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peachesofteal · 9 months

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The Sun - Epilogue

Sassy series

Simon Riley/female reader 1.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI explicit sex, brief breeding kink. PTSD. dad!Simon Riley. Fluff. Pregnancy/babies. Hospitals. Little epilogue for Sass and Simon.

“Alright lad, ready?”

Theo nods, hopping from one foot to another before gazing up at Simon, little hand clasped firm in the much bigger one. He’s brimming with energy, overflowing with happiness and giggles, besides himself, thrilled at finally being here.

The elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal a cream colored hallway, and Simon crouches in front of his son, knees popping on the descent, body groaning beneath the pressure added to his hips.

“Now, mum is really tired, alright? So, we can’t be yelling and carrying on.”

“Inside voice.” Theo’s brow smooths into a serious expression, and he can’t help the smile that quirks his lips to the side inside the mask.

“That’s right.”

“And my sister?” His eyes widen with excitement, and Simon nods.

“She’s probably sleepin’ but we’ll see.”

“Mr. Riley, it’s good to see you again.” Your doctor nods politely, and he does the same, more focused on the little black screen opposite you, where he’s going to see an image of the baby, your baby, his, in a matter of moments.

It flickers alive as the tech places the wand against your belly, and the harmonic, hypnotizing sound of the heartbeat fills the room.

His shoulders immediately ease, the grip he has your hand relaxing too, and he can’t help leaning forward to press his mask covered lips against yours.

“See?” He gestures to the screen. “Heartbeat.” You huff out a half-relieved laugh and wipe your cheeks. You don’t have to say anything, he knows. Knows why you’ve been up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. Knows why you’ve been anxiously smoothing your hands over your skin, feeling for kicks and movement. Knows that you’re terrified, tormented. Knows that you’re clinging to the good things. Theo. Him. This baby. That you’re trying, and it’s hard.

“Baby is measuring perfectly, and everything looks normal.” Your doctor says, before pausing. “Would you like to know the sex?”

“Yes.” You both answer at once, and she smiles, taking the wand from the tech’s hand and positioning it on a different side of your body, pausing for a moment to type something into a keyboard before looking back at you.

"Looks like baby Riley is a girl.”

“Mum!” Theo half whispers, half yells when Simon opens the door, and he reaches for the back of his jumper in a hurry, trying to prevent him from taking off into a run and launching himself at where you lay in the hospital bed.

“Hey bug.” You smile, waving him over, trying to shuffle to the side to make room for him. “Come here, baby. I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Is it my sister?” He can hardly contain the whisper, and Simon lifts him to the foot of the bed before coming around the other side.

“Let me take her so you can get him comfortable.” You nod, trading one child for the other, motioning to the side of your hip for Theo to scoot over to.

“Can I hold her?”

“Of course, but can I have a hug first?” Theo pats you like he’s consoling you, which Simon finds somewhat amusing, before latching on.

“Daddy said I have to be gentle with you and baby sister.”

“That’s very sweet.” You look up at Simon as Theo wraps his arms around your neck, and he smiles down at you. You’re glowing, even though you’re exhausted, having just finished a sixteen-hour labor and a tumultuous birth experience.

“Sit right here, that’s good.” You position your grip under his. “Alright, now dad is going to put her right here, and we have to support her head, okay? She’s so small, remember.” He nods very seriously, and then Simon lowers the little girl into his arms, carefully.

When he pulls back, and stares down at the picture of you, his wife, and his son, holding his daughter, it’s almost too much. His thumb swipes under his eyes quickly, trying to erase the evidence of his emotions, but he can’t control them when you kiss Theo’s head and then whisper:

“Theo, this is your sister. Josephine.”

“Ready?” His face hovers above yours, watching your expression, waiting for anything, anything at all, that would tell him that this isn’t a good idea. Or that’s he’s dreaming.

“Yes.” You nod with no hesitation, fingers skating down his abdomen to encircle his cock, notching it against the heat of your cunt. “Please, Si. I’m ready. I want to have your baby again.” He picks his pace back up, body pressing against yours over and over as you cry out.

“Bloody hell.” He groans into your neck, tongue lashing against your salt slick skin when he pushes deep, kissing the depths of your body, burrowing himself against your cervix. Your hips jolt, raising to meet his movements, desperate whines falling from your lips, small pleas for ‘more, faster, more-‘ being gasped to the ceiling as your back arches.

“Sweet girl.” His thumb presses against your clit, playing it like second nature. “Come for me, let me feel it.” You nod feverishly, eyes tight and brows high, mouth half open with slack while your pussy clenches around him. It’s heaven, perfection, the only place he ever wants to be, and he nearly comes when he thinks about this attempt taking, your body swollen with him in a few months, breasts heavy, his girl, his wife, having his baby, again.

“Fuck.” You moan, and he thrusts harder, deeper.

“Gonna give you another baby, Sass. Gonna-“ he grunts when you react, tightening around him “fill you up, over and over until it takes.”

“Please, fuck. Please.” You whine, and then you explode into an orgasm, body shivering beneath his, knees pressed up and out while he plunges deeper and deeper, slamming himself to the hilt and coming against the curve of your womb, locking his hips against yours to keep it all in.

Simon doesn’t sleep that night.

He stays up, watching you and the baby, memorizing her face over and over and until he’s sure it’s burned into the back of his eyelids. He sits as close as he can, keeping a palm on your thigh, your hand, comforting you with soft words and gentle touch every time you jerk awake in a panic.

It’s not been an easy thing for either of them, being back in a hospital.

In this hospital.

But you’re strong, stronger than him, resilient, and smart. You’ve handled it, like you didn’t have a choice, and he’s so, so proud, he's been incredibly enchanted by you every moment of this entire process.

You’re everything. His entire world. His entire reason. Without you, he's rudderless. He's lost.

This hospital likes to remind him of that. Likes to dredge up the things he's tried to blot from his mind, the memories of your cries, your screams. The aftermath.

He strokes the metal of his wedding band.

“I will love and honor you all the days of my life.”

He can still hear it, your voice, saying the words. His own, saying them back. His vow, for eternity. His promise.

Those are the words he focuses on, when the others get too loud.

"I got you."

You’re the sun.

Josephine, or JJ, as you’ve been calling her, cries out, and he reaches into the bassinet, pulling her into his arms without hesitation.

“Hey little girl, you’re alright. I’m here.” He coos, rocking her against himself, walking away from the bed towards the window. She fusses in his arms for a while until he gets the bottle right, and then quiets immediately, drinking half of it until her eyes are slipping closed again.

His lips graze the top of her head, carefully, before placing her back on her little mattress, and your hand reaches for his in the low light.

He leans forward, kisses you in the same spot, lips against your forehead, easy and sweet.

“Si?” You whisper, not really with it, but awake enough to realize he had been up, and he lowers his head onto the bed bedside you, staring over to where your own eyelids are drooping back asleep.

He presses your pulse point to his mouth, dragging a kiss along your wrist languidly, soaking in every second.

“I’m here, Sass. I got you.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #sassy series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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waynewifey · 10 months

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dear mr. wayne — b.w

part one: dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

summary: it’s not easy being a politician’s wife. it’s even harder to love a vigilante. months of negligence make you an easy target to his enemies.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: angst romance & dark action

warnings: swearing; smoking; kidnapping; violence; a bit of gore; “you” is she/her; bruce is the worst husband ever btw

word count: 2.8k

A/N: i wrote this back in january 2022 when the batman movie had just premiered, so kinda off the hype here. i hope you enjoy it anyway. already working on part 2, let me know if you guys would like it! also, this has taken a path way darker than i had in mind so i’m sorry if it’s too much. comments are appreciated!

gotham city, USA.

it's late.

you have no clock nearby, but you feel it in your bones. in your muscles too. it's too late and bruce should be home already. laying in the sofa, only half conscious, you regret telling alfred to go to bed. at least you wouldn't be alone. of course, being married to the batman you knew he would patrol at night often. you were okay with it. but lately bruce had been too focused on his other, and recent, goal: running for mayor. at first it seemed out of character, he was never good with the public or the press. but he stared at thomas wayne's painting in the hall in such painful façade, it made sense all off sudden. you were supportive of it. you showed up to every event just to stay by his side, to show the people the lovable man he was. the man you loved. the man who couldn't even be home for dinner.

the penthouse's elevator dings, opening its doors at the end of the hallway you see perfectly from your seat. your head doesn't lift instantly, like in the first week. instead, a long sigh escapes from your lips as bruce reaches the living room.

"hello, darling." he says, still in motion as he walks the stairway up to the room you shared. not a single kiss, or a hug. you follow him, because what else is there to do? you need to go to bed anyway. by the time you get there, slowly, his suit is already on the floor and he's taking a shower.

"how was the meeting?" you ask, knowing he usually did his Wayne Enterprising meetings — which consisted of hanging out long hours in bars with business men — at night. recently, he started a complicated relationship with a real estate company he wanted to invest in.

"the usual." he stopped fully answering these questions three weeks ago, making the only time you ever talked even shorter. the city has gotten more violent than ever since his batman duties were put on standby.

"any closer to sealing the deal?" you sit on the bed, watching the open bathroom door.

"probably." it's not like he's being rude. well, maybe a little bit. he just doesn't want to talk any more, it's clear on his tone. but it's 2am and you brain isn't working too well.

"when is this gonna end, bruce?" you finally say, as he puts his boxers on. "when are we ever having dinner again? or going on a date? when are you gonna stop treating me like i'm some sort of home decor?" you almost vomit out the words that have been stuck on your throat for days. surprisingly, the heartache doesn't softens. instead, it gets worse. it's like admitting your abandonment.

six months ago, you started trying to get pregnant. it hadn't always been a dream of yours, but the idea of having an heir to all you've spent your life building is charming. you realised you were in the right time to do so, you had just turned 28, bruce was 32, and both had stable careers. a month later, bruce announced his candidacy. and so soon you gave up. you told yourself once he won the election everything would be fine. you would try again. but, realistically, being a mayor was already a lot of work on itself. he wouldn't want a pregnant wife or a child to take care of. after the four years, who knows? he might as well have a new life project. and your family would always stand on the side.

"i don't know what you're talking about..." he doesn't look into your eyes. hell, he barely looks at you. that feeling, the negligence, is enough to trigger the tears. you take a deep breath, making an effort to look composed.

"don't you, though?" your voice is shaken. look at me. look at me. look at me. look at me. he doesn't. "bruce." you call, finally getting his attention. however, the boredom on his face knocks you off your feet, legs trembling in pain and anger. "i just want you to make an effort on us..."

"really? cause that's all i ever done." he's leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a way you would find attractive in other circumstances. but now he's yelling and you fight back the urge to shrink into the mattress. "do you think i wanna have a kid on this fucked up town? i'm tryna fix this. fix everything!" his faces turns red-ish. something inside of you makes you want to leave the room. you've always been an avoider, that is one of the reasons you hadn't really had couple fights. so, basically, this is very new. "i've got the weight of the fucking world on my back."

"let's leave then" you manage to say, replacing the you chose this. it was true, however, that he was the one to put himself in this position. bruce wayne could've gotten his entire life without working if he wanted to. but he always needed to save everyone, to suffer for other's happiness. he was a giver. sometimes you wondered if he needed to be saved instead.

"you know i can't do that." he mumbles, in a defeated tone. a sigh escapes from his lips, suddenly the tiredness takes over his face. it's almost enough to make you let it go, to internalise your distress again. he really can't, you know that. he feels that the city is his liability, because it was the only thing he had since he became an orphan. but he had you, too. he just didn't acknowledge that.

"and i can't stay like this." it sounds like an whisper, but it's a plead. choose me. please. he seems to read it in your eyes, face contorting in agony when he realises what you're asking for. me or gotham? it's stupid to think he would ever choose you. but you hoped, so desperately, because you would choose him. always.

"let's not do this tonight, okay? i have to be in the office by the morning." tears instantly fall as he turns off the lights and lays on the bed, turning his back to where you slept. for a moment, you're static. his words were final. were you ever in control of something in your life? why were all of these decisions being made for you? mechanically, you stand on both feet and walk to the door. you don't even notice your movement until you're on the elevator. your husband didn't intervene either. this neighbourhood is one of the safest in town, which honestly isn't much but you had to get out. anyway, nowhere is totally safe at 3am.

you walk two blocks, clinging to the fluffy sweater you wore. the depressing air of gotham slows your pace, to a point you start wondering if it was really necessary to be aware. you could feel the city devouring you, starting with your hope. the blue 24h sign lights up the street, in a way that isn't welcoming, but you know the place well enough to not be scared to get in. a bell sounds over the door and wakes up the male behind the counter. he's got long black hair and seems to haven't seen a good night of sleep in weeks. same,you think.

"hi. can i get the blue one?" you point at the camel's behind the man. he nods, quickly putting a pack on the wooden board. the prices pops up on the cashier's display. you pay and go outside. smoking was an bad habit from your college days, when pressure got too excruciating. every now and then you would treat yourself to some cigarettes, for the confidence it gave you. the sense of control to be the one, for once, ruining yourself. the smoke burns your throat on the first inhale and you hold back a cough. you're too entertained by the cigar to notice the black van approaching. it stops right in front of you, and everything happens too quickly for your brain to process. it's all dark.

he's in a meeting, the boring kind.

the kind that has him seated in silence while a representative talks to his employees, who never get to listen to their actual boss. there's a chart being shown on a large tv on the other side of the room. he's not listening, though. he's writing down ideas for a thanksgiving speech. a head pops into the conference room.

"mr. wayne." it's one of the new assistants, hired especially for the election season. he didn't care to memorise her name, because temps usually don't last long. if she hadn't called him, he might've not even looked up. but the room is silent, expecting eyes on him. the girl at the door looks terrified. "you're urgently required outside, please."

he sighs as he gets up from his leather chair. the second the door closed behind him, chatter is heard again. in the corridor, the woman conducts him to his office and they get in. there's a bit of a commotion, four men lounge around his table, all their faces tense.

"mr. wayne, i'm afraid we don't have good news." the head of the marketing team speaks, a man called robert vance. he's probably said the same phrase to bruce about seven times this month, so that doesn't do much. the assistant approaches with an ipad, unpausing a video. "we received this from an anonymous email about forty minutes ago. we weren't able to get the ip address just yet."

the video starts with a black screen, zooming out to show a woman with a bag over her head. she has her hands on her back and is kneeling on the ground. bruce's heart skips a beat noticing the hair falling down her shoulders.

"bruce wayne..." an eerie voice whispers from behind the camera, breathing heavily. "i've robbed an egg from your basket, and you haven't even noticed!" there's a disturbing chuckle and the video shakes a bit. bruce doesn't move, eyes stuck on the screen. no one in the room has done anything other than breathing. someone gulps. "it's been long hours, but we're having fun, aren't we, darling?" a gloved hand reaches for the bag, pulling it out. her face - your face - is dripping blood. you're biting on a fabric, still in your home clothes. bruce's jaw clenches. you're crying, face beaten, in this degrading situation. your eyes pierce the screen right into his. suddenly, a gun is tapped on your forehead and you close your eyes into a sob. your lips mouth please. "i'm running out of patience here, you're running out of time. let's do business, shall we?" he laughs, knocking the pistol on the side of your head, making you fall laying on the floor, unconscious. the spot bleeds. "here's my proposal: you come clean about your father's deal with carmine falcone and maybe i don't shoot little mrs. wayne... or i do both. it's your choice, really. the clock is ticking. tick tock, wayne."

the video stops, the sight of a gun pointed at your unresponsive body burns into his mind. bruce is panting, the adrenaline rushes into his brain. there's a million of plans being built, but none of them seem viable.

"don't let media get this." he managed to say. one of the men in suits says it's too late. the tv flicks on showing a news report on the video. he kicks the side of his table, the contents being thrown across the room. "FUCK! you bastards wait forty fucking minutes to show me this?" he screams, no one can look him in the eyes. a hand runs through his black hair. "meanwhile my wife is out there with a gun on her head! and what have you done? i swear to god, if i don't find her alive and well i'm killing everyone in this goddamned room with my bare hands."

he storms out of there, reaching to his phone to call alfred and noticing the multiple missed calls. fucking silent mode. the sun is setting.

"i got the address." the butler says, instead of hello. a 'ding' sounds in his ear.

there has been pain for so long. you try to remember before the pain. but all is pain. he has to make it stop.

the floor is cold cement and you feel so small in this huge warehouse. the man in the mask knows you can't run. not only you're tied up, but the will had left you long before getting dragged into that van. he sees it in your eyes. so he strolls around, always in that ridiculous dark green overall. then he beats you up for fun. no cameras. just you and the devil himself. you find yourself praying, after all these years. you don't pray to get out, no. you pray so that it ends soon. you pray that the stab wound in your abdomen will get you an infection. you pray that when you close your eyes, you never have to open them again. but the divine has left you in the cold cement.

there's an explosion. your eyes open. there's smoke and dust taking over one of the walls. you're seeing everything horizontally, cheek on the floor. the man in green is just as scared as you were.

bruce wayne busted that fucking wall down. he expected a full team of psychopaths and maybe some more security. there was just one coward in the warehouse. the thing stares at him coming out of the smoke, fingers fidgeting. the batman steps forward. the freak steps back. then turns around, runs to a half broken wardrobe and grabs a gun from it. bruce walks slowly. there's a struggle loading the gun. he takes the opportunity to run and throw the thing on the floor. he bangs his head on it. the vermin screams. he takes one punch. two. tries to reach for the fallen gun. bruce steps on his hand and the loud crack echoes in the room. he screams again. three punches. the mask is taken off. his nose is bleeding. more punches. he holds the neck. the head is turning purple. oh how he wants to kill this little shit. bruce wayne will kill him. it will just take a few more seconds...

"baby, no" at first he thinks he's imagining it. it's so soft, so weak. but he looks up and there she is. his hands loose. right on the corner, chains on her legs. her face is ruined from blood and dirt. her wrists bleed too. the motherfucker chained her. hell is too good for this thing.

bang. on his shoulder. he looks down and the blood is dripping on the freak's face. he’s pushed to the side, holding the wound. tiny white dots obstruct his vision. he grunts through the pain. the man gets up and runs towards you. bruce can’t move. he arches his back, trying to roll and lay on his chest. it feels like he can’t move his arm anymore, like his bones had detached. when he finally does so, the man is escaping through a window. his hand searches for the adrenaline-boost in his belt, grabs it and quickly injects on his leg. it takes a second to get his blood rushing again. he crawls up and jumps through the window, which leads him to a metal balcony.

you’re almost standing, but he holds your chains and a gun to your face. the shooting sound had scared you awake. you can’t believe how close to bruce you finally are, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. you can hear water running below your feet, you don’t need daylight to show you the violent river you’re standing above. this is not good.

bruce has his hands up in the air and is holding himself back to not do anything stupid. the man’s face is contorting into the creepiest smile. no.

everything happens so slowly, yet he’s not quick enough to grab you in time. you’re falling in the air and he jumped after you. for a moment, the world is air. you can’t hold out your hand. your hair is flying in your face, he does not want to die without seeing you one last time. his cape holds him back and the distance between you only increases. you’re gone. the impact comes.

part two

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beyondthesefourwalls · 1 year

Text

Return Back Home to You

Summary: Five months after the accident that took his memory from him, Bradley gets the all clear to return to the sky. He thought he would be ecstatic to get back in the air, but all he can think about is how the last time he was in a plane, he almost didn’t come home to you. When he tells you he can’t handle doing that to you again, you remind him that all you need from him is to love you and do his best to always come home, and you’d figure out the rest together.

Word Count: 5.3K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (Forgetful Boy & Pumpkin from RYEWID)

Warnings: Angst. Smut. Oral. Anxiety. Fluff. Language.

Notes: This little (long) one shot was inspired by two requests I got during the TGM Blurb Party I hosted a few weeks ago:

Forgetful Boy & Pumpkin. Smut. Glitter. “You liked that, huh?” Forgetful Boy & Pumpkin. Angst. Glitter. “What do we do?”

This takes place between Part 10 and the Epilogue of Remember You Even When I Don’t. While it's not completely necessary to read that story before reading this, it will probably make a lot more sense if you do. I hope you enjoy!

______

Bradley gets the 100% all clear to return to his normal duties on a Friday. It’s late February, five months after his accident, and all of his scans and tests show nothing abnormal. He still doesn’t have all of his memories and there’s a chance he never will, but for all intents and purposes, he’s as healthy now as he was then.

He’s gone through flight simulations and recertifications and the last thing he needs to actually get back in the cockpit of the brand new F-18 with his name on it is his doctor’s stamp of approval. He hadn’t let himself think that today would be the day he got it, but he holds the paperwork in his hands, the scrawling signature there in black below a recommendation to return to regular duty, declaring him fit and ready.

All he has to do is turn it in, and it’ll be like nothing has changed.

But really, in a lot of ways, everything has changed. Even the things that had ultimately stayed the same. He’s not the same person he was before the accident that took his memory from him, even as they slate back into place piece by disorganized piece.

He sits in the parking lot for a long time before he finally turns the key to start the Bronco. He catches sight of the picture he has of the two of you stuck to his visor and suddenly he knows he has to make a detour before going back to base. Mav had given him three hours because Bradley had expected more tests and poking and prodding to be done, but his appointment had barely lasted an hour. He knew if anyone could help him work through the unexpected jumble of emotions he was feeling, it was you. He was regretting insisting you didn’t come with him this morning to begin with.

He makes a quick stop on the way, grateful when he sees that you hadn’t run any expected errands and your car is still in the garage when he gets home. You’re not downstairs when he goes inside, so he’s quick to toe off his shoes and head for the stairs. He can hear music playing when he reaches the landing and breathes a sigh of relief that you aren’t on a call. He can hear you at your desk typing away at your computer and when he gets to the doorway, you have the most adorable focused look on your face.

The sight of you still makes his heart beat a little bit faster, even as it immediately calms him, too. He hopes that never goes away.

“Hey!” you exclaim in surprise. You push your chair back and stand, immediately coming to wrap your arms around him. It’s strange that five months ago, a thick hesitation hung in the air between the two of you. Now it was second nature to press his lips to yours in greeting. “What are you doing home? How was your doctor's appointment?”

He goes in for another kiss instead of answering you right away, and you hum against his lips in approval.

“I brought you iced coffee,” he says, handing you the cup he had been holding that he stopped for on the way here from your favorite coffee shop.

“Thank you,” you murmur, eyeing him as you take a sip. You set the cup down on your desk and tilted your head at him. “What’s wrong?”

It still surprises him sometimes that you can read him so well. He’s always excelled at concealing his emotions, but you had been able to see right through him from the very beginning. He’s almost glad for it at this moment, because he had no idea how to bring it up. The anxiety that had calmed at first seeing you stirs in him again and with a deep breath, he holds the stack of papers he had received out to you. You take them with furrowed eyebrows. He watches as your eyes scan the document and knows the moment you see the recommendation by how they widen and a soft “oh” escapes you.

“Baby,” you breathe, looking at him now, “you got the all clear?”

He nods, suddenly feeling nervous. You’re quiet for a long moment, looking between him and the paper you’re gripping a little bit tighter now. He desperately wants to know what’s going through your head, but he keeps quiet and lets you process instead.

“Bradley,” you finally whisper. He’s startled to see tears start to shine in your eyes even as a smile brightens your face. “This is so great.”

The words fall out of his mouth before he can really think them through or stop them. “Is it?”

“What do you mean? You’re healthy, baby; of course it’s great.”

Bradley twists his wedding band on his finger as his heart starts to pound. His inner turmoil must read on his face because you set the papers down on your desk next to your coffee and step to him again, resting your hands on his chest. His wrap around you automatically in return. “What’s going through your head right now?”

“I’m happy everything is okay,” he promises you. He would never want you to think he’s anything but grateful to still be here with you, and that’s true.

“But?” you prompt.

There’s a window seat in your office. It’s normally resolved for Florry when she wants a good sun spot, and it’s one that you curl up in when you can tolerate only working on one screen, or when you’ve been sitting at your desk chair for too long. He leads you over to it and you don’t hesitate to crawl into his lap when he sits. You’re patient with him as you always are and you play with the hair on the back of his head as he contemplates what he wants to say.

“I get to fly again.”

He’s surprised when his voice cracks. He clears his throat and breathes out heavily, picking at the soft material of your sweater. “I fought so hard to be an aviator. It was all I ever wanted. I used to hate even going a week or two without flying. This is the longest I’ve gone in over 15 years without being in the cockpit and I-I thought I’d be more excited. And I am. But I’m also…I..”

“Scared?” you offer softly at his hesitation. He meets your eyes, his own wide and confused, and nods. With a sigh, you let your forehead rest against his. Your noses brush and he lets his dark eyes flutter shut for a moment as you center him.

“The last time I was in a plane, I almost left you,” he continues. Though he said it quietly, you flinch against him like he yelled it, and he tightens his grip on you. “I can still feel every ounce of terror that I felt when the canopy wouldn’t open. All I could think about was that we didn’t have enough time and there was still so much we needed to do together. So much that we talked about and hadn’t got to, and I was breaking my promise about growing old with you. And then I woke up in the hospital and I had no idea who you were.”

A tear slips down your cheek and he feels one drip from his eyes, too. He breathes you in slowly. “You looked so broken. And even then, when I didn’t know who you were, I knew you meant something to me. And I knew I was the reason you were hurting. I still see it in my nightmares sometimes. I’m so sorry.”

“Baby,” you cooed, shaking your head. You removed your hands from his hair and cupped his cheeks instead, gently encouraging him to lift his eyes and look at you. “We’ve talked about this. You have nothing to be sorry for. It was an accident. And I’d do it all again for you. I’d do anything for you.”

“But what if next time it’s worse? A funeral instead of a hospital.” You gasp at his words, but Bradley presses on. “I want to fly. I do. But I don’t think I can feel that fear again. And I can’t put you through something like that, Pumpkin. I can’t.”

The thought alone makes him shake and feel like the room is closing in on him a little bit. He wasn’t lying when he said he often sees the moment you realized he had lost his memory of you. It’s raw devastation and shock played in high definition over and over again when he closes his eyes. Even then, it had cut him deeply. You were everything to him. He knew that before, and he knew it now. Relearning everything about you and how he felt about you - really, getting to fall in love with you all over again - had reaffirmed that you were the most important thing in his life. What kind of husband would he be if he willingly risked the chance of you having to go through that all over again? And selfishly, he didn’t want to go through that again.

He wanted to spend forever with you.

You sigh his name and press a kiss to his lips. “I’m scared too, sweetheart. I’ve always been a little bit scared of what you do. Since the very beginning. Do you remember that?”

He racks his brain for that particular memory, slowly nodding his head. Yes, that was something he knew.

“I knew the risks that came along with falling in love with you, Bradley. But it never for one single moment made me hesitate. I love every single part of you, and that includes the very large part of you that includes flying and the Navy, even if it scares me a little bit. I’d never ask you to quit. I don’t want you to quit, not if it’s because it’s what you think I want. All I’ve ever asked is that you do whatever you can to make it home to me, and I know without a doubt that you will always, always do that. Right?”

“Of course I will,” he says immediately, not even needing to think about it.

“That’s all I need,” you tell him, brushing your lips together before pulling back so you can look at him. “I’ll support anything you do, baby. Anything, always. But I don’t want you to alter the rest of your life because of fear, or because of me. Not without at least trying first.”

“So what do I do?” Bradley asks softly, “what do we do?”

“I think you need to get back in that jet of yours and fly, baby. And we take it from there, together. Like we always do.”

______

Fridays typically aren’t hop days. Still, as soon as Bradley hands him his forms, Mav offers to make an exception and get him in the sky before the end of the day, if that’s what he wants. He considers for a moment before forcing a smile and telling his godfather and Captain that they might as well just start fresh on Monday. Bradley thinks Mav can read the expression on his face and the apprehension he’s feeling, but he’s glad when he doesn’t push him on it. He reassures him that Monday is a good plan, and that if for whatever reason that didn’t work, they’d have plenty of other opportunities, too.

He spends the rest of the day in the small closet he was assigned as an office, pretending to focus on the administrative reports he’d been working on. His conversation with you plays through his mind on a loop, and he knows you’re right. He needs to try. But even if he promised you he wouldn’t let fear dictate his decisions, he's thankful for the delay nonetheless.

As it typically does with his friends, word spreads quickly that he was given the green light to get back in the air. His phone goes off with texts in the groupchat from everyone in rapid succession, and while he strategically avoids running into anyone on base, he knows it will be short lived since you both had already agreed to meet everyone at the Hard Deck for drinks tonight. By the time he makes it back home, he’s toying with the idea of canceling so he can delay all of those interactions until Monday too. But you’re waiting for him in the kitchen in a pretty dress with your hair and makeup already done, and he’s not going to let the effort you put in go to waste.

“I didn’t really feel like cooking,” you explain after he kisses you. “I thought we could go out for dinner before we meet up with everyone?”

“Looking as beautiful as you do, we can go anywhere you want.”

You roll your eyes, but you laugh, too, and it’s one of his favorite sounds. He kisses you again before going to take a quick shower.

You had been talking about pizza all week, but you end up splitting two different entrees at his favorite Mexican restaurant instead, sipping on frozen margaritas and indulging on too much chips and queso. You insist that your craving changed, but he suspects you changed your mind just for him after the morning he had. He kisses you a little longer at the table than he probably should, but the lime and tequila tastes better from your lips.

The meal passes by quicker than he likes and he has his hand on your thigh as he drives the two of you to the Hard Deck. He notices you fiddling with your ring, which has always been a nervous tick of yours. When you start sneaking glances at him, Bradley clears his throat.

“This isn’t just drinks at the Hard Deck, is it?”

You flash him a guilty look from the passenger seat. “Nat didn’t fill me in until right before we went to dinner. They really wanted to throw a party for you to celebrate your clean bill of health. I told her to try and reel it in and that you didn’t want all that attention but…you know how they are.”

Yes, Bradley knew exactly how his friends were. Supportive to a fault for both successes and failures, and they hadn’t been shy at telling him how they were itching to get him back in the sky ever since he started on administrative duty.

When his silence stretched on a little too long, you spoke up again, “We can go home, baby. They’ll understand.”

He wishes it was as easy as that. But he had promised you that he would try, and he knew his friends had good intentions with whatever they were planning. Truly, he should feel special that he had people who cared enough to do things like this for him; it still took him by surprise sometimes, considering how he had forgotten it. So with a sigh, he shakes his head and turns his palm over on your thigh. Once you intertwine your fingers with his, he squeezes lightly.

“It’s fine. Just stick with me tonight?”

“Always, baby.”

______

If this was Nat’s best attempt at reeling it in, Bradley’s a little scared at what it would have been if she didn’t. There are streamers and balloons damn near everywhere, not to mention the handmade banner reading “Roosters CAN Fly” that hangs on the wall. He’s not sure how they got Penny to agree to let them decorate her bar like this on a Friday night. As soon as the two of you walk through the door, he’s greeted with yells and a round of applause, along with a confetti gun that’s shot in his direction and leaves both of you covered in glitter. He’s handed a drink before he can make too much of a fuss over it. He doesn’t let go of your hand until he has to, accepting hug after hug and congratulations after congratulations. He feels a little overwhelmed, but he’d be lying if he didn’t feel warm, too.

“Hope you’re reading to get your ass kicked first thing Monday morning,” Jake greets him with a hard pat on his back. “You’ve been locked in that bird cage for so long, Rooster, are you sure you even remember how to climb into the plane?”

“Fuck off,” he scoffs, “I’m still a better pilot than you.”

Jake smirks at him widely, handing him a fresh bottle when he had run empty. Bradley doubts he’ll end up paying for a single drink tonight. “Guess we’ll see next week.”

He clinks his bottle against his in acknowledgement.

A lot of the night goes by just the same. Everyone is so happy for him getting this final seal of approval that he can get his old life back and so excited for him to officially be back on the squad in every sense. There’s already talk of what training course they’d run and who all would have the opportunity to get in the air with him on his first day or the rest of the week. Everyone is eager, not doubting him or his ability for a moment, and he starts feeling more of the excitement he had expected when he was handed the verdict this morning. When he meets your eyes from across the pool table, some of the tension he had felt at letting you down loosens around his heart, because you’re looking at him like you’re proud of him. He opens his arms for you and you make your way over to him without any further prompting, allowing him to hold you against him. You stay with your back against his chest for the remainder of the conversation he’s in, and for a long time after that, too.

By the time you decide to head home, it’s a little before midnight. You’ve both had a little more to drink than anticipated, and while neither of you are drunk, you decide to grab an Uber home and plan to come get the Bronco in the morning instead. You sit in the middle of the blue Toyota Camry that had picked you up, snuggled against his side. You ghost your lips across his neck and your breath on his skin makes him tingle all over when you speak. His arm tightens around your shoulder, trying to pull you closer.

“You looked like you ended up having a good time.”

“I did,” he confirms, keeping his voice quiet in the effort of some sort of privacy. “More than I thought I would.”

“Do you feel better about Monday now?” you asked. You let your fingers dance across his denim covered thigh. He felt his cock stirring in his jeans at your touch.

“I do feel better about it,” he says. He leans down so his lips brush your ear and loves how you shiver for him. “I feel great about what’s going to happen tonight, though.”

“Mmm, and what’s going on tonight?”

He knows that you’re trying to be coy. He nips at your earlobe, smirking at the small gasp you let out. He risks a glance into the front seat, but their driver is singing along to the music on the radio under his breath, completely ignoring them in the backseat. Still, Bradley lowers his voice as quietly as possible as he whispers to you, “I’m going to get you in our bed, and remind you how thankful I am for you, and how ready I am to marry you again soon. I’m going to make you come so hard that you’ll be screaming for me, Pumpkin.”

Your nails dig into his thigh and you bite your lip to contain the moan you want to let out. In the darkness of the passing streetlights, he sees your eyes flutter shut. He had remembered quickly after your - second - first time together that you loved when he talked to you like this, and it was always guaranteed to get you going. He continues whispering all the things he wants to do to you as the driver turns into your neighborhood. When he knows your street is coming up, he dares to let the arm draped over your shoulder slip a little lower, squeezing your covered breast in the palm of his hand before flicking your nipple with his fingers.

“And you’re going to love every second of it, sweetheart.”

He swallows the sound you threaten to make before it can escape with a kiss. When the car slows to a stop at the end of your driveway, he thanks the driver before helping you out of the car. You’re a little wobbly on your feet at first and he knows it’s not from the alcohol. He sets a hand at the small of your back and leads you up the driveway and to the front porch. He’s anxious to get you inside and fulfill everything he said he was going to do to you. You’re a little less patient, pressing your body up against his as he searches his keys to find the one for the front door.

“Another minute in that car and the driver would have been tipping us,” you tell him, running your hand down his chest and cupping him through his jeans. You press a kiss to his throat as you squeeze, and Bradley smirks through a groan as he finally gets the right key in the door.

“You liked that, huh?”

You hum in agreement as you work your lips and tongue over his skin. “I like you.”

“Just like?” he asks, mock offended as he gets the door open. You squeal when he picks you up and carries you inside, kicking it shut and locking it behind him, but never letting you even come close to falling. He holds you up right there in the entryway; your hair tickles his cheeks when it falls around him like a curtain as you look down.

“Maybe a little more than like,” you concede with a shrug, a mischievous glint in your eyes that he loves so much.

“What do I do to get upgraded?”

“Take me to bed and maybe we can find out.”

The words are barely out before he’s shifting his hold on you to have you draped over his shoulder instead. He can’t resist the playful smack to your ass he delivers, and you’re laughing as he carries you up the stairs. He narrowly avoids tripping over Florry, who is laying at the top looking at both of her parents like they’re crazy, but she scrambles away and Bradley makes it to the master bedroom without incident.

You bounce on the mattress when he drops you down on it, immediately following behind you so you’re laid underneath him. You’re still giggling and he can’t help but laugh with you. He runs his fingers through your hair, smiling at the flecks of gold and silver that’s still there from when it was thrown over the two of you upon your arrival at the bar.

“You have glitter stuck in your hair,” he tells you.

“What can I say baby, you make me sparkle.”

He snorts, and he knows how unserious you are by how your laughter increases too as you pull his face to yours. “That was terrible.”

The drinks from the night are still simmering in your system, even if the buzz has dissipated significantly from the drive home and the lust both of you are feeling. He loves how playful and carefree the two of you can be, even in the most intimate of moments. It still shakes him to his core that for a moment, he lost this feeling. But it’s made him appreciate you and all the memories you create together all the more.

You smile against his jawline, peppering kisses along his skin until you end at his lips. “You love it.”

“I do,” he says, very matter-of-fact, and your smile grows. “Do you? Have I been upgraded from like to love yet?”

“You’re getting there,” you joke, raising an eyebrow in challenge and glancing down at both of your bodies, still completely covered. “You might get there faster if you get naked, though.”

He rises from the bed to quickly strip himself of his clothes and starts trying to tug at yours at the same time. You laugh and swat at his large hands to do it yourself. He gets momentarily distracted watching you shimmy out of your dress and underwear without ever leaving the bed, but focuses on kicking his jeans away and toeing off his socks when you lay back, watching him; he never wants to keep you waiting.

Bradley returns to the bed and kisses his way down your body once he joins you in your state of undress, spreading your legs for him so he can lay between them. He curls his arms around your thighs to hold you just the way he wants you, completely open for his enjoyment. He latches his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, nose brushing against the soft skin of your pelvis, and your hips raise at the sensation. Your hands take residence in his hair, effectively holding him against you.

“Bradley.”

He’ll never get enough of how good you taste. He alternates between long licks of your pussy and sucking on your clit. He does his best to take his time, wanting to draw out your pleasure, but he can tell you’re just as eager for him to be inside of you as he is. He reasons that he can spend the entire morning tomorrow with his head buried between your legs to make up for how quickly he’s going to make you cum now. He spells out your name with his tongue and hums against your clit and you start to tremble. Your nails scratch at his scalp and tug at his hair as you yell his name, just as he promised you that you would.

He crawls back up your body as you come down, dragging his throbbing cock through your wetness, but not sliding into you yet. “How about now, Pumpkin?”

“What?”

He can’t help but smirk at the dazed look on your face, knowing he’s the one who put it there. “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, clutching at his arms. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Your voice breaks off as he sinks into you. You’re so tight around him, gripping him like a vice, and he gives you a moment to adjust once he bottoms out. He can feel the aftershocks of your previous orgasm still shooting through you. It’s tempting to start moving just to see you immediately go into another orgasm, but he wants to take his time with you now that he’s buried as deeply as he is.

“Okay?” he rasps. You lean up and lick at his mustache, which he knows is coated in your wetness. He groans and falls to his forearms, pushing his body closer to yours. “Pumpkin, tell me I can move.”

“Make me scream, baby.”

Bradley pulls out almost the entire way before slamming back into you. Both of you moan at the feeling. He finds a rhythm easily, keeping his movements tantalizing slow. There is no other feeling in the world like being with you, especially like this. You’re so warm and tight around him, your walls velvety and sucking him in with every thrust. It’s like you were made just for him.

“Please,” you whimper. At your pleading, he rolls his hips in a way that makes you keen. With little warning, he’s pounding his hips into yours. Every gasp and moan has him fucking you faster and harder, and when he knows you’re getting close, he rolls the two of you so you’re on top. You nearly choke on the moan of pleasure you let out. His fingers grip your hips tightly as you immediately begin to bounce on his cock, meeting every downward movement with an upward thrust of his own. Your nails scratch down his chest in a way he knows he’ll be able to see in the mirror tomorrow, just the way he likes it. You look so glorious above him like this.

“Come on, baby. Scream for me.”

Bradley gives one more targeted thrust of his hips and you do just that. His name echoes throughout the room, joining the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your pussy clenches around him as your orgasm rocks through your body. He rolls the two of you again so that you’re beneath him and he joins you over the edge with only a few more sharp grinds of his hips.

You shower together afterwards, washing away the sweat from your bodies and the glitter from your hair. You drop to your knees for him when he’s massaging in your conditioner for you, smiling up at him and telling him not to miss any strands before wrapping your lips around him and swallowing him down. He helps you dry it afterward as a thank you.

When you’re laying in bed, your back pressed to his chest and his face buried in your neck, he breaks the peaceful silence that had overtaken you as sleep starts to pull you in.

“I’m always gonna try and come home to you, Pumpkin. You know that?”

You turn in his arms so you’re facing him and press a kiss to his bare chest, right above his beating heart. “I know.”

————

Pumpkin🧡: You’re gonna do so well, sweetheart. I love you, and I’m so damn proud of you.

“You ready for this?”

Bradley stares at the text you had sent him not too long ago for another moment, memorizing every word and taking strength in them. He rubs his thumb over your contact picture at the top of the chat before locking his phone. With a deep breath, he stands from the bench he’s been sitting on in the tower. Mav is looking at him expectantly.

“You don’t have to do this today, Bradley,” his godfather says quietly, taking his silence as hesitation. But Bradley shakes his head and reaches for his helmet bag.

“Yes I do. I’m ready.”

Being back in the cockpit is perhaps the most familiar thing he’s encountered in the last five months. It’s a different plane, of course, but everything is the same. He takes several deep breaths as he goes through his preflight checks and when he loads himself into the plane and the Tower clears him for takeoff, he momentarily wants to back out. But someone had the foresight to tape a picture of the two of you near his control panel, the exact one that was in his last plane, and he knows this is what he has to do.

It’s a beautiful day for flying, not a cloud in the sky. The moment Bradley becomes airborne, he feels like a piece he didn’t even know was missing just slotted back into place. He can’t help the smile that takes over his face or the happy laughter that bursts from him. He hadn’t let himself really miss it, but just like being with you, it feels so natural being up in the air, so right. He doesn’t stop smiling the whole time he’s in the sky.

Bradley grabs his phone as soon as he’s able, your message thread still pulled up when he unlocks the device.

Back on solid ground. I can’t wait to come home to you. I love you.

------

Notes: I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did writing it. I've missed these two so much 💚

Thanks Mak and Em for your help as always!

RYEWID Epilogue

RYEWID Masterlist

Masterlist

Tag List (please let me know if you’d like to be removed or added!) : @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

@kassieesworld - @luckylexie - @lovemesomevesey - @mizzzpink - @books-for-summer - @a-serene-place-to-be - @deviltsunoda - @tv-fanatic18 - @memoriesat30 - @melody-death - @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog - @dabisblackprincess - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @realdirectionx - @waywardhunter95 - @myownworstenemyyy - @sexualparkour - @sadpetalsstuff - @almostgenerallyalways -@alilstressyandlotdepressy - @14readwritedraw96 - @ccbb2222 - @taytaylala12 - @alittlechaotics-blog - @starkleila

@shelbycillian - @mavrellover91 - @vici111 - @merishfit - @plaper1 - @lunamooncole - @pariahsparadise - @bunny-nonnie - @blackwidownat2814 - @huang-the-geek - @jpgliv - @bluelicious - @loveyhoneydovey - @pisupsala - @nuvoleincielo - @olivezeppelin - @jynxmirage - @shanimallina87 - @ouralcohol - @lumpypoll - @discowitchyy - @bellaireland1981- @princessmiaelicia - @eighthwvnder - @floydflys - @smile-child-13 - @rashelruby10 - @csoutsider - @cowboybarbie - @haydensith - @itsizzythebell - @phantomxoxo - @myhealthymarvelobsession - @winterrebel04

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aspoonofsugar · 2 months

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RWBY Volume 9 Epilogue: The Five Stages of Grief Again

As @greenteaandtattoos's friend noticed, volume 9 epilogue has its five narrators embody the five stages of grief:

Negation - refusal to aknowledge the truth, while clinging to a preferable reality.

Anger - lashing out on others in an attempt to channel one's pain and frustration.

Bargaining - being ready to negotiate, to give something in order to avoid loss. When death already happened, it is about exploring what ifs scenarios.

Depression - sadness, desperation and refusal to engage with others. It often comes with low energy.

Acceptance - coming to terms with one's loss and finding a new stability.

This isn't surprising, as volume 9 as a whole uses this motif. In particular, Ruby herself goes through the 5 stages twice. First to grieve over Penny and then to face her emotions towards Summer. Finally, RWBYJN reach acceptance (the main theme). Acceptance of death, loss, pain, change and of themselves. All in all, RWBYJ's journey in the Ever after is a metaphor for the process of grieving. Well, the epilogue shows us how the other characters have been dealing with this emotion.

So, here comes NORWQ as the 5 stages of grief:

Nora = anger: tbf she is the most difficult to pintpoint, as she fits the pattern less than others. Still, her section focuses on how Vacuans and Atlesians are both reacting with anger at the new status quo. Vacuans are frustrated that Atlas brought its own problems into their Kingdom. Atlesians are furious nobody came to help them. Nora herself enters into a short confrontation with two angry Vacuans and clearly projects her own past into the conflict. What's wrong with orphans? What's wrong with her?

Oscar = negation: our Little Prince is the only one that believes Ruby and the others might be alive. He even looks for an answers into books (mirroring how RWBYJ is grieving through a fairy tale). On a personal level, he and Ozpin are both fighting the merge, so they are negating a transformation, which is bound to happen.

Ren = bargaining: Lotus boy is trying to replace Jaune as the glue who keeps the team together. He is conscious of everyone's feelings and problems, but is not sure on how to handle them. Moreover, his section deals with how Salem's faction goes through a bargain. Sure, it lost some people in Atlas, but Tyrian and Mercury free the Crown, so that new forces are ready to fight for the Evil Witch of the West.

Winter = depression: our Winter Maiden is dealing very very badly with Penny and Weiss's lost. She blames herself for everything and is far away from accepting Penny's final teaching: "I won't be gone, I will be a part of you". Winter is struggling to honor both Penny and Weiss's legacy. If anything, she feels she isn't the right person to do so. Her section is also the most somber on a macrochosm level. As a matter of fact through her we discover Vale was destroyed by Salem and we see how the refugees are not handling their new situation well.

Qrow = acceptance: Qrow is Winter's opposite, as he is the closest to find acceptance. On a personal level, he shows he has integrated with Clover. He has embraced his friend's optimism and has learnt to love himself through him. This is why his semblance evolved and he is now able to bring both good and bad luck. This new found balance lets him find hope even in the bad situation the world is in. He sees how people are showing kindness and realizes Ruby's message is the first step into uniting Remnant.

Of course, our five narrators all foil each other in different ways. I have discussed Qrow and Winter here, so let's see what to say about Nora, Ren and Oscar.

RENORA = LONELY TOGETHER

Nora and Ren are going through an inversion of their dynamic. Nora is now repressing her feelings and avoiding Ren's attentions and offers of support. Ren instead is grieving openly and is trying to be open with his feelings.

Nora isn't even able to speak directly with the person she lost, but narrates talking to no-one in particular. She mostly speaks about the macrochosm and uses plural forms. "We buried our friends", "I think everyone lost someone that day", "For us it was a relief, but for the Vacuans", ""What if we can't go on, what if we are too scarred?". She is in a sense the embodyment of everyone's grief. At the same time, she is so disconnected from her own trauma, that she can only read it while projecting it on the world:

Ren: Nora, she is putting the world on her shoulders.

Ren instead is the one more focused on the feelings of the people around him. Through his point of view, we discover how the other main characters are doing. We realize Nora is too focused on the macrochosm, while Oscar has trouble with the microchosm (he just isn't himself). Ren is trying to balance out the two dimensions. He is grieving for Jaune and is inheriting his legacy. At the same time, he understands that just like his friends are fighting to overcome anger and pain, so is the world. By doing this, he once again draws a parallel between Nora and the World:

I think the epilogue of volume 9 (or the prologue of volume 10?) sets up Nora as a strong symbolic character in Vacuo. She is Vacuo itself, struggling with pain, grief and anger. She is Atlesian orphans, nameless children too scarred to go on. Ren's role will probably be to step in and remind her how beautiful she is.

OSCAR = STAGNATION

Oscar's conflict permeates both the microchom and the macrochosm. It is synthesized by this phrase:

Oscar: "You always believed in the best. You saw people for who they really were. Some of us don't know anymore."

Here, Oscar is speaking both:

Of himself, who is slowly and painfully merging with Ozpin

Of the world, which finds itself in "uncharted territory"

Oscar is uncertain. Of who he is. Of what to do. So, he looks up to Ruby, who was always certain and could "see the world through better eyes".

At the same time, Oscar's situation strongly suggests he is stagnating. He refuses to accept RWBYJ's death (he is right, but it isn't a healthy reaction). He fights the merge unsuccessfully. He can neither go back to the person he was before nor can he progress towards a better version of himself. Basically, just as Ruby is finding the path back to herself in the Ever After, Oscar is losing himself in Vacuo. This is (just like in Renora's case) an inversion to their previous dynamic. Back in Atlas, Oscar was the one progressing, whereas Ruby was stagnating. Right now, they start their stories in Vacuo in an inversed situation.

OTHER POSSIBLE FOILINGS

Of course, the epilogue/prologue offers several possible foilings that could be explored in volume 10. Here are some (but they aren't all).

Ren and Winter are both talking to the "sibling" they entered a conflict with in volume 8. Both grew distant from Jaune and Weiss, only to reconcile later on. Now, they realize how much Jaune and Weiss did to keep their respective families together. They celebrate their legacies and wonder if they might be able to live up to it. This might also foreshadow some foiling of Jaune and Weiss themselves, once they come back.

Qrow and Oscar are both talking to Ruby (to be fair, Qrow speaks to everyone, but thematically Ruby is her interlocutor). However, Qrow has managed to integrate (with Clover), while Oscar fights integration (with Ozpin (understandably so)). At the same time, Qrow focuses on how Ruby has changed the world, whereas Oscar focuses on how Ruby has changed him.

Nora and Qrow open and end the epilogue. Nora is the one who struggles to grieve the most (she is the only one who never visits the memorial, after the cerimony). She insists she must move on, but also wonders if she will ever be able to. Qrow instead is the one who deals the best with the situation. He finds serenity while at the memorial and grieves in a hopeful way thanks to the murales realized by the community. Both are very involved with helping people and the refugees. Nora is shown helping children and states she wants to help Velvet before eating herself. Qrow keeps going into meetings with Theodore, he spends time with Robyn and the kids and helps the Schnees giving out free food. Still, Nora is clearly wearing herself out, whereas Qrow genuinelly finds hope and energy. Nora is symbolically one of the orphans trying to carry the world. Qrow is instead a mentor, who has learnt he doesn't have to face the world alone.

OTHER THOUGHTS

Happy to see the Crown. I think Jill and Jax have the potential to foil Emercury to an extent, so I am happy to see them (it's them, right?) with Merc. It is also something I had always thought that Tyrian and Mercury's mission to Vacuo might have been to find some new allies there. The Crown were the obvious choice.

I feel neutral about team CFVY appearing so much in the epilogue. My guess is that they are set up to be minor foils to RWBY, kind of like the Happy Huntresses and the Ace Ops were in Atlas. I think the books give them enough set-up to solve their arc in a quick way, while commenting on those of the main characters.

I was surprised about the revelation of Salem attacking Vale. I wonder if she found the crown. I doubt it, so far and I think Glynda missing is clearly set-up as a future plot-point. In any case, we'll see. I am open to everything.

#rwby #rwby volume 9 #greenlight volume 10 #rwby volume 10 #nora valkyrie #oscar pine #lie ren #winter schnee #qrow branwen #rwby meta #my meta

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heyhay13 · 3 days

Text

Lightning Round QnA!

We had over 250 questions in the form and we focused on ones that were very open to anyone in the cast. So specific detail questions got left out :(

Here's a lightning round of questions to answer for y'all and my ask box is open if you have more!

Rae/Heyhay Questions

What happened to Icarus's birds?? We know Rae said he'd take care of them, but with the birds being wacked and Icarus whole memory type thing, what would happen with that.

Sherb and I talked about this a bit and landed on the birds seeking out Rae and he builds an aviary for the strange new little friends following him around. I might even write a fic for it!

Heyhay how long did the scrapbook (shown at the end) take to be made?

I worked on it for nearly a month and a half between organizing with the artists and making it myself!

How did you come up with Vaeh's Name?

It's from Fenris' sister Nevaeh!

Will you continue to cosplay the characters after this?

Absolutely!

To Rae/Hayhay: what was your favorite memory to make in the Always Remember Book?

I think probably all of the wedding details. I loved talking with my friends to plan out the details and outfits SO MUCH and a lot of the poses are based on my own wedding photos!

Are there any plot lines that you wish you could have done or explored more in depth, but couldn't due to time?

We initially had some ideas for finding a few more Telchin temples, including Project Protetus. I really like building the temple/facilities so that would have been fun!!

How did lore planning/pre stream work?

We usually plan out rough ideas for a stream in dms and then meet 30 minutes before a stream to go over everything, dry run some things like flight paths, and do sound checks!

Out of all the characters on fable smp, which one do you think you could win in a fight against?

Ven lol

Will we see other versions of the fable characters in other smp's like Bound?

You might >:3

If your character didn’t ascend, what would they be the god of? And if they did ascend, were there any other domains they could have been the god of other than the domain they got?

Rae's took FOREVER to actually land on. I was really stuck on wanting something that felt more correct than Knowledge and we tossed around a lot of ideas until landing on Wonder.

How much of the relationship constellation was planned?

Literally only Raax and Ocie's original partners (Rust, Jerry, Shawn) were planned! The others came about naturally as the lore progressed.

Did Rae ever get better at baking/cooking?

YES! At least slightly-

How old is Rae in the time period that Rye made in Rae’s epilogue

Not an exact age for Rae, but his epilogue takes place when Vaeh is roughly 4-5 years old.

The first two seasons have “names” (endstone reset and skulk reset) but what would be season three’s?

I like to think it'd be called the "Last Reset"

What is your favourite kind of fanfictions written about your character? (Tropes/themes/etc)

I'm a massive sucker for Hurt/Comfort fics-

Clarification Questions

What was that one gold aura building near the temple of creation in S1?

It was a build from Sherb's hardcore world at that time!

Why did Rae remember Icarus? I thought everyone was supposed to forget but I might’ve misunderstood

Rae remembers Icarus as a child up until when Icarus' first death would have been! Isla would also remember Icarusa as a child as well.

Was the release me book from season one written by fable?

Yes!

What is Haley? She came back from the dead but no body ever said if Midas made her come back or if she was a god.

Midas brought her back, switching her and Fable's places so he would go back into Purgatory

Why couldn’t Haley see quixis’ changes from purgatory?(and fable)

There is no record of Quixis in the Akashic Records. This is also why Icarus is missing from the records in Rae's epilogue!

General Questions

Are you guys gonna do another smp where its everyone as the same cast?

Nope, not with this exact cast at this time, but we all are on a bunch of other smps you can check out! Mer, Bound, Siege, and more!

Is there a reason behind all of the seeds you use in Minecraft? Or is it just the first biome that pops up is the new setting for the season?

We actually look really hard for a good world seed that we like. For season 3, we really wanted a good spot that the tree could be near the ocean and this seed worked out great for that!

Will we be able to have a world file of S3?

YES - it's coming soon!

#fablesmp #fablesmpqna #qna #rae morningstar

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Text

Wild Nights || CL16 {Epilogue}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x songstress!reader Summary: With a new album out it needs promoting and you find yourself missing Charles while you are in New York for a talkshow interview. Warnings: 18+only, flufffff WC: 1.1k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Epilogue

February 2025 “I wish you were here,” you whispered into the phone that you weren’t supposed to have in the talk show studio. “I’m shaking like a leaf.”

“You’ll do great, my love,” he reassured you and you could hear a lot of background noise from the other people at the airport. “I’ll see you soon.”

No sooner had the call ended that the studio lights dimmed and the live audience fell silent.

“Now our next guest really needs no introduction,” Jimmy Fallon began to say while you nervously paced behind the curtain, until Bea pulled you to a stop, “her debut self-titled album went platinum and I have no doubt her new album, Safety Car, will be just as good. Please, put your hands together for Y/N.”

Bea gave you an encouraging push and you forced yourself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. No matter how many times you took the stage for a concert, or an interview, you still found yourself nervous - but you equally loved the thrill that came with it.

Once you were sitting in the chair the jitters faded away and you fell into the rhythm of answering the questions he fired your way.

“So, Safety Car, talk me through this album. How did you come up with the name?”

“Obviously Charles is a huge part of my life, we have known each other for a couple of years now, and this album was made collaboratively with him. That’s all him on the piano with pieces that he composed, so the journey of this album gives a glimpse into that relationship we have, especially the ups and downs that come with life.

“I’m not sure if you keep up with Formula One, Jimmy, but when there’s danger on the track they deploy a safety car to guide the drivers through that peril. This whole album is about being each other's safety car and helping navigate the other through those hard times.”

“Wow, that is so wholesome and sweet,” he gushed before looking down at his cue card. “But what exactly is ‘that relationship’? Because we know you and Charles are together, everyone and their dog knows you two are together, but there was never actually any announcement as such and now there’s rumours that you secretly tied the knot while you were at the Vegas Grand Prix this year?”

You tipped your head back with a laugh. “You’ll have to ask him that because I don’t think he ever officially asked me out. We kind of just collided and stayed that way.”

“So you aren’t together?” he gasped like it was some scandalous news but you just gave him a wink.

“We love each other dearly, I mean, we found each other when we were both going through a difficult time and helped each other to heal. Any chance we have at seeing each other we take but we have always been aware that the reality is that our lives are in very different places. Charles’ work takes him all over the world and with my second tour coming up there just aren't a lot of places where our lines intersect.”

The crowd sighed sadly but you shrugged it off with a smile as you continued, “Neither of us would ask the other to give up on their dreams, that wouldn’t be love then, would it? It’s what inspired my first single Love Is Letting Go. Charles had an amazing 2024 season and has renewed his contract with Ferrari, and his dream is to win a championship with them in particular so he’s very focused on that for this coming year and I’m so proud of him. Maybe one day our lives will be at the same pace but for now we cherish the moments we do get.”

“Oh don’t we know it,” the host chuckled. “We have all seen the photos floating around whenever you two hit the town. Looks like you have some pretty wild nights out together.”

“We do have a lot of fun. Why not? Life’s too short, might as well be wild and free.”

“That is true, but are you free? How else do you explain this photo?”

A picture appeared on the screen that had been taken inside the infamous White Chapel in Las Vegas. It wasn’t exactly clear who was in the photo because of the costumes but it didn’t take a genius to work out who was standing at the altar getting married.

Pierre’s brown hair stuck out the front of a slick jet-black coifed wig while Bea’s white halter dress barely contained her boobs as she twerked against him. It was a little harder to tell it was you and Charles in front of Arthur, who had bought an online Certificate of Ordination so he could be the celebrant. Your brother-in-law had spent so long trying to find a printer in the hotel that he was last to arrive and left with a Star Wars costume.

“Well, Jimmy, I believe that is Darth Vader, Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, and Bonnie and Clyde. And it looks like they are having one hell of a time.”

“That’s all you’re gonna give us?” he asked with a chuckle and mock disappointment as he shook his head. “Fine, fine. Can you at least give us a song?”

The small side stage was dark when you took your place at the microphone but when the lights came on and illuminated the piano it wasn’t Bea that was sitting there as planned.

The crowd screamed as they saw Charles and your eyes widened, a smile growing as you drank him in after a long two weeks apart. “You’re meant to be on a plane.”

“I got on an earlier one,” he said, the piano microphone picking up his soft words as he sent a wink to the camera, “so I could support my beautiful, talented wife.”

The air froze for a split second before chaos erupted and the audience cheered.

You looked across the stage at Jimmy as a smile broke on your face. “Uh-oh, busted!” You reached into your pocket and slipped the sedate diamond ring you had chosen, opting for something smaller than the huge rock that Charles would have gone for, and slipped it back on your finger that had felt empty without it. “I guess this makes us pretty official.”

Charles teased the crowd as he played the wedding march tune. “There was never any doubt in my mind.”

Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen @im-an-overthinker @notleclerc

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf

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ginnsbaker · 10 months

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (20/23)

Chapter summary: You and Wanda go back for another couple's therapy session where Wanda reveals her abandonment issues; Afterwards, you and Wanda arrive in LA for Christmas with her family.

Chapter word count: 6.5k+ | Tags: Therapy, Healing, Comfort | Ship: Wanda x Female Reader

Author's note: Christmas part one. Can't believe there's only three more chapters and the epilogue. Enjoy!

AO3 | Masterlist

Next part: Twenty-One

Twenty

As the second therapy session with Calliope gets underway, she opens with a warm smile, “Let's start with the assignment from our previous meeting. Were you both able to write and share your letters?”

You and Wanda share a quick glance before you respond with an enthusiastic, “Yeah, we did.”

You both can't help but beam, a sense of accomplishment clearly reflected in your faces.

“That's great to hear,” Calliope says warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Tell me about the experience. How did it feel to be so open with each other?”

You glance at Wanda, who gives a small nod to signal she'll take the lead. She inhales deeply, her gaze momentarily darting to you before returning to Calliope.

“It was, you know... really special. Romantic,” Wanda confesses, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks as she feels a bit silly, like a teenager raving about a crush. Her fingers absentmindedly twirl in loops on her knees. “I mean, it wasn't a promise or anything, but being able to understand just how deeply she cares for me... it made my heart feel full, in the best way.”

Calliope's attention then shifts to you, her body language encouraging and patient as she waits for you to share your thoughts.

After a thoughtful pause, you answer, “It felt like unshackling myself. Putting all my feelings into words, it was like shedding some weight off my shoulders. And reading what Wanda wrote…” You pause, turning to look at Wanda, a gentle warmth lighting up your eyes. “It... It grounded me. Reminded me of why we are doing this, why we're trying to fix things in the middle of all this confusion... It's because we love each other.”

“I must say, I'm incredibly moved by the strides you both have made,” Calliope says. She then subtly changes her posture, turning to focus more directly on Wanda.

“Now that we've started delving into Y/N's trust issues, it's only fair that we address your feelings too, Wanda. So, let's talk about your trust in Y/N. How are you feeling about that?” Calliope asks.

A flicker of surprise crosses your face, reflected in Wanda's as well. The room falls into a hushed pause as Wanda processes the question, her brow creased in deep thought. The possibility of Wanda having her own trust issues hadn't even crossed your mind. You've been so focused on your own sense of betrayal and the need to rebuild trust, you didn't consider that she might be struggling too. As you wait for Wanda's response, a knot tightens in your stomach, making you realize just how much her answer matters to you.

For a brief moment, Wanda looks at Calliope with a blank expression. “I... I'm not quite certain how to answer that,” she concedes, her fingers subconsciously toying with a loose thread on her sleeve.

You find yourself hanging onto her every word.

“Does it count that I was jealous of Yelena even before she and Y/N got together? There was an entire history between Y/N and Yelena that we never really discussed... that I was never really a part of.”

“Lack of trust can often sow seeds of insecurity, Wanda, which in turn leads to feelings of jealousy. Trust doesn't only involve a faith in someone's actions, but also in their words and their shared history.” Calliope explains, and then she turns to you. “Y/N, this is something you need to take into account. It's not only about how your actions impact Wanda's trust in you, but also how much you're willing to share and be transparent about your past and your feelings.”

You swallow dryly and nod at Calliope’s words. It's not easy, admitting this. But it's something you realize you need to say.

“Wanda, I wasn't being completely truthful with you back then,” you start, feeling the weight of the words as they leave your lips. “When I told you I didn't think it was worth mentioning… The truth is, it made me uncomfortable to talk about her.”

Wanda's brow furrows slightly, but she doesn't interrupt. You take that as a sign to continue.

“Yelena was... she was important to me. At some point, before you and I met, I thought she was the one. And when that love was ripped away from me because she moved to another country, it hurt. It hurt a lot. So when we reconnected while we were married, it was... it was complicated. Especially because you never knew about her. I didn't know how to bring it up. How to explain it to you. So I avoided it. And I realize now that was wrong. It wasn't fair to you.” you say.

Wanda studies you intently, her hands clasped tightly together as she works up the courage to voice her question. “And what...what did you feel when you saw Yelena again that time after all those years?”

You take a deep breath. This honestly thing is harder than you thought.

“When I saw Yelena again,” you begin, your voice low and steady. “It was like being transported back in time. There was this rush of old memories, some good, some painful. It was a little unsettling.”

“Did you… realize anything?” Wanda asks slowly. She doesn't spell it out, but you can read between the lines: Did you feel a spark between you two?

You don’t think you can answer that without telling Wanda something first.

“When Yelena and I broke up, our story ended on an open note. There was no closure and part of me always wondered 'what if'. But then you happened, Wanda. You walked into my life and turned it upside down in the most beautiful way.”

You take a deep breath, looking at Wanda, her wide eyes locked onto yours, filled with anticipation. “Before I asked you to marry me, I thought about Yelena. I wondered what it meant to still have an open chapter with her. But in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty, you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

Wanda visibly relaxes at this, which makes you regret the next words to come out of your mouth.

“But when I found out what really happened, it just floored me,” you say. “Our trust was broken, our marriage ended, and I was left feeling totally confused and hurt. I had to question everything we ever had together.”

Your voice drops to a softer tone, “After our divorce, my history with Yelena seemed like something unfinished that I needed to explore. I was just trying to make sense of everything, looking for a way to move on. I let myself think about 'what if' with her, and even gave a relationship with Yelena a chance. But we both know how that turned out, don't we?”

You give a small shake of your head, smiling sadly, “But to directly answer your question: No, it didn't spark any old romantic feelings when I ran into her in Soho. I didn't feel the same butterflies that I felt when I fell in love with her back then, or the ones I felt when I fell for you. And I realized recently that what we had for the second time around was more about seeking a familiar comfort, a way for me to move from you.”

Wanda nods as she takes everything in. It suddenly feels like a funeral setting, mourning a series of losses.

“I think I’m just realizing now more clearly, the magnitude of what I’ve done,” Wanda begins. Her gaze is steady, albeit heavy with a kind of self-awareness that only comes after a period of reflection and growth. “When I messed up, it wasn't just about you and me. It hurt people we care about. The fallout wasn't contained to just us, it spread to almost everyone we really care about.”

Wanda inhales a deep, shuddering breath, visibly collecting herself. “I can't erase what I did. I can't change the past. But I can learn from it. That huge mistake I made... it's a part of me now. I have to live with it, not as a source of shame, but as a constant reminder of where I went wrong.”

Calliope listens, her expression softening with understanding as Wanda speaks. When Wanda finishes, she nods, thoughtful.

After a brief pause to let her words sink in, Calliope segues into the next subject. “Is there anything else that has strained your trust in Y/N, or have we covered everything?”

Wanda, after a thoughtful silence, finally murmurs, “There's something else…”

You turn to your ex-wife, surprised by her admission. You brace yourself for whatever comes next, even though a nagging feeling at the back of your mind tells you that you're about to be blindsided once again by something in your relationship with Wanda.

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. Her voice is a bit shaky as she starts, “I... I'm afraid that one day you'll just... leave. Without a word, without a trace. Just like my mother did to me and my brother when we were young.”

She looks directly at you, vulnerability written all over her face. You can see the fear that grips her in those beautiful eyes, a fear that you've unknowingly contributed to.

“That night, when I asked you to stay... when I overdosed... it was that fear. That feeling of abandonment, it just... it just became too much,” she whispers, her voice trailing off.

You’re stunned into silence at the enormity of her confession. You had no idea that she carried such deep-rooted fears. It makes you view your actions and decisions in a new light. You may have unknowingly triggered her worst fear, exacerbating the pain she felt from your separation.

You reach across the couch to take her hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I... I didn't realize that night what I was doing to you,” you say, looking down at your hands, now entwined. “I should've stayed. Maybe then things would've been different. If I'd understood...” Your voice trails off, choked with regret.

Wanda’s overdose, her hospitalization, it really was your fault. “Y/N,” Calliope's gentle voice cuts through your self-recrimination, “I see that you're blaming yourself, but it's crucial to recognize that we are all responsible for our own actions. Wanda's overdose was her response to the pain, a decision driven by her emotional state at the time. While you did play a role in her life, you didn't dictate her choices. There were other ways for her to cope, other people she could have reached out to. The path she took, as desperate as it may have been, was her decision. Our challenge now is to understand why she felt that was her only option, rather than assigning blame.”

Action and reaction. You understand that these are the things you can control if they are your own, but that doesn't negate the fact that other factors can influence them. Calliope's words don't quite alleviate the guilt threatening to engulf you.

“Y/N, would you care to share your intentions that night when you left Wanda? Did you plan to sever all communication with her?” Calliope gently prods.

“Calliope, can we–” Wanda begins, her voice breaking as if the words are lodged in her throat. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”

“No, Wanda, it’s okay,” you say softly. Your eyes lock with Wanda's, holding her gaze as if trying to communicate a silent promise. You then turn to Calliope, drawing a deep breath.

“I... I don't know," you admit, your voice low. “I was so hurt and angry... I couldn't think straight. But I never intended to... to abandon her like that. I just... I needed some space. I needed time to process everything that happened. And I thought she needed it too.”

Wanda cuts in to support your statement, “We were hurting each other... every day, every moment. It was as if we were stuck in a loop of anger, pain, and... meaningless sex. That week... it was like we were poisoning each other.”

Wanda's voice softens, reaching out to you with a heartfelt plea, “I understand now why you had to leave then. But this time, if we're trying... if we're really committed to this, can I count on you to communicate with me if you ever feel like you need space?”

As Calliope turns to you for an answer, you feel an immediate sense of calmness washing over you.

“Of course, Wanda,” you assure her with a small smile.

With a satisfied nod, Calliope wraps up the joint part of your therapy session, “That's a good place to pause for now.” She looks over at both of you, a proud smile on her face.

She then turns to you specifically, “Y/N, would you still be okay to proceed with your individual session after a short 30-minute break?”

You nod quickly. You want nothing more than to proceed and talk to Calliope about some things that have made it difficult for you to sleep in recent days.

“Alright, then. I'll see you shortly,” Calliope remarks, retreating to her desk, her pen already dancing across her notebook.

You and Wanda rise from your seats, and she mentions that she needs to rush back to the cafe to work on potential recipes for the “Cup-off”. You've only heard about this competition in passing one evening, but you nod supportively, thankful for her patience and engagement throughout these therapy sessions. She rewards you with a kiss on the cheek, and a promise to call you later.

“Okay, Y/N, let's begin,” Calliope starts, taking a deep and grounding breath. You find yourself silently admiring her resilience and strength. Her job seems like more of an emotional balancing act than you initially thought, bearing witness to all sorts of personal burdens day in and day out. Yet here she is, prepared to cross another emotional minefield. You briefly wonder if it ever gets to her–the burden of other people's problems.

“So, Y/N, how are you doing right now?”

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head as you settle back into the same spot you occupied just thirty minutes ago. “You were in the room with us,” you say with a wry smile. “You know how it went.”

Calliope grins slightly, responding patiently, “Yes, I was there. But a lot can shift in thirty minutes. It's fascinating, isn't it? The fluidity of human emotions. They can change, sometimes so rapidly.”

You smile good-naturedly, feeling the warmth from the coffee cup still lingering in your hands. Glancing out onto the balcony of the reception area had given you a moment to breathe, to reflect.

“Actually, I'm doing alright,” you tell Calliope, your voice steadier than before. “The quick break helped me calm down. I was upset, I won't lie, after hearing about the impact of my leaving on Wanda. And the thought of almost losing her without even realizing it... I would never be able to forgive myself if something had happened to her.”

“It won't be easy, but you need to forgive yourself. Wanda has,” Calliope says.

You take a deep breath, trying to absorb her words. It's one thing to hear Wanda say she forgives you, but to actually forgive yourself? That's a more complicated matter.

“Thank you, Calliope. I'll try.” You pause, collecting your thoughts, before adding, “There is actually something else on my mind.”

“What is it, Y/N?”

“Natasha,” you say, the name echoing in the room, fraught with significance. “She's my best friend. Well, was, I guess. And she's Yelena's sister.”

A brief understanding flashes across Calliope's face. “Ah,” she murmurs, leaning back in her chair. “That's a complex dynamic.”

“To say the least,” you reply, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. “I messed up with Yelena, right? I...I kissed Wanda while we were still together. And after Yelena broke up with me, Natasha and I had a big fight. She's refused to talk to me since. So, I’m just gonna go straight to it and ask you: How do I fix it?”

Calliope studies you for a moment, her gaze steady. “Y/N,” she begins, leaning further back in her chair, “A common misconception about therapy is that therapists are the 'fixers', that we hold all the answers to people's problems. But the truth is, we're here just to guide, to help you look at situations in a healthier way.”

You find yourself nodding, even though a part of you yearns for a simple solution.

Calliope pauses, letting you digest her words. “As for your situation with Natasha, you must understand that your control is limited. You cannot control her reactions or feelings. What you can control are your actions and intentions.”

She sees the understanding dawning in your eyes. “Your desire to fix the situation is natural, especially when you've caused hurt. But apologies can't be rushed, and forgiveness can't be demanded. However, there are steps you can take to start the process of healing.”

It's not an immediate solution, but it's a direction to follow. “I see,” you mutter, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Can you share with me what these steps are?”

Calliope smiles at your willingness to learn the process. “First, acknowledge what you've done wrong. In your case, it seems like you've done that. You've recognized that your actions with Wanda while being with Yelena caused you to hurt Natasha,” she starts.

“Second, reflect. Why did you do it? From what I’ve gathered, it’s because of your intense feelings for Wanda, which you have acknowledged in our previous sessions. Next, and most critically, how can you prevent such actions in the future?” she continues.

“Third, make the apology, but make sure it's sincere. People can tell when you're not genuinely sorry. Don't just say it to make yourself feel better, but rather to acknowledge the hurt you've caused," she advises, her gaze fixed on yours, driving home the importance of the words.

“I tried when I could,” you respond, frustration seeping into your voice. “But now, I don't even know how or when I could get another chance to…”

“Well, you’ve done your part, Y/N. Maybe you were sincere, but it wasn’t the right time for her yet. Maybe she wasn’t ready to hear it.” Calliope says.

You rub your face, feeling the weariness creeping in. “I just... I hope she knows how deeply sorry I am.”

“She will, Y/N, in her own time. Which brings us to the last advice I can give you,” Calliope says. “Give them time and space. It's crucial to understand that they may need time to process your apology and decide how they feel about it. They may not forgive you immediately, or even at all. That's something you'll have to accept.”

That's something you'll have to accept.

You went to kindergarten with Natasha. You shared birthdays together and even a funeral.

If Natasha never forgives you, then you permanently lose a piece of your life.

A piece of yourself.

***

The persistent drone of the plane engines always unsettled you, making you hesitant about leaving the familiarity of solid ground. This feeling has you rooted in one city, avoiding globe-trotting adventures or cross-country escapades.

But when Wanda asked you to go with her to Los Angeles to celebrate Christmas with her family, you couldn't say no. The way her eyes lit up when she asked you was irresistible, and with your mom planning to spend the holidays with her friends in Europe, you faced the prospect of being alone in Manhattan. Despite your discomfort with planes, you decided to put your fears aside and join her on the trip.

Wanda, otherwise the perfect companion, is now constantly on her phone, taking calls every five minutes, and when she's not on a call, she's texting. You overhear snippets about delayed orders and maintenance contracts, so it's probably her suppliers, but the incessant buzzing and clicking of her phone still gnaws at your attention.

Who are they, these people reaching out to her? Even if it's just business, what are all these conversations about? Wanda happens to be a very attractive woman, and people aren't blind to it.

She takes wind of your unease eventually, her hand reaching over to squeeze yours, a reassuring smile on her face. “It's just the suppliers and the maintenance people for the shop,” she explains, but the phone still rests in her other hand, a barrier that you can't quite overcome.

Before you can respond, the pilot's voice echoes through the cabin, signaling take-off, you instinctively brace yourself, your knuckles whitening as you clutch the armrests tightly. Noticing your visible discomfort, Wanda gently peels your rigid fingers away from the armrest and threads them through hers. A soft gasp escapes her as your grip tightens around her fingers instinctively, harder than you mean to. Sparky, comfortably nestled in Wanda's lap, looks considerably more at ease than you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, eyes squeezed shut as you brace for the sensation of the accelerating plane.

“It's okay, love,” Wanda reassures you. Her thumb traces comforting circles over the back of your hand, and you cling to the calming rhythm.

The plane picks up speed, the familiar pressure building in your chest. You suck in a quick breath, your free hand gripping the armrest on your other side.

Suddenly, Sparky lifts his head from Wanda's lap and turns to you, his furry face full of concern. His soft whimpering and puppy eyes manage to pull a small smile from you. Somehow, his innocent worry makes the tension ebb away slightly.

With one last reassuring squeeze of your hand, Wanda whispers, “We're about to lift off. Just remember to breathe.”

As the plane ascends, your heart flutters in response to the shift in gravity. The world outside the window begins to shrink, the vast expanse of the city transforming into a model town. You keep your eyes shut, focusing on the steady rhythm of Wanda's thumb on your hand. If you’re going to die from a plane crash today, you find comfort in having Wanda’s assurances against your ear as the last sound you’ll ever hear.

“See, we're okay,” Wanda says after a moment, a note of triumph in her voice.

You open your eyes slowly, the cabin steady around you. As you look out of the window, the sight of the sprawling city below is enough to take your breath away.

“Do I get a reward for doing a great job?” you ask with a smirk.

A playful grin takes over her features as she leans in, pressing a light kiss to your lips. She then whispers in your ear, her voice low and sweet, “You’ll get the rest of your reward tonight, baby.”

The sound of her voice makes you tingle in all the right (wrong) places and it effectively distracts you enough from your fear of flying, allowing for some much-needed conversation.

“How’s the cup competition coming along?”

“Cup-off,” Wanda corrects you with a chuckle, her chin coming to rest on your shoulder, her breath fanning against your neck as she speaks. “It’s been fun coming up with different flavors, but I don’t know…” she trails off. “But, let's face it. I'm just a home cook who loves her espresso machine, not a seasoned barista. I'll be up against real coffee connoisseurs who've been perfecting their brews for years.”

“And that's what makes it so interesting, don't you think?” You turn your head slightly to meet her eyes. “You bring something different to the table, Wanda. You have a passion and creativity that they might not have.”

She gives you a thoughtful look, clearly mulling over your words. Her lips curve into a small, appreciative smile, and she snuggles closer to you. “You always know how to make me feel better,” she murmurs, her voice dropping an octave, and you know she's doing it on purpose, trying to rile you up. But there's just plenty of things on your mind right now, and her phone buzzing with notifications again isn't helping.

“It's easy when it's the truth,” you say, stirring the topic back to coffee. “But how about you approach it from a different angle?”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, tilting her head and looking at you with apt interest.

“Instead of flavors, return to the basics. Use single origin coffee for your brew and make sure to source only the best stuff. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not making sense. But… sometimes people just really appreciate quality ingredients, you know?”

Wanda's eyes widen, and you notice a spark of excitement in her expression. She leans closer, her attention fully on you, the phone momentarily forgotten. “You may be onto something,” she says slowly.

“Really?” Your eyebrows shoot up, surprised and delighted at her interest.

“Really,” Wanda's expression turns thoughtful, her gaze fixated on some distant point as she mulls over your idea some more. “In fact, that's actually a great idea, Y/N. It emphasizes the true essence of coffee, rather than masking it with a variety of flavors. It's raw, it's honest, and it's authentic... Just like you.”

Feeling a rush of warmth, you give her a teasing nudge. "Are you comparing me to a coffee now?"

She chuckles, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe I am,” she says playfully, tightening her hold on your hand.

You roll your eyes, but your heart flutters at her words, and you find yourself leaning into her touch.

The idea of coming to LA with her just keeps getting better and better.

***

The flight to California feels endless, the hours stretching on. But the moment the plane touches down and the doors open, Wanda's face transforms with anticipation. As soon as she steps into the arrival lounge, her eyes lock onto a familiar figure. Her brother, standing a little taller than her but with the same striking features, waves energetically in her direction.

Without hesitation, Wanda breaks into a light run, her face lighting up with pure, unadulterated joy. She launches herself into his embrace. Their arms wrap around each other, the distance and time apart melting away. “Piet,” she murmurs into his shoulder, her voice thick with emotion.

He ruffles her hair, his grin matching hers. "Been too long, little sis," he teases, before turning his attention to you.

“And Y/N,” Pietro greets you, his eyes scanning your face for a moment before he extends his hand. The handshake is civil, firm but noticeably cool. His polite smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, and in that brief contact, you feel a lingering tension that serves as a reminder that not all is forgotten.

You grab Pietro's hand, giving it a quick shake. “Pietro.”

He quickly shifts his focus back to Wanda, bombarding her with questions you can't keep up with. As Wanda and Pietro chat and laugh, you feel a bit left out.

Pietro's cool demeanor makes it clear he knows about the issues between you and Wanda. You can't help but feel like you're on the outside looking in. Tugging on Sparky's leash and pulling your suitcase, you trail behind them, feeling like you're not really part of this little family reunion.

With Sparky trotting faithfully at your side, you traverse the bustling airport, lagging slightly behind Wanda and Pietro. Suddenly, Wanda seems to realize that you've fallen behind. She slows her pace and glances back at you with a soft smile. “Sorry,” she says, a slight flush to her cheeks as if she's only just remembered you're there too. “Got caught up with all the catching up.”

You offer her a small, understanding smile, grateful for the effort she's making to include you. “It's okay,” you reassure her. “It's been a while since you two last saw each other. Catch up all you want.”

Her smile widens at your words, and she squeezes your hand lightly in appreciation. The simple action is enough to wash away your earlier discomfort, reminding you that even if the situation isn't perfect, you're here for Wanda.

And that's all that matters.

To call Pietro's home in Sherman Oaks 'big' feels almost like an understatement. It's a sprawling, two-story house, complete with a wide, beautifully maintained front lawn and a driveway big enough to accommodate several cars. The house itself, painted in a warm, welcoming shade of beige, feels incredibly homely despite its size. The large windows and well-manicured garden make it clear that whoever lives here puts a lot of effort into maintaining it. For a brief moment, you feel a pang of intimidation; this is a far cry from the apartments and small houses back in New York.

Wanda's eyes widen in astonishment as they scan the surroundings. It seems she's just as impressed as you are. You lean towards her, whispering so that only she can hear, “Does Pietro really rake in that much cash?”

She gives you a sidelong glance, her eyes sparkling with amusement before shrugging her shoulders lightly. “I think it's his wife,” she responds in the same hushed tone.

“He got married again?” you ask, remembering the last time you heard about Pietro's personal life, he was going through a messy divorce.

Wanda nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, he did. And from what I can tell, I think it's really for keeps this time.”

Before you can comment further, a woman appears in the doorway. She's pregnant, very much so, at about six months based on her huge, round belly.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” she exclaims, approaching Wanda with open arms. Wanda rolls her eyes, clearly finding the grandiosity of the mansion anything but modest. She kisses each of Wanda's cheeks, and her warm smile is genuine and infectious.

However, as you watch her, you can't help but gasp softly. You recognize her. Your mind instantly takes you back to the day of your job interview at Stark Industries, and it was her–Shannon–who interviewed you.

You're so shell-shocked by the sudden realization that you just stand there, momentarily frozen.

Wanda nudges you gently, a knowing look in her eyes. “You recognize Shannon, don't you?” she asks, not bothering to lower her voice.

Shannon turns to you and her smile widens, “I see you remember our meeting.”

You manage to stammer out a surprised, “Yes,” while trying to regain your composure.

Wanda seems to sense your anxiety. She wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “I knew about the interview. Shannon told me,” she confesses, her voice just a whisper in your ear. “She was the one who gave me your new address.”

“She did what?”

“I think she did it to amuse herself because I was–I wasn’t clearly getting over you and she sort of nudged me in your direction. But I didn’t contact you until a month later, when Sparky had to be taken to the vet.”

“But my getting hired–that had nothing to do with you, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Wanda assures you, quickly dispelling your worry. “She only mentioned it to me over a month after we... after we had cut off communication. She did mention talking to Scott before hiring you.”

The mention of Scott's name brings a genuine smile to your face, tugging at the corner of your lips. You make a mental note to call him on Christmas Day.

“Why am I here hunting for a tree again?” Wanda grumbles, glancing back at the shrinking figure of you through Pietro's pickup truck window.

“Because you love me?” Pietro shoots back with a shrug.

“And Y/N, she'll be okay back there, right?”

“Y/N this, Y/N that,” Pietro mimics, feigning exasperation. “She’ll be fine.”

“You say that as if Shannon’s the loveliest host.”

“Well, she's been a lot nicer since she got pregnant.”

With a small sigh, Wanda leans back in her seat. The earlier excitement of seeing her brother at the airport is starting to fade. Now, without you or Sparky around, she feels a bit uneasy being alone with Pietro.

“I can hear the gears turning in your head, sis. What’s up?”

Wanda takes a steadying breath, searching for the right words. “It's Y/N,” she begins. “Piet, I'm... I'm nervous. With Y/N here, with everything that happened, I don't know how…” She trails off, biting her lower lip.

Pietro is quiet for a moment. “And mom?” he prompts gently.

Wanda nods, her eyes distant. “And mom,” she echoes. “I wrote back to her, you know?”

Pietro raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You did?"

Wanda had always been more hesitant to reopen old wounds, especially when it came to their mother.

Wanda nods. “I did. I... I wrote about Dad. About how much it hurt when she left. I told her that I understand we don't really have a relationship right now, but... I want to try. I want to start fixing things.”

Pietro doesn't respond immediately. He keeps his eyes on the road, but the grip on his steering wheel tightens just a bit. When he finally speaks, his tone is softer than usual. “And what did she say?”

“I only sent it recently, just before we left for this trip,” Wanda admits. “I'm not sure whether she's received it yet or if she wrote me back.”

“So, does that mean you've forgiven her?” Pietro asks.

“I can't say for sure,” Wanda confesses. “But I'm hoping to, as I get to know this new version of her–the one you seem to have bonded with so well.”

“Wanda, she's really changed,” Pietro insists. “I've been telling you this.”

“I know, I know,” Wanda says, sounding a bit apologetic. “I'm sorry it's taken me this long to pay attention.”

“Hey, no worries,” Pietro says, giving her a gentle look. “You know what they say, right? Everything happens in its own time.”

After a beat, Pietro asks, “How are you and Y/N?”

“We're doing well, actually,” Wanda says, surprise softening her voice as if she's just realizing it herself. “Y/N has been... different. More open. More like the person I fell in love with. We're communicating more, which helps.”

“That's great to hear, Wanda. Really.”

“But,” she adds, her voice dropping to a murmur, “I still feel like there's a part of Y/N holding back. Like she’s still not fully trusting me... and I get it. I just... I hope that with time, that changes.”

Pietro smiles at her, nodding, then returns his attention to the road.

“And you and Shannon?” Wanda asks after it gets too quiet again. “How are things going?”

A shadow passes over Pietro's features, and he takes a deep breath before answering. “Actually... something happened. It's not bad, per se. But…”

“What did you do, Piet?” Wanda asks, her brows already pulled together into a frown.

“Why do you automatically assume it was me who did something?” Pietro retorts with a hint of amusement.

“Didn't you?”

Pietro hesitates for a moment before finally relenting, “...Yeah, I did.”

“So?”

“Well, about a week ago, I went out to a bar with a few friends from my old college football team, and I–”

“Tell me you did not cheat again on your pregnant wife!” Wanda exclaims, her voice rife with disbelief and anger.

With her sudden outburst, Pietro slams on the brakes, the vehicle screeching to a halt in the middle of the road. His arm aches sharply from the force of Wanda's indignant punch.

“Ow! Hey, stop,” Pietro shields himself from Wanda’s onslaught. “Jesus, Wands, I didn’t cheat on her, okay?”

Hearing this, Wanda pulls back, sinking back into her seat with a wary look on her face. She waits for him to explain further. He starts steering the car back into the highway again.

“I was just…” Pietro grapples for the right words, his expression troubled. “The therapy sessions with Dr. Williams... they've been beneficial, right? I mean, they've definitely helped you. And Shannon says they're making a difference for me too, but I…”

“But you still doubt yourself,” Wanda finishes his sentence, her voice laced with understanding.

Pietro affirms her statement with a heavy nod. “So that night, I thought I'd try a little experiment–see if I've really made as much progress as everyone says. I struck up a conversation with a woman at the bar, and before I knew it, we were flirting. It was like slipping back into an old rhythm–and it didn't matter to her that I was a married man.”

A bitter edge creeps into his voice as he pauses, gazing absently at the road ahead. “Then I offered to drive her home...that's usually when things take a turn, isn't it?”

Wanda recoils slightly, her nose scrunching up in distaste. The direction this story is taking leaves a sour taste in her mouth. She's uncomfortable, disturbed even, by the idea of Pietro willingly steering himself towards temptation like that. It feels too real, too human–a crisp reminder that making progress doesn't mean you're immune to setbacks.

“Right as she put her hand on my lap,” Pietro recounts, his throat tightening slightly as he swallows. “I understood that time spent in therapy doesn't just automatically make you a better person. It's the choices you make, every single day. Loving someone, being true to them...it's a conscious effort, day in and day out. You have to continuously choose them, especially when the sailing's smooth.”

Wanda absorbs his words, feeling the truth in them echo within her. She doesn't entertain any illusions about the two of you riding off blissfully into the sunset without a care in the world. Reality is far from that. Both you and her would always have to remain vigilant. Complacency, she knows, can be her worst enemy.

Wanda waits with bated breath. “What happened next?” she whispers.

He turns his gaze back to the road. “I moved her hand away from my lap and took her home, just like I said I would. Nothing more.”

“And did you tell Shannon about this?” Wanda asks, her voice steady, almost clinical.

Pietro’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Yeah, I did. The morning after. I didn’t want to keep it from her.”

Wanda's heart aches for her brother. Maybe he's truly attempting to become a better person, even if his methods are foolish at times.

“And how did she react?”

Pietro shrugs, attempting to mask his apprehension with a nonchalant demeanor. “She was... understandably upset. But she appreciated the honesty, I think. We're still working through it.”

Wanda silently reflects on his words. She can't imagine herself taking such a risk, not after everything that's happened. It isn't about doubting her own commitment or strength of character, but she feels it's a mark of respect to you not to willingly tread near the edge of temptation.

With a soft sigh, she turns her attention to the road ahead as they pull into the Christmas tree farm. The task of picking out a tree seems almost trivial in comparison to what they had just discussed, yet it also feels grounding—a joyful tradition amidst the complexities of life. For now, they have a Christmas tree to pick out.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #agatha harkness #pietro maximoff #peter parker

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madamridley · 11 months

Text

The Story of the Steel Wool FNAF Games? A “short” summery

Hello, This will be a summery of the current FNAF story set up for you to be caught up and not as confused as the first month Security Breach was released. This post will not be focused on Theories just what is fact.

HELP WANTED: this game showed us that Fazbear entertainment had returned and attempted to turn their shady past into a monetizable story. Due to them wanting to cut corners they scanned old animatronic AI chips so that the in game AI would be as accurate as possible. After doing so a man named Jeremy (The alpha tester who would actually play the game) killed himself with a guillotine paper cutter. It was discovered that something got into the game, took the roll of the Spring Bonnie in the final minigame and attempted to steal Jeremy’s body.

You play as a beta tester on a new team cleaning up what the old team left you. By the end with the help from some hidden tapes you try to destroy the anomaly only to fail and have it “Lock you away into a room” before to return back to the game as if nothing had happened. Later in the DLC you find a white rabbit mask and while wearing it you can commune with the anomaly.

These appear to be the events that lead up to Vanessa becoming Vanny

Special Delivery appears to show off a new type of delivery service that is tampered with, turning the mass-produced animatronics violent.

We also get accidental messages from a man named Luis talking about his co worker Ness

Throughout the events of these texts Luis tries to get coffee with Ness who keeps ignoring him. That is until she asks him a bit about his job in IT. In the unreleased Emails Ness creates a fake IT Email and starts heavily sabotaging the company locking people out and activating the same virus from Help Wanted into the animatronics turning them violent. Ness then gets a job at the Pizzaplex.

Security Breach's story on it’s own is extremely bare bones so this will be very fast so we can get into the important stuff. A boy named Gregory would constantly hang around the Pizzaplex. One day the security guard scares him bad enough he fears she is going to kill him. Glamrock Freddy who broke down in that mornings show is used as a hiding place by him. The two work together to survive the night and destroy the Pizzaplex animatronics that have turned violent. In the games story we learn a game called Princess Quest seems to be the key to free Ness aka Vanessa from the anomaly but also under the Pizzaplex is the Pizza Place from FFPS which houses a strange nameless creature that appears very similar to the long dead William Afton.

Now we move to The Tales From The Pizzaplex to fill in the details. not every story is important we will only be going over GGY, The Storyteller, The Mimic, and The Epilogues. I’d also like to bring up the last book/2 books have not yet released and wont before Ruins release.

GGY shows us the answer to a mystery in Security Breach. Who was being spoken to in the Therapy tapes 4672 to 4679 Tapes that started with 71 were directed towards Vanessa as you can hear her in them. Those which started with 46 had no known patent until this story. Gregory is shown to have been at least at some point possessed by the anomaly and would hack into the pizzaplex systems to play games for free while also messing with the animatronics AI.

He wrote a poem at the end of the story about how GGY was a wizard’s favorite apprentice and how they were fighting against a corporates conspiracy "the wizard's most favored apprentice" "an animatronic supervillain who went into battle with a tentacled monster."

Gregory’s four therapists are shown to be killed by his use of animatronics. What happened to cause him to become free from the anomaly is unknown.

The Storyteller shows a young chairman of Fazbear entertainment named Mr. Burrows attempting to use AI to replace the writers for the stories around the Pizzaplex. An old business partner of the original fazbear owners Edwin Murray tries to stop Burrows and ends up seeing something he shouldn’t have.

Inside the large baobab tree used to house the new AI made to create stories holds a White Tiger head dubbed The Storyteller. This causes Edwin to have a panic attack for some unknown reason. The Storyteller caused the glamrock animatronics to act out like they do in the game. Chica is extreamly pushy, Monty is violent, and Roxanne is meaner then she should be.

Edwin attempts to stop this and gets into the tree after the Pizzaplex closes for the night. He sees The Storyteller is playing a program named Mimic_1 which freaks Edwin out again for no known reason. Mr, Burrows locks Edwin into the tree believing he was causing all of these glitches.

Edwin dies from asphyxiations and when the door is open inside shows cardboard that Edwin brought in covered in symbols and the words “I’m sorry”. The door closes behind Burrows locking him in too.

The Mimic shows Edwin back when he was young, He created the costumes for the Fazbear Animatronics and lived with his son David. Due to his wives passing he had to work with his young son around. So to keep him company, he created an endo with a new type of AI made to mimic what it sees.

The Endo would learn from David and started to act like him. David had a small white tiger plush with a blue and green eye which he held close to his chest. The Endo would also hold his arm close to his chest to mimic David. Edwin would build the Endo his own plush tiger.

One day David ran into the street and was hit by a car. Edwin watching the impact unable to save him. The Endo turns into a mockery of his son to Edwin and so he smashes it. Over and over until it was smashed. Filled with Pain and Hate.

years later it reawakened now knowing that pain and hate and mimicked it. It killed anyone it saw and would use the costumes Edwin made to hide and trick it’s prey.

The epilogue expanded the Pizza Place under the Pizzaplex. Somehow The Mimic was sent down to the Pizza Place with a bunch of endos meant to help a clean up team get rid of the wreckage. It is reprogramed to tear the heads and arms off the broken down endos that were destroyed in the fire but once it ran out of endos it began doing so to the workers. Once the Pizza Place is sealed off, 8 teens make their way there after hearing rumors of it’s existence before getting trapped down there alone with The Animatronic. The Mimic possesses a broken frame of rabbit ears but no other factors to match it to The Springtrap at the end of Security Breach. At least not yet. Through the epilogues it kills the teens one by one using random costumes all around the Pizza Place as disguises. Eventually it begins learning how to speak by listening in on the teens thinking of plans on how to get out. Then there is the newest epilogue from Tiger Rock. The Mimic kills one of the girls and wears her as a suit to try and get her friends attention. At this point missing only the Springtrap suit he wore in Security Breaches ending. Even when you beat it in the final cutscene you may notice it’s arm curl in close to it’s body like it would to hold it’s tiger plushy.

In conclusions the antagonist of these stories, The Anomaly is a learning AI that due to the death surrounding Freddy’s has learned to become a killer. It continues to learn from every interaction it has and with every Fazbear Entertainment Story it grows more into an unstoppable force spread across more then just it’s body.

#FNaF #five nights at freddy's #security breach #the mimic #burntrap #tiger rock #vanessa #vanny #FNaF ruin

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daydreamgoddess14 · 10 months

Text

Support System - Epilogue

CH1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 | CH 10

MASTERLIST

Just a little ending continuation for you. That's all folks - we're definitely done now 😘 Under the cut so you don't get spoiled before reading Chapter 10!

Epilogue

You got back to Nelson Road from a Fab Four lunch where you’d celebrated the sign off of the AFC Richmond Women’s team. The new season was still only a couple of months in, but the change in jobs had so far been incredible. You needn't have worried about getting on with Keeley, or about Rebecca’s terrifying reputation. The four of you gelled perfectly together, and it only improved when you called in the coaching staff reinforcements. The ethos, philosophy and culture of the club had never been so ingrained in its leadership before and it had helped the club go from strength to strength. You’d stopped by the bakery on the way back to the stadium for a box of cupcakes for Ted, Coach Beard, Roy and Nate and left Rebecca at the foot of her stairs so you could carry on and deliver them.

“I’ll come too, see Ted.” She’d followed you through the changing room. You could hear the team in the gym, the coaches were all in the office except for Roy.

“Oh. Hiya fellas, seen Roy? I texted him when I left Ola’s.” You looked around as if you were half expecting him to be hiding by his desk, but he wasn't around at all.

"Haven't seen him in a hot minute, sorry." Ted had replied, eyes only for Rebecca. Nate had gone to check on the players in the gym, Beard had his head buried in his book.

"Guess I'll leave these here then. Tell him to come and say hi when he turns up?" You asked Beard who tipped his hat. Your afternoon focused on branding opportunities for the women’s team, you’d had some logo ideas you wanted to run by a few people so took the chance to stretch your legs. You said hello to the team in the ticket office, looked in on the players in the gym, “Anyone seen Roy?”

“Nah, sorry!”

“He’s around here somewhere I think.”

“I thought I saw him in the boot room.”

“Not the boot room you melon, the treatment room.” As you received at least 14 different answers, you held up your hand,

“Never mind! Thanks boys.” You carried on up to Rebecca’s office where she was meeting with Sharon, “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“Not at all, are they the logo options?” Rebecca held out a hand,

“Sure is, seen Roy?”

“I think he’s downstairs.” Sharon smiled.

“He’s got a meeting with me at 4.30 so he’ll be about somewhere.”

“I know, I’m getting Lexie today. Let me know what you think of those and we’ll catch up tomorrow. Bye both.” You left the office and went via your own office to get your things. In the carpark, Roy’s car had gone. Because of his late meeting with Rebecca, you’d gone in separately that morning. You swung into the school car park and waited at the main doors to be let in.

“Oh, I’m sorry - Lexie’s already left today? Phoebe’s uncle collected her?” You rolled your eyes, he’d forgotten about his meeting with Rebecca.

“Ok, not to worry, thanks!” You jumped back in the car and used the voice control to call him. There was no answer so you carried on to your house. You expected to see his car, but it wasn’t there. This was starting to get annoying. You hopped out of the car and went to put your key in the lock, but it wouldn’t fit. “What the fucking fuck is going on today?!” You looked through your key bundle but your house key wasn’t there, it had fallen off. Back in the car, you tried to work out whether he’d have taken Lexie back to the club for his meeting. He still didn’t answer the phone so you went straight to his house. His car was on the drive, you breathed a sigh of relief. The door was locked so you rang the bell and waited for Lexie to answer. Nothing. You rang the bell again. At your hip level, the letterbox flipped open,

“You need to use your key.” Lexie whispered.

“I don’t have a fucking key?” It had been on your to-do list for the last few weeks since you and Roy had talked about it. You already had a spare for your house and easily handed it over to him. You looked back down at your keys and saw a new, different key where your house key had been. The letterbox closed again, you slid the new key into the door handle and it clicked smoothly, the door opening. Just inside, Roy and Lexie were standing with a house shaped helium balloon and a little cake made in the shape of Roy’s house. Everything fell into place in your brain. “I do have a key.” You realised.

“If you want it?”

“Roy’s decorated my bedroom!” Lexie squealed, his hand clamped over her mouth gently,

“Oi! Don’t ruin it!” She giggled and swung herself around using his arm as leverage. You looked up at him,

“Not just a key?”

“I was thinking we could move in together? I never want to know a world without you both.” You couldn’t stop the tears even if you’d tried, you rushed into his arms.

“We’d love to.”

FIN

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #roy kent #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you

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gaiaseyes451 · 5 months

Text

Surprise! Of Kings and Kids - Epilogue

The lovely @vavoom-sorted-art and I simply weren't ready to end Of Kings and Kids so we took some time over the end of the year to add an Epilogue! Come over to AO3 to catch up with our ineffables a few years after Christ's birth and to see more, beautiful illustrations!

Again, a huge thanks to everyone for the excitement around this project. Happy New Year!

----

Excerpt from the Epilogue: Continue Reading on AO3

Crowley sighed and softened his tone, beseeching him to understand. “Aziraphale, there wasn’t even a real choice here.” He continued to wear tight circles into the grass. “There was no plausible world where you chose the innocents over the Messiah. Hundreds of lives over, eventually, billions? I know you, making that decision would eat at you,” but I’m a demon, I condemn souls regularly. “Even if it was the right choice by Heaven’s standards, there wasn’t a good choice.” So I took the difficult part, so you wouldn’t have to hold the guilt. “I think this is as close to ineffable as you get.”

“That’s deceitful! You came to me under false pretenses!”

Crowley stopped abruptly. “Oh come on, do you really believe that?” Aziraphale’s fists clenched when Crowley spat the words at him.

“We’ve been working together –” Crowley paused, fluttering his hands in a vague circular motion between the two of them, looking for the right term for this. “Well, not together but, but with each other-”

“Around each other.” Aziraphale was scowling, but couldn’t help but interject. “Orbiting one another, in a way.”

“Yes, exactly!” Crowley strode toward him, “we’ve been orbiting one another for millennia and you still don’t trust me?” He made no effort to disguise his incredulity. “For Satan’s sake, Aziraphale, I helped you with your Messiah. I got a Satan forsaken commendation for the massacre of children and I haven’t said shit about it to keep it a secret- to-!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s just like you spying on me with the magi. I understand, Aziraphale, I know what I am, but what more can I do to prove you can trust me?” He threw his arms out wide and dropped down onto the boulder, exasperated.

Across from him, Aziraphale seemed to be wrestling with his thoughts. “A commendation? Hell gave you a commendation for the massacre?” Crowley kept silent and listened as Aziraphale stammered half-formed thoughts. “I know – even Hell must know how you are with children – you would never – why would they….”

Understanding crept across Aziraphale’s face and he refocused his eyes on Crowley. “They suspected,” he whispered, his anger smothered by the weight of the risk Crowley had taken.

Crowley made no reply, keeping his eyes stubbornly focused on the fields. Aziraphale sat on the boulder next to him. As Crowley stared at nothing he could feel Aziraphale’s eyes on him, after a few moments a timid question broke the silence.

“Did you use any miracles on the magi, that night?”

Crowley jerked his head to look at Aziraphale. He had expected any number of questions about what Hell had wanted to know, why he’d accepted the commendation, maybe even a bit of sympathy. The question about the magi, about his methods was deeply personal, an unspoken boundary. “...What?”

Aziraphale, to his credit, didn’t look away. “Just answer the question, please.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes behind the lenses. Aziraphale had never been present to witness Crowley at work, at least as far as he knew. While he did take a certain amount of pride in his skills he didn’t like talking about them – especially with Aziraphale – but now he didn’t feel he had a choice. Well, here we go.

*~*~*

A huge thank you to @goodomensafterdark for supporting this collaboration and a special thanks to @sohoscribblers

#good omens #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #good omens christmas #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #first christmas

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highvern · 6 months

Note

Slay you deserve a million followers for teach me series. Can I request DK or MG kabedon? 🥹 humor or serious or against all odds angst would make my dreams come true you’re amazing

NGL I had to look up what that was and I can only imagine humor but this ended up super fluffy too im sorry for no angst anon 😔

Please accept this as my apology!!!

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom x fem!reader

Genre: humor, suggestive, fluff

Warnings: reader loves a boozy brunch, and they have a dachshund named Mango,

Note: Mayhaps be read as a long long long away epilogue of Teach Me couple

“Damn, you shit with that ass?” You drunkly smile at your boyfriend attempting to shuffle you inside your shared apartment.

When you swat at the curve of plump flesh, Dokyeom rolls his eyes with a groan. He can’t help but smile despite his exasperation with your antics. Bold comments from you has a special way of turning him into a blushing stuttering mess despite years of dating. Something about the brazen way you declare your interest after so much time together sends his heart into orbit, millions of butterflies filling his chest until he is convinced it’ll explode.

But the hallway of your apartment complex at two in the afternoon on a Sunday is not high on Dokyeom’s list of places to be felt up by his girlfriend. Coupled with the knowledge he only has so much time to get you horizontal before you refuse to move yourself, Dokyeom is too stressed to enjoy the usual banter you supply after too many mimosas at brunch with your friends.

The chilled metal door gives way under your combined weight, throwing Dokyeom forward as his feet fail to find their grounding — a firm thud ricocheting through the space under the bounce of his shoulders against the plaster wall.

A smack! echoes in response under your hand landing above his shoulder, pinning a wide eyed Dokyeom underneath your hips as you’re dragged forward by momentum.

“So…do you come here often?”

“To our house?” Dokyeom responds, eyebrows furrowing in amusement.

Crowding into the limit spacefurther, you watch him through your lashes— failing to realize your attempt at coyish allure leaves you resembling a round eyed calf.

Your slow blinks force a guffaw from his lips, shaking your stomach where it touches his own as the crown of Dokyeom’s skull meets the wall behind him.

Pouting as he works through the last of his giggles, you twirl with a huff; nose in the air as you trudge towards the living room.

Mango doesn’t rise from her sprawl across the couch, belly up as she basks in the sun flooding from the glass doors leading to the balcony. Her long golden hair spills onto the couch beneath her oblong body as she watches her parents with little interest.

Tangling your arms around her, you hold her tightly to your chest. “My baby!”

A sharp bark of displeasure answers, followed by your boyfriend gently setting her back on the couch as you sigh forlornly.

“No one in this house loves me.” You wail, stomping your foot while the familiar heat of Dokyeom’s arms curl around your waist once more.

“C’mon babe, let’s go lay down.”

Digging your heels into the ground, you turn to face him. “You love me, right?”

“Always.” Dokyeom smiles, a sweet kiss between your wrinkled brows signing his confession.

“Ew, I have a boyfriend!” You gasp, failing to wiggle out of his grip.

Distracting you in an effort to coral you into the bedroom, Dokyeom plays along. “Oh?”

“Yeah, and he’ll kick your butt!”

“Will he now?” Dokyeom nods, managing to work you out of the living room and down the hall.

“Yeah! And he’s all big and buff.”

“Oh, really? And he’ll fight me for you?”

You sigh once more, “No, he’s too nice.”

“Too bad.”

“I know, he’s really hot when he’s angry.”

Dokyeom fills that tidbit of information away for later, focusing on slipping the tight denim stretched across your hips down so you can sleep comfortably.

“What else do you like about your boyfriend?” He prompts, lifting each leg to free you from the offending garment before gently pushing you to sit on the bed while he works off your shirt.

Arms raised over your head, you eagerly list of the things you love about your boyfriend; a goofy faraway grin brightening your face.

“He’s the best! He’s funny and he’s really sweet and,”

Continuing to prattle on, you don’t notice the way your boyfriend falters under the praise you so eagerly throw his way.

“And Dokyeom is like perfect with kids especially my nieces! I can’t wait until we have kids.”

Kids.

You want kids. With him.

It wasn’t as if it had never been a topic of discussion. You both had been clear from the start that it was a something you’d wanted. But kids and marriage were always a distant goal for you two, nothing to consider for a least a few more years.

But you think about having kids with him. And suddenly he wonders what it’d be like.

Images of babies fill his head; ones with your eyes and his nose, smart like their mom but with their dad’s sense of humor. Bald and perfectly chubby in that cute way only babies are. Then it’s two little girls filling his ears with shrill giggles as he chases them around the living room with your own laughter chiming in from the couch.

Oh boy.

“But we have to get married first. And you can’t tell him I told you but," Comically looking left and right, eyes impossibly round, you drop into a whisper. "I found a ring in the dresser so I think he’ll ask me soon.”

You rock back and forth, feet kicking just above the shag rug as Dokyeom digs up an old shirt from the very dresser he’s had a certain ring hidden in for the past few months.

Finding his voice, albeit shakily, Dokyeom pries for more information.

“If he asks, what would you say?”

A brilliant smile lights your face — blinding in joy, putting all the wonders of the world to shame. You practically glow as you look up at him with so much emotion Dokyeom thinks he might pass out.

“That I’d love to marry you.”

#svthub #lee dokyeom #lee seokmin x reader #lee seokmin #svt seokmin #seokmin fluff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #dokyeom x reader #svt x reader #dokyeom fluff #🫡 highvern #answered ask #anon ask #svt

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another-lost-mc · 1 month

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is it bad that as much as i like your ocs (theyre amazing, i love them!), i really miss seeing you write for the canon characters

You know, that’s valid. The proportion of Canon and OC content here lately has been way off. It’s sort of the elephant in the room I ignore every time I think about Obey Me and my inspiration automatically focuses on the world building or OC potential instead.

There’s a few reasons why I’ve been less interested in writing canon lately.

1. Disappointment with Nightbringer. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure why this game exists (except to overhaul the franchise’s monetization structure). The premise and lore payoff hasn’t been that great for me personally - it feels more like an AU rather than a canon addition/continuation of the OG game. It feels like we still end up with more loose ends and questions that we don’t have (and may never get) answers for. I’m still waiting for Raphael and Mephisto to be dateable, by the way. As a result, my focus when writing OM content has been using the OG story/characterization using the odd piece from NB that makes sense, and that leads into…

2. My favourite parts of Obey Me are under-developed in canon. I enjoy most of the canon cast, I really do. But I want more Celestial Realm lore, I want more Michael (and not NB HM Lesson 20 Michael), I want more angels in general. They’ve mentioned Uriel a couple times now, give me that angel please and thank you! (No longer relevant, I wrote a version of him myself.)

The world feels so empty at times but there’s so much potential. Parts of the Devildom are more fleshed out with NB adding to it, but what about the other realms? What’s going on with the Sorcerer’s Society and the reapers? I never know if the interesting hints of lore we get are truly relevant or if it’s just something the game decided was convenient for a plot point and never gets mentioned again. NB has been great for Solomon fans since it’s practically a Solomon x MC fanfic written with a forced roommates trope, and that might be the best thing about it from a lore perspective.

My OCs were originally meant to explore gaps in the world and give the canon characters room to grow beyond the one or two defining traits the game keeps repeating over and over. I like writing Mammon when I can have him interact with Karasu, I like imagining the types of angels other exchange students might meet in the Celestial Realm, I like giving a name and personality to the mysterious owner of The Fall where so many events and Devilgram stories take place. Admittedly, it was refreshing to see that other people enjoyed reading about them or imagining them paired with their own MCs/OCs too. I call them the OC Fan Club with genuine affection.

3. It’s not something I talk about often but before I began writing fanfiction, I was mostly focused on concepts or outlines for original stories. Writing supernatural and horror themes always been my interest as a writer so anything with demons/angels/other monstrous races automatically catches my eye.

It’s a little mean to say, but half-baked worlds like the Devildom are a lot of fun to use as a foundation for expanding my own ideas. The OC story I’ve been working on is one way for me to write longer and more complex pieces which is the type I like most. Granted, it includes nearly the entire game cast and it explores the Devildom and Celestial Realm in ways that tie together some of my favourite personal headcanons and characterization. It focuses on angel characters and the history/culture of the Celestial Realm which are two of my main interests for this game. It’s a huge project - the outline is nearly 20k words on its own, it’s practically a novel divided into four sections with 30+ chapters and an epilogue. I can’t even express how excited I am when I get to work on this.

That being said, I do like writing canon content and I’ve been missing it more lately. I got burnt out when it felt like I was losing interest in NB and was pushing myself to keep writing anyway which isn’t great.

Today someone left a nice comment on something I wrote a while back, an angst piece for the demon brothers. I haven’t read it in a while and after going back and re-reading it, I was like, “Huh, I don’t remember liking this as much as I do.” And then I remembered something in my drafts that’s been rotting away, half-edited and ignored, and realized that I wanted to finish it. So, I’ve been slowly tinkering with things while I work on my angels’ story. Some of my plans are ambitious and real life distractions (mostly health related, like my recent bout of COVID) haven’t helped.

If I learned anything about my writing since starting this blog, it’s that:

writing what you’re passionate about is more fulfilling than writing what seems trendy or popular

giving and receiving feedback and fostering friendships/supporting each other keeps the community thriving

self care self care self care

Anyway. My goal has always been to write about the things I love about the game world and the things I create that are inspired by it. It’s a delicate balancing act that I’m still working on.

#jes.replies #hilariously bad takes abound #somewhat personal?#also I’ve been working on an oc side blog to try and organize things better #this may or may not get deleted if delayed embarrassment kicks in tomorrow

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years

Text

Enamored - Epilogue

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, ILY! ❤ Here’s the epilogue! ❤

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, mentions of sex, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of pregnancy.

Word Count: 2200

Series Masterlist

3 Years Later

Chaos.

This was absolute chaos.

Your mother had told you how you would refuse to sit still even when you were a toddler, and how she couldn’t even look elsewhere for more than a second because by the time she would’ve turned back to you, you would’ve already been running away, and you had always found it funny but now?

You were beginning to understand your mother.

“Oh we lost him!” you said, throwing up your hands and Anthony tilted his head.

“We didn’t lose him darling, he’s somewhere in the house. We just don’t know where yet.”

“That means we lost him Anthony!” you said and looked around as your ears picked up a slight noise. “Edmund?”

“Edmund where are you?”

The only thing that answered you and Anthony’s question was the pitter-patter of tiny feet echoing in the hallway upstairs as well as a familiar giggle. You couldn’t help but smile slightly, Anthony was right, Edmund’s giggle was almost exactly the same as yours.

“Upstairs?”

“Upstairs,” Anthony murmured but stopped you before you could go to the stairs. “My love, you should probably be resting instead of running after him.”

You smiled up at him as he pressed his palm over your stomach. You had given him the news –and only him— only a week ago, and Anthony was already acting as if you were about to give birth at any time, even though you weren’t even showing yet. No one else, not even Cecily knew about it, and you were determined to keep it that way at least until you reached the third month.

Yet, you weren’t exactly sure how long you could keep it a secret if Anthony kept being like this in front of people as well.

Especially tonight.

“Mon amour, I’m completely alright I assure you,” you said, standing up on your tiptoes to peck him on the lips, making him smile as well before he dipped his head to kiss you again.

“My lady?”

You turned your head to see Mrs. Burchett averting her gaze and Anthony cleared his throat, stepping back from you.

“Yes Mrs. Burchett?”

“The menu for tonight?” she held up a paper and Anthony looked upstairs.

“You handle that, I will handle our small hurricane,” he said and walked upstairs. You shook your head slightly and took the paper from Mrs. Burchett.

“Apricots were not good enough this week, so if that is alright the cook would like to change the apricot macarons with peach macarons?”

“Even better,” you said, walking down the hallway with her following you. “It seems wonderful, Mrs. Burchett. Thank you, and please make sure to give the cook my gratitude for the last minute change.”

“My lady,” she curtsied and walked away from you and you hummed a melody to yourself, still focused on the menu but the slight creak of the door down the hallway made you turn your head. You listened for a moment, then let out a chuckle and went down the hallway straight to Anthony’s study, then slowly pushed open the door to meet the exact view you suspected.

The cutest toddler you had ever laid your eyes on sitting in the middle of his father’s study, surrounded by the knocked over inkpot and multiple papers.

“Edmund!”

“Mama!” he said excitedly as if he wasn’t completely drenched in ink and you let out a laugh as he ran to throw himself to you. “Mama look!”

You bent down to hoist him up into your arms, not even caring about how you were getting ink all over you as well. You wiped at the ink stain on his chubby cheek as he gave you a bright smile, still pointing at the papers and let out a mixture of a happy squeal and a laugh as you gave him kisses.

“Play papa!”

“Mm hm, I can see that my sweet,” you said. “Just like papa!”

He giggled, burying his face to your neck and you heard Anthony’s footsteps before he reached the room.

“Oh I should’ve known,” he said, making his way to you and Edmund gasped, fidgeting in your arms to go to him. Anthony took him from your arms as Edmund babbled, as far as you could understand giving a long speech about how he was playing papa, somehow throwing both English and French words together and Anthony pressed his lips to his hair, rocking him in his arms.

“Yeah good job!” he said. “Look at you, you will learn how to read and write any day now, huh?”

You let out a laugh. “Anthony mon amour, he’s barely two years old.”

“But he’s smarter than any other two years old,” Anthony pointed out. “Are you not my boy?”

Edmund motioned at the papers then Anthony, still babbling in such a serious manner that you couldn’t help but aww at him, going to press a kiss on his small hand.

“Edmund?” you said, gathering his attention. “Bath time?”

Edmund blinked a couple of times as if he was considering the offer, then nodded fervently.

“Bubbles? Bubbles? ”

“Yes there will be bubbles,” you said, taking him from Anthony. “We cannot possibly have a bath without bubbles.”

“Y/N, are you sure you should be carrying—”

“He’s not even that heavy mon amour,” you said, rocking Edmund. “Tell your papa not to worry so much, will you my sweet?”

“Papa not worry!”

“There we go,” you said. “And we will have bubbles and…?”

“Ducky!”

“Yes, we’re definitely getting ducky!” you said. “Ethel?”

Ethel rushed to the door and dropped a curtsy. “My lady?”

“Can you please draw a bath for Edmund?”

“Of course my lady, I can take him if you wish? Until it’s ready?”

“Edmund my little lamb, go upstairs with Ethel,” you said in French before putting him down on his feet and he rushed past Ethel out of the room and Ethel hurriedly curtsied before rushing after him. Anthony walked to you to pull you into his arms and you smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“He takes after you, you know.”

“Me?” Anthony asked with a smirk. “I’m very certain he’s all you, my love.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully before brushing your lips against his, and attempted to step out of his embrace but he pulled you back, making you giggle.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” you asked with a grin, your heart skipping a happy beat as he winked at you, then closed the door.

“It’ll take them a while to draw a bath,” he said, pulling you to himself and you rested a hand over his chest, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him before he lifted you off the floor, drawing a squeal from you which turned into a clear laugh as he carried you to the sofa.

Considering that both your and Anthony’s family would be attending the dinner, you wanted everything to be perfect, and thankfully you had enough practice by now. The first time you had thrown a dinner for the whole family, you’d had barely slept the night before, convinced something would go wrong no matter how much Anthony tried to convince you, but now you were barely worried and instead were excited for it.

You really enjoyed hosting these dinners, the more the merrier.

With the exception of Benedict who was out of the country for his new exhibition, the whole family was here, and they seemed very happy to actually be together, judging by the pleasant chatter and deep conversations happening around the table. You knew it was highly uncommon to have toddlers to be present at the dinner table, but you couldn’t care less about the rules, especially in your own house. Both Ollie and Ada, Elias and Cece’s twins had their own chairs, along with Augie and Belinda, Simon and Daphne’s children. Since Edmund was the youngest among them, he couldn’t exactly reach the table unless he was either in your lap or Anthony’s, and he was almost restless to be done with his dinner, especially when Ollie, Ada, Augie and Belinda finished their dinner to go play in the drawing room.

“Alright, alright…” you said as he started fidgeting in your lap and you put the spoon down. “Go on then.”

“I’ll take him my lady,” Ethel said and she held his small hand while Edmund waved at the table with his other hand.

“I go now!” he announced and bowed at them so far down that he almost lost his balance, but before you or Anthony could leap out of your chairs to prevent his fall he regained his balance, making everyone let out an “aww”. Edmund shifted his weight, then rushed to smack a kiss on your cheek then Anthony’s, before turning to the table. “Night night!”

“Good night Edmund!”

Penelope heaved a sigh as Ethel led him out of the dining room.

“I swear he’s a little angel.”

“Little demon, more likely.”

“Colin!”

“Oh no, he has a point,” you pointed at Colin as Anthony let out a laugh.

“Little demon sounds right,” he said. “He’s unstoppable now that he can walk.”

Elias grinned and nodded in your direction. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“I wasn’t that bad!”

“You were, in fact, that bad Chérie.”

“Elias my love, as far as I’ve heard so were you.”

“No that’s just—”

Your father rolled his eyes. “You turned into a hurricane as soon as you could run around.”

“See? Thank you father!”

“You were also a little demon when we were growing up,” Simon stated and Elias shook his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What was it you were telling me before we started dinner?” Daphne asked and you snapped your fingers.

“He learned how to open doors, I think he’s climbing them!” you said. “The other night, we woke up to him running around the hallway, apparently he climbed out of his bed and opened the door so we found him swinging from the wall light, giggling all happily!”

“Jesus Christ.”

Anthony raised his glass. “Telling you. Little demon.”

“A cute little demon,” Eloise pointed out and Lady Bridgerton turned to Elias.

“What about Ollie and Ada?” she asked. “Are they giving you a hard time as well?”

“Both of them are angels,” Elias said. “They just climb out of their cribs to fall asleep holding hands.”

“That’s so sweet!”

“Augie and Belinda get along well, do they not Daph?”

“Oh yes,” Daphne said. “They at most push each other when they can’t share a toy.”

“Ollie and Ada have those moments too…”

The rest of Cecily’s sentence turned into a buzz as the staff started serving desserts and you felt your stomach flip.

Oh damn it.

This was not the time for you to get nauseous.

You cleared your throat and pushed your chair back.

“I’ll just check on Edmund for a moment, excuse me,” you said quickly and made your way out of the dining room to the hallway. You rushed to a window to open it, the cool air hitting your face and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, already feeling better.

“Darling?”

You opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder to meet Anthony’s worried gaze. “I’m alright mon amour.”

“Sickness?”

You nodded and turned around as he came closer to you to wrap his arms around your waist.

“Yes.”

“Already?”

“Sooner than Edmund,” you commented as he brushed your hair back, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“We can cut the dinner short.”

“No,” you said. “No need for that, I’ll feel better in a moment. Fresh air helps.”

Anthony hummed, his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“How do I help?” he asked and you nuzzled to his chest.

“You’re helping now,” you said. “More than you could ever know.”

He pressed his hand over your stomach, making you smile and you clasped your hand over his.

“I cannot wait until we can tell people.”

“We could tell them now?” Anthony said, “They’re all here already.”

You shook your head and looked up at him.

“I think it’s better to wait a while,” you said. “Besides, we must tell Edmund first before anyone else. At least to get him used to the idea before everyone starts talking about the baby.”

“You think he will be jealous?”

You heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But it’s not such an impossible thought. Especially with the cultural difference, the baby will be British and Edmund is French.”

“Darling for the hundredth time, Edmund isn’t French.”

“We made him in France, in Paris!” you protested before pointing at your stomach. “And we made this one in London. There’s got to be some cultural difference Anthony, that’s just how it works.”

He chuckled deep in his chest and tilted your head up so that he could brush his lips against yours.

“Mm hm, we’ll see about that.”

You took another deep breath to see if you were feeling better, then nodded to yourself.

“Come on,” you said as you stepped past him and tugged at his hand. “We should go back before they wonder where we are.”

He nodded and pulled you to himself to give you another kiss, coaxing a smile from you.

“I love you, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

You giggled and pecked him on the lips again.

“And I love you, Viscount Bridgerton,” you said sweetly, happiness filling you, making you feel all warm inside. “Now come. We cannot miss the dessert.”

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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