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yourmidnightlover · 3 years

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all my fault

Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!

Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.

CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!

IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!

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when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.

“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.

“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.

“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’

spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.

your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.

because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.

the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.

being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.

spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.

you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.

you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.

“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.

“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.

“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.

“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”

you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.

spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.

“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.

you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.

“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”

“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.

“y/n…”

“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”

“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”

“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”

what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?

“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.

“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.

“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.

“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.

“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.

“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.

it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.

the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.

you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.

you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.

“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.

“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”

“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”

“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.

“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.

“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”

“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.

“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.

“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.

“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.

“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”

“i did,” you admitted.

“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”

“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.

“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.

“shut up, spencer!”

“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”

“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.

“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.

you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.

when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.

so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.

you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.

and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.

you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.

you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.

spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.

in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.

he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.

maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.

the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.

you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.

you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?

a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.

it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.

when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.

in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.

you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.

he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.

“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.

“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”

“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.

“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”

“y/n, i-“

“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.

he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.

“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.

“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.

“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.

“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”

“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.

“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.

“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”

he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.

how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.

“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”

“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.

she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.

“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.

“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.

“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”

“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.

“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”

“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”

“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”

“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.

“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”

“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”

“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”

“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.

“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.

he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.

“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.

“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.

“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”

“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”

“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”

“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”

“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”

“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.

“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.

“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”

“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.

“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”

“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”

you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.

“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.

“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.

“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”

“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”

“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”

over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.

five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.

one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.

seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.

you were pregnant.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

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@calm-and-doctor

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@pastelbabygirl19

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#tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage #tw abortion #tw abortion mention #tw depressive thoughts #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort

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killianglyndon · 3 years

Text

Hope

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Skywalker! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: force choke, killing younglings (basically what had happened in rots...), death, age gap (16 years)

A/N: my first Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader imagine haha, and I use some lines in ROTS for plot purpose. I have another one in my draft, will post it as soon as I finished it!

Tatooine, it at the same time felt like home and not. You and Anakin lived on this Planet with your mother for nine years, it still felt like yesterday to you.

Things happened quickly, you didn’t even have time to digest the recent incidents. You knew Anakin was struggling, his fear of losing Padmé. You tried to reach out to him, yet, he shut you out. Build walls around himself, keeping your reach in the force away.

(Flashback)

“Please Ani, don’t do this. The dark side is not the solution to this!”

“It is, sister. Join me, together we will be the most powerful.”

“No! Power is not anything. Did you hear yourself, Anakin?”

“It’s the only way. Chancellor showed me what Jedi didn’t teach us. You can too if you join me.”

“No, I will never pledge myself to the dark side.”

You never thought this would happen, Anakin had joined the dark side. His doubts to the Jedi council, his fear of losing Padmé, and the words of Palpatine, drive him to reach the dark side. How could you not see these signs? If only you could help him if you had tried harder. Maybe, maybe Anakin would not turn to the dark side.

According to master Yoda, not many Jedi had survived during Order 66. You were relieved that your Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi had survived.

“Obi-Wan! You’re alright.” You exclaimed while you ran towards him.

“(y/n)!” Obi-Wan pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you.

You two had feelings for each other for a long time, but two of you knew it was against the code, you both buried your feelings and agreed to not do anything.

“I...I the younglings...Anakin killed them all…” You sobbed thinking about the image of that, he killed them in front of you. You tried to save them, but there was nothing you could do, Anakin used the force to pin you down. After he killed them, he used the force to choke you until you passed out.

“I know… we saw the security hologram…” Obi-Wan said and put his hand behind your head, trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry…” Obi-Wan trailed. He blamed himself for this, he had failed Anakin, he had failed you, he had failed everyone.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault…” you whispered against his chest.

“It is… I’ve failed him.”

“You didn’t. You’ve taught him everything you know. You’re a great master, Obi-Wan.” You pulled away to look into his ocean eyes, you had to be strong for him. You knew the guilt he carried, his eyes told you everything. His former Padawan turned to the dark side, the one who supposedly brought balance to the force.

Obi-Wan leaned down to kiss you on your forehead before C-3PO headed your way. “Master (y/n), the medical center requested you and Master Kenobi.”

——————

“For unknown reasons, we are losing her. If we want to save the babies we have to operate quickly.” The medical droid said.

“Babies?” Bail Organa exclaimed, looking shocked.

“She’s carrying twins.” The droid answered.

“Save them, we must. They are our last hope.” Yoda said.

After hearing the answer, the droid rushed back to the operating room, you and Obi-Wan followed.

You and Obi-Wan took Padmé’s hands, encouraging her not to give up. She screamed from the pain, the droid holding the baby, “it’s a boy.”

The droid handed you the baby, and you showed him to Padmé.

“Luke…” Padmé whispered and struggled to touch his forehead.

“And a girl!” The medical droid said.

Obi-Wan took the girl from the droid and showed her to Padmé.

“Leia…”

“You have twins, Padmé. They need you...hang on…” Obi-Wan leaned down to talk to Padmé.

“I… can’t.” Padmé winced and took Obi-Wan’s hand, holding Anakin’s japor snippet. “Obi-Wan, there’s… good in him. I know there is… still…” she gasped.

You looked at Padmé then Obi-Wan, tears rolled down your cheeks. You lost your brother to the dark side, and you lost your friend too.

——————

You, Obi-Wan, Master Yoda, and Senator Organa were in the Conference Room of the cruiser.

“Pregnant, she must still appear. Hidden, safe, the children must be kept.” Yoda said.

“We must take them somewhere the Sith will not sense their presence.” Obi-Wan recommended.

“Split up, they should be.” Yoda added.

“My wife and I will take the girl. We've always talked of adopting a baby girl. She will be loved with us.” Senator Organa said and looked at Master Yoda then you. Somehow, ensuring you that they would take good care of her. She would be happy, healthy, and grow up under the love they provided.

“And what of the boy?” Obi-Wan asked.

“To Tatooine. To his family, send him.” Yoda answered.

“(Y/n) and I will take the child and watch over him. If (y/n) want to, of course.” Obi-Wan said and turned to look at you.

“I want to.” You answered and gave him a sad smile. “That’s the least I could do for him and Padmé…”

“Master Yoda, do you think Anakin's twins will be able to defeat Darth Sidious?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Strong the Force runs, in the Skywalker line. Hope, we can . . . Done, it is.” Yoda trailed, then added. “Until the time is right, disappear we will.”

You, Obi-Wan, and Senator Organa stood up, heading out of the Conference Room. Before Obi-Wan left, Yoda stopped him.

“An old friend has learned the path to immortality.” Yoda trailed.

“Who?”

“One who has returned from the netherworld of the Force to train me . . . your old Master, Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“Qui-Gon? But, how could he accomplish this?” Obi-Wan looked puzzled.

“The secret of the Ancient Order of the Whills, he studied. How to commune with him. I will teach you.” Yoda answered.

“I will be able to talk with him?” Obi-Wan was stunned, and to be honest, maybe a little relieved. The recent incidents had him questioned himself, perhaps he could find guidance from his former master.

“How to join the Force, he will train you. Your consciousness you will retain when one with the Force. Even your physical self, perhaps.” Yoda trailed.

Before Obi-Wan left the Conference Room, “Jedi code, no more.” Yoda said, then added. “Feelings, you and (y/n) have for each other. Hide, no more.”

———————

You, Obi-Wan, and the newborn baby Luke were on the ship to Tatooine. Luke was sleeping soundly in his baby carrier. You couldn’t help but look at his face, he looked so peaceful.

You trailed your fingers softly on his forehead, for the first time in a while, you felt calm. You just sat there for a while before returning to the co-pilot seat next to Obi-Wan.

“How’s the baby?” He asked while changing the setting to autopilot.

“Sleeping soundly.” You answered.

Then it went to the comfortable silence again.

“(Y/n), I would like to tell you something.” Obi-Wan said suddenly.

“Yeah?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, “I want to be honest with you, (y/n).” He looked into your eyes. “I love you, for a long time. There are no Jedi codes anymore…” He took your hands in his. “We don’t need to hide our feelings anymore. Now, we have a chance to have a new life, together. Only if you want to…” He said, trying to sound hopeful.

“I’d like to.” You looked into his ocean-colored eyes.

His eyes lightened up when he heard you, “Really?” He asked.

“Yes. And I love you too, for a long time.” You traced your hand to his face, caressed it.

He eyed your lips, then back to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

He closed the gap between you, putting his big, warm hands on your cheeks. The kiss started slow and gentle, you two savored the moment, and you closed your eyes. It was like the world stopped, there were just two of you. This was even better than you had imagined. He delicately nibbled your bottom lip, sucking it a little. You put your hands on his nape, massaging it a little.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Nothing.” You smiled at him. “It’s just so… unreal. I can’t believe it’s happening.”

“It’s real, (y/n). This moment, you, and I are real.” Obi-Wan caressed your cheeks.

——————

You watched Obi-Wan hand Luke to Beru, you knew he would be happy there, living a life he deserved.

Obi-Wan walked back to you, standing beside you, and put his hand on the back. You two stood there watching Beru, Owen, and Luke, knowing there was hope after all.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #Star Wars imagine #obi wan Kenobi imagine #star wars x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #tw: death #revenge of the sith #obi wan kenobi x skywalker! reader #tw: age gap #mywriting

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meet-me-in-the-kitchen · 4 years

Text

SIX CANDLES, ONE WISH (2)

part one

Harry misses his daughter’s sixth birthday, and some things can’t be undone.

— Recap of Last Part —

“You didn’t even call, daddy.”

“You have to understand that some things just are the way they are and in order to provide for our family—“

“Nevermind,” she muttered under her breath. “Forget I even asked you.”

— Recap Fin.—

Y/N knew what it meant to have a father who was willfully absent when it came to their child’s life.

Her father had been a man of great physical prowess coupled by a both thrilling and frightening lack of restraint resembling that of a wild animal in a kingdom that had never learned the rules. He was once a boxer renowned in a small town which multiplied in tourists whenever the ring flooded with the divinity of his strength. Somehow, somewhere, he had met her mother. After she had died while giving birth to Y/N, she had always felt the cruel truth of her father’s hate simmering somewhere in the back of her mind.

Harry wasn’t like that. She’d married him knowing he wasn’t like that, partly because he would never intentionally miss recitals, avert his eyes from his daughter- eyes that held anything but the palpable disgust y/n had been used to as a kid. He wouldn’t resort to alcoholism. she’d sworn her children would never be stuck in the cycle of worshipping their father most days, and wishing their bodies were drained of his vile, cursed blood on others.

“Forget I even asked.”

Yet, as her daughter, barely ninety centimetres tall, pushes the phone back into her hand while the receiver rings with excuses, she’s not so sure of who Harry is anymore.

“Y/N,” he starts, voice still flat. He doesn’t even know what he’s done wrong, she realizes with horror. “It was just a party. I’ll come home soon, and we can celebrate properly. It’s just her sixth birthday, any—“

“Six.” She repeats, voice choking with disbelief. “She’s six now, Harry.”

“What are you saying?”

Sighing, Y/N moves further back as groups of kids rush past in a game of tag, all with bright smiles on their faces, besides the birthday girl. A bit of anger stirred in her chest. Of course, he’d had to make her sad on this day.

“It lasts so much longer, you don’t even know,” y/n shakes her head. “Darcy’s six now, but she won’t be forever. She still waits up for your phone call, regardless of the fact that you’ve missed calling her for weeks. Do you know what it does to her, when I have to tell her own father chose a stack of documents and negotiations over her own birthday?”

“I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important—“

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? I’m afraid you’re forgetting that she is too.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he rebukes harshly. “Stop putting words in my mouth, Y/N. I never said that.”

“I don’t need to put words in your mouth,” she laughs bitterly, “your actions are enough. I don’t have to tell you what went through her mind when she blew out her candles, with everyone there but you. She’s a baby, Harry. Our baby. Her self-confidence is going to be in shreds if you keep this up.”

“I still call,” he cries, his voice lined vaguely with desperation. “She knows I love her more than anything.”

“The least you could give her is some consistency. On the rare occasion you call, it’s when it’s most convenient to you—she stays up till two in the morning some days, just to hear your voice. You know what she wished for? For you to either come back, or stay away.”

“I didn’t—“

“I’m not done,” she exhales sharply, swiping her hand over her tearstained cheeks. Her voice broke. “She asked me if you wanted to give her a divorce, Harry. What am I supposed to tell her?”

He’s sobbing at this point. Guttural cries harshly racking through his chest, and he’s never cried so hard that his rib cage felt it would burst from the image of his little girl blowing out the candles dejectedly, searching for her daddy’s face in an otherwise crowded room, only to come back empty. For fuck’s sake, she thought he wanted to abandon her. He had never hated himself more.

“How do I tell her you choose paperwork over her life? How do I keep her from thinking she comes second all her life or developing an inferiority complex. She’s six now, Harry, but I’m afraid of what happens when she’s not anymore. If she carries all of this with her. I still carry it with me,” she sniffles, “and it is not pretty.”

“You really hurt her.”

“I love her so much,” his hoarse voice insists unconvincingly, an ugly feeling spreading within him at who he has become. His fingers shake as they hold onto the phone. He glares at the fineprint in front of him as it blurs to meaningless, double-spaced diatribes. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“I know,” y/n says, looking down at the streamers that lay on the ground. The shattered tiara. Her voice lowers as people pass by. “I’m just afraid, one day, you’ll forget.”

Darcy watches her mother’s wet face crumple and then twist into an unconvincing smile as guests walk by her. She hears her father’s cries, rendered meaningless to her young mind by the simple fact that it measures meaning through who shows up. And he hasn’t shown up for quite some time.

Her wish echoes in her mind: for daddy to come back or stay away. Lifting herself off of the ground, where she sat quietly listening to her unbeknownst mother’s words, she decides the latter would hurt less.

—

“Hey,” Harry breathes, shrugging off his black coat and gently pushing the door shut in conjunction. His eyes immediately find Y/N, who shuffles a bit closer. She blinks blearily, confused and uncertain if he’s actually there, or if this is some sleep-induced dream.

Her worries are smoothened by a low “come ‘ere,” and his strong arms pulling her to his chest, twisting around her in an impossibly warm cocoon. She mumbles something incomprehensible even to herself, and feels his chest rumble as he chuckles, lips pressed furtively to her hairline.

“Miss me?” He questions, light humour in his voice, but sincerity in his green eyes. She rolls her eyes, are you kidding me? This brings a smile to his face; he leans in slightly, cupping her cheek with one palm, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, his mouth closed over hers, like she had been waiting for.

It was easy to get lost in the kiss. Her head was swimming from impact, the dizziness sending her knees buckling, his arms holding her up. She blames it on being exhausted, but internally knows it’s because it’s him.

“Sleepy girl,” he brushes a lock of hair back with his fingers, eyes lighting up with affection at the sight of her: with a bare face and blinking eyes, a yawn tugging at her lips.

“As much as I am not opposed to this sort of intervention,” she begins, rubbing her eyes with closed fists, “mind explaining why you’re here at—“ turns to look at the digital clock atop the kitchen’s oven, “—two in the morning?”

“Guilt?” He offers, sheepishly. She’s confused at first, but her eyes soon widen with realization.

“Right,” she sounds, pushing him back lightly. “You’re,” tap “a,” tap, “jerk.” (jab)

“I know,” he grouses, “but ‘m an apologetic jerk. I need to talk to m’baby.”

“I don’t know, Harry,” Y/N sighs, eyes flickering towards Darcy’s bedroom tentatively. “She’s really upset.”

His eyes are morosely swimming with guilt. “I want to make it better.”

“You will,” she promises, “you’re you, and she adores you. But, it’s not going to be a cake-walk, either.”

—

Darcy wakes up to the scent of buttermilk pancakes and the sound of bacon sizzling on the griddle. Lifting herself out of her twin-sized bed with a yawn, she squinted her pale green eyes as sunshine flooded into the room, signifying it was morning. Her stomach rumbles with hunger.

“Mumma,” she called hoarsely, waiting a few seconds before calling again, with a slightly higher voice.

When Y/N walks in the room, she quickly shuffles over, pressing her face against her leg, so her cheek is mushed.

“Good morning, darling. you hungry?” y/n asks, lifting Darcy up so she’s latched onto her hip, free fingers caught in her thick, chocolate brown curls, detangling them gently.

“Mhm,” she responded, clinging to Y/N like a koala while her mother took her into the washroom to brush her teeth.

“I have a surprise for you, Darc,” she hums, turning the faucet and testing the water for lukewarm temperature with her wrist. This causes Darcy to brighten a bit. “A belated birthday present.”

“Present?” Darcy asks delightedly while Y/N finally carried her freshly washed self to the kitchen, where the scent of stacked thick, syrupy buttermilk pancakes, bacon, and berries once again evade her senses. What causes her to shift slightly in her mother’s hold is the familiar man in the kitchen, his back towards them. He has chocolate curls just as she, and once he turns, those are her eyes on his face, the same dimples poking out as he grins.

“Hi, Darc,” he coos, setting the spatula down and walking towards them with arms wide open.

Darcy twists in Y/N’s hold, and Harry clearly doesn’t notice—he’s still smiling expectantly.

“Look! Daddy’s home, baby,” she urges, but Darcy just tightens her grip on Y/N uncomfortably.

“Momma,” she mumbles lowly, hiding her face in her mother’s neck when Harry comes closer. She lets out a low whine.

Beginning to notice a pattern, he frowns, stepping back a bit before forcing a smile onto his face. Harry gestures to the breakfast foods on the counter.

“‘ve made your favourite,” he tries half-heartedly. Y/N’s own heart breaks at the look on his face and the way Darcy’s hiding from him.

“You two should eat,” he finally says to Y/N, smiling at her reassuringly, although she can see the dejection in his eyes. “She’s hungry, and I don’t think she’ll eat if I...”

“H...”

“It’s fine,” he says, kissing Y/N soundly and then retreating to the bedroom. Her eyes follow him worriedly as he leaves, but her train of thought is disrupted with tiny fists tugging at the hem of her top.

“Pancakes,” Darcy instructs, and Y/N rolls her eyes, before following the command.

—

Harry likes to think he’s making progress when he sits by Darcy as she plays with her toys, and she doesn’t exit to the nearest room. Of course, he’s sitting quite still, just watching her and not really making much conversation as she conducts a tea party, but he can wait until she wants to talk.

Things are going fine, until he rises to step out for a moment and get something from his car. Darcy’s eyes curiously follow him, before being filled with dread.

“Daddy, wait,” she whimpers, carrying herself as fast as her legs could take her, before her arms finally latch around his left leg, catching him by surprise and nearly sending his clumsy self tumbling. He struggles to balance himself with the six year old at his leg. He’s quite alarmed to look down and find her wide, green eyes shining with tears, her bottom lip trembling just like Y/N’s does before she’s about to cry.

“Hey,” he croons softly, lifting his daughter up, smoothing his hand through her unruly curls as she hiccups a small cry. “What’s wrong, hm? Are you hurt?”

“Are you leaving again, daddy?”

His heart stops.

“Are you leaving for good, because I didn’t play with you? I promise I didn’t mean it when I wished for you to stay away, I take it back,” she cried, breathing unevenly and sniffling.

He lifts her up until she’s at eye level with him, and shakes his head.

“No,” he stresses, making sure he’s firm. “I am not leaving. Never leavin’ you, bug. Never think that.”

“But you didn’t come to my birthday,” she sniffles. “Y-you don’t even love me anymore.”

“That’s not true!”

“You don’t hafta lie,” she says softly, looking at the floor and shifting uncomfortably, sadness coating all of her cute features. Her eyes darken to a hazy jade, just as Harry’s do when he’s upset.

“I’m not lying,” he promises, expression softening as he sets her on the ground and then sinks to her level, on his knees. Her posture suggests she’s just gotten told off, back hunched and face crumpled.

“Love you this much,” he gestures, spreading his arms as wide as he could, “and more.”

Darcy peers at him skeptically, still not quite convinced.

“And I’m sorry,” he enunciates slowly, regret written all over his face. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there last night, or any of the nights before. I lost sight of who I was for a moment, but I don’t want anything if I haven’t got you. You’re the most precious thing in my life. I’m sorry I was being a shi— er, a bad daddy. I swear I won’t be anymore.”

“Pinky swear?” Darcy asks in a hushed tone, bringing a smile to Harry’s face. His hand reaches for hers.

“Pinky swear.”

MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #one direction #IT’S BEEN A WHILE BUT HERE’S PT 2 YAY

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Clinging to affection

After a comment from Tim, Jonny worries that he’s too clingy. He avoids the rest, but when he has to fix a part of the ship with Brian they get locked in. Brian talks to him and gives him a hug.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: jonnys low self esteem. Tell me if I missed anything or you want me to tag something!!!

This is for @assyer, Merry Christmas!

~~~~~~~~~~

Jonny had been feeling kind of bad lately. Nothing special had happened to set it off, he had just woken up a few days ago and life had said ‘no <3’ and it hadn’t gone away.

What he really needed right now was a good and grounding hug. He knew that, but he also knew that he wasn’t going to ask for it. Asking for a hug was scary and he was too tough for that anyway, someone had to offer.

But even if he wasn’t going to ask, he was going to make it obvious. It was a sort of unspoken thing, he would sit in the common room alone and if anyone saw they would most likely give him a hug.

Today he had only sat there for twenty minutes when Ivy happened to walk by. When she saw him, she did a quick double-take and scanned his face, before sitting down and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

For a moment he tried to keep his pride, but then he sagged into the touch and curled up around her, while she cracked open the book she had been carrying.

Jonny lay there for a long while, the knot of badness in his chest uncoiling as the peace settled over him.

After a while Ashes had walked in and took in the scene. It didn’t happen often, not anymore, but they could still recognize the tense slump of Jonnys shoulders. So, they sat down nearby and when Ivy left, she gently levered Jonny onto them.

While he was practically lying on them, some of the others trickled in. Brian and Marius were discussing if Marius tactics were a horrifying offense to doctors or not and Raphaella had mixed herself into the discussion as well.

Then Tim came in and saw. Tim and Jonny always had a relation that mostly existed out of jabs or trashtalk and he hadn’t been here when these bad moments had been most frequent. This is why the first thing out of his mouth was: “You comfortable there, octokitten?”

Immediately Jonny straightened up and glared at Tim, as he spat: “I’m not an octokitten.”

You wouldn't see it when you looked at him, but the moment the words had left Tims lips, a pit formed in Jonnys stomach. It opened up and seemed to suck all the warmth and relaxation into it and swallow it, leaving Jonny cold and alone.

“Whatever you say suction cup arms.” Tim grinned, not noticing how Jonny had shriveled up on the inside.

Jonny rolled his eyes at him, then stalked off. Throwing a “I hate you” over his shoulder.

He didn’t see how Ashes frowned at his tense back, before they set Tims coat on fire without him noticing, after which they walked after Jonny.

They came to face with a locked door. They knew that they could blow it open if they wanted to, but they doubted that was a good idea. After a knock, there was no reaction and they cursed Tim under their breath, walking back to shoot him.

Meanwhile, Jonny was lying on his bed. He had ignored the knock, he didn’t want to face anyone, it was embarrassing. He was embarrassing.

Tim had instantly seen how fucking clingy he was and Ashes just put up with him because they always had, same went for Ivy. And Brian and Marius and Raphaella had all been there and seen how embarrassingly clingy he was and they would find it weird.

And oh god why had he even allowed that!

It was stupid, so stupid. He didn’t need a hug, he was just being a baby about it.

He made a solution not to allow that anymore, but first the others would have to forget this ever happened. He reasoned with himself that if he just avoided them for long enough, they would have to forget eventually.

With that master plan in mind, he turned around in his bed and pulled the sheets over his head, allowing himself to wallow some more.

He managed to lie there for three whole days, before knocks became too frequent on his door for him to keep it up, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk to anyone. So, he grabbed food and left, only showing his face for a few seconds, but mostly kept himself busy elsewhere.

This peace, alas, was not meant to last long either. It was not even a full month later that the ship was attacked.

Nothing major, of course, just a crew of other space pirates, who thought the small crew of the Aurora would be an easy target. Lets say it didn’t work out well for them and Jonny got some nice snacks, but they did manage to land a hit on Aurora.

Nastya assured them that she would be able to fix it quite easily, however she did also request that the others helped to get her girlfriend up and running in a short time-span.

Jonny had hoped he would be able to do tasks alone, but Nastya had said that it was better to go in pairs, just in case something went wrong and your body had to be fished out of fire or mysterious liquids to regenerate. So Jonny was assigned to fix one of the wings of the ship with Brian.

The wings were not really wings, but small extrusions on either side where a lot of wiring and computing and other science stuff Jonny didn’t get was stored.

They were accessible through a door and the space to operate in wasn’t that big, meaning Jonny wouldn't be able to hide from Brian, who would almost definitely ask how he was doing and if everything was alright.

With a heavy heart he trudged after Brian and started to work on the wiring with help from the manual Nastya had given him. Beside him Brian was doing the same.

After a while Brian took a deep breath, but before he could say anything, Jonny looked at him and said: “No.”

Brian looked startled for a second, then an understanding look came over his face that made Jonny skin crawl as he replied: “I just wanted to ask if you needed anything.”

Jonny glared at him suspiciously, then turned away without giving Brian an answer.

They returned to working in silence once more, but Jonny knew the time was ticking. If he wanted to get out before Brian would attempt a conversation again, he would have to hurry. His movements sped up and he spend less time inspecting the manual in the hope of getting his task done as soon as possible.

It proved to be to his determent.

He pulled on the wires quickly connecting them to each other or ports as he tried to make sense of whatever this part of the ship was supposed to do, when he accidentally pulled too hard and one of the wires broke.

His head snapped up as he scanned the wing to see what that did and if they were going to die from it. His eyes fell on the door just as it slid close and locked itself with a click. He cursed.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Brian asked when he heard.

“I accidentally broke the door.” Jonny managed through gritted teeth, “We’re locked in.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate.” Brian commented.

“Really? Is that all you have to say?” Jonny exclaimed, “We’re locked in a small part of the ship where almost no one ever comes while everyone is busy and your response is ‘that’s unfortunate’?”

Brian looked taken aback by his outburst and a nub of guilt formed in Jonnys chest as Brian replied: “I didn’t want to make a fuss, you already seem so stressed lately and it’s not like it’s your fault.”

Jonny worried his lip between his teeth as a few seconds passed by in silence, then Jonny softly admitted: “I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Would you mind if I took a look at it?” Brian asked.

Jonny shook his head and Brian moved into the spot next to him while he inspected the wiring, after a moment he concluded: “I don’t think it is fixable, we need someone to open it from the outside.”

With a sigh, Jonny dropped to the floor and laid down. Brian looked at him for a second, before shrugging and joining him. Jonny cracked open one eye and asked: “Don’t you have shit to finish? That had been my last wire.”

“Oh, I’ve been done for a few minutes already, but I’d thought I’d keep you company. You’ve been so lonely these past few weeks, I missed you hanging around.” Brian told him.

“That’s a fucking lie.” it was out of Jonnys mouth before he had thought about it.

“I can’t lie right now, first off. And second off, why would you think I’d lie about that, that would be mean and untrue.” Brian said, sounding actually upset at the thought.

The nub of guilt grew as Jonny noticed the switch on MJE on Brians neck. With a slight flush coloring his cheeks he shrugged: “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well, how did you mean it then?” Brian asked, seeing right through his bullshit.

“Uhh...” Jonny blanked.

“That’s what I thought.” Brian said gently, “I know you hate talking about feelings, but I have eyes, I know there is something wrong and now we have time, so please talking to me. What is going on in that head of yours?”

“Why do you even care?” Jonny tried to avoid answering, moving a bit away as to not seem clingy.

“Because you’re my friend and you’re always there for me and I like hanging around you?” Brian answered so sincerely like it was nothing, turning his head to look Jonny in the eyes.

Without his permission some tears sprung into Jonnys eyes as he quickly swallowed and looked away. It was so relieving to hear and he knew Brian couldn't lie, but still a part of him didn’t really believe him, he was annoying and clingy.

He said that last part: “But I’m clingy.”

The understanding look from earlier returned, but it didn’t make Jonny as uncomfortable, just relieved when Brian pulled him into a hug and said: “You’re not clingy at all, Jonny. If anything, I’d wish you would let people hug you more. What made you think that?”

Jonnys shoulders shook as he cried slightly. He thought it was embarrassing that this was enough to set him off, but the bad feeling that had caused him to go look for a hug in the first place hadn’t left with the comment and all he had wanted was someone to tell him it was alright and give him a bit of affection. So when it finally happened, it was too much in a good way.

Brian didn’t seem to mind, he just held Jonny until he could make noise again: “It’s just- and then- you know? When- and I couldn't- with Tim- and-”

Jonny sniffled unable to explain more than that incoherent blubbering, but Brian made the connection to the comment of Tim a while back. He sighed: “Oh, Jonny, he didn’t mean it like that, no one thinks that you’re clingy.”

“How- how do you know?” Jonny asked, teary eyed and pouty.

“Because Ashes set him on fire over it and Marius scolded him until he sheepishly admitted that had not been his intention at all, only to be shot by Ashes when they got back from following you to make sure you were alright.” Brian told him.

“Wha- what?” Jonny voice was full of disbelief, “Why?”

Brian squeezed him tight and said: “Because everyone here cares for you and they don’t want you to not get affection. It was just light teasing, he didn’t know you would be so hurt by it or he wouldn't have said it.”

“Oh.” was all Jonny could reply to that, heart lighter even if he couldn't fully believe everything Brian told him. He burrowed his face closer to Brians chest and let it rest there.

They laid there for a long while, until Jonny had drifted off.

Then the door beeped and slid open once more as Nastya stuck her head in confused and asked: “What happened here, why aren’t you back yet? Aurora is running again.”

“Jonny accidentally locked the door on us.” Brian explained as he got up, carrying the sleeping First Mate in a bridal-carry.

When Nastya saw the dried tear tracks on Jonnys face she nodded and ask: “Did you have a good talk with him?”

“I think he got something out of it, yes.” Brian confirmed.

“Good.”

They brought him to bed and gently tucked him in. Tomorrow he would wake and come to breakfast and stay. He would joke around and allow Tim to sling an arm around him and whisper a small apology, before Ashes dragged him off to play cards.

But that was tomorrow, for now he could rest and hug the pillow close to his chest.

#RR writing #The Mechanisms #the mechs #Jonny d'Ville #drumbot brian #Ivy Alexandria #Nastya Rasputina #gunpowder tim #Ashes O'Reilly

39 notes · View notes

trustsalvatorewriting · 4 years

Text

wasteland, baby! | kol mikaelson - chapter twelve

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 2,288

❝ what does one do with life when one expected to be dead ❞

"HOW DOES IT FEEL? To be alive, after all these years." Kol asked, eyes barely meeting Aniya's as they sat on a park bench. They had agreed to spend the day watching for strangers, any person that wouldn't mind having a sprinkle of amnesia in their lives. After a while the silence had gone deafening, and Kol decided to speak.

Aniya looked back at him, somewhat shocked that he had bothered to ask about her condition. She shifted in her seat. "Truth be told, I do not know what to do with the life I hold in my hands. It's as if someone has handed me the moon."

"Didn't you ask for this? To be immortal?"

"No. My father did." She said, looking down at her hands. She and Vihaan had questioned his beliefs once, and only once. It was the day that their father held their hands over a fire, and asked who would save them if not the gods. "And what of you? How did Esther create the spell that turned you into vampires?"

"She didn't create it. She found it, after Henrik was attacked by the wolves one night." He'd said it so casually, it might have gone over the average person's head; but Aniya had known him all his life. "Mother dearest murdered my ability to practice magic that night. About a decade ago, she stuck me in the body of a witch, but I was promptly killed by Finn shortly thereafter. Such a shame. The body was quite handsome."

He paused, then added, "Of course, not quite as handsome as me. But it did do the job."

She lifted an eyebrow slightly. "You would give your immortality to be a witch again?"

"You may have given your life for immortality, but I never wanted this. I was perfectly fine dying at the fine age of thirty years old," He sent her a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back to the humans walking in front of them. Across the street, an old man and his wife, wrinkly and discolored, hair the color of salt and pepper.

"It is a wonder how humans learned to live so long. Perhaps my father wouldn't have forced us to into those rituals if he knew humans could become so... weathered."

Kol laughed then, and Aniya found herself smiling at the newspaper Kol had set down on their laps. After a moment, he asked, "You truly can't read?"

"I've learned a bit," She admitted. Henry had helped her, using a few pictures books he'd created and never published. Elijah had repeatedly offered her private tutors, but the situation had never been ideal. Even compelled humans would ask questions eventually, and there was something discomforting about allowing a stranger to see her weaknesses. She'd been a gifted witch once, a prodigy; and she had lost to something as simple as American tongue. "I do miss runes though."

"You'd be the only one," Kol responded. She narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance, and he simply shot her a smile. He turned his attention to the humans. "So, we've sat here long enough. Who will we put out of their misery and erase twenty years worth of memories?"

"How about one of the weathered ones?" She suggested. "They've been alive quite long. Surely they won't miss a decade or two."

Aniya had given eighteen years of her life to a set of rituals. Given her life for the sake of her parents. A few memories in exchange for a taste of her old life -- it was a small price to pay. Regardless, humans were never meant to live so long. They were in pain now, surely. Growing weak and inching closer to Death with each passing moment. To walk the streets and see the youth, see all they had lost.

Perhaps she would be putting them out of their misery. Granting them the ability to forget all they would never have again.

She stood from the bench and made her way towards an elderly man only a few feet away. Kol leaned back and watched the girl smile brightly, encapsulating the man in a short conversation about passing birds.

"I can't remember the last time I'd seen a creature so beautiful." She knelt down, though the bird hopped a few steps away. Her brown eyes dimmed for a moment, and Kol felt a heavy weight on his chest as he watched the little bird move away from her. As if it were repulsed.

"Yes," the old man nodded in agreement. His voice was aged, in a way that even Kol found himself pitying him. "Your generation is so glued to those phones. Rarely even feed the birds anymore."

"My generation," Aniya squinted her eyes. She was very much his elder, and Henry had tried to show her how to use a phone only a few days ago. Unfortunately, the very concept had gone over her head. "Yes. I agree. My brother, though, he used to care dearly for these creatures. Often found him climbing trees and feeding them leftover scraps."

She spoke fondly of her brother. It was hard not to. No one had a heart quite as big as his. No one dared to. The world was never made for one as beautiful as him, and yet there she stood, desperate to gain her strength and revive him.

"What was his name?"

Aniya hesitated. Her mother had always said names carried power. "Victor. My name is Annie."

"It suits you," He commented. The man's blue eyes sparkled with kindness, and she felt her stomach drop. "I hope he takes care of you."

"You needn't worry. My brother was quite the protector," She shrugged off his comment, eyes quickly shifting to the street in front of her. She pushed herself off the ground and focused her eyes on a nearby lamppost. "And what of you? Do you have family? People that care for you?"

"My wife, Betty. She cared dearly for me," The old man chuckled. He pulled out a small leather rectangle, and Aniya lifted an eyebrow at the gesture. Carefully, he unfolded it and revealed a black and white photo of a young couple. A blonde woman with molded curls and a young man beside him, in a perfectly tailored suit.

The man slipped the photo out and turned it around. At the bottom right corner was a jumble of letters. Aniya leaned forward to see the lettering, and after a few moments, the man said, "Betty and Edwin. Our wedding in the fifties."

Aniya's faced soured and she looked away, as if she'd just tasted something terrible. From across the street, Kol lifted an eyebrow. She took a breath. "Where is she now?"

"Died of long cancer twenty years ago. I miss her everyday." He said, his voice tainted with nostalgia. Aniya bit the inside of her cheek, a pit in her chest crawling up her throat. Edwin carefully tucked the photo back into his wallet.

"And you love her to this day? Your love for her, it never died?"

"In my experience, love never dies."

"How do you love someone you're sure you'll never have again? How can you bring yourself to love something so unbearable?" Surely he would give in. Surely he could bring himself to forget her. How much she would give in return for amnesia. In another world, she might've belonged to Henry and Henry alone.

Edwin shrugged. "I'll see her again. It's only a matter of time."

It was then that she felt something snap. A switch in her mind, flipped, and exchanged for something much colder. Ice rushed through her veins as she stared at the man, and her mind was made up.

Kol would one day see his Davina once more. Edwin would see Betty, and the world would continue to spin, as she stood paralyzed and alone. Even Henry would leave her eventually. She had only one insurance, one promise that would never leave her: Vihaan.

"I truly am sorry." Aniya placed a hand on the man's shoulder and whispered a spell beneath her breath. The man's eyes glazed over, and static ran through her veins. She took a step back and raised an eyebrow, ignoring the sense of euphoria that overwhelmed her. "Raise your left hand."

He obliged.

"Drop it. Raise your right hand."

He obliged. She had control of him.

"Give me your wallet. Go to Lafayette Cemetary and ask for Keres." The man, stripped of his willpower and sense of self-control, handed her the small leather object and walked away in a daze. Aniya swallowed and shoved the rectangle into her pocket. To her left, she felt a slight breeze, and Kol stood by her side.

Kol watched the man wander away, a brow lifted as Aniya gulped. "You hesitated."

"I'm ripping away an innocent man's free will because we made the mistake of getting married. My apologies if I'm not all that ecstatic about our situation," Aniya muttered. She huffed, shutting her eyes tightly as she turned on her heel.

"Well, lucky for you, we only need two more. I found a poor bastard in the cemetery last night. I'm sure no one will notice he's gone," Kol announces proudly, hot on Aniya's trail as she walked away from him.

"We shouldn't be preying on the innocent, Kol. Especially not men who are mourning their loved ones!"

Kol huffed and sped in front of her, raising his hands to stop her from crossing him. She sent him a warning look, and he sighed. "This one deserves death. Trust me."

She had been given no reason to trust him. In the weeks since she had come back, not once had Kol given her proof that he was worthy of it. Frankly, he's gone lengths to prove the opposite; but somehow, as she stared into his aged, tired eyes, she found herself wanting to believe him.

And so, she nodded, for once giving into his antics. "All right. I suppose we'll just have to find a few more and send them to Keres. I'm sure it won't be that much trouble."

Regardless, she couldn't seem to ignore the heaviness of her chest — the guilt she carried, knowing she had just sent a man to be stripped of his free will. Her parents had tried desperately to rip her of these emotions, trained her to see human lives as game pieces. Ones that she would have to dispose of once they no longer suited her. Her father had told her to embrace the electricity that ran through her veins when she practiced dark magic, but what was meant to surge of power had become nothing but a parasite. This power had turned her into nothing but a monster.

"Kol?"

"Yes?"

"What did your siblings and father exchange for immortality?"

He stopped walking then, his feet glued to the sidewalk. For a moment, his amusement faded, but it was quickly hidden away with a smirk. It occurred to Aniya that she might have hit a nerve. "I'm a vampire, darling. Haven't you caught up on the mythology yet? Watched a few scenes from Twilight? I've heard Robert Pattinson is quite dashing."

"Well, yes, but I'd like to see the truth. I'm not sure how much of that I'm going to find in pop culture." She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step toward him, looking up at his aged, tired eyes. "Show me."

"You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you," He murmured. He sighed then, leaning back against a nearby lamppost. Aniya came closer as he shut his eyes, and black veins crawled from beneath his eyes down to his cheeks. His eyes opened, revealing a pair of blackened irises and red, irritated scieras. Kol bared his teeth, displaying his sharpened fangs. When Aniya didn't flinch, the monstrous features crawled back into hiding, and Kol's curious face remained.

Then, she smiled, almost satisfied with her discovery.

"Was there any particular reason you wanted to see that, or were you just exhausted from staring at my gorgeous face for so long?"

"Is this typically how you flirt with women in the twenty-first century?"

Kol shrugged then, straightening his back and heading back in the direction of the Abattoir. Jealousy seemed to spike at Aniya's chest, as she walked a few paces behind him. How wonderful it must have been to be loved by something that hates all else. To be loved by what was perceived to be a monster.

She pulled the wallet out of her pocket, running her fingers over the faded photograph. She wondered to herself what might have happened if the Hollow has awoken Vihaan, as opposed to her. He might have been stronger. More willing to sacrifice the lives of several humans in exchange for the life he once had; but then, she wondered if he would have been more willing to give up on a marriage that had so clearly died. He would have been willing to sacrifice it all to ensure that she was back on Earth.

"I'd like to have this mission finished by the end of the night," Aniya revealed, her fingers tugging at the ring around her neck. "We'll find the nearest elderly person, and send them to the cemetery. You'll have your memories returned by midnight, and I'll have the evening to myself."

"You're going to see your human."

"Is that so bad?"

He hesitated. "I suppose not."

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moonstruckholland · 4 years

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Can We Go Back To Bed? (t.h)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 2,497

Warnings: angst, fluff if you squint, flashbacks

A/N: this was supposed to come out a couple of months ago 😅 but here she is, the first one shot of my Cosmic Soul series! Shout out to @fangirlwithasweettooth and @hollandsamor for being amazing and reading this over for me! I really hope y'all like it 💕

Tom had never felt as far from you as he did lying next to you tonight.

Lying next to you was honestly a bit of an overstatement. With the way you were laying, there was enough space between you to fit a whole other person on the bed. You were curled up on your side, so close to the edge, Tom was worried with one wrong move you’d just roll onto the floor. He considered reaching out, moving next you, but for the first time since you started dating he was truly scared of being rejected, of the pain he knew he'd feel if you pulled away from him.

He wanted nothing more than to touch you, kiss you, anything. He just wanted to feel close to you. Instead he quietly got up, careful not to wake you as he made his way out the room, the whole night replaying in his head.

Everything was off from the moment he walked through the door.

“Princess? I'm home!"

Flowers in hand, he walked through the apartment, looking for you. He heard a door open and a soft, “Tom?” come from the bathroom as he set his luggage down in your bedroom.

“I’m here, baby.”

You poked your head out of the doorway, hair wet and matted, a towel wrapped around your body, “Tom! Hi!”

He had expected you to run up to him and jump into his arms, like you always did before.

Instead, you casually walked over, kissing his cheek as if he hadn't been gone for months, "You didn't tell me you were coming home!"

He hadn't thought much about in the moment, but now, he could tell something was just wrong.

He knew something would be different, that was the price that came with being gone for months at a time. But not with you.

You'd always been a constant for Tom, giving him a wonderful sense of security he lacked in his hectic life. He knew no matter he could count on coming home to your warm and loving embrace.

Or at least he did.

The rest of the night had been just as weird as when he came in. You had your normal movie marathon like you did every time Tom came home, but this time around that feeling that you were out of reach was in the back of Tom's head.

You were too far, barely touching him, and you sure as hell didn't say a word to him. The normal joking around was gone, replaced with silence despite the sounds of the movie surrounding the both of you.

You had asked him questions every once in a while, about his flight, if he was tired or hungry. If he hadn't been paying too much attention, he would've thought it was just you being your normal, caring self, but it was too polite, like he was just someone visiting.

He couldn't stop dwelling on it no matter how hard he tried and that's how he found himself walking around the apartment, coming to realize it just as different as you were.

It was all little things and maybe if he didn't feel the need to look so closely, he probably never would've noticed, but he couldn't help it now.

There were flowers everywhere, fake ones in pretty vases all around because the real ones made you sad when they inevitably died. Tom could almost picture how excited you must've been setting up each vase and how long it probably took you to decide where to put them because you were such a perfectionist.

The blankets and pillows on the couch were different too, cute little sayings stitched into each one, and Tom wondered when you'd gotten then. You used to always tell him when you got new things. When was the last time you'd mentioned going to Hobby Lobby or Target?

What stuck out to Tom the most were the pictures you had. Some of the old pictures of the two of you were replaced with people he'd never seen before, he assumed co-workers, though he couldn't recall you telling him about anyone in the photos with you.

He felt a pang of guilt. How much had he missed?

He finally came across a familiar picture, one Harrison had taken of the two of you when you weren't looking the day you moved into this apartment together. You and Tom were smiling goofily at each other, pulling out things from a box on the floor.

Tom couldn't help smiling as he thought back to that day, to how happy you were.

"Tommy, baby, you have to be careful carrying that box. It has all our plates and I don't think you're gonna want to eat off a napkin." You warned him as you watched him carry the heavy box on his own, despite you and Haz both offering to help.

"I'll be careful, princess, I promise," he said confidently before somehow tripping over his own feet and hitting the wall, the plates clattering loudly

Tom looked back to see you rolling your eyes as if you knew he would do exactly that. He quickly put the box down on the floor, finding the box cutter on the kitchen counter and opening it up to make sure he hadn't broken anything.

He let out a sigh of relief before yelling out, "They're all okay!"

You shook your head at him, but Tom could see a smile on your face as you tried not to laugh.

You approached him, mumbling something about putting the plates away before Tom could break them.

Harrison was behind you, carrying a box without any complications, "It's not too late for me to take him back, y/n."

"I might just take you up on that, Haz."

"Hey!" Tom pouted, "You don't mean that do you, baby?"

You wrapped your arms around him, standing up on your tippy toes to plant a big kiss on his cheek, "Never, honey, I don't know what I'd do without you."

He put a hand on your waist, pressing a kiss to your lips before saying, "Good thing you're stuck with me then."

You were about to say something when you were rudely off by Haz throwing a napkin at you, "Oi, you two, come help me unpack your things please."

You pulled away from Tom, your laughter filling the room as you went to help. Tom watched, a warmth filling him as he thought about how lucky he was to be living this with you.

'What happened?’ He wondered with a sigh, the fond memories fading, leaving him with an achy feeling in his chest as he plopped down on the couch.

The sound of the bedroom door opening startled him, pulling him out of thoughts completely.

“Baby?” You shuffled over to him sleepily, eyes squinting at the bright light, “What are you doing up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

You nodded, taking a seat beside him, laying your head on the soft cushion.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

Tommy. It was a nickname he had grown to love over the years.

“My Tommy,” you’d always say, usually right caressing his face fondly or pressing your lips to his.

He hadn’t realized just how much he missed hearing it or how long it’d been since the last time it came from your lips.

He didn't answer your question, looking down at his fingers. What was he supposed to say? "Hey, babe, I feel like our relationship is falling apart and I was wondering if you felt the same?"

No, he absolutely couldn't say that, but he couldn't just not say anything at all.

You gently touched his face, grabbing his drifting attention once more, "Baby, talk me. What's going on?"

He debated with his thoughts for a moment longer, before finally deciding to work up the courage to speak what was on his mind.

"I miss you."

You gave him a little smile, "I'm right here, silly."

"Are you?"

One question and Tom started to wonder if he should've kept his mouth shut, the hurt and confusion that immediately came over your face causing his heart to ache more than he thought was possible.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y/n, you're sitting right in front me and I still feel like you're a million miles away."

You were speechless, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth.

"I, um, I don't know what you mean," you stammered out quickly, clearly lying.

Of course you knew what he meant, how could you not? A feeling of remorse flooded your body, you knew you'd been a bit distant, but you didn't know it'd been this bad or noticable.

It'd been so long since you really got to talk to Tom, both of you swamped with work and social lives, your paths barely crossed anymore. Before you knew it, your once amazing relationship, full of great communication, had been reduced to superficial and empty conversations.

"You don't? So nothing feels different between us right now?"

"I don't know what to say, Tom," you sat up, as if to get a better look at him, but you didn't meet his eyes, "Yes, something's different. Did you expect everything to be exactly the way you left it months ago?"

"No, I just," he ran his fingers through his hair, and you could tell he was choosing his words carefully, "I wish you cared more."

'Fuck,' it was like being punched in the gut. Tom meant the absolute world to you and for him to think you didn't care? It broke your heart.

"I care, Tom," you practically whispered, your voice full of sadness.

He didn't say a word, nodding instead, as if he wasn't convinced.

You sat in silence, for what felt like forever, just staring at everywhere but each other before Tom finally said something.

"Do you remember when you, Haz, Z, and I would get super drunk and stay up all night playing Mario Kart?"

You smiled, for a second you could almost imagine the four of you sitting on the couch, yelling and laughing, having the time of your lives, "As if I could ever forget, even drunk I could kick all of your asses.”

"That’s because you would always cheat!"

"I would not!"

Tom jokingly rolled his eyes, and for a moment the tension was gone. You were back to normal, all of your fears and worries ceased to exist. It was like you’d gone back to a time where things were simpler.

The illusion came crashing down the second you softly and very sadly said, "I miss those days."

Tom almost wanted to agree with you, to continue to remicine the past with you and go back to the feeling of ease the two of you had just seconds ago. Instead he asked, "What are we going to do?"

You didn't meet his eyes, "I don't know."

“I think I should stop working for a while, take some time off.”

For a moment, a part of you considered what that would mean. Tom would be home more often, you could actually see him, spend time with him. That was the same part of you that wanted to beg him to stay every time he had to leave. It was begging you to encourage him, telling you it’d be the perfect opportunity to rekindle your relationship.

Another part of you knew better though. It’d be selfish to ask Tom to flush all his hard work down the drain for you. You weren’t worth his career.

“No, absolutely not,” letting the latter side fuel you, “Babe, you can’t just stop working.”

“Why not?”

"You've worked so hard, I’m not going to let you throw that away for me."

'I'm not worth it,' is what your mind was practically yelling at him. You truly believed you weren't. You were just one person, how could you compare to the years of work and effort he'd put into his career?

"Do you love me?"

The question almost caught you off guard, of course you loved him, a lack of love for the man standing in front of you was definitely not the problem.

"More than anything."

"Then, please, angel, let me do this."

Tom had a look in eyes, one full of determination and you knew he had already made up his mind, but you couldn't help feeling like you had to convince him otherwise.

"Acting is your dream, Tom."

“No, you and I,” he motioned between the two of you, tears starting to well up in his eyes, “together. That’s my dream.”

"I don't want to lose you."

"Hey," you grabbed his face gently, using your thumbs to caress his face soothingly, wiping his tears away, "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm not ready, baby, I'm not,” he choked on a sob, heavy tears falling freely down his face now.

You didn't say anything, you just wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight against your chest. You hoped your actions spoke the words you wanted to speak, but didn’t know how. You loved Tom more than anything and seeing him hurting, seeing your relationship fail first hand was killing you.

You started crying as the full extent of the situation finally hit you. Your relationship was failing. It was failing and you didn’t know what to do or how to fix it.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, like there was something heavy, crushing you. You were glad to have Tom there, his presence the only comfort you had at the moment.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that in each other’s arms, your sobs eventually turning to soft cries before stopping all together, finally letting you catch your breath.

Tom untangled himself from you, his puffy eyes meeting yours, "Can we go back to bed?"

"Of course, Tommy."

You wiped the remaining tears off his face, then the ones on your own, before grabbing his hand and gently leading him back to your room, back to your bed, back to where he belonged.

You climbed in right after him, immediately settling into your designated spot in his arms, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. It was almost normal.

Silence engulfed you immediately, leaving only the sound of your soft breaths and the loud rain outside.

There was so much you wanted to say, but you were scared. Everything was falling apart right in front of your eyes and the thought of admitting it terrified you. Almost as much as the thought of losing Tom all together.

But you knew that if you didn’t speak up now, there might not be another opportunity to. There might not be a relationship left to save.

So, you worked up the courage to lace your fingers through his, holding onto him tightly because in some ways your life did depend on it and you whispered, "I'm not ready to wake up either."

Tagging: @fangirlwithasweettooth @bravest-at-heart @constellatinq @hoe-forharry @devildisguiseasangel @ravenclawmarvel @hollandsamor @cosmicholland @fairytaleparker @hollandsosterfield @now-imagine @officiallyunofficialperson @stealth-spiderr @xxxxdelenaxxxx @its-the-aerieljeane @petersstarcadet @babebenhardy @antoouu @lovinnholland @kxrtwxgner @sleepybesson @brookeelee98 @awkwardfangirl2014 @nedthegay @petersmparker @parkeroffline @snjms02 @the-queen-procrastinator @tomhollandsumbrella @spideyosterfield @thollandx @styles-balor4eva @80sthottie @marvelobsessedteenager @marshyrebelcloud @sixwyrxstuff @tomshufflepuff @jillanaholland @itscaminow @howdyherron @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @undiadeestos

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years

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One Day - Part 9

A/N: Hello, magical tumblr friends! We’ve reached part 9! I can’t believe it. Thanks for sticking with me through this wild ride. Thing are getting really good here. Today I realized I have like 70 of them. Can you believe it? I never expected to have followers lol. Thank you all.

For this chapter, all I want to say is that I don’t hate Astoria. I really don’t. Thank you for your turkish telenovela plot twist ideas lol, I’m definitely going to write something in that fashion sooner or later.

Also, the novel I’m referring to (both in with the quote and the comments) is called “Normal People” by Sally Rooney. If you haven’t read it, I very enthusiastically recommend it. I couldn’t put it down. And now I can’t stop thinking about reader and Draco’s relationship to be a bit like theirs (better written and without a lot of the tragic subtext, of course).

Anyway, let’s do this!

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns) Word count: 1874 Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Masterlist

Enjoy!

3 May, 2007

“You really don’t want to sleep, do you?” Draco cooed at his son.

“Da-da,” the eight-month-old baby babbled as he made grabby hands at his father. The blond man melted and took his toddler out of the crib, cradling him in his arms.

“What am I going to do with you, Scorp?” he asked as he nuzzled his nose. The boy giggled in response.

Draco tried to be the most loving father. Whenever he wasn’t at the hospital, he was pampering his son, playing with him and making him feel loved. Draco lived for Scorpius’ cute little chortles and he vowed to do everything in his power to keep his son laughing without a care in the world.

The day Draco held Scorpius for the first time, he was invaded by a bliss he had never experienced before. Draco realized that he had finally done something good. He had helped create a little person, a pure and wonderful little person. He, Draco thought, was his second chance in life. Even if the nightmares and the guilt still haunted him, Scorpius’ tiny self reassured him. And so, the boy became his everything.

This week, though, Draco had to admit he was exhausted. Astoria had moved to the Greengrass estate for a few days to take care of her sick mother.

“Nothing too scandalous,” she had explained when he asked about the symptoms, “but she still needs her daughters’ care”.

If Draco had noticed something suspicious in the defensive tone she adopted, he said nothing of it. Astoria’s family emergency left him alone to take care for their toddler. Since she hated every minute of living under the same roof as Narcissa and Lucius, they had moved to a flat in muggle London. His parents hadn’t yet forgiven him for that. Throughout the week, it was Molly Weasley who had come to his aid. Much to her delight, she took care of Scorpius – as well as her grandchildren – while he worked. As he did his rounds, though, his son was in the back of his mind. Scorpius had never been without at least one of his parents before and Draco hated the idea of him thinking he had been abandoned. He’d floo back and forth from the hospital to the Burrow only to find a very smiling Scorpius crawling around with Albus and Rosie.

Thankful as he was for Molly’s help, the whole ordeal drained him. He was working double shifts and then going to their empty apartment to feed his son and play with him before he could even think about hitting the sack.

Regardless of this, every time Astoria owled him he insisted it was fine. Ever since he found out Astoria was pregnant, Draco made an extra effort with their relationship. Even before Scorpius, they had turned cold and awkward with each other, but Draco loved and cared for Astoria and by Merlin did he try. He was gentle and kind, he took her out for dates, asked with genuine curiosity about her day, bought her gifts and was as accommodating as he could possibly be. She had an agitated social life, with weekend getaways with her friends and constant dinner dates with her sister, but even if at times it meant sacrificing his own social life, he wouldn’t complain. Draco could even say they were happy.

At times like these, however, he couldn’t help the intrusive thought of what all of it would all look like with (Y/N) by his side. He’d supress those ideas immediately, thinking about how Astoria was the best mother Scorpius could ever have. Yet, an overwhelming sense of how incredibly plastic and sterile his relationship with Astoria was would still linger for a while, filling him with dread. He’d then try to push it back and shower their son with as much love as he could possible give him.

Tired as he was, Draco realized it was very late. Scorpius was still giggling in his arms. As he sat in the library, Draco grabbed (Y/N)’s latest book in one hand and held his son cautiously with both arms.

“I’m going to read this novel to you, young man,” he said, “And you’ll understand none of it. But hopefully I can enjoy it for a while and you’ll fall asleep. Deal?”

Scorpius’s glimmering eyes lit the world for Draco. He kissed his son’s forehead before starting to read out loud:

“Sometimes she felt like saying: Would you miss me, if you didn’t have me anymore?” Draco gulped before continuing, “She had asked him that once on the ghost estate, when they were just kids. He had said yes then, but she’d been the only thing in his life at that time, the only thing he had to himself, and it would never be that way again”

As he carried on, he couldn’t help but think that this novel was written just for him to read. It was, after all, about two friends whose relationship status changes throughout the years. He felt his heart heavy, wondering if (Y/N) ever thought about him not caring for her. Because he did. He cared for her very much. And he missed her. She had been living in Paris for the last four months and she’d come every now and then, but he still missed her. At times, he felt like he always missed her, even if they were in the same room.

“I did choose your godmother well, didn’t I Scorp? You’ll be nothing if not a well-educated, perhaps even a bit snobbish, lad,” he teased.

Much to his satisfaction, Draco noticed how his son was now peacefully sleeping in his arms. He walked to the nursery and put him on the crib, leaving the door ajar just in case. As he was about to crawl into bed, Draco heard a crash on the living room. He grabbed his wand and hurried out, determined to protect his son.

“Leave now, please,” he heard a hushed, almost panicky, voice say.

As he reached the living room, Draco faced something he never thought he would. A wide-eyed Astoria stood in the middle of the room. She was giving her back to him and, instead, faced none other than Theo Nott, Draco’s old classmate. He had a determined glint in his eyes.

As Astoria turned around to face him, Draco noticed a sense of complicity between the two of them. He gulped, realizing what was going on. The blond man blinked tears back as he noticed his wife sported a series of love bites he had certainly not printed on her skin. They were both dishevelled, lips a bit swollen. Draco also realized Astoria was wearing a man’s sweater.

“Draco, it’s not what –“

“We’ve been seeing each other for a while, mate. I love Tori. We’re happy together and I am tired of hiding,” Theo’s deep voice interrupted her.

“Draco,” Astoria said, her voice sounded muffled, as though they were underwater, “Draco, listen to me.”

Draco stared at his wife as though she was a total stranger. The shock made him experience everything in slow motion, to the point in which he only realized he was actually crying when Astoria tried to wipe the tears. Draco pushed her away very softly, barely even touching her, and just turned on his heels. He stumbled towards his room, scantily registering what was going on around him.

For a second there he thought he was dreaming. He closed the door and put up a charm. Draco collapsed on the bed and finally heard himself sob. His heart felt genuinely broken. He heard the knocks on the door. Draco picked on Astoria’s conversation with Theo, maybe they were even fighting, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t care either.

As many times before, Draco felt empty, small and pathetic. And, as many times before, his thoughts went to (Y/N), wishing she was there to console him.

…

On the other side of the English Channel, possessed by coffee induced jitters, (Y/N) sat wide awake in her library. It was late and she was very tired, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep. She decided to read Hermione’s letter, which she had postponed for a couple of days already.

Dearest (Y/N/N),

Four months gone and I still cannot believe you’re living in Paris. What a dream! I am really happy for you, dear. We have all agreed that a change of ambience could benefit you greatly, even if it means we won’t be able to enjoy your presence as much. Don’t make our great sacrifice of depriving us of your company be in vain. Remember you’re in the city of love, so you better not be glooming on your desk all day.

All jokes aside, please take care of yourself, (Y/N/N). I would be lying if I didn’t say I’m worried. Molly is worried. Even Ron – at times so daft and oblivious – is worried. Sleep well. Eat at regular times. Don’t overthink…too much. This whole poète maudit behaviour might be very fancy and bohemian, but it is, without a doubt, unhealthy. And we all want you – no, we need you – healthy and happy.

Lovely, I devoured your latest novel. It is an absolute hit. It feels so…so real, so visceral and heart-breaking. I cried thinking about how much of it is inspired by your real-life experiences. I have never met someone who experiences life the way you do, someone who has this way of conciliating the world through words. My heart goes to you, (Y/N), along with my admiration. I hope distance can mend your heart, so you can finally write some lighter poetry, like you did when we were children.

I am very busy with work, looking forward for a promotion over the next couple of weeks. With Ron we have also been talking about the possibility of having more children. As an only child, I would love my Rosie to grow up with someone by her side, although I must say she’s practically attached at the hip with Albus and Scorpius. However, I still cannot decide, you know? I feel like my ever-growing responsibilities at the ministry might get in the way of me giving my child – and potential other children – the attention they deserve. I do not think I could adapt as easily as Ginny did. She is doing great at her new post, by the way. But I do not see myself anywhere else. I know maternity is far removed from your reality right now, but I would love to know what you think about this. I already know Ginny’s perspective. I also talked about it with Molly and my own mom. I have read a couple of books as well.

Anyway, I will not bother you anymore. Please write back whenever you see fit. Do not isolate, (Y/N). We are all here for you. We miss you. We cannot wait for you to come. As soon as we have vacations, we will visit you as well. I am hoping for the day in which we can finally stroll together through all of those bookshops in Paris – muggle and magic.

Love,

‘Mione.

tags: @fandomscombine @okaydraco @naomi02hook @iliketoast23 @hopplessdreamer @winnsmills @oldfashionedlovergirlsblog @animelover09556 @happycomb @xtrashmouthxtozierx

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adamantiumdragonfly · 4 years

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Lady Blood || Part Four

Lady Blood: Agent of War collection

Agent Enyo was a legend. A woman whose hands were always bloody and eyes filled with shadows. The reaper of the Western Front, she carried her reputation with her across the ocean to the alleys and speakeasies of Chicago. For who could fight a king of crime but a goddess herself?

But before she was a legend before she had a name, she was just Miriam Goldschmidt: a German girl far from home, trying to keep her tattered family from unraveling. The Great War brewing in Europe had pulled on the threads and challenged Miriam's loyalty: to the land of her birth or the London streets she now walked? From London to Cairo then to the Western Front in the wreckage of Belgium, Miriam proves her allegiance, fulfilling the deep thirst for recognition but being a good soldier and a good agent required sacrifice.

As the war leaves its marks on Europe and it's victims, Miriam has to make peace with the choice she made and the family she tore apart for that name and that seat in the pantheon.

She was a god but at what cost?

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November, 1919 - London, England

The streets of London had changed since Miriam had last walked them. There was less noise, a kind of hushed anticipation. As if the city wondered what else it could go through. The crowds were the same, a strange form of comfort.

They parted for her, having nothing to do with the thick black coat pulled tight against her body, but the look on her face. Set. like a stone statue, into a glower. She could glare these people out of her way, their own faces scarred with the hardships of the war and following influenza but she couldn't scare the nerves from inside her chest.

They had fluttered at first, when she had gotten off the boat, growing in intensity until her heart pounded against her ribs, punching a beat and begging for release. She wasn't sure if her heart would explode from her chest, leaving a gaping hole to reveal just how empty Miriam was.

Two years since she had last seen Ezriel's face. Nearly five since Miriam Goldschmidt had wandered her second home, the place where her father had died and her mother lost along with him. That Miriam, at sixteen, had kept the family afloat in the sea of uncertainty but Miriam had been gone. Gone a long time and it seemed, the city wasn't the only thing that had changed.

That little house, crammed between two others of the same peeling paint, looked just as dull, just as dark. That hadn't changed. The wood was still rough beneath her knuckles as she rapped on the door. She knocked, not let herself in. She hadn't breathed this air, lived this life, in a long time. Miriam wasn't the same. And neither was the girl who pulled open the door, standing in the entrance as the dark eyes that were like Miriam's, glanced her up and down.

It was Amira. The little girl they had left behind. The scared little girl, who had lost her father, and seen her two sisters and brother leave her behind, marching off to war. Her hair was up, braided like Miriam had worn it before she had cut it all to her shoulders, and wound in a tight knot. Her mouth was drawn thin. She was only seventeen but looked much older.

Confusion clouded her eyes before Amira recognized Miriam. She did look different. The scar across her cheek, marrying the two sides of her. The smooth features of her youth and the grizzled aftermath of the war on the left side of her face. Her hair, once long and curly, hung thinly around her scarred cheeks, concealing the worst of the scars. Miriam was still healing and while she had been told they would fade, she felt sick at the sight of Amira's disgust at the wounds.

"Miri," Amira said softly. Her voice was different. No accent. They had all had a slight German accent. Sadie had fought hard to lose hers. Amira didn't have one anymore. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to see Mother," Miriam said. "I've missed you, Ami."

Her baby sister, who had been abandoned. She wasn't sure why she had come to this place, when the last time she had seen a family member, there was blood and shouting.

"You should have saved her!"

"Ezriel is here."

"I haven't seen him in years. How is he?"

"You don't want to come in, Miriam," Amira stepped forward, the door falling shut behind her and rejecting Miriam's request for entrance. She faltered, her heel slipping off the step and Miriam took a step back, the weightlessness jerking at her middle.

"Amira, let me in."

Amira fought her own war with herself before she relented and opened the door. The house still smelled musty but the lights were on, a lamp burning, and a little shrine placed on the side table. The only photo of their two lost. That little girl who haunted Miriam's dreams and Papa, who looked so alive there, sitting in that frame. Miriam almost expected him to take a breath, unrestrained and without a shuddering cough. Her gloved hand ran along the glass, tracing the face of her family. When she pulled away, the tip of her finger was coated in dust. Had she really been gone that long?

Mama was in the sitting room, on the rocking chair, that had been her place of vigil during the evenings when they had first arrived in London. Before Papa had died. It had been a familiar sight, to see her swaying back to front, there before the fireplace but the frail creature who sat in the chair wasn't Mama.

In the five years Miriam had been gone, she had wasted away. A skeleton of her mother's former self.

"What are you doing here?" Ezriel, a master of the shadows, had kept his knack for lurking in corners even when the teargas had cleared. He had gone unnoticed by Miriam's sharpened senses, hidden in the dark folds of the room. She should have known he would be there, waiting. She shouldn't have been hurt by the anger in his voice. They hadn't seen each other in nearly two years. He had removed himself from her, pushing her away with blood-stained hands, leaving her with the ghost, the guilt and the crooked nose.

"I'm here for my mother," Miriam said. She didn't need to explain herself. This had been her home. This was her home. She had spent more time in these walls than her older brother and he had no right to make her feel unwelcomed.

"Miriam?" Sarah's weak muscles strained to turn her head toward her oldest daughter's voice. Her watery eyes scanned the changes that the war had left on her child. "Miriam? What happened to your face?"

"Nothing, Mama. She is fine." Ezriel said, jumping in before, Miriam could even answer. He had never been the one to care for Mama. Miriam had always done that. But here he stood, in this sitting room, in a house he had done everything to get away from, looking as if Miriam was the betrayer. Maybe she was.

"Is Sadie with you?" Sarah asked. Sadie. Named for her. The second daughter. The one who had burned through the darkest shadows that this country and this home had to offer. Had Sarah been told?

"No," Miriam was almost proud that she had kept the pain from her voice. That had been buried deep, covered with the dirt of hundreds of men's graves. Ezriel noticed that she hadn't sounded hurt. He noticed that there wasn't a trace of hurt or raw grief. He took the hurt he still carried with him, across his face and shoulders, and turned it against her. It was a sharp weapon, though not as sharp as the words he said.

"No, Mama, you remember what I told you?" Sarah said nothing, her body and mind fragile as a songbird. Ezriel pushed on, disregarding the shaking of their mother's shoulders. "She let her die."

Miriam was at a loss for words. She had never had many but she wished she could pull every fragment from her mind and throw the shrapnel at Ezriel. Maybe then he would feel how she did, the burden and the guilt, pressing tight against his flesh. Maybe then he would experience the white hot tears burning against his eyelids, never to be released. Never to spill over his, her, cheeks and bringing with it a cool relief.

Ezriel didn't feel that. Miriam couldn't do anything but watch, as he pushed on, with the ambition and drive that had gotten them all into this war in the first place. This wasn't about their futures or his ambition. This was about revenge and Miriam was his target.

"Miriam is why Sadie isn't here," He said, with almost smug glee. Amira was in the doorway, fingers trembling against her lips. Turning to Sarah, Ezriel said. "You could have us all back but Miriam didn't protect her." Sarah's body shook with wracking sobs, she buried her face in her gnarled hands, a wail rising from her mouth. The wail that had sounded when Papa had died. The wail that once again ripped through Miriam's heart, leaving an exit wound weeping with blood and unreleased tears.

Miriam glanced at Amira, begging her with her eyes to not believe him. Not to listen to the lies that he was spreading. She could have done more, convinced her little sister that she was innocent, but her voice was gone. Miriam had come home for solace and respite and had been met with more hostility and rage than she had seen during her time in the war.

Ezriel knelt beside their mother, taking her hands in his own, muttering softly. "I'm here, Mama. I'll keep you safe."

Safe. Like Miriam had. She had made this slum of a house a haven for them. That haven had cost her an education, a childhood, and now, a family.

Her fingers trembled as she tightened them into fists. Something in Ezriel's face dared her to take a swing. Miriam would have knocked him unconscious but her mother's shuddering sobs broke any resolve.

She had hurt this family enough. Maybe this was her fault?

Amira spoke up from the doorway, her voice sharper than anything Miriam had heard from her. The Ami she had known was softer spoken, overshadowed by Sadie's bright sunshine. "Why are you here?"

"I'm going to America." A job. A promise. Someone who knew who Miriam Goldschmidt was had requested her presence. She had anticipated a warm welcome or a welcome at all upon her brief return home but the reception had solidified her decision. She was leaving.

"If you cross that ocean, you know you can never come back, right?"

"You won't be a part of this family anymore." Ezriel said, over their mother's shattering form. As if it was her fault this was happening. As if all this, the house that was falling apart and Sarah with it, could be placed solely on her.

"We have been ripped apart already and it had nothing to do with me." Miriam said, finally finding her voice. Enyo demanded a certain level of respect. Had Ezriel not heard of her work?

"This isn’t the time for you to place a winning blow. This is where you pray for mercy,”

#lady blood updates #miriam goldschmidt carroll #1910s #ww1 historical fiction #world war one spy #world war one historical fiction #female spy OC #espionage #world war one #1917 #agent of war #band of brothers spinoff #a little discord prequels #MiriamMonday

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amwritingmeta · 5 years

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15x04: Lucky Them

Wow. Davy Perez has this knack of bringing it, and this time was no exception. Icing on the cake was the delight at having Jensen directing again!

We got a glimpse of Benny (happy not to have more) (however much I love his character, he’s fulfilled his purpose in the narrative in beautiful ways that I don’t really need extrapolated on) (anyway) and we got Becky back, with some real character progression to juxtapose Chuck’s alpha and omega of douchebaginess.

The more of a douche connected to dark and horrible endings Chuck is, the more hopeful I become of the opposite heading our way. *fingers crossed* :)

The best line that Becky delivered was about how she’s carved out a good life for herself and she actually likes herself now. That’s character growth right there. She found what would truly make her happy and she built on it. Bless you, Becky, you’re one of the lucky ones! Sorry you got smoked. :/

But let’s move into the meat of the story (pardon the pun) and talk about Sam and Dean and how they are simply not dealing at the moment. Either of them.

*e p i c*

Sam

Oh Sam. Sam is having nightmares and they’re of the callback kind, because here we get a glimpse of how he’s still not processed his choice to drink that demon blood, how he still carries the self-blame and the guilt and the fear of losing his tightly held control of himself around with him, even to this day. Because, as he will state in that gorgeous (and seriously tear-jerking) end-of-the-ep exchange with Dean: he can’t let it go.

But letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. Letting go means understanding that you can’t change the past, that you can’t live in a blame bubble and that carrying that guilt for choices that you wouldn’t repeat now, if put in the same situation, is toxic for the mind because it hollows out your sense of self.

Moving on means gaining perspective enough to forgive yourself your past mistakes, trust yourself not to repeat them and gain actual control of yourself through understanding where your boundaries need to be drawn and drawing them for yourself.

It sounds easy (it’s not), but if Sam can just see how strong he truly is in himself, how strong he always has been - he held Lucifer and went into the cage with him and was tortured by the Devil himself and he’s still standing - then he can begin to trust himself not to ever let the past repeat itself.

I loved that the images of Sam with black eyes was a nightmare. Does this mean it’s not foreshadowing? I don’t know! Maybe Sam needs to face his demons through a visual manifestation, but I think an internal gradual moving away from this fear of losing control could be just as effective. We shall see!

Sam daring to take the leader position is one of the ways him dealing with this fear can be, and has already been, explored, because he’s been happy for Dean to take the lead for so long because of his fear of losing control of himself, of hurting people, of hurting the ones he loves and, of course, hurting Dean, that he’s been okay with second chair, but Sam is the born leader and that second chair has never really fit him all that well.

He just has to accept that happiness, while in the life, is always going to be shadowed by the fact that people will die, that they can’t save everyone, that monsters will continue to roam the Earth, but that they’re doing what they can to make the world just a little bit better each day, and that’s all that we can ever hope to do. Like Cas once said to Dean: “You can’t save everyone, my friend. Though you try.”

Dean

Dean eats his emotions. This is what is known as an unhealthy coping mechanism, meaning that instead of actually acknowledging and dealing with whatever emotion he’s feeling that’s causing him distress, he pushes that emotion down and because of him suppressing it, the emotion finds an unhealthy behavioural outlet.

This is also a form of self-punishment.

Guilt, shame and regret are all powerful emotions that cause a person to have an unconscious need to self-punish. And what emotions are Dean feeling at this very moment, ever since he pushed so hard at the love of his life that the love of his life finally decided to put his foot down and leave?

Yeah. I’d venture there’s a fair amount of all of those emotions battling it out inside Dean. What I love most about it, though, is that yes, he’s eating the entire episode, but he only takes a sip out of that flask. Meaning? That this is unhealthy coping, but at least it is just that: coping.

He’s not being self-destructive in a putting himself in harms way, let the chips fall where they may sort of self-destructive. He’s not taking care of himself, obviously, because he doesn’t feel he deserves it, because of the aforementioned guilt, shame and regret, but he’s also not taking unnecessary risks. His sense of hopelessness, of his chance for happiness being gone, is subtle and is only highlighted in that end-of-the-ep exchange with Sam.

Oh, it’s enough to send shivers down your spine. And jerk them tears, too. *iCry*

Through that exchange we also get a Dean who is determined to keep going, to find a reason to keep going, which, to me, means there’s still slight hope that Cas will find his way back to him again. That this isn’t the end at all. Dean just doesn’t know exactly what he can do to ensure it isn’t.

I would think it would be absolutely beautiful if what Dean needs to do is drop the fast food and eat some fruit, you know? If he actually starts to do little things of self-care that show he’s actually beginning to open up to forgiving himself his past mistakes and loving himself as he is. The moment Dean can believe he deserves Cas’ love is when he’ll be able to actually see Cas and see that he might mean as much to Cas as Cas does to him. And once that door begins to open…

Yah. Fireworks.

Anyway, that’s just what I’d love to see happen.

Cas’ self-worth has clearly sky-rocketed, demonstrated to us when he decided to leave that Bunker and Dean’s emotional abuse behind, effectively telling Dean that he deserves better treatment than that. Like hell yes.

This action was so necessary, not only for Cas’ sense of self-worth, but to bring Dean into a position where he honestly has no choice but open himself up to some much needed self-reflection.

Dean needs to reflect on his own behaviour, and he should feel guilt and shame and regret, but without getting defensive about it, without pushing it down and pretending he’s fine with it. He has to actually face the consequences of his actions and step up and take responsibility for how his usual behaviour of taking his emotions (his anger) out on those closest to him is harmful, and he needs to become self-aware enough to not engage in it anymore.

Time to grow up, Dean Winchester, you beautiful man!

Let’s take a look at the end-of-the-ep exchange, shall we?

End-of-the-Ep Exchange

So we get the brothers, in the Impala, having one of those heart-to-hearts that Baby seems made for half the time. In this place of safety there’s room for honesty, always. And they usually find their way to it around her.

*still worried something will happen to Baby by the end of the season as a visual manifestation of them letting go of needing her to have this type of communication as well as moving on from the past and into the future but omg I hope nothing does and still I kinda hope something does gah*

Anyway.

I’m skipping into the meaty part of this exchange (okay stop with that pun already it’s already old) Fine.

Dean talks about how he felt like cashing out in the crypt after Chuck went all Apocalypse World 55.1 on their asses, but Sam brought him out of that line of thinking by reminding him that what they do matter. And Dean is all about picking Sam up, has been trying to for the whole episode, wanting to do the same for Sam that Sam did for him, of course, and remind him that what they do matter, because they save lives.

And a little more than that.

They keep the blinds down for the rest of the world, right? They allow for people to live their white-picket-fence lives and never worry about what goes bump in the night, which is what Sam has been so fed up with for the entire episode: the hopelessness of their situation; because there will always be more monsters, no matter what they do, and people will die, no matter how many they save.

To the exchange, then –>

Dean: ‘Cause it is, you know, It’s a crap job. We do the ugly thing so that people can live happy. Sam: Yeah. Lucky them. Dean: Yeah, lucky them.

So Sam’s reaction here can be read whichever way you like it, really, but looking at the subtext of the exchange - which, for Dean, is un-subtly all to do with Cas - Sam’s reaction tied to Dean agreeing that the people who get to live happy are lucky can very well be seen as Sam reacting to Dean letting his guard down and admitting that, yes, happy sounds good, happy sounds nice, and he wouldn’t mind a bit of happy for himself.

What’s more mind-blowing about this admittance, to me, has to do with the Cas-subtext of the exchange, though, because that’s for us, the viewers, who understand that when Dean talks about moving on, that’s a signal for us - who witnessed that very private moment between Dean and Cas in the previous episode - to get where Dean’s head is at.

So when Dean very subtly agrees with Sam about how living a long and happy life (and I’m paraphrasing Mildred because relevant) would be good, we can detect that there’s a deeper reason for why it’s not only monsters and death keeping Dean from living it.

And, what’s more, the fact that he puts into words that he wants to live a long and happy life is a huge, huge marker, at least to this meta writer, of how far he’s come in his progression, because he wants it and he’s not about to lie to himself that he doesn’t, but, by that same token, he still does not believe he deserves it and he can’t see himself ever having happiness, which is part of why he’s been self-punishing himself the entire episode, because it’s this incapability of accepting happiness when it’s right there that made him push Cas away and it’s a vicious, vicious cycle of lack of self-love and self-worth.

(jaysusssss very beautifully done)

And look at Dean’s FAAAACE ^^^

And Sam is still reacting to all this because what? – did Dean just admit that he doesn’t want the Blaze of Glory ending for himself? (and yeah with Cas having left I’m pretty sure Sam is hyper aware of the possibility that Dean is actually, in his own way, admitting that a future without Cas looks pretty bleak to him)

Back to the exchange where Dean says all these amazing, amazing things –>

Dean: But it doesn’t change a thing. You know what I mean? We still do the job, but we don’t do it for us. We do it for Jack, for mom, for Rowena. We owe it to anyone who’s ever given a damn about us to put one foot in front of the other. No matter what.

And let me pause for a moment there and just have us all look at what exactly he is saying here, because, oh boy, is it telling of how he just has not reached a healthy place in any shape or form. Now, in a way, this is healthier than digging himself a hole and lying in it, yeah? Absolutely.

It’s that “fake it” mentality of S7 all over again and I’d rather he be here, with a glimmer of hope (I always thought you’d come back type of hope with that trench coat in the trunk of every car they drove that season), and finding a reason to keep going, than be in that dark place he was in during his grief!arc at the start of S13, when he couldn’t believe in a damn thing and he didn’t care, at all, what happened to him, BUT there is still that echo here, which is why it’s such an unhealthy frame of mind for him to cling to.

They don’t have a purpose in life for themselves, they find it through others.

No.

It brings us right back to what he said to Sam at the end of 13x20: I don’t really care what happens to me, I never have.

And what he told Death in 14x05: I don’t matter.

This attitude is the reason why he can’t move out of this perpetual state of not believing he deserves more. That he deserves everything.

And this is what’s keeping him from daring to want more for himself, daring to feel how much more he does want for himself, because every time he’s dared to want more, it’s come crashing down around him. His fear of happiness runs extremely deep.

It’s time to face it and let go of it and embrace the fact of how his life and how he chooses to live it benefiting others is a great gift, but him giving that gift also means he has every right to balance the giving out with a bit of receiving.

*please and thank you*

Of course, all of this is underlined in what he says next –>

Dean: And hey, man, like you said, now that Chuck’s gone, we’re finally on our own. We are finally free to move on, you know?

And the way this is phrased, so brilliantly, of course makes it impossible not to see it as a subtle reveal of what Dean is thinking about Cas leaving: without Chuck pulling Cas’ strings, Cas was finally free to make the choice to leave.

But this is also tied to what Dean needs to stop getting hung up on, because he’s purposefully blocking out what Cas said, which is that for all his string-pulling, Chuck still had to pivot with their choices. He didn’t control those. He manipulated them, sure, but he didn’t force them into making them. And each choice they’ve made has added to their understanding of themselves and of the world and their place in it. They are real.

Cas didn’t choose to leave because now he’s free of Chuck’s influence - he chose to leave because Dean was breaking his heart, because Dean refused to hear him, because Dean was shutting him out and pushing him away, because Dean’s inability to stop using the blame game as an excuse not to connect or open up wasn’t gonna fly anymore.

And this is what Dean needs to face, so Dean talking about finally being “on our own” and free is the last vestige of his performance remaining, the final lie he has to tell himself until he can face his fears and take responsibility for his actions, because the alternative is to live without Cas, aka without happiness.

I mean, the absolute defeat on Dean’s face in the screen grab above reminds me of his face watching Cas’ body burn at the end of 13x01. And then that expression switches into this –>

–> grim determination.

The top one is all: I’ve lost him, I’ve lost him.

The bottom one is all: It’s for the best anyway, what did you think was gonna happen, he’s better off without you, let him go live his life.

(headcanon but yeah like fuuuuck feelings)

And, of course, Sam is there to voice exactly how Dean is really feeling.

Sam: I don’t know if I can move on. You know, I can’t forget any of them. Dean, I still think about Jessica. I can’t just let that go. Dean: No, no, man, that’s not what I’m talking about.

(because Dean is talking about the healthy way to let go, which is to not let the past rule your present, to be aware and appreciate and remember, but not cling onto old ideals and ideas, or past mistakes that you can’t change, no matter how much you wish you could)

Sam: I know, I know, I know, I’m sorry, I know, but what I’m talking about is that I don’t feel free. What we’ve done, what we’ve lost, right now that is what I’m feeling and sometimes it’s… Sometimes it’s like I can’t even breathe.

And all I could think when Sam said that was Dean talking about feeling as though he was drowning while being possessed by Michael. The suffocating feeling of the weight of all those old ideals and ideas and having no other choice but to succumb, because he wasn’t strong enough to fight them at the time.

Sam is dealing with his own set of old ideals and ideas now, because while we see Dean actively suppress his thoughts and feelings and finding unhealthy, though at least stabile, outlets through coping mechanisms like overeating and drinking and working this episode, Sam is not about to suppress anything.

He feels his irritation, his impatience, his hopelessness and it comes out in how he interacts with others, with his surroundings, with Dean, with the case. Sam doesn’t have outlets. He bottles everything up. He thinks he’s fine and he’s handling it, but he’s not. And he hasn’t been fine for a very long time. That hopelessness always niggling. That question of what is the point if there’s no end to the suffering?

I honestly believe he needs to accept that not everyone can be saved. I’m hopeful that he will, but I’ll admit I’m a little worried about what’s in store for our Sam. I hope he’ll have to get dragged through the darkest place before he can come out victorious on the other side, the same way Cas and Dean have been over the past four seasons.

Sam: …Maybe tomorrow. You know, maybe I’ll feel better in the morning. Dean: And what if you don’t? Sam: I don’t know.

It’s interesting looking at how this conversation is structured: Dean reminding Sam that Sam saved him from himself and succeeded, and Dean, this episode, trying to save Sam from himself without success.

The thing is, I can see Sam needing to save himself, needing to get to a place where he’s ready to fully let go of Dean, because he realises that Dean doesn’t need him the way he used to, and them holding onto each other and their old ideals and ideas of how to relate themselves to each other is no good, for either of them, and, once this shift in Sam happens, for him to, without hesitation, step into a leader position and accept that this is his place and where he belongs and there is great purpose to be found there, and through that purpose, there’s great happiness to be had too. Aw Sam! *hopes and wishes*

I really loved this episode so much. I’m still not over this scene, haven’t quite digested how Jensen delivered that slight speech and all the very subtle truths baked into this exchange that were so extremely revealing of what’s really going on inside of him, as well as Sam stating what’s going on inside of him, following that harrowing dream sequence that opened the ep.

Gorgeous stuff. Gorgeous, gorgeous stuff.

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doginshoe · 5 years

Text

What You’d Do To Me Tonight

summary: Lucy had been in a blooming high school romance, but now that the love has wilted between her and her husband, she searches for a solace. However, she finds it in an already broken man that manages to set her alight in more ways then one. When her secrets spill, she finds her world begins to crumble from beneath her feet as the two men in her life torture her already broken heart. TW: contains mentions of cheating, mentions of drinking, discussion of suicide related thoughts, abuse and swearing

thank you to @bmarvels and @katana-no-neko for reading this over for you. Ily guys

tagging: @lovelyluce @shadyhydrathesnekqueen @trollka21 @thewitcharisa @rvrplayz @millennial-star-gazer @sobatsu

part 3.

Lucy didn’t see Natsu for awhile after what happened. She told herself that she wasn’t ignoring him. She was just busy, yet she deliberately left her second phone in her drawer at work instead of hiding it underneath her mattress like she usually did. There was something unsettling about facing him again, even reading his texts she felt… guilty. Just thinking about what happened gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach that made her drum her fingers harder on her desk.

She knew she couldn’t handle lying to him again so she stayed away.

Though, she could almost call the turn of events lucky. Jackal was getting worse and she could sense that he knew something wasn’t right. He called her randomly throughout the day while she was at work, always asking when exactly she’d be home and she had even caught him peeking through the blinds when she drove up the driveway after work one day.

It scared her because she knew exactly what he was doing - bubbling like a pot of water left on the stove that was soon to boil over. That was their rhythm. He would brood and manifest his thoughts, grabbing anything that he could use against her and twisting it into something elaborate so he could pin it against her. So he had a reason.

The first time she had never been more confused and so full of self hatred. They had been at a party - a neighbourhood get together. She had smiled and laughed with her friends just like she normally would. Her mother and father had taught her how to engage, to be the perfect host or guest. It was in her nature to belong in the crowd.

Yet, apparently it had been a mistake. Jackal had grabbed her wrist. Hard. She looked at him with her eyebrows drawn in, questioning, but he only told her that they had to go home. He dragged her away with a flat goodbye and Lucy could only send a quick uneasy smile at the other party goers before they were out the door and he had told her to get in the car.

Those were the last people to see Lucy for a week afterwards.

They sat in silence as they made the drive home. She was in the passenger seat whilst she nervously bit her nails into her thighs whilst she tried to think of something to say. She wanted to know what was wrong, yet she was scared. Their fighting had been worse and she didn’t want to make him angry again. She never wanted to make him angry.

However, Lucy still spoke up. Her voice was meek and she found it hard to look at him, but if she could help him… She still loved him after all. He was her husband.

“Did something happen, Jackal.” She paused. “I didn’t think we would be leaving so ear-”

The car picked up speed as he started yelling. His eyes turned to her and they swerved on the road, barely keeping control as he lost it.

“You’re a filthy slut.” He had called her and tears welled up in her eyes as fear grabbed hold of her heart.

“You were going to sleep with him. Think I wouldn’t notice if you slipped away, huh?”

He grabbed a hold of her hair, the car swerving again as he picked up more speed.

“I-I don't know what you’re talking about,” Lucy screamed, but he only pulled on her hair harder. “Please, Jackal! I wasn’t doing anything. I would never do that to you. I love yo-”

He slammed on the breaks as she spoke, releasing his grip on her hair and letting Lucy’s face collide with the dashboard. There was a cut on her eyebrow and blood dribbled down to her nose. All she could remember was the metallic taste in her mouth, his manic screaming turning into white noise around her as she spat out blood.

Lucy blinked as her phone rang and she frowned down at her legs where she had unconsciously been scratching at her thighs again. At least she was wearing a skirt.

Her eyes turned to her bag where her phone hummed with the incoming call. With a sigh and a quick glance around the office she reached in to answer the device. She didn’t even have to check the ID to know who it was.

“Hello.” Her voice was hollow as she spoke, yet her fingers came back to pick at the fabric of her skirt.

“Hey, baby,” Jackal almost purred and she had to keep down a grimace, “When are you going to be home?”

Lucy hated it when he did this. The facade that he wore when he wanted to play with her, trying to spin her to get what he wanted. “Soon. I clock out at 4:30 since we aren't that busy on Tuesdays.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

The call ended and Lucy felt her stomach pool with unease. He didn’t even wait for her to offer a goodbye, not that it would be anything but clipped and short. She had stopped offering him a strained ‘I love you’ a long time ago.

With a sigh, she turned her focus back to her work, though she didn’t want to get it done. The longer she stayed the more time she had free from him, but her frown deepened. That wasn’t an option now.

He was closing in on her and it was almost suffocating.

Lucy unconsciously flicked her gaze to the phone in her drawer and she was tempted - to just fake sick right now and show up at his door. She closed her eyes as she imagined Natsu’s arms around her, the way his grin would almost constantly be plastered on his face. It wasn’t just the way he touched her anymore. He was safe.

She shook her head when the memories stirred of her last visit, the feeling from before tugging at her. Lucy always knew it was there. The guilt, but it was small - a weed that she could stamp out when it started to spread its roots. Yet, when she had lied to him it wrapped itself around her heart, tight. It was a reminder of what she was doing to him and she didn’t want to face that. Lucy needed him.

She rubbed at her eyes before she rested her head in her hands, a grumble stirring in her throat as she pulled her gaze back to her work in front of her.

It was going to be a long day.

With a huff she buried herself in her work. It was tedious enough and soon the thoughts that plagued her mind were set aside whilst she sorted through papers and files. Though, she barely got an hour through when a sharp buzz interrupted her train of thought. With a click of her pen, she pulled open her drawer, her hand shuffling to the back of her stuff before they pulled out the buzzing cell phone.

“Come over?”

The text lit up the screen and Lucy stared down at it. Natsu had no idea just how much he pulled her in, but her thoughts once again drifted back to that night and she threw it back into her desk. She couldn’t do it. Not tonight. Jackal was waiting for her anyway.

Her eyes glided to the time. 4:21pm.

Lucy sighed, again. Her whole body sagging with exhaustion as she thought of what waited for her.

She packed her stuff, shrugging on her coat before her gaze turned to her desk drawer. Her eyes glazed over with emotion, everything in that moment coming to the surface as she looked down. She had tried not to think about her other device that laid there. She wasn’t ready for him yet, but the itch was there. His text was still fresh in her mind and Lucy swayed between her choices. With a frustrated huff, she pulled open the drawer before stuffing the crappy phone deep into her bag, into the zipper alongside her spare pads.

It wasn’t like she would answer him, she told herself. It was for the comfort and that was all.

When Lucy opened the door to her home, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Jackal was poised on the couch, freshly showered and dressed up as he watched TV with a beer in his hand. She let out a short breath as she adjusted her bag and went to make her way up the stairs.

“You’re late.”

His voice echoed in the house and she stiffened in response.

After a pause she turned, her eyes meeting his as he turned his body towards her. “I told you. I don’t get off till 4:30. Plus the traffic was a little heavy on the way back.”

Lucy turned away from him, her feet turning to carry her to the kitchen as she heard him rise from the couch. She kept her bag on her shoulder as she opened the fridge to keep her hands busy, careful not to let him see the tremble of her fingers as he followed her steps.

“I was thinking we should go out tonight,” he said.

Her hand reached for the jug of water before she closed the fridge, her gaze barely reaching his as she walked to the cupboard for a cup.

“Really?” Lucy asked, “What for?”

She turned to him then, her lips curling up into a small forced smile.

He was quiet as he watched her pour water into the glass, his eyes flicking to her hands and then back to her eyes. It wasn’t until she had finished that he spoke, his gaze locked with her own and Lucy desperately wanted to run away - to tear her eyes from his.

“I think we deserve some time together.” His hand slid to her own and Lucy flinched. Jackals gaze darkened, but he still grabbed her smaller one. “It's been so long since we’ve been anywhere.”

Lucy’s gaze snapped to where his hand held her own.

“You’ve been good lately, Lucy,” He praised as he rubbed his thumb over her hand, “I felt that you’ve really been listening to me.” His grip tightened. “I want to treat you.”

She could feel her heartbeat in her ears as her lungs swelled inside her chest. He was too close, his hand on her. It was too much. Lucy pulled her hand back, but he caught her before she could and her breath hitched.

“I-I’m kind of tired,” She breathed, “It’s been such a long day at work and maybe you should just go on without me.”

Lucy took a chance, her eyes flicking up but she regretted it instantly. He was staring down at her with such an intensity that she felt her throat constrict. Her whole body tensing as his light green eyes held her in place with a piercing look. Her brain told her to run.

His lips were pulled into a deep frown. “I planned this for you.”

She couldn’t help the scoff that left her lips. “Sure. That’s what you did this for.”

He let go of her hand as he stood up abruptly, his gaze fierce as he grabbed a hold of her face and turned it towards his.

“Watch your mouth,” Jackal growled before he dropped her face harshly, letting her gaze fall to burn holes in the ground as he moved his way around the bench to her side.

“I wanted us to spend some time together… but I guess you have plans with someone else.”

Lucy shook her head, her hands curling in small fists as she refused to look at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“What?” A dry laugh left his lips. “You really think I believe you? I know you’re trying to sneak around behind my back.” He took a swig from his beer and Lucy could smell the alcohol on his breath as he stood near her. She kept her breath bated as he towered behind her, making her shoulders slump as she kept her head down.

“Please, Jackal,” She whispered, “Don’t do this.”

He laughed again. “Do what? I’m not doing anything, Lucy. It’s all you.” His words were laced with disgust as he said her name. As if just her existence repulsed him.

Natsu’s face flashed in her mind as Jackal continued to degrade her. He didn’t know… He couldn’t know… She repeated to herself. He always did this - trying to push it all on her like he always did, like he did at that party all those years ago.

“You forget.” Lucy was shaking now. “That it was actually all you.”

He slapped her across the side of the face, his palm pushing her head to the side. The sting burned it’s way across her cheek - spreading up her brow and to her nose where it then began to pulse when he pulled his hand away.

“Lucy... oh, Lucy. You know I love you... so just tell me the truth.” His words were sickly sweet, mocking almost as he snaked behind her and laid his lips alongside the shell of her ear.

“There's... n-no one else I promise,” she whispered and she closed her eyes as the tears started to spill down her cheeks, quiet sobs making her shoulders shake.

“Then tell me this.” He started slowly before his voice raised with each word, venom spilling into his tone, until he was shouting. “Why can I smell him on you?”

His bottle went flying from his hands as he threw it, the glass shattering against the wall. Lucy cried out in fear as she brought her hands up to her face to shield herself, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to escape from the reality she faced.

He grabbed at her arms, pulling them away from her face as he glared down at her. His breathing was heavy, dragging his shoulders high and making him look fierce. His eyes were wild, bloodshot, and cried out as she tried to tear herself from his grip. Her arms pulling as she brought her leg up to kick him.

When her knee came up to strike his gut there was a gasp, and Lucy used the loosening of his hands on her wrists to break free. She didn’t look back as she bounded up the stairs, her blood pumping through her a mile a minute as she took each step three at a time. The walls around her blurred as she dashed through the house, her legs taking her to the only room in the house that had a lock. The bathroom.

There was an enraged shout that was closer than Lucy would’ve liked, her legs burning as she pushed them hard - to be faster.

When she finally had her hands locked around the door knob, she screamed as she saw Jackal. His hands unclenching and clenching into fists as he came down the hallway. He looked manic, his lips pulled back into a snarl as he shouted at her.

“Get back here you Cunt!”

Without a moment's hesitation Lucy slammed the door closed, the lock sliding across as a fist was brought down on the wooden barricade. The sounds echoed throughout the room like thunder as he banged and kicked in the door. She could only close her eyes, the tears halted in her panic as she held her breath whilst gripping the knob like a lifeline, her whole weight pressed up against it.

She would not let him in.

“You lying Bitch,” Jackal screamed, “I’m going to kill you!”

He punched harder, the door vibrating underneath her in response to his assault. With every hit the lock pushed against its restraints - the door pushing an inch out of his frame, but Lucy kept herself there. She pushed harder against the door, bringing it closed every single time it threatened to waver.

She would not let him in.

There was a loud burst of frustration before he kicked the door, his voice hoarse from his screaming yet he continued to yell.

“Lucy!”

She would not let him in.

Her heart leapt in her chest as the final hit resounded throughout the bathroom then there was silence. Lucy stayed by the door, the blood thumping in her ears as she listening - waiting for another scream of her name or another fist against the door, but there was nothing.

It wasn’t until she heard the screeching of car wheels that the blonde released her breath - the much needed air filling her lungs as she tried to calm herself down. Her hands were trembling as she let go of the door, her body sliding down to rest on the cool tile. Exhaustion took over and every part of her body ached as she took in deep breaths.

She barely noticed as the tears started again. A choked sob leaving her lips as she cried on the floor and let everything out. Her chest was tight and she couldn’t shake the lump in her throat as she hiccuped. There was nothing in that moment except for falling apart and Lucy was at her breaking point.

It took her a long time until she pulled herself from the floor. Her hands finding the sink as she tried to find balance on her wobbling legs, finally resting her bag on the bench. She took a moment as she turned on the tap, the cold water rushing into the sink as Lucy splashed her face and rubbed at her eyes. It was only then that she brought her eyes up to her reflection.

Her cheeks were red, the one that Jackal had struck considerable so, the angry handprint on her face still fresh as it marked her face. Mascara was smudged around her eyes and ran down her face in black blotches. Though, none of that mattered to Lucy as she stared into her dull brown eyes. They were blank - hollow. It was as if the life had been sucked from their depths and they could no longer shine.

A sharp pain spread in her chest, but she barely reacted. The heartbreak of her own reflection was something she was so used to seeing. Lucy was completely numb to it now. She couldn’t waste more tears on something that she couldn’t change, something that she couldn’t fix.

A heavy sigh left her lips as she stripped down, her body protesting in response as her muscles pulled in their tensed up state. Her hands were still shaking, but the blonde could only think of getting into the bath - to soak everything away and forget.

She didn’t wait for it to fill before she climbed in. The water filling up around her as she relaxed into the tub. The steam rose from the scalding water but Lucy could only relish in the feeling as it pooled around her thighs and distracted her from the ache that resided in her body. Yet, she couldn’t enjoy it completely. Her eyes wide open as her mind worked tirelessly to catch up to where she was feeling.

The water came up higher, covering just below her chin as Lucy slowly sunk - her brown eyes staring up at the ceiling lifelessly. It was hot against her skin, but she still felt empty as the water kept filling the tub up, up and up. The heat was the only thing that grounded her as she lay in the large bath.

She was tired and in that moment she wished that the water would swallow her whole.

And she tried to force it. Her head slipping under the still water as she encased herself in the warmth and made it take her. Maybe if she stayed there long enough she really would disappear - everything would disappear. If she kept herself here she would be gone and there would be no more pounding on doors, no more tears and no more hurting. She would finally have the freedom that she needed. To feel safe and at ease in her own home.

But the burning in her lungs told her otherwise, as well as the new sound of her cell phone ringing out in the quiet bathroom. With a gasping breath Lucy broke the surface, her hands coming up to wipe at her eyes before she turned off the tap and directed her gaze to the bench where her phone buzzed.

Without a thought she stood, water sliding down her body and onto the rug as she padded her way across the tiles to her bag where she found the source of her ringtone.

Natsu.

“Hello,” she answered, and her gaze connected with her own in the mirror.

“Hi,” Natsu’s voice rang out from the other end, his soft tone stirring something familiar in Lucy - a feign feeling of what it would be like to fall in love. “What’ve you been up to, Stranger? You’re not ignoring my texts, are you?”

There was a pause for her end. The silence weighing down on her as she stood in the bathroom and repeated his words in her mind.

“N-No!” Her voice broke. “Of course not. I was just at work and it was busy so I completely forgot about answering.” Her heart panged in her chest.

“Well then, what do ya say? Have you been missing me as much as I’ve been missing you?”

She could almost see the flirty smile on his lips as she spoke, the words coming out confident and making Lucy take in a sharp breath. Her eyes flickered to the door and then to the full bathtub until they finally connected with her own reflection again - the smallest of twinkles in her eyes.

“You better be ready for me. I’m leaving in five.”

She didn’t wait for his reply before she hung up. His surprised words cutting cut off as she clicked the red dial button on her phone and her own smile made its way up Lucy’s lips.

If she couldn’t drown herself from existence than she could always pretend to herself that she had.

___ Hello! I don’t usually leave stuff under stories but, as I’m going to be participating in NaNo WriMo next month in November, I will putting all my works on hiatus so I can focus on reaching my 50,000 word goal (this is my goal but I won’t have a choice if inspiration hits.) If you like to stay up to date with this story than you can either follow me on ff.net. My user is the same on here or tell me in the replies to tag you when part 4 comes out in hopefully December. Thank you!

#nalu #Nalu fanfiction #fairy tail #fairytail #ft fanfiction #Nalu fanfic #natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #ft Jackal #what you'd do to me tonight #my writing #tw: abuse #tw: suicide #doginshoe #fanficiton

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yesloverboy · 5 years

Text

Tomorrow Holds Such Better Days (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader)

Requested: Anon

“I have 2 requests but they are completely up to your interpretation anyways, so for one like tommy taking care of his drunk girlfriend or friend or whatever you want and then another request would be tommy (lol love my tommy) where like the reader and tommy are friends and they’re at a bar and readers ex is there and shit goes down. Hopefully those make sense, do what you want!”

Note: Here’s a cute little imagine to start your week off with! I have one month until the semester starts, and I’m trying really hard to bang out these requests before they take even longer to post (if you can even believe it). As always, thank y’all so much for reading/requesting, and please lmk what you think!

word count: 1,676

[Warnings: alcohol use, language]

permanent tags: @colsonbakersnoseringmain, @lululovesgwtw, @kingbouji3

mötley crüe tags: @lauravic

You lean your head against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, head spinning as you kneel in front of the toilet. The lights are far too bright, and every cell in your body is begging for you to release any trace of alcohol that’s still poisoning you. You try your best to heave into the toilet bowl, but it doesn’t seem like you have much left to give.

So much for a good night out.

Eyes heavy with exhaustion, you suddenly find that the shaggy bath mat looks a lot cozier than you remember. More than anything you want to curl up on it and drift into a drunken sleep, uncaring of how many dirty boots and other wasted idiots may have trampled upon it in the past. Just as you feel yourself giving into the urge to tip right over, a loud knock on the bathroom door jolts you back into some semblance of reality.

“Y/N?” a muffled voice from the other side of the door calls out to you, but the faint thump of background music makes it hard to distinguish who it belongs to.

“Fuck off,” you groan instinctively. The last thing you want right now is visitors.

The person on the other side knocks again, either ignoring your request, or simply deciding they don’t care.

“Open up, Y/N,” they try again, “It’s me– Tommy!”

Tommy?

The name ricochets through your mind, moving as slow as ripples on still water. Your boyfriend was supposed to be playing a gig halfway across town, not banging on the bathroom door of a dingy, West Hollywood house party. You groan internally, knowing that your best friend must have called him when she heard you throwing up. Sitting in radio silence, you pray up at the popcorn ceiling that he’ll give up and go away. Sure, you had peeled Tommy off the floor of countless bars and bathrooms–but you couldn’t let him see you like this. You were always the one in control, and your pride isn’t willing to cut you any slack.

Despite your efforts to will him away, Tommy shoves the door open, making you scold your past self for not locking it earlier. You cringe at the sounds of laughter and music temporarily invading the space, and Tommy closes the door behind him.

“There’s my stubborn girl,” he coos, kneeling down to meet your gaze. Suddenly, your alcohol induced agitation melts away at the sound of Tommy’s voice. A dreamy sigh escapes from your lips, and you think that he looks just as gorgeous as the night you met him. Every bit of natural instinct left in you is screaming for him to go away, but you are unable to ignore the pitter patter of your heart.

“You seeing anyone?”

The question startles you out of your thoughts. Turning around, you find a very tall boy with a shy smile and nervous fingertips standing before you. You didn’t recognize him, and yet you can’t help but wonder how you could have possibly missed him. With his long wavy hair and ripped jeans, you’re almost positive he would’ve stood out amongst the crowd– but then again, you were too caught up in your own mess to have noticed anyone else.

“Sorry?” you ask, realizing you got so preoccupied by ogling at him that you hadn’t really heard his question.

“I said,” he answers, taking a more confident step forward, “are you seeing anyone? I saw you inside the party earlier and you looked– well, you looked kinda lonely.”

Taken slightly aback by the boy’s forwardness, you take a sip of the drink in your hand in a desperate attempt to buy more time. Who does this guy think he is anyway? You have half a mind to tell him off, but something in those blue eyes makes you swallow your aggression. It’s not like he knew you and your last boyfriend just ended things a few nights ago. You’d come out to your best friend’s party to get your mind off of things, and somehow ended up alone on the front porch, lost in thought.

Well– at least you aren’t alone anymore.

“No,” you quip, peering at the boy over the top of your red solo cup.

“No, as in you aren’t seeing anyone, or no, you’re not lonely?” he continues to wander towards your place on by porch’s railing, slowly but surely closing the gap between the two of you.

To yours and his surprise, you don’t back away. Instead, you rest against the railing, making yourself more comfortable in an effort to ignore your pounding heart. Any other guy trying to smooth talk you would have you turning on your heel and heading the other direction, but there’s something about his sincerity that locks you in place.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

The boy flashes you a kilowatt smile and leans on the railing next to you, propping his weight on his elbows so that he can look you in the eyes. The sound of your heartbeat is deafening.

“Then why don’t you come see me, gorgeous?” he punctuates his question with a wink, and you can’t hide the smile that ghosts your lips. God, it’s been so long since you’ve smiled.

“In your dreams, kid,” you laugh. Even though the guy in front of you is probably around your age, you’re more accustomed to older guys trying to get your attention.

The boy holds a hand to his chest dramatically, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Ouch! That really wounded me, you know.”

“Then bleed,” you pur, leaning in close enough to whisper in his ear. His mouth hangs open in disbelief, clearly feeling as though he had met his match.

You set your empty solo cup on the railing, and turn to leave with a smirk of satisfaction on your lips. Even if he hadn’t necessarily succeeded in picking you up, you find yourself grateful for the distraction. Just as you are about to open the front door and head inside, the boy calls out to you once again.

“Wait! I wasn’t done talking to you,” even after being paralysed by your words, he still has a goofy smile plastered across his face. You find yourself admiring his resilience.

“Call me when you’re older,” you grin. Your hand is wrapped around the doorknob, but you still stand there, unmoving.

“How about I call you tomorrow?” The boy approaches you tentatively, his face softening as his blue eyes search yours for any indication that he’s overstepping any boundaries. “Come on, what have you got to lose?”

Nothing, you think as your mouth runs dry of clever things to say.

“So, tomorrow then?” he asks, clearly not buying into the idea that you were completely done with him.

You bite your lip, wondering if the stranger in front of you is in any way worth taking a chance on. Even if you don’t know his name you can’t deny that he managed to do the impossible– he made you smile when you thought you never would again.

“Tomorrow, it is.”

That had been about six months ago. Six months of movie nights, spontaneous road trips, and cheering Tommy on from the front row of his gigs. As much as you hate to admit it sometimes– you wouldn’t change a thing.

“Who are you calling stubborn?” you giggle, recalling the way Tommy was banging on the bathroom door just moments before.

Without answering, he grabs you by the arms and helps hoist you to your feet. To your chagrin, the room is spinning and you cling to Tommy in the hopes that you won’t tumble over completely.

“Easy there, gorgeous,” he smiles, allowing you to lean against his lanky figure, “I’ve got you.”

As Tommy practically carries you out of the party, another streak of guilt and embarrassment washes through you. You are an adult for chrissakes, no one should be taking care of you but yourself.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble as Tommy helps get you situated in the car. Even though your boyfriend seems more than happy to help, you can’t help your drunk brain’s natural instinct to become melancholy and self conscious.

“What for?” he asks, buckling your seatbelt for you.

You can feel your eyes sting as Tommy climbs into the driver’s seat and cranks the ignition, making the car come to life with a gentle hum.

“I shouldn’t have drank so much– I hate you seeing me like this.”

Tommy rests a hand on your leg as he drives, helping to ground you in the moment just a little bit more. You grasp at it like a lifeline, doing everything you can to avoid the bright lights of the city as the two of you journey home.

“Trust me, baby,” he scoffs, “I have done and seen so much worse. You don’t even wanna know. Besides, you take care of me all the time– let me take care of you, okay?”

You smile for the first time since Tommy picked you up off the bathroom floor and find the courage to glance over. His eyes are trained on the road, but a smile remains firmly fixed on his face– unwavering and only for you. While you’re still dizzy from the alcohol swimming through your bloodstream, the knot in your stomach seems to have finally untangled.

“Maybe I, uh, can make it– make it up to you tomorrow,” you stammer, playing with his fingers absentmindedly. “We could do something fun.”

“If you make it out of bed tomorrow, then you’ve got yourself a deal,” Tommy laughs, shooting you a familiar wink that makes your heart melt.

“So, tomorrow then?” you ask, voice barely a whisper as your head rests comfortably against the car window. With the hum of the engine and the warmth of Tommy’s hand in yours, you find your eyes pulling closed with fatigue.

Just as you are about to drift off to sleep, you hear a soft voice beside you say, “Tomorrow, it is.”

Masterlist

#honestly idk if this made sense #or was what you had in mind #but i thought it was kinda cute #writing #the dirt #the dirt requests #mgk!tommy lee #mgk x reader #tommy lee x reader #tommy lee #mick mars #vince neil #nikki sixx #motley crue imagine #motley crue #motley crue oneshot #mgk #machine gun kelly #80s

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bekahdoesnerdshit · 4 years

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Playlist: Charlotte Olivia Grace

Alternate Title: Dealing with Religious Trauma But Like in a Cute, Fun Way

Featuring: A director’s cut style breakdown of each song choice, and a bonus Campaign Song not found on the original playlist!

Not Gonna Take Me by BAILEN

You took my mother You took my father Oh, but you're not gonna take me!

This is SUCH a fun song and I feel like it sets the tone for the playlist so well! And, truth be told, it was the first song that I knew was going to make the final cut. The energy of the song is so lively and fun, and the chorus -especially the bit I quoted above!- is really just a Cog slam dunk. The toxic, insular culture that her parents had gotten wrapped up in is not going to take her too, and Cog is going to run as far and as fast as she can to make sure it never catches up with her.

Only the Good Die Young by Billy Joel

Well your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation Aw she never cared for me But did she ever say a prayer for me?

HEY this is the Ace and Cog song. Thanks for the banger, Billy Joel. Like bro the whole song is about this guy rolling up and talking about whisking this girl who’s grown up wrapped up in religion away from it to a life that -not to brag- kicks serious ass. There’s more for you out in the world! It’s not a scary place, it’s exciting and full of life and people who are going to love you! Come on! Every time I listen to this song on Cog’s playlist, I picture Ace singing and doing a dumb little dance and voices along with it just to make Cog laugh because they’re SO cute. Also, coincidentally, Cog’s mom fucking Hated Ace. Presumably because he “stole and defiled” (her words!) her daughter. You hate to see it 😔 Also, every time I hear the line “I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints” I picture Cog sitting around a fire with Ace and her party members absolutely breathless from laughing which is an incredibly healing mental image that I highly recommend.

Haven by We Banjo 3

Let me be your haven Let me be your light Sail with me across the ocean deep And find a place for love and joy

One of my dnd characters? Wanting to be a source of light and peace for the people around them, wanting to come up alongside them and bear their burdens with them? It’s SO likely, and it’s true. I think in my head this was originally another Cog and Ace song, where she wanted to repay all the ways he’d helped her by reaching out and trying to offer him a sense of peace in the midsts of everything he has to deal with, but the longer she’s spent with her party the more I think it’s come to apply to them as well. Yes, sometimes you have to fight. Sometimes, you have to make hard, painful decisions. But there’s light and love and joy to be found in the world! And if you can’t find them, it’s worth it to be the source of those things for the people around you! I think Cog would love nothing more than to take all of her friends troubles away from them to just give them a chance to breathe, and this song speaks to that so genuinely.

Hover by Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

The roof peels away And she's left uncovered Then feet leave the ground And she hovers, she hovers, hovers, hovers...

A song about discovering our self-worth, perhaps? About realizing you’re more powerful than the people around you want you to think you are, and then taking a deep breath and deciding to use that power for yourself? That’s self care, baby! This is very much the “I’m looking around, I’m realizing Home isn’t home for me anymore because it isn’t safe, and I’m starting to think that maybe it’s time for me to go” song. You know, that hyper-specific song that every playlist has. Also, it’s just such a pretty song! And right in my range, which doesn’t hurt its odds of making it onto a playlist.

Cloud’s Song by Brent Walsh

Hey, God, are You listening? Sometimes it feels like I'm not hearing anything back Why does that scare me so much? Hey, God, are You listening?

Y’all ever uh. Y’all ever grow up deeply rooted in your family’s church of choice, only to have a crisis of faith later in life when you’re old enough to think for yourself because you don’t feel the connection to your god that everyone is telling you that you should? No? Just me and Cog? Okay! Cog doesn’t believe in the Old Gods. Mystra is dead, same as all the other gods, killed by whatever force caused the apocalypse and turned the Wasteland into what it is today. Anyone who says otherwise is looking for a way to manipulate people. ...but it’s one thing to say that and convince yourself that it’s true, and another entirely to unravel 18+ years of being told otherwise and come to terms with what a world truly without gods means for you and the people around you. And what if the gods are real, what if Mystra is alive, and she just didn’t care for Cog? If Cog is just fine not hearing from her either way, what should it matter if she’s real or not? Except it does matter, somehow, and Cog doesn’t know what to do with that. Oof.

The Gardener by Sarah Sparks

God the gardener when the autumn comes I will not seasons fear With the pruning a branch is stronger, I will learn to love the shears

This song is about coming out on the far side of a situation she never should have had to be in, but realizing that she’s stronger because of it. Is it still unfair that she had to grow up in such an unhealthy environment, burdened by expectations she was never going to be able to live up to? No, of course not. There’s no outcome that makes it worth it for her to have suffered through that. But because she survived it, she is infinitely more compassionate, more patient, and more intentional than she likely would have been otherwise. It’s not easy to come to terms with trauma like that, and I definitely don’t think Cog is as close to finding closure as she would like people to think she is. But she’s getting there, and I think this sort of perspective has done a lot to help her on that path.

Shake it Out by Doll Skin

'Cause I am done with my graceless heart So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart 'Cause I like to keep my issues strong It's always darkest before the dawn

So technically this is a cover, but honestly I love the energy on it so much more than the original. It’s about moving on from a past that’s clinging onto you and weighing you down by shaking off that guilt and turning to face a new day. Also, it’s just a fucking banger. It’s unapologetic about shrugging off weight you’re not obligated to carry, and while I don’t think Cog is quite to that point in her journey yet, I hope that by the end of the campaign she will be. Right now she still has a lot of guilt for the way she left her home, even though she knew she needed to go for her own good, but this song is for a Cog who -a few years down the line- has made peace with her decisions and understands that she deserves the same kindness from herself that she gives to everyone else.

Echo by Talisk

This song is an instrumental, but it goes So hard and is so representative of the arc I see for Cog in this game that it honestly makes me emotional every time I hear it. The beginning is quiet and a little slower, then about 30 seconds in the violin comes in and starts ramping things up as Cog begins to look around and realize the life she has been living isn’t the one she wants to continue. At around 1:30 the melody gets more complex and other instruments layer in as she sets out into the world and starts meeting the people she now considers her closest friends, and it continues to build and build and build with this anxious but excited energy of fingers flying across strings, barely keeping up with themselves with how eager they are to get the music to the world. The final variation on the melody from about 4:19 to the end of the song makes me picture Cog just spinning, arms wide, eyes closed with the sun on her face and the world’s biggest smile, and it just fills my heart with so much joy!

Gold by Rabbit Wilde

All my friends are calling me Wild, like the wind I'm drifting from all I've known And packing up and trying all my best At staying gold

This song is so cute and fun, and high energy in the Exact way I was looking to cultivate for this playlist. This song is about the way Cog has grown and become more self-assured since leaving home and joining her party! Going from being tired and silenced, to having a fire burning from within her! She’s making new friends, she’s wandering and exploring the world, and she’s taking control of her life in a way that’s left her overall a happier and healthier person. And again, at risk of sounding repetitive, it’s just a bop. And bops always make it onto this playlist!

Hieroglyphics by The Oh Hellos

'Cause you've been too busy thinking ahead Of where we're all going after we're dead To maybe consider our bodies are worth More than the dust that we can return

I am literally Obsessed with this song as a Cog song (and also, as a result of my playlist building, with The Oh Hellos in general). The whole energy of the song is looking at people who view religion as this old, tradition heavy thing its followers are obligated to bear forward and just asking... why? The lyrics I highlighted above are the ones that really sold this song as a Cog song for me, but there’s another line in the second verse with absolutely beautiful imagery about nebulas being beautiful, sacred bodies of dust that goes on to pose the questions; why can’t the same be said for humanity? Is being human completely divorced from being divine? Is there not inherent divinity in being a living, breathing creature with independent thought? For Cog, this is what faith should be. It should be about reveling in being alive and in the beauty of the world you get to live in. If there are gods, she can’t imagine them wanting anything different for the beings they created.

Bonus Track! Tough Kids by Coyote Kid

I don't trust anyone more than I trust me and mine It's a dog eat dog world, but this pack runs till the end of the line

Campaign Song! Party song!! It’s just a banger!! If this campaign had a theme song, this would be it! I can fully picture the animated opening that would play before the start of the game, and it SLAPS. The first thirty seconds is this western style instrumental with the camera racing across the barren wasteland, with the first swell of the trumpet triggering the camera to pan up toward the sun setting on the horizon as the title card fades in. From there the camera takes off again and loops to each party member spread out across the Wasteland before they’re brought together. It swoops over the caravan Sunny and Wol are escorting, and they shield their eyes against the sun to look up at it as it passes. We see Nilos silhouetted against the outline of Scorch, steeling himself to enter the Bandit town with little more than the ratty suit on his back and the gun hefted over his shoulder. We see Maelo wandering out of his ramshackle house with his pack full and on his back, sparing one sad look at a swath of hazy green trees in the distance behind him before putting his back to it and setting out for the Crossroads. We see Cog! Bored to tears in a New Alexandrian classroom until she catches a glimpse of Ace beckoning to her from the doorway, and she grins and waits until her professor’s back is turned before grabbing her books and darting out of the room. We see Adiane in a dark alley somewhere, minding her business until she hears something that piques her interest! She looks up, rolls her shoulders, and we catch the flash of a dagger in one hand before she disappears into the night. And finally we see Clay, sitting against the back wall of what’s clearly a prison cell with his head resting on his knees, and we hear the rattle of a metal door being opened and Clay looks up as light from outside his cell falls on his face for the first time in god knows how long. And then the chorus! We cut between various notable fights the party has been in to showcase their thematic skills! Sunny gives a mocking salute before hauling back to punch some bad guy in the face! Wol ducks an attack completely accidentally as he flips frantically through an enormous book, and when he looks up to cast his spell his eyes are a void dotted with silver stars. Nilos blasts some poor bastard point blank with a shotgun shot, then whirls around to slam the butt of the gun against someone else’s head! Cog’s casting gloves glow white hot as she flings a hand toward the sky to call for aid, and her robes whip around her as she sends a shockwave of magic out with herself at the epicenter! Maelo looks up, pulls a very obvious ‘oh shit!’ face, then taps the end of his staff against the ground and causes impossibly dense vegetation to grow instantaneously and send the people charging toward him toppling to the ground. Adiane whirls out from behind him as he finishes casting, tucks and rolls into a crouched shooting stance, then fires off three precise shots that drop three different targets. And Clay catches an attack on his shield, laughs and shouts something we can’t hear over the swell of the music, then summons his pact weapon mid-swing to catch his attacker unawares and send them toppling to the ground. And the second verse? OH boy. The cadence of the line “it’s a dog eat dog world” lends itself so naturally to having the antagonist of each arc surge up onto the screen one after the other, with a grinning Valentine bringing up the rear with his arms spread wide. And then! The bridge? We cut between the party’s npc friends living their lives and kicking ass. Ace and Sunny’s dads! Nathan and Sierra! King Alistair! Wol’s family! Penny and I’den! Also!! Not only can you physically not lose your shit listening to the repeated “we’re gonna make it or die trying” it’s also PRIME real estate for a flash montage of important moments of the campaign. Bombing the first bunker with a Meteor Storm scroll! Sunny putting her fist through the shadow demon in Lafaroh! Cog tackling Nilos to Dimension Door them into open air eight hundred feet off the ground! Watching the Bandits shoot down the Emperion airship over the Crossroads! Staring down the elf queen in her own courtroom and telling her she’s wrong! Finding the Godkiller! Sauntering into Scorch to clean up in the Murderbowl! God we do so much cool shit in this game!! The final rendition of the chorus just shows the party working together as a team, having each other’s backs and covering weak spots without a second thought because they know how to work well together. The song fades out on an overhead shot of the party sprawled out around their campsite at the end of a long, exhausting day, eating and talking and laughing and just generally, blatantly, comfortable with one another. The camera swings up one final time to show the beautiful night sky overhead, with swaths of stars that wink out slowly one by one as the song comes to an end.

#playlists #mine #wasteland campaign #cog #did you already listen to it?? listen to it again it still slaps!!#lost my SHIT on that last one can you tell?? i needed to talk about this vision I've had for months and idk if my party would care #/how do I send them All Of That without looking like a lunatic lmao

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ablackmoonrises · 4 years

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Introduction

Ok so a bit of explanation just so some of the things here would make sense to someone looking from the outside.

We are a disabled queer couple who use roleplaying and creating fanart as a means of therapy. Through our characters we get to experience emotions and express ourselves in ways we otherwise have a hard time doing.

Currently, we are doing about a million AUs and a million iterations of Sirius and Remus, meeting in different worlds just to fall in love over and over again.

In our version, the timelines, events and circumstances vary vastly, but the two characters remain largely the same in appearance and personality, albeit a bit shaped and changed by their respective histories in the given universe.

The world these stories take place in is loosely based on the wizarding world of JKR, and both the characters and the story have been altered to a point of non-recognition. This is a choice we made because through these characters we are telling our own stories, dealing with issues that are relevant or parallel to our own life challenges, and because we don't necessarily want to cater to any particular audience other than ourselves.

A word of warning. Since we are a couple and sexual intimacy is part of our relationship, this is also somewhat true to our characters. There will be explicit sex scenes in both our writings and visual art, and even though Tumblr doesn't allow this type of content anymore, we are going to link to images and stories that do contain explicitly sexual content. We are going to attempt to appropriately tag all sexual content, but we won't remove posts or stop posting these. Please, be advised.

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Sirius is strong, firm, reassuring, a well-meaning buffoon, a bit thick in the head and thick in the ass. He is haunted by his family's legacy and in some worlds, the loss of his brother. Sometimes a pervert, sometimes a sex worker, often a queer biker wet dream... He's funny, and charming if you can see past the absolute cluelessness and the speak-first-think-never attitude. He might pretend that he's all that but deep down he's convinced that he's just not Good Enough for Perfect-Beautiful Remus. He's a lovesick puppy but he can pack a hard bite. He's the first to jump to catch Remus and hold him, steady him, ground him and help him come back from the edge of a breakdown, but more often than not, he's also the one that ends up crying on his boyfriend's lap.

He's a natural top, although he definitely is bottom-curious (albeit massively embarrassed about it). People assumes he sleeps around but in fact in most worlds he's a total virgin.

Visually, he's a gorgeous hunk with a dark complexion, ethnically ambiguous, but certain features of him point to native American origins. He has long hair, dark eyes, a hawk nose and a mass of tattoos, mostly commemorating his fellow marauders.

Remus is a quintessential cinnamon bun. He's a ball of guilt and angst, but he also carries himself with immense dignity and he's proud to a point of self-destruction. He wants to be seen and recognised and held and taken care of, but at the same time he's unable to receive the love and compassion of his peers... Except, maybe, for Sirius. He cares deeply about the injustice of the world, he's bookish and brooding, with stormy moods and fancies. He has a tendency to always jump to the worst conclusions, which can barely be balanced by Sirius' easy-going always look on the bright side-attitude. He has terrible self-esteem issues and he's given up on any chance of romantic connection due to his condition... That is, until he hasn't.

Secretly, Remus is a huge perv with very particular, very kinky fantasies, he's a power bottom who doesn't shy away from shamelessly going for what he wants. He's openly gay and a huge proponent of transparent communication, which is definitely definitely needed to compensate for Sirius' utter inability to verbalise feelings or desires.

Visually, he's the opposite of Sirius. He has a slight build and a frail frame. He's pale-skinned, brown-eyed, freckled and lean. He also has long hair, originally auburn, but by his early twenties, he's gone completely grey.

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About the world.

Generally speaking, most of the stories take place in the characters' late teens and twenties. Regardless of the specific AU, we've established a world where neither Voldemort nor Harry has ever happened, and instead the story focuses on the characters' personal development, life events, etc. Furthermore, the Marauders include Lily as well, while Peter slowly drifts away from the group by the end of their time in Hogwarts. They don't part on bad terms, but they mutually let the friendship fade away.

Further Characters:

James Potter - he's a black transman with ADHD and a family who just doesn't have it in them to really care about him. It's not that they disapprove of him as much as they are just too busy making the family fortune.

Lily Evans (Potter) - a spunky redhead punk with a huge heart. She started dating James before he came out and helped him through the rough of transitioning. She is an amazing friend and a vicious advocate for social justice and equality. Her family is overly supportive, almost annoyingly so, and while they can be overly enthusiastic and miss the beat sometimes, they have also taken care of James as if he was their own son.

In some of the dark AUs James and Lily plan to have a baby and undergo fertility treatments, but Lily miscarries the baby.

Severa Snape - Zhe is a non-binary nerd with a beautiful redemption arc behind hir back. Zhe started out as a pure-blood supremacist but later came around and today zhe is a strong ally to the marginalised minorities. Regardless, Sirius hates hir and he can't get past some of their earlier confrontations over Severa's treatment of James and Regulus, while he's also deeply ashamed of his own treatment of hir.

Regulus Black - They are a gorgeous sunshine child with a larger than life personality. Originally planning to become a professional dancer, their life comes tumbling down when an accident leaves them in a wheelchair. Instead of crashing and burning though, Regulus decides to channel their energy into finding another artistic pursuit and showing the world how nothing can ever bring them down.

In some of the dark AUs Regulus dies in the accident that crippled them.

#character intro #world intro #death //#sex //#readme #long post #severe injuries //#miscarriage //#racism //

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