but you will.” Misako turned her back on him, and started walking away. He growled and grabbed all three of her tails, and lifted her off the ground. She screamed. “LET ME DOWN YOU GIANT SCALY BASTARD!” His eyes widened as he gripped her tails tighter. “I was just going to put you in, well, pretty much a time out, but now, you’re getting flogged.” She screeched even more, flailing violently, making Arjhan hold his arm out farther, carrying her out of the tent.

Carrick followed them, panicking slightly, seeing Misako in such a fit of rage. Misako had told him about her father, making him worried about her reaction to her punishment. “Arjhan! Don’t you think flogging is a little severe for a first time offence!?” Arjhan turned, giving Carrick a look of anger. “Would you like to join her?” Carrick stopped and shook his head, hanging it. “No Sir.” Misako continued to flail as Arjhan to the camps public flogging post. He put her down, grabbing her wrists, tying them together, then tying them to the pole. Misako was in tears, sobbing violently, begging to be let go. Arjhan shook his head. “If I go easy on you, I'm showing you favor because you have an in with our Prince, and I’m not going to be that kiss ass Captain.” She lowered her head, and sobbed, as Arjhan tore the top half of her uniform off, leaving her top bare. She cried harder, as her already scarred back was exposed to multiple men, gawking at her. Arjhan froze for a minute, looking at her back. “Oh Gods.” He mumbled under his breath. He kneeled beside her, whispering at her. “Sorry ‘bout this kid.” He stood, standing tall as other soldiers watched as he demanding a flogger. A smaller soldier ran up and handed it to him, backing away quickly. Misako looked back, seeing Arjhan with the flogger, making her turn away and sob harder. He cleared his throat and spoke loudly. “Misako Akiyama, you are being punished for Insubordination. You will receive 5 lashes from a flogger, and then will sit at the post, hands bond for thirty minutes. Do you understand?” Misako nodded lightly. “Say it outloud.” “Yes. I understand.” Her voice had become quiet and sullen. Arjhan nodded. “Good then.” He gripped the flogger and raised it, bringing it down on Misakos back, bringing back a painful, familiar pain, as she sat, quietly, accepting the punishment.

After Arjhan had finished, he walked away, leaving Misako to sit for thirty minutes. Carrick came up to her when everyone had left, and covered her with the thin blanket from his cot. “Jeez, he didn’t go easy on you, Misako.” She sat in silence. She didn’t look at him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and as she went to swat him away, she just pulled on the rope which restricted her hands. She sighed. “Carrick... “ He sat beside her. “I’ll say here until you get untied.’ He rubbed her back gently as she sobbed onto the ground.

After thirty minutes had passed, Arjhan came by, seeing Carrick comforting Misako as she sat there, back covered in dry blood. He went over and untied her wrists. “Misako. Someone's here to see you.” She wrapped the blanket around herself, and rubbed her raw wrist. “Who’d come to visit me? My family doesn’t know where I am, Carricks my only friend.” She looked at the ground, as she heard a familiar chuckling behind her. “Forget me already, my dear?” She sat up slightly and looked over her shoulder. “Sensei…” Vandiss walked over and kneeled beside Misako. “I heard about what happened, Misako, and I have to say, I’m disappointed. I thought you can handle your anger better than that.” She sniffled and nodded. “I’m sorry Sensei. I should’ve done better.” She gripped onto the blanket and looked at Vandiss, a small whip mark across her cheek where a piece of the flogger had wandered off too. He sighed and wiped the blood of her face. “Come on, let's get you up and bandaged.” Arjhan cleared his throat gently. “Prince?” Vandiss looked over, still helping Misako stand. “Yes?” “Don’t you think you’re going easy on the girl?” Vandiss shook his head. “She’s a young girl, Arjhan. She's going to have her moments. Besides, you’ve probably done some mental damage.” He looked at Misako, who was almost in a Catatonic state. “Please don't tell me you grabbed her tails.” He cleared his throat. “I carried her here by the tails.” Vandiss sighed again. “Oh goodness.”

Carrick picked Misako up, carrying her back to the tent, laying her on her cot. “Arjhan is important to me, but he went too far.” He crossed his arms tightly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Misako, facing away from him. Carrick looked at her back. “We should wrap that up, you know.” She sighed. “No. Leave it.” He looked at her. “What?” “Let it get infected. I deserve it.” I disobeyed an order. He should’ve put me to death.” Carrick furrowed his brow. “No, Misako. He shouldnt have. Maybe he shouldve put you in solitude for half an hour but he shouldnt have flogged you.” She curled up slightly, her tails tucking between her legs. “My sensei is disappointed in me, that deserves death too.” Carrick frowned. “Misako.. No. No it doesn't. You’re amazing.” She shook her head. “I should’ve stayed at my family home and let my father kill me.” Carrick sighed, climbing onto the cot, pulling Misakos head to his chest, letting her head rest on him. She winced at first, then hugged him lightly. “Carrick…” He looked down. “Misako?” She began to sob into his side, as he continued to comfort her. “I’m here for you, Misako.”

Carrick continued to hold Misako as she cried, as Arjhan and Vandiss entered the tent. Vandiss stayed by the door, as Arjhan put his hands behind his back and stood up straight. “Akiyama, please get up.” Carrick looked at him, as Misako continued to lie down on him. “Come one, Captain. She's in pain.” Arjhan briefly glanced at him. “I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Misako.” She slowly stood up, and walked to stand in front of Arjhan, “Yes, Sir?” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I did push the punishment too far, mostly from personal anger.” Vandiss walked forward. “We need to chat as well, Misako. While the Captains punishment was a bit far, your attitude, from what I was told, was not acceptable whatsoever.” She nodded. “Yes, Sensei.” Carrick watched as a whole new side of Misako came out. Arjhan nodded at her. “Go get your back patched up before you talk with Vandiss. Don’t need our Quartermaster getting a nasty infection.” She nodded again. “Yes sir.” Arjhan left the tent, making Misako relax slightly. Carrick sat up, looking at her. “I’ll take you to the medical tent.” She nodded, as he walked over, and walked out with her.

After getting her back cleaned and bandaged by a another tall elven man, with dark skin and white hair, Misako walked back to her tent, to see Vandiss, standing and waiting for her. “Let’s go for a bit of a walk, Misako.” She nodded, following him. “Misako, you need to control your anger. I know how angry you get when people grab your tails, but you need to get over it, especially if you’re going to be in the army. You need to learn how to keep it inside a little more, instead of threatening to kill your commanding officers, which by the way-” He smacked her upside the head. “Are you trying to get a death sentence?” Misako rubbed her head. “Ow! No, I’m not Sensei I just… got protective.” Vandiss scoffed. “Of the Elf boy who's joining the ranks? Misako, I’m glad you’re making friends, but you don't need THOSE kind of friends.” Misako raised her eyes. “You mean an Elf friend, Sensei? Isn’t that kinda racist?” Vandiss pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled. “You don't need a boyfriend, Misako.” Misako flushed a bright red. “W..what?” Vandiss looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “I saw how you were… interacting with him.” She flushed deeper. “Sensei, I don't think this is an appropriate conversation for me to have with you.” Misako held herself back from laughing. Vandiss let out a small chuckle. “Perhaps you're right-” his face went stern. “But so am I Misako.” She nodded. “I know.” Vandiss shook his head in a mix of enjoyment and frustration. “What am I going to do with you.” She laughed out loud. “Let me do my job, I’ll get through the next few years, then we’ll figure it out.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back, patting her shoulder. “Sounds like a plan. Go get back to work then.” She smiled, bowing to him. “‘Till I see you again, I suppose, Sensei.” As she ran off, back to the camp.

The day came where Carrick first went into battle, thankfully coming back safely, automatically coming to see Misakos progress in being a Quartermaster. He heard various soldiers talking about how nice their weapons were, and several had their weapons out, showing them off to other soldiers. He chuckled and smiled, looking around his camp which he had been away from for a few days, seeing various posters littered around the camp. They seemed to be motivational posters with a huge lion on them. He chuckled at them, and continued on his way, finally getting to the quartermaster tent, which was nearly empty. His eyes widened, looking at Misako, who sat there, in the pants of her training uniform, her torso wrapped in bandages, long black hair tied up, all four eyes opened and concentrated on sharpening a very large axe. He chuckled. “Been keeping up, have ya?” She looked up, eyes having heavy bags under them, but a large grin spreading across her face. “Carrick!” She put the axe down, and ran over, hugging him. He chuckled, hugging her back, lifting her slightly and spinning. It had been over three weeks since they had seen each other. Misako hopped back on the ground, and looked at Carrick. “I’m glad you’re safe.” He nodded. “Other than a few bruises, I’m okay.” They sat down beside each other, and talked as Misako finished up with the huge axe, putting back on a wall hanger. She dusted her hands off. “Wanna go get a drink? I’m thirteen now, so it's less looked down upon then a twelve year old drinking.” Carricks eyes lit up, as she reached in his bag, pulling out a book and opening it. “I didn't forget about your birthday.” He pulled out a larger red flower he had found, and pressed for her. “Happy birthday.” She smiled, taking it. “Thank you Carrick!” She placed it on her desk, and took his hand. “Let's go get a drink.” She pulled him along to a large bonfire that was in the middle of camp, where many soldiers sat and told war stories. She went up to Arjhan and tapped his shoulder. “Can Carrick and I split a bottle? We’ll go somewhere else and be good, I promise, sir.” He chuckled, and nodded, handing them a bottle of red wine. “Have fun you kids.” His voice was slurred and sloppy, as he was obviously drunk. Carrick and Misako snuck off, going to the top of a small hill nearby, and sitting beside each other.

They began to drink, Misako, getting drunk much faster than Carrick, as she became giggly and clingy to him. As Carrick began to get more drunk, he held Misako closer and closer. She didn't fight him, although she wasn’t necessarily comfortable. They talked about the war going on, Carrick told Misako about rumors spreading around. Misako told him about the people she had met, and that she was apparently getting a reputation of being one of the best, if not, the best, Quartermaster in the army. Carrick smiled as she talked, pulling her closer. Misako pushed him away a little bit. “Carrick, no.” He frowned. “Misako..” His face flushed. She couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or him getting embarrassed. “I have.. Feelings for you, I’m sorry” Misako stood up, looking down at him .”What?” He stood up, taking her hands. “I have feelings for you. You’re my best friend. The only real friend I’ve had.” She pulled her hands away. “But Carrick. I can’t. My Sensei. “ Carrick drunkenly scoffed. “Who cares about your Sensei!” Misako took a step back. “I do, Carrick.” Carricks face got angry. “Ooooh I see how it is. You have feelings for your sensei!” Misakos face turned angry. “I do not! That's so wrong!” Her hands went into fists. “Carrick. I have feelings for you too! But my Sensei ordered me to not go that way. So I can't. I can't disobey him.” Carrick took a step closer. “I know you think that. But you can.” He pulled her face to his and kissed her, drunkenly. She pushed away. “I really can't.” He frowned. “Try. For me. Please,” She looked at him, as he was nearly crying. She sighed. “Fine. Only this once though.” She went up to him, as he took her hands, and put them on his chest, as she felt his heart pounding, as he put his hands on her waist, and pulling her in again, kissing her, this time, she kissed back.

They carried on for a minutes, before pulling away from each other, Carrick, bright red and frazzled, Misako straight faced and clear headed. “That wasn’t too bad.” She licked her lips. Carrick smiled. “Really? I thought it was great.” She nodded, quickly kissing him on the cheek. “I’m going to my tent now.” She handed him the rest of the bottle. “Have fun.” She walked down the hill, Carrick standing there, still frazzled.

The next morning Misako woke up early and walked to the Quartermaster tent. She began working right away, only to get a visit from Carrick. He walked in quietly, sitting beside her. “I’m sorry about last night.” She nodded, working on a shield. He hung his head. “I have to leave again today.” She stopped and looked up, looking over at him. “Already?” He nodded. “It’s apparently going to be dangerous, even Arjhans coming.” She nodded. “I see.” He rubbed his arm. “Thought I’d come say goodbye for a while.” She put the shield down. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “I meant what I said last night.” “So did I Carrick.” He blushed. “Can I please kiss you again before I leave?” She looked at him, and nodded, as he quickly moved his head down, kissing her deeply, before pulling away. Someone cleared their throat behind them, making Misako look over, then at the ground. It was Vandiss, standing there, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face. “Arjhan asked me to tell you to get ready to go, Carrick. And I suggest you go now, and get ready.” Misako gripped the bench slightly as Carrick got up, and said goodbye to her. They hugged quickly, and Carrick left even faster. Vandiss glared over at Misako, as she went back to polishing the shield. “Misako.” She ignored him. “Look at me, Misako.” She stopped and looked over at him slightly. “Bad decision, Misako.” He walked over and sat beside her, as she continued to clean. “This mission he's going on, is dangerous.” She nodded. “I know.” He sighed “Just. Lay low, okay?” She nodded as Vandiss got up and just walked out.

For the next few weeks, Misako did as told, laying low, doing her job, until one day, she heard the loud hoofbeats of horses racing back. She got up, and walked out to see a squadron returning. They were alot fewer of them then before. She scanned them, recognizing it as The squad Carrick was in, but saw no sign of him. She did see Arjhan, with a solemn look on his face. She raced up to him. “Captain?” He looked down to see Misako, frowning slightly, and shaking his head. She gasped, and covered her mouth. Arjhan started to cry slightly. “He fought well, but in the end, he dropped, we didn't have anyone left who could help him.” Her eyes welled up, as she looked at him again. “Did you bring him back at least?” He nodded, pointing at a horse carrying a body. He ordered two men to take him off the horse, and place him in the grass. She went over, and looked at his cold face. She started crying over him. “Oh… Carrick.” She gently brushed his face with her finger. “Rest peacefully.” She sniffled, and started bawling, kneeling at his side.She wasn't given details of what happened to him, just that he fought well.

After that day, Misako went back to being an obedient child. Did anything she was asked, and did her job with no issue. Vandiss occasionally visited, but she usually zoned out when he did. The rest of her thirteenth year was spent in solitude. She just did what she needed to do to survive. Occasionally she would get in trouble for her lack of talking. She never had severe punishment. She was just, left alone.

[stereksummerexchange]

Dancing In My Storm

@neaislove | AO3  

by @bellamy-hale

Teen and Up - Graphic Depictions Of Violence Rape/Non-Con

“Get up loser, I can smell your sadness from outside,” said Erica with no room for Stiles complaints or whining.

“I don’t want to,” he complained petulantly anyways. They had a stare off for all of thirty seconds before Erica was rolling her eyes and pulling out a greasy burger bag from her purse. Narrowing his eyes, Stiles inspected the bag warily before reaching forward for it, but at the last second Erica pulled it out of his reach.

“Come with me Stilinski, or no fries,” her voice was thick with mischief as she twirled and sauntered away with a clacking of her heels.

Stiles considered ignoring her, curly fries be damned, but under better judgement decided to gathering his belongings and follow after the fierce blonde.

Stiles’ breathing was ragged as he scrambled closer to the wall. His jeans were torn and his shirt tattered. What remained of his shirt was splattered with his own blood mixed with alpha and beta spunk. His lips were kiss-swollen and bloody, causing every shaky intake to be accompanied by a stinging pain from the split in his lip.

The two figures walked away drunkenly as the abused omega puked up whatever was left in his stomach. He couldn’t move, even to attempt to wipe the filth off of himself. As the seconds passed, the alley grew colder and even more miserable than before.

“I told you he’d be good, bro.”

“What omega isn’t?”

Stiles felt his stomach churn again, and he couldn’t move fast enough to avoid vomiting on himself. It took nearly three hours before he could finally move. His legs were sore, and the pang that shot up his back caused tears to cascade down his face. Getting to his car was one of the most awful walks he’d ever had to endure. He vaguely registered the sound of his Jeep revving to life as he swerved out of the parking lot. Once he arrived at the apartment, Stiles felt  numb as he sat motionless in his car for god knew how long. It was a blur as his feet carried him up the stairs and into his lonely apartment. As usual, he dropped his keys on the counter and his bag onto the ground with a hard thud. His eyes brimmed with more tears and Stiles let them fall freely as he tried to make himself feel safe in the wave of his own scent.     

He stood in the shower for a long time, not moving until he had to. He felt like an abandoned building just after a tsunami. As the water cascaded down his spine, all of his escaped thoughts from earlier seemed to make their appearance at once. His sobs became hysterical as he crumbled to the wet ground. His shower lasted until his hands were wrinkled and his skin beet red from the scalding hot water. The entire bathroom was steamed, allowing him to avoid seeing his reflection in the mirror.

It was a quarter past three when he sat on the cold plastic chair of the health room. Pamphlets and brochures about safe sex and the ‘glory’ of a mating bond and knotting surrounded him, taunting him. Every picture had a happy couple smiling at one another, their arms wrapped around one another lovingly. Stiles stared disdainfully until impulse took over, causing him to rip up a pamphlet and crumbled it.

“Dr. Hemington will see you now,” the receptionist was clipped when she spoke, eying Stiles judgmentally from beneath heavily painted eyelids

Where he would ordinarily feel the urge to snark back, he found he didn’t have the energy now. Nodding curtly, he ducked his head as he scurried to the exam room, throwing the pamphlet away as he went. The doctor greeted him cheerfully despite how early it was. His bright smile caused Stiles’ hands to begin twitching spasmodically. Their staredown lasted until Stiles finally looked away, shamefully submitting in defeat.

“Mr-…Mi…My-”

“Stiles, ’s okay.”

The man set his clipboard down for a second to glance at Stiles. The man took in his fidgety hands and rapidly tapping foot. Lifting the clipboard up once again, the doctor studied over the charts on his clipboard. “Alright, Stiles, why are we here today?”

“I, uh…I think, I think something happened to me.”

“You think?”

“No, I know, I just…it’s hard to..to, uh, reflect on, that’s all.”

“Can you tell me what this something is?”

Stiles paused for a long time, just breathing. His heart was pounding and if the doctor was an alpha or another omega instead of a beta, Stiles was sure he could have heard it from miles away. Swallowing hard, he folded his hands in his lap to try and gather his thoughts instead of just letting his hands fidget around aimlessly.

“It just happened and, uh. I…two guy ra-…they- I mean…” Stiles had to clear his throat once again before he could continue, “They forced me into sex.”

“Before, you said you think,” said Hemington, not even bothering to look at his clipboard.

“Yeah, because my brain wasn’t computing a  few seconds ago. My words got mixed up, and I just said the safest thing that-”

“Is it possible that your words got mixed up at the time of the event?”

“Event?”

“Were you at a party tonight?”

“No, I was at the bar, but I don’t see how-”

“So you were drinking then?”

“Yeah, but I only had half a-”

“Do you remember what these guys looked like? Any significant traits they possessed that could identify them?” Hemington said as he finally picked up his clipboard.

“They both had Alpha Beta Pi jackets on.”

Dr. Hemington slowly rested the clipboard back on the table as he gave Stiles the most sympathetic look he’d ever received. The man launched into a well rehearsed speech about how he shouldn’t feel ashamed, or make up lies about what he wanted at the time. How it was okay to explore his sexuality in various ways, including three-ways if that’s what he wanted. Stiles felt repulsed and almost like he was going to vomit again. It wasn’t what he wanted, he had said no, and he repeated his story with as much vehemence as he could manage, but the doctor circled the conversation back to pheromones or chemosignals, any number of things that must have declared otherwise that might have slipped out by accident.

“I said no!” Stiles exclaimed with a mixture of anger and disgust in his voice.

“And I believe you…but do you?” asked the doctor with that same sympathetic look on his face. “I’m…not saying that you’re making this up, but even if we did track these two boys down by scent, it would be two Alpha Beta Pi boys’ words against your own.”

Stiles was shocked into silence for the first time in his twenty-one years of life. He sat almost catatonically as Dr. Hemington listed all of the ‘reasonable’ options he could pursue. The man suggested group therapy or one-on-one counseling twice a week with Mrs. Collins, instead of going to the authorities with a not-so-solid case on his hands.

The doctors prescribed Stiles with birth control pills and a plan B pill for his ‘just in case’ moments.

Stiles left the building feeling even more defeated than when he walked in.

****

TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER

Holding the strap to his backpack tightly, Stiles ducked his head as he made his way through the dorm hall. A few people waved to him or attempted to talk, but he ignored them as he rushed to his room. A few freshman sat in the halls with lax, dopey smiles, surrounded by books as they squabbled over something that was most likely not homework-related. Stiles watched them for a few seconds before remembering that he had his own homework due for his criminology class. As his mind drifted from essays to criminal behavior, Stiles’ expression turned tense as he remembered the scumbag of the night. Last night had been easy.

It was probably one of the easiest nights he’d had in a long time, hell, he didn’t even have to use his blade this time. Aaron Schmidt, alpha, resident asshole, and captain of the men’s volleyball team. He had date raped Alicia McConahay last Tuesday and bragged about it to his frat bros. Naturally, word had gotten out that Alicia was an easy omega, causing her once peaceful life on campus to spiral, as most of the male population on campus began to forcefully proposition here.

His shoulders slumped in relief once he entered his room, losing the tension he always carried with him these days. He had transferred dorms almost a year ago to get a new start with his life, and this new life just so happened to include his new roommate, Danny Mahealani.

“You’re home late,” noted the other omega casually, not even glancing at Stiles as he scanned over the three laptops that decorated his desk. “I take it he was easy?”

Danny knew all about his wannabe vigilante antics. It’d been easier this way. Especially because Danny knew a bit more about hacking into databases than Stiles did. Don’t get him wrong, Stiles was amazing at research and bugging mainframes, but Danny was on a whole new level when it came to hijacking surveillance systems and hacking into douchebags’ Twitter and Facebook accounts. Besides, it had been getting kind of hard to explain why he was out so late and sometimes came back with cuts or bruises.  

“Two broken bones and the dude is going to need a nose job ASAP. I threatened to chop his dick off and he legit shit himself. It was so gross, dude.” Stiles’ feet dragged along the floor as he acknowledged his roommate. “You’d think that a big tough guy ballsy enough to rape someone and leave them for dead could handle a little surgery on his lower bits.”

Danny snorted, halfway amused and a bit disturbed at the same time. “I’m just glad he got what he deserved. Alicia is such a sweet girl, and he really fucked her up. I heard she’s transferring to a community college next semester.”

Stiles folded his clothes and deposited his knives into a small box underneath his bed. Locking it back up, he slid it against the wall until it was out of sight. Standing, he looked over his shoulder at Danny who was packing his Mac away and taking his phone off the charger. Stiles watched him curiously for a few seconds before disappearing into the bathroom. His classes started after noon, and he didn’t have to be anywhere anyways. Turning the shitty faucet on, he stuck his hand underneath the water, waiting for it to heat up.

“You know,” said Danny, almost hesitantly, “you can…you can tell me anything, right?”

Startled by this sudden statement, Stiles looked up to see Danny leaning against the doorframe. His expression was open and filled with concern, just like all of the other times he’d tried to have this conversation with Stiles.

“Aww, come on, bro, you’re gonna make me pull out the tissue box. You know how I feel about soap opera tears,” Stiles reprimanded in an attempt to remove the weight from Danny’s words.

“Stiles, I’m being serious.”

“As serious as a heart attack.” He turned his back to the older omega while he idly turned the water from cold to hot. Through the mirror he saw Danny opening his mouth, “Danny…I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about lil’ ol’ me.”

Danny nodded slowly. “Okay…I’m going to head to class, try to get some sleep.” He lingered there for a few seconds before slowly closing the door behind himself.

Read the rest on AO3

#stereksummerexchange17 #sterek #submission #fic #sse17