#i came to this earth 8 years ago

[luvjunie]

— broken promises

pairing: earth 42 miles x fem!reader

summary: while earth 42 miles comes off a lot tougher than 1610’s based off his cold demeanor and his trauma induced apathy, somewhere under that hard shell, he’s still the sweet boy he used to be and wants love just like anyone else. miles is aged up to 17 in this, simply for the plot! wc: 2,640

contains: spoilers!!! angst to fluff

word bank: “mi vida” - my life, “mi amor” - my love

playing now: Wasted Love Freestyle by Jhene Aiko

You and Miles have been dating for 7 months now, and lately he hasn’t been around as much as he’d like to, for obvious reasons. Well, not obvious to you. You still don’t know that Miles is the Prowler, and he’s intent on keeping it that way.

It’s the third time he’s flaked on plans he arranged himself this month, and he can tell you’re beyond tired of it with the way you just blew his phone up.

— Miles POV —

Miles’ phone buzzes in his pocket but he decides against checking it, marking it off as something unimportant. He’s already accepted a job from his Uncle and a distraction wouldn’t do him any good right now.

8:03 PM

Mi Vida: please don’t tell me you’re doing this again bro.

Mi Vida: this is a joke, right?

Mi Vida: hello?? you were supposed to be outside thirty minutes ago.

Mi Vida: Miles Gonzalo Morales I swear to GOD if I don’t hear your motorcycle revving outside in the next five minutes so help me.

*buzz buzz*

Ignored.

*buzz buzz*

*buzz buzz*

He kissed his teeth, lashes fluttering in aggravation and air puffing through his nostrils at the continuous buzzing against his leg. His shoulder fell to the side a bit as he reached down into his pocket to grab his phone while he climbed up the stairwell, following his uncle. Seeing your contact name on his lock screen, his brow raised as he read over the message, then they bunched together in the middle of his forehead incredulously, the tone of your texts causing his strides to falter.

Miles was genuinely confused for a moment, trying to think back on if he’d done anything to upset you, until the memory of him assuring you he wouldn’t do this again slapped him across the face harder than his mom did that one time he’d cursed at her on accident. The two of you had a date planned for tonight, and he swore to you he’d be there this time, fifteen minutes early at that, even though he knew there was a big chance he wouldn’t be able to make it all. It was selfish of him to promise something he couldn’t guarantee, knowing how demanding the other factors in his life were, but he was so tired of disappointing you, and how happy you looked when he told you you guys would finally get to spend some time together really had him thinking he could make it work this time.

Eyes falling shut for a beat, a heavy sigh leaves his lips, tongue darting out to dampen them as he quickly tries to think of something to respond with that won’t piss you off more than you already are.

He texts you back: sorry Mami, something came up yk how it is. i got you tomorrow tho fasho

Yeah. Real smooth.

*buzz buzz*

Mi Vida: yk what, just forget it, Miles.

Damn, she called me by my first name? I definitely fucked up this time. He thinks to himself.

Mi Vida: whoever you’re with is clearly more important to you than what we got goin on, so it’s cool. stay where you at, i’m done

Shit.

His heart beats a little faster in his chest, the sensation a semblance of something he hadn’t felt in years. Fear. He texts back as fast he can, head snapping up to see he’s fallen behind his Uncle, and he hurriedly jumps a few stairs before he comes to a stop again.

Miles: done??? the fuck you mean you done?

You don’t respond fast enough for his liking, so he double texts.

Miles: baby stop playin. you trippin it ain’t even like that at all

Mi Vida: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

He utters a string of curses under his breath, alerting his Uncle who had already noticed he was falling behind when he heard the inconsistency of his nephew’s footsteps. He’s ample steps above Miles, turning his head only slightly over his shoulder to address the distracted teenager.

“C’mon man, get off the phone. We got business to tend to. You in or you out?” Aaron asks. “You know I can’t have nobody holdin’ me back.” There’s a hint of something deeper playing within his words, and Miles knows he doesn’t have a choice.

He swallows hard as he looks up at the older man. Taking one last look down at his phone, his jaw clenches in contemplation before he’s shaking his head with a quiet sigh and shoving it back into his pocket. He’ll have to deal with this later.

“My fault. Yeah, I’m in.” He mumbles, doing a quick jog to catch up to the man.

His uncle’s lips quirk into a smirk, a heavy hand coming down to clap Miles’ back and squeeze his shoulder.

“My man. Aight, let’s roll.”

— Your POV —

8:05 PM

You: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

You watch closely as the three dots bubble at the bottom left corner of your screen, an indicator that he was typing. But instead, a quiet scoff slips from your mouth when they disappear, your shoulders slumping in disappointment at the word that appears below your last message.

Seen

You angrily toss your phone onto your bed, bottom lip quivering when you catch a glance at yourself in the mirror when you walk by. You’d gotten dressed up all nice just for him, because you knew the chance of him being free for a night to take you out was rare. You’d started your makeup early just to make sure he wouldn’t have to wait outside for you while you finished, and you’d even styled your hair the way you knew he liked. All for nothing.

You kicked your shoes off and dropped your purse to the ground, heading to your bathroom to undo all your work. You washed all the makeup off your face, the act feeling more humiliating than ever when you remembered why you’d even put it on in the first place. To feel pretty for someone who barely even showed up.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm down, hastily reaching back over to check your phone just one more time. Maybe he was thinking of what to say, and that’s why he’d left you on seen.

Seen 25 minutes ago

Maybe not.

You hated crying. And more than anything you were tired of doing it, especially when broken promises were the cause of your wasted tears. Your evening was basically wasted, and you weren’t in the mood to do anything else anyway, so you decided that you’d call it a night and head to bed early. You slipped on some comfy sleep shorts, tying your hair up for the night before grudgingly tugging a large t-shirt over your head. Your brow perked up at the scent that wafted past your nostrils, and pinching the shirt with your forefinger and thumb, you brought the fabric to your nose and immediately caught a whiff of Miles’ cologne. You then realized you’d put on a shirt you stole from him a while back, and the way your heart fluttered made you even more upset than you already were. You brushed it off to the best of your ability and crawled into bed, trying your hardest to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you pulled your blankets over your shoulder.

____

As soon as he’d gotten the job done and his Uncle gave him the okay to dip, Miles’ feet were moving at the speed of light down the stairwell. And while he had sort of rushed the plays he made with some of the city’s goons, he just had to pray that all his Uncle’s money was in the banded wad of cash he returned with, or it would be his ass.

Skipping a few steps he hopped down onto the platform before the next set, checking his phone for the time simultaneously.

10:15 PM

“Damn.” He groaned, pushing through the doors, cool wind hitting his face. Once he reached his motorcycle he shoved his helmet over his head, hopped on, and sped off with a “skrrrt”.

He sped through the streets carelessly, something you definitely would’ve scolded him for had you been riding on the back of his bike with him, with your arms tight around his waist to hold on like you always did. He bobbed and weaved through cars, lane splitting between a few of them and he may have even ran a red, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to remember. All he could focus on was that you said you were “done”, whatever the hell that meant, and he was adamant on making sure you weren’t.

____

You didn’t know when you’d dozed off, three steady knocks, a fourth one after a pause hitting against your window, resulting in your eyes snapping open at the disruption. You sat up on your mattress, the ball of your hand rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you peered across the room. Once they adjusted in the darkness and you recognized the familiar, lanky body of your boyfriend standing outside on the fire escape, the events of just two hours ago played over in your mind like a record.

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed and swung your legs over the side of your bed, pushing yourself onto your feet. Miles watched as you sleepily trudged over to the window, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, head slightly lowered and tilted to the side, as if he were already apologizing before you’d even made it to him.

Hooking your fingers underneath the edge of your window, with a quiet grunt you pulled it up, effectively lifting the barrier between your bodies. You instantly felt your yearning for him come back full force, and wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms, but you restrained. Your eyes met his, the cool night air breezing into your room, and his heart clenched. Somehow he was able to feel the coolness in your demeanor, yet the cold weather hadn’t bothered him at all.

He was the first to speak.

“Hola, Mami.” He sized you up once, taking notice of your eyes that were slightly puffy from crying.

His voice was like silk to your ears, alluring and confident, almost hypnotizing, and it aggravated you that you felt yourself gravitating towards him off two simple words.

“Why are you here, Miles?” You sighed, arms slapping at your sides in exasperation.

He looked slightly taken aback, chin lifting a bit as if you’d asked something completely outlandish.

“What you mean why I’m here? You my girl, shit, this my crib too.” He shrugged, so nonchalant, as if nothing had happened. You wondered if it had even been him texting you earlier.

“You left me on seen, remember? Stood me up, too?” Your head cocked to the side to match the attitude in your tone, brows raising at him. What excuse would he use this time?

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily before he spoke up again.

“I was… busy. Look, my bad, okay? You gon’ let me in or what? Ian come all the way over here to stand outside.” He demanded with a gesture towards the opening, his hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight and thawing the ice that’d been temporarily encased around your heart. There was the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips, because he already knew the answer.

Your lips pursed and you stepped to the side, a laggard arm stretched out beside you, silently granting him access to your room.

He stepped through the window frame and you closed it after him, his hands folding around the collar then the hem of his jacket as he adjusted it and turned towards you.

“I can’t keep doing this with you, Miles. It isn’t fair.” You mumbled, hating the way your voice split your words.

His head dipped to the side a bit as he took in your solemn expression and the way your gaze was cast to the floor, as if you were trying to contain your tears. He wasn’t the best at this, he knew that, and showing affection effectively really wasn’t his strong suit. He usually made it up to you by bringing you a few hundreds he’d made from a deal, paired with some roses he’d picked up on the way to your house at the last second— but you both knew paper and flowers wouldn’t fix it this time.

“I’m sorry, I mean it.” He said, reaching for your hand to bring you close and grateful when your eyes finally lifted to lock onto his, although seeing them tear-filled wrapped him in a deep-seated emotion he didn’t even want to acknowledge.

Miles rarely said he was sorry. If ever. Did he apologize? Yes, but it was usually a ‘my bad’ or a ‘my fault’, or some other term that’d get the point across without him have to use too much emotion. Hearing the words ‘I’m sorry’ from him was an anomaly, it happened once in a blue moon, so this time you knew he really meant it. In your heart you knew he meant it, but that didn’t stop the tear you’d been trying to keep at bay from rolling down your cheek.

His thumb caught the tear almost instantly, swiping it from the soft of your skin. It didn’t belong there, and he hated to be the reason why you were crying in the first place.

“Where do you disappear to, Miles?” You sniffled.

He sighed, glancing back over at the window. He considered telling you the truth, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m just tryna keep you safe, ma.”

“You always say that!” You squeaked, making sure to keep your voice down, you had technically snuck him in. You ripped your hand from his grasp, turning your face away from him as another tear fell. “Do you not trust me or something? Is that it?”

“Of course I trust you,” His eyebrows knit together at your question and he stole your hand from your side again.

“So why can’t you tell me?” You pleaded, eyes big and glossy.

“I just-“ He paused. “I can’t let you get hurt. The shit I do…” You watched as he hesitated, like even speaking about the subject pained him. “It ain’t good.” He swallowed, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “And I’ll be damned if I put you in the middle of my shit. I love you… okay?” He moved closer to you, and when you turned from him once again he brought your face right back to his, this time with both his hands. He wasn’t going to let you go, and while Miles was rough around the edges, and seemingly devoid of any emotion other than anger or resentment for the world—he always handled you with care.

“I love you, Y/n, I put that on everything. I’ll burn this whole world down for you, you hear me? Don’t think I won’t.” He stared into your eyes longingly, intent on making sure you didn’t just hear every word, but that you understood them, too.

You couldn’t help but lean into his hand, your own coming up to hold at his wrist as you inhaled shakily and gave him a bleak nod.

That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear you say it.

“Do you understand?” He articulated his words, bringing his head down slightly to match your height a bit more.

“I understand.” You said softly, looking up at him through your lashes before your gaze fell to his lips. He took that as his sign, leaning forward and bringing you into a kiss.

You melted into him immediately, like you always did, eyes fluttering closed as your lips moved against his, and as his hands fell to your hips to pull you in closer, like they always did.

You broke the kiss for air, your hand resting on his bicep and your lips ghosting his as you spoke, as you shared the same breath. “I love you too…” You breathed, standing on your toes.

“Good,” You felt him grin before he pulled away, his hand pinching your chin to make you look at him. “Cause you not leaving me, ever. I can’t let no one else have you, Mami, you know that.” He cooed.

You felt heat flush your cheeks, a smile you couldn’t hide finally spreading on your face.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” You answered, chewing at your bottom lip. “Can you stay?” You whispered, eyes shifting between his hopefully as you awaited his answer.

“Ah…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, piping up again before you could get disappointed. “What about your moms?”

“She sleeps in on the weekends, you just gotta be outta here by nine. Please, pa?” You whined, already reaching for his hands.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head slightly, having to look away from the adorable look on your face. He tried to remain in denial of the fact that he was so deep in love with you he could hardly think sometimes, let alone say no, but he was failing. Miserably.

“Of course I’ll stay, mi amor.”

Your expression lit up, a toothy smile brightening your features as he let you lead him to your bed.

He made sure to remove his shoes before he laid down, settling on his back. He extended his arm out to you as he tucked the other behind his head, motioning for you to join him with his fingers.

You crawled into his open embrace, getting comfortable on top of his chest and nuzzling your head under his chin. You began to feel drowsy the second he wrapped his arm around you, a yawn leading your eyes to water. His hand slowly moved from where it was resting on your back, dipping beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours comforting to you. His large hand rubbed up and down the expanse of your back, the tips of his fingers drawing lines along your spine— you always fell asleep easier when he did that. You listened to the steady beating of his heart, fingers idly toying with the gold chain he kept around his neck.

“I’m really sorry I ain’t make it tonight. I know you prolly got all pretty for me n’shit… and I wish I got to see it, but that’s on me.” He grumbled. He’d beat himself up over this for a while.

“S’okay.” You say it is, but he knows it’s not. He knows better. “I missed you.” Your quiet voice murmured from below him as you scooted in impossibly closer.

His jaw tensed as he stared up at your ceiling, a deep breath from his diaphragm raising you a little bit with his chest, and lowering you as he released it. “I know.” His response was hushed, and as sleep continued creeping in, you wondered if you’d imagined it.

But when you felt a long, drawn-out kiss press to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades, you knew it was real. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was his voice, mellow and gentle as he assured you.

“Ima do better, mama. I promise, for real this time.”

- do not copy, plagiarize, or post my works onto a different platform.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!

[wooataes]

a wilted rose - ljh

pairing: mafia boss!lee jihoon x fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mafia!au, arranged marriage!au, angst, hurt and comfort, mentions of violence and guns, injuries, bruises, crying, swearing, implied murder, slight fluff, jihoon being protective (yes, that’s a warning)

summary: an unfortunate encounter has jihoon realize his true feelings for his wife.

a/n: toyed around with the idea of mafia!boss jihoon and this is what popped out 🙊 happy new year, friends!

- tae 💜🌸✨

Masterlist

Part Two? | Ask to be added to my taglist

Lee Jihoon’s family is known as one of the most feared Mafia families in South Korea, his great grandparents having made a reputation for themselves that has been held up for generations.

Jihoon was born an only child and singular heir to the Lee fortune and the Lee legacy; having known from a young age that he would eventually end up being the leader of the Lee clan. He knew the family business was dangerous, and since being taught the ropes at 13, he knew that his relationships could be used against him from rival clans. This reason alone caused him to be cautious and callous with who he associated with. He only has two important people he would consider his friends.

His closest friend, Kwon Soonyoung also doubles as his right hand man. Both men grew up together due to Soonyoung’s father being close with Jihoon’s. Their frequent meetings caused the young men to be around eachother for long bouts of time, eventually being homeschooled together while their father’s talked business. For Jihoon, Soonyoung is the one and only person he could trust on this earth- time and time again, he has always proved his unchallenged loyalty to Jihoon and his father’s family. If Jihoon was irrational and unfiltered, Soonyoung was his voice of reason and his level-headed decision maker. To him, it was a match made in heaven.

The second person he considered his friend, or used to, was you. You came into both Jihoon and Soonyoung’s life at 8 years old, your family having been hired by Master Lee to work as live-in staff in their mansion. You were the only other child Jihoon and Soonyoung’s age, and despite Master Lee’s cold heart, he grew to treat you like his daughter and let Jihoon frequently spend his younger years playing with his two closest friends when they weren’t being homeschooled together until he was of age to get into the family business.

12 months ago, when Jihoon had just turned 25, Master Lee announced his soon to be retirement to his son. The only condition for Jihoon to step up to be head of the family business was simple but to Jihoon, was absolutely atrocious.

“I don’t understand why you think me marrying would be advantageous to the family, father.” He hisses, adjusting his chain around his neck, glaring at the stupid red rose, the Lee family staple, perfectly pinned to his lapel.

“It is not to a random woman, Jihoon.” Master Lee frowned.

“That makes it worse!” He barked, leaning his head back in frustration.

“Jihoon. You have to know that no one can be trusted in this business. I am not allowing you to marry outside of who we trust. They can slither their way into your heart and when you are at your most vulnerable, they take everything out from under you. If the enemy knows you’re committed to someone already, it keeps them from hurting us from the inside.”

“Yeah, it also makes Y/N the number one target to the enemy and they will try and swipe her away from under our noses!” He’s yelling now.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he cares too much for you. You’re too good to be associated with the dastardly business that is associated with being in the mafia; you’re a good hearted person who happily serves the Lee family alongside your just as good parents. You’re the one good thing that Jihoon has left, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t protect you.

“It’s not like you’re going to be parading her out for missions and stake outs.” Master Lee frowns. “She is only for the parties. So others know that you’re a committed man that will not waver. I guarantee you she will be protected. She will be treated like a queen in here, and she won’t ever have to see the dark side of the business. Son, I promise you.”

For 12 months, Jihoon, in the public eye was the perfect model husband with you. He stayed by your side faithfully at galas and parties, parading you around with a look of what was perceived as adoration by others. Behind closed doors however, Jihoon treated you like a ghost. Long gone was your once closest friend who you stayed up late with to binge watch stupid movies, playing video games and pranks on Soonyoung. The only thing that remained was a quiet man that only greeted you for one meal a day, to his insistence for the sake of ‘normalcy.’ In your opinion, it felt anything but. Your attempts at conversion were shut down with one worded answers or sometimes none at all, and over time, you grew to enjoy your meal with your husband in silence before going about your day around the Lee mansion alone.

Jihoon thought his father’s plan was working. For 12 months, his wife was safe and protected and never got caught up with any of the mafia business. He was in alliance with most rival clans and worked out plans and deals to work for the foreseeable future.

Sadly for Jihoon, Master Lee was full of shit.

Jihoon is frantic. The staff had alerted him while out for a meeting with an ally clan that you had been injured. They were intentionally vague with details, knowing their boss would fly off the handle at the extent to what your injuries were.

“She’s at home.” Jihoon hears Soonyoung’s voice over the phone.

“What the fuck happened, Soonyoung.” He is sure he is making his driver break at least 10 different road laws right now to get back to the mansion. He makes a mental note to contact the local police and send some generous gift baskets.

“The guards don’t know. I’m trying to get it out of them, but no luck yet.”

“She shouldn’t have been out unsupervised.” Jihoon winces, rubbing at his temples. “Tell them if they don’t give you an honest answer by the time I’m back, I will have their tongues.”

“Just go to her right now, Hoon-ah.”

Marching into the living room, Jihoon makes his presence known by the heavy thuds of his boots on the tiled floor. His eyes scan the room until they finally land on you, his childhood friend and arranged wife, sitting anxiously on the couch. He feels his eye twitch at the sight of no guards in sight, you having been left alone since you have returned.

You lift your head up shakily, your eyes widening at the sight of your husband. His long hair, usually sported in a bun atop his head is now strewn about and falling out of the elastic holding it together, suit jacket scrunched and twisted, red rose nowhere to be found. You’re astonished, having grown so used to seeing your husband with his perfect red rose on his lapel at all times. What you didn’t know that after having found out about your capture, he thrown it to the ground in frustration of his worst fears coming true.

“Jihoon?” You blink nervously.

This is the first time you’ve seen him properly (minus your daily lunches) for maybe a month. He stares intently across the room at you, scanning your body. You’re cradling your left wrist in your hand, a bruise in the perfect shape of a hand print forming around your wrist. His eyes lift to your face, his blood boiling at the sight of a small cut across your cheek, your right eye swelling up and starting to turn purple.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, biting down on your lip. “I know I shouldn’t have-“

You flinch at the sight of Jihoon striding forward, only to pause when he walks straight past you and into the kitchen, causing your shoulders to deflate. You were stupid to think your best friend had come back for only a moment. You sink sadly into the couch, curling up slowly.

Your head stays facing down at the floor as you run your fingertip over the hand print on your wrist, wincing and hissing as you press a little too hard. You sigh after a moment, moving to stand up before you pause at the sight of Jihoon’s expensive dress shoes directly in front of you.

You look up nervously at him as he reaches out, delicately taking your wrist, face neutral as he runs his fingers gently over the bruise just like you had done, eyebrows furrowing. You shiver slightly, this being the first physical contact you have felt from your husband in months. Next, he reaches forward and tucks a stray hair behind your cheek before examining the darkening bruise over your eye. At this, you see his eyes darken, heaving a heavy sigh through his nose.

“Who the fuck did this to you.” His voice is soft as he eyes you.

“I-I…”

“I need to know who did this.” He pleads.

“It was Hwang.” You whimper.

His jaw clenches. Hwang has sworn vengeance against the Lee family ever since Master Lee cut ties and alliances with the Hwang’s over his unethical practices. In Hwang’s words, he wanted to poison the perfect garden of roses that Master Lee built.

“H-he said it was a warning..” you can’t look Jihoon in the face. “T-to keep your wife on a leash or else something could happen. Jihoon, I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t have gone out, I didn’t want to cause any more trouble.” You’re crying softly now, wincing at the pain that your swelling is causing.

You tense up as you feel something cool delicately rest on your cheek, opening your eyes to see your husband holding an ice pack gently to your face. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as he moves you so you’re sitting down on the couch once more.

“You stay here until Soonyoung gets back to look after you, okay?” He instructs you as you just stare at him, bewildered. “Do you hear me, Y/N?” You nod your head slowly as you cradle the ice pack to your cheek. “Good.”

You watch Jihoon turn around and march back towards the front door of the mansion, pointing to Mr Kim, one of the guards who has been in Jihoon’s family for years. “Make sure no one comes inside this mansion except for me and Soonyoung. You guard her with your life until he gets here.” The man nods his head sternly as he moves to stand in the doorway between the living room and the entryway.

“J-Jihoon? Where are you going?” You ask nervously as your husband adjusts the gun holster around his waist, his voice cold and deadly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m going to kill the fucker who thought he could touch my wife and get away with it.”

And with that, the door slams behind him, leaving you alone with Mr Kim eyeing the door sternly.

You stay anxiously in the living room for what feels like an eternity, waiting to hear anything from Jihoon or his guards. You jolt at the sound of the door after only 15 minutes of sitting in silence, breathing a sigh of relief as you see Soonyoung rush inside and run straight towards you.

“Soon…” you whimper as he meets you halfway, immediately pulling you close and hugging you to his chest.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He breathes out, shaky. “The one fucking day I had to go run some errands…”

You hate the fact that Hwang probably waited for Soonyoung to be away from you to strike.

“Soon, it’s fine…” you whisper, wincing as he pulls away to look down at your face, closely examining your swelling eye.

“It’s not fine, look at you!”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” You whisper, and he just sighs with frustration, leading you to the couch and sitting you up against the cushions, laying a fluffy blanket over you.

“You’re going to sit here and we are going to watch some tv until Jihoon-ah gets back, okay?” He settles down beside you.

“Soonyoung, you can go have a shower or eat or something...” Your voice is low as he scrolls through random movies to play on Netflix.

“Nope.” He made a promise to stay with you until Jihoon gets back, and he will stay true to his word. Eating and washing up can wait.

“Y/N-ah.” Soonyoung glances at his phone after a few hours. The ice pack against your cheek is now lukewarm, your legs having shaken non-stop since you’d been forced to sit down.

“Hm..” you hum in response.

“Jihoon-ah will be home in 5 minutes. He asked for me to give you both some privacy and take care of some clean-up. Will you be okay with Mr Kim watching you?”

“Okay.” You respond nervously, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Soonyoung gently touches your good cheek with his finger.

“I’ll be in the other room making calls if you get scared between now and then. Okay?”

“Thank you, Soonie.” You whisper, looking up at him with a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles back before turning around and walking down the hall, leaving you alone once more as the panic begins to rise in your body.

You’re lucky you don’t have to wait long, as true to Soonyoung’s word, Jihoon steps inside his mansion and into the living room not even 5 minutes later, heaving a sigh. When you spot him, you rush quickly to him, immediately noticing the blood on his shirt and causing you to panic even more.

“Oh god.. you’re bleeding, what have I done? Your father will have me for this.” You quickly try to wipe the blood off his shirt (which you’re relieved to realize isn’t his). Jihoon surprises you both as he reaches forward to take your injured wrist again, pulling you to him and wrapping his arms tight around your waist.

He pulls your head into the crook of his neck, squeezing you to him as his chin rests on top of your head, grip tight on your shirt. You’re shaking before you just melt into his embrace, holding onto his jacket tight as he hums.

“Are you okay.” When you just nod, he pulls back to look into your face. “I need to hear it from you, Y/N. Please… just humor me.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, Hoonie.” You breathe out with wide eyes.

Why does he look so scared?

He sighs with finality before he pulls you back to him, hugging you tight for the first time since he was forced to hold you at your wedding over 12 months ago.

“We will need more security.” He mumbles to you as he holds you tight. “Guards at every post. When we go out, when you’re out in the garden, everywhere. It’s clear they know your schedule so we need to throw them off your scent.” He is talking a mile a minute as he keeps you close to his chest, afraid you’d slip away. “As a precaution, I will have guards sweep the house for any bugs they could have planted. Tonight, we will sleep in the safe house. Is that okay with you, Y/N?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You whisper, your face buried in his shirt. You don’t want to leave his side as much as he doesn’t too - this being the most affection you’ve gotten from someone in 12 months.

“Fuck.” Jihoon didn’t account for the fact his safe house only had one king size bed. “You can take the bed, okay… I can take the couch.”

“Don’t be silly.” You hum, already dragging him to the bed. “We’re both adults here. I think we can handle sharing a bed. We used to in school, right Hoonie?”

“I mean yeah, but we weren’t married then.”

“We’re only married on paper. Why are you being so iffy?” You laugh, wincing as your smile hurts your bruising cheek. Without thinking, he reaches out to cup your face worriedly, examining the bruise before rushing out to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a small ice pack to press to your cheek.

“I’d feel more comfortable if you were close, Hoon. Please.” You ask quieter now as he rocks awkwardly on his heels.

“Only until you’re asleep.” He bargains, and you nod quickly.

“Deal.”

After an awkward intermission of you both getting ready to share the bed for the first time since your wedding, you’re finally drifting off, curled up beside your husband as he sits up against the bed head, stiff as a board in sweatpants and a large jumper. Jihoon lays on top of the blankets so he can make an easy get away when you fall into a deep sleep.

He’s about to up and leave as your breathing evens out, thinking you’re asleep when he feels you shift. You scoot closer, hand finding his as your head nestles comfortably against his shoulder. You visibly relax at his warmth, your shaky hands slowing to a stop as you essentially glue yourself to his side. He tenses up, looking down at you with wide eyes as you finally fall asleep. He frowns deeply at the sight of your bruise showing before aggressively sighing to himself and wrapping his free arm around you to hold you against his chest. He is unable to resist your cuteness. That, and he wants to protect you, of course.

Jihoon refuses to sleep a wink in case someone tries to break in, but after hour four of him stroking your arm delicately with his cheek resting on top of your forehead, he feels himself drifting off.

When he wakes up, he sees you’re still cuddled up to him, but almost jumps out of his skin when he sees Soonyoung standing at the foot of the bed with a knowing smirk on his face.

“It took you long enough to treat your wife like she is your wife.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jihoon hisses out as quietly as possible to not wake you, his cheeks bright red. “If she wakes up, I’ll have your head.”

“I’m sure you will.” He winks.

“Kwon Soonyoung I swear to god if my wife wasn’t sleeping against me right now, you’d be six feet under.”

“Mhm~” he sing songs, stepping out the bedroom door.

“If you tell anyone, you’re dead.”

ljh taglist

@breakfastburritosattiffanys @mar-627 @milopenne @lanatheawesome @sunnynapp @jaeminsbuckethat @opheliaas-stuff @hotricewoozi@lavayeon @seventeenthingsblr @zaggprincess2 @markleehee @kwanniesboo @beardedartgamingbakery @iarayara

permanent taglist

@misshale21 @etaerealboy @kawennote09 @im-gemmy @devinkelsey19 @woozieeeee @loveless-lie @lixiel0ver @keymins @nen-nyy @i-dont-give-a-fok @miriamxsworld @jojowantstocry @roe-sinning @sun-daddy-yoriichi @coveyland @side-angel @rinalouu @flwerrchild @apobangpowrld @ldysmfrst @adeptiixiao @lisaaaaamanobannn @jovialpartyneckoaf @sarahisupset

[imtryingbuck]

Divorce Came With A Price

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: it’s been 6 months since he last saw you.

Word count: 1295

Warnings: Angst, I’m sorry. Death, cancer, suicide – please don’t read if the warnings upset you.

A/N: my mum cried when she read this.

Masterlist

Part 1

It’s been 6 months since Bucky last saw you, he’s hated it. He misses you. He misses your beautiful face, the way your smile makes his heart tingle. Misses the way your eyes shines brightly when you’re talking about your hobbies and interests. Misses the feel of your soft skin under his calloused hands. He just misses the love of his life, his other half - his sweet perfect wife. 

He remembers how your smile dropped as he tells you he wanted a divorce. Remembers the heartbreakingly look in your eyes as he told he’d been having an affair. That one look has haunted his dreams, his every waking moment. He can still feel the acid in his throat as he wills himself to nod as you ask that one question. Nothing more nothing less. You just wanted that one question to be answered and he couldn’t even look at you let alone answer verbally. He didn’t even know you left the house until the divorce hearing; he watched you walk away with Matt and Foggy wishing he could say something but nothing comes out. He watched as your feet falter when you see Carly. He knows exactly what you’re thinking.

But It’s over now.

It’s over now and he can get you back.

It’s over now and he’s hoping and praying that you’ll understand and forgive him.

It’s over now and he’s going to move heaven and earth to have his love back in his arms.

He finds out you’ve been staying with Matt since he broke both of your hearts. How does he do this? How does he knock on the door hoping that neither one of you punches him in the face (not that he doesn’t deserve it) he just hopes you’ll listen to him.

Bucky walks into the florist to get the biggest bouquet of your favourite flowers he can get. 

The skies start to turn dark even with the sun shining brightly, if he didn’t know any better he’d think it was forewarning for what’s to come.

Knocking on the wooden door it’s Matt that greats him. “What? What are you doing here” if Bucky wasn’t a super soldier he’d be scared with the tone in Matts voice.

“I-um I need to see Y-Y/N. Please”

“She’s not here. She’s not here anymore” Bucky can’t understand why Matt sounds broken.

“Well um where does she live now?” He’s trying not to stumble off his words.

“No James you don’t understand” Matt looks up towards the ceiling then continues but doesn’t get the chance.

“What do you mean I don’t understand? Matt look I know you hate me for what I did to Y/N but I had a reason, I just need to see her to explain it to her. Please Matt just tell me where she lives”. He begging and pleading and it’s clear as day in the way his voice wavers.

Matt speaks in a fast manner “Get inside before Ms Jenson comes out and complains” 

The apartments a mess, there’s takeaway boxes laying around, the sinks full of pots and there’s trash overflowing in the bin. The apartment looks nothing like it did 8 months prior when Y/N and himself went round for a double date with Matt and some woman he can’t remember the name of. Matt sits down and lazily waves his arm round for Bucky to sit to.

“Matt wher-“ he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“James she’s gone, she’s dead.” The air is cut off. The room is spinning. His world has ended. He doesn’t know what to do or say so he stares blankly at Matt waiting for the punchline of a joke that isn’t even remotely funny. Matt understands he needs to say more so he does. “That day you told her you wanted a divorce to be with your side piece she’d been at the hospital for her results. It was cancer. Terminal. She’d been told she had about 6 months to a year left. Her insurance didn’t cover her medical expenses so she stopped treatment, I told her I would pay but you know what she’s like-was like. 3 weeks ago she made me go out on a date with Karen she said she’d be fine and made me promise I’d have a good time. I got home around 11 and went to bed. The next morning, I couldn’t hear her walking around, so I went into her room, she um she’d taken pills, enough to end her life. It was too late to do anything, they said she’d been gone for 18 hours. Id only been gone for an hour” tears stream down both of the men’s faces. Matt struggles to continues “she begged me not to say anything to you, she didn’t want to get in the way of your relationship. She thought if you knew you’d change your mind and not divorce her just because she was dying. Y/N begged me James so I couldn’t I couldn’t do that to her-“ Bucky cuts him off. 

“I didn’t have an affair. I swear. Hydra was after me again and I had to divorce Y/N so she wouldn’t get hurt. I told her I had an affair so she would divorce me, I knew cheating was a deal breaker so I lied. I fucking lied and she’s dead. I lied and she’s not even going to know the truth.” He tries so hard to continue but can’t his airway is closing up. He passes out.

10 years have been and gone, the pain of losing the only person he has ever loved didn’t stop not that he wants it to. Bucky wants to remember the pain. 

In the 10 years that have passed he’s visits your grave every Friday, wedding anniversary, the date you two got together, the date he proposed, your birthday and on Christmas. After the fifth year Steve told him he needed to move on, and well long story short they had a fight and Bucky cried saying he couldn’t move on. In the end everyone around him understood that he would never move on from the love of his life. He sits there no matter the weather and talks to you for hours. He told you Matt and Karen were having a baby girl, then told you they named her after you. Told you all about his cat Alpine. After every visit without fail or another thought he tells you he loves you and can’t wait to see you again.

It’s been 10 years 5 months 12 days since you passed away and Bucky’s on his way to see you.

He’s on a mission that’s gone horribly wrong he’s been shot too many times. He’s so tired and Steve’s trying to get him to stay awake but it’s no use.

“Stevie p-please stop. I w-wan-t to be w-ith my Y-Y/N I need to be with h-er” Even though Bucky gasps for breaths his voice is strong enough to let Steve and the team know that this is what he wants. Steve gives him a slow nod with tears sliding down his cheeks, he clasps hands with his best friend and keeps locked tight long after Bucky takes his last breath.

He leaves the world with a smile on his face.

You stand there waiting for him and as soon as you lock eyes with him you’re running. Jumping into his arms and before he can say anything you kiss him. Hard. After you separate you tell him you know the truth. You heard him every time he would visit your grave. You tell each other how much you love one another. You take his hand and lead him into your new life.

Tags: @learisa @bruher @pattiemac1 @kentokaze @almosttoopizza @yvessaintmuerte

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[mysticheathenn]

What Would Make You Happy?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about what will make you happy in your life right now with your current energy.

Remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

Patreon Link

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Pile l:

What Would Make You Happy? Tarot: 6 of Wands (reversed), 10 of Swords, The Hanged Man, King of Wands, 8 of Wands, 7 of Cups (reversed)

Two words: Life Purpose & Rapid Movement. You want life to get to the good part pile l. Some of you could be struggling with your circumstances and feel that you don't have any other options in life because you either lack money, a support system, or you just can't see anything past your limiting belief system not knowing that the world is your oyster. You want life to literally stand at the side of the road like a cartoon character holding up signs of what path, direction, or what should happen next so you can help progress and bring in more of what you want in your life because you are tired of being in the same place. You are tired of feeling defeated like nothing you do is helping your situation. I Need a Hero (Shrek 2 Version) is playing in my head. Overall you just want to begin living your life in your purpose if not purpose you want to feel as if you are meant something on this earth like you aren't just here taking up space. You want to live a passionate and fulfilling life where you don't feel drained, anxious, unstable, or limited in the things you want to do, and even to some you want to be of service to those around you/community.

Extra Messages: Moonology Manifestation Oracle Deck Oracle: Step into Your Power & Work Through Your Feelings

"Achieving anything is nearly always part inspiration and part hard work. Believe that you can create whatever you want. Be You! Take action and be smart but also bold."

Some of you just need to ask for help. Your guides have been trying to communicate with you but you either are a) passing everything off as a coincidence or not believing that the path being shown to you is for you because you lack confidence or b) You need to be more grounded and meditate, do some yoga, journaling, whatever it is that you do to ask your guides, ancestors, the universe for help. That may even look like prayer for some of you.

Pile ll

What Would Make You Happy? Tarot: Queen of Wands (reversed), Ace of Cups (Upright), 7 of Cups / 4 of Swords / 5 of Wands (All reversed)

One Word: Fulfillment. You may have been drawn to pile l, pile ll. A Boondocks quote came to me "Huey: Grandad, what do you do when you can't do nothing and there's nothing you can do. Grandad: You do what you can. " Like pile l you are tired of life trying to knock you down every chance you get but for a lot of you, this is more of a mental thing than life doing anything. Most of you may feel that you aren't good enough, there is someone better than you, believing in imposter syndrome, or even anxiety. Not knowing that all you need is a change in your mental health. Stop believing in the voices in your head, the nay-sayers that told you once 10 years ago you would never amount to anything or even the results you see from lack of clients or progress. You are your own enemy, only you can put a stop to your madness and begin believing that you can achieve greatness and the fulfillment you want out of your life. Your thoughts reflect your reality. If you feel you aren't good enough...why should others believe you are too? If you believe your art, craft, or services are crap...life is going to prove to you with no sales, clients, etc because you believe it is true.

Extra Messages: Moonology Manifestation Oracle Deck Oracle: Open to Change, Take A Reality Check, Lighten Up

Be open to having a reality shift pile ll. What is the worst thing that could happen if you believe in yourself? Seriously what bad thing could happen if you decided to be your own cheerleader and believe you are worth more than what yourself and others have to say to you? Bet on it - High School Musical (Song link: http://tinyurl.com/262djrbw ) is playing in my head.

"I'm not gonna stop, that's who I am I'll give it all I got, that is my plan Will I find what I lost? You know you can Bet on it, bet on it, bet on it, bet on it (Bet on me) I wanna make it right, that is the way To turn my life around, today is the day Am I the type of guy who means what I say? Bet on it, bet on it, bet on it, bet on it

The answers are all inside of me All I gotta do is believe"

Pile lll:

What Would Make You Happy? Tarot: 9 of Swords (Upright), Knight of Swords, 7 of Cups/ 7 of Pentacles / 6 of Cups (All reversed)

One Word: Self Care. You have a lot of mental and emotional turmoil going on inside of you, pile lll. For most of you, this is limiting beliefs, anxiety, and depression. But overall I am sensing that you just want to feel not only appreciated but to not feel the burdens of everyday life on your shoulders. You may be the type who takes on way too much even the struggles and worries of other people. You need to release those worries and struggles. They are not yours to carry, if people around you don't care enough to do something for themselves why should you?? That is not yours to worry about. I know you are probably thinking well someone has to care...yea..but that person can't be you pile ll. You are literally tearing yourself down for other people just for them to what....get back with their toxic ex, overspend their budget asking you for money, etc etc..cut the cord. You need to worry and focus on yourself. You need you more, now than ever. Pamper yourself pile lll. Do a DIY spa day if you are short on money. Make a face mask or buy those $5 ones at the store, soak your feet in some Epsom salt, and play your favorite childhood movies. Relax. Maybe even get a massage if you have that kind of money. If you can turn off your phone for a weekend and focus on nobody but yourself. Ask yourself what do you want to do?

Extra Messages: Tarot: Judgement, Ace of Wands / The Chariot (reversed), Strength, 4 of Cups.

(Short Message for a very few) What you want is yours for the taking. All you have to do is ask....but you need to be sure what you want you have the strength for. Whatever this is for you pile lll just know that you are the only person in the driver's seat. It's time for you to decide what you want, where you want it, and when can you start. It's up to you to answer the call.

I hope this reading was insightful and gave some clarity or even guidance. Thanks to everyone who likes, reblogs my posts, and joins my Patreon. I always appreciate you <3.

Until Next time stay blessed and be safe.

The next pick acord reading will be for my Cosmic Stargazers on Patreon...not sure when it will be up but most likely before Monday or Tuesday.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: hurt me, it’s okay || part two: here

summary_ Spiderman and Spiderwoman from earth 1610 met by casuality, she goes back to the Spider Society, reunites with Miguel and while he debates telling her she’s in his canon events, Spiderwoman makes a decision, to help Miles Morales.

warnings_ age gap! (8/9 years), angst, not a lot of scenes with Miguel, slight canon divergence

note_ listen to my playlist for Miguel!!!!! (Proofreading this later)

♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇🕸️𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇🕸️𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇🕸️𓆸

Time healed everything for sure. A prolonged smile rests on your face as you walk through the streets of Brooklyn, New York. Summer is around the corner and you are visiting the state with your parents. But you decided to take an afternoon walk after dinner with them. As the weeks progressed, soon they turned into two months. Deep inside your heart, you resented most of your past. But you did your best to let go of the pain, to forgive Gwen, Jess, Peter, and Miguel.

Some nights you went to sleep with him in your thoughts, wondering if he’d also be thinking of you. Perhaps he cared for you and he sent you home for your security, but… he was so cold, so indifferent towards you. Which only confirmed… it was only you who felt everything.

Either way, many things had happened. In two months, you have changed a lot. You grew quieter, reserved, and slightly insecure. The spiderwoman suit was left behind at the back of your closet. But something told you to bring it to your New York trip.

One thing’s sticking to you, of what Miguel said to you once, about never being ready to assume the role of being a spider. You immediately learned it after losing your best friend.

You got scared, hands covered in blood, sirens quickly approaching the scene, your friend whispering to you to go, that it was going to be fine, to keep going. But the trauma only made you grow mixed feelings towards your abilities.

Till the day you realized you were capable of opening portals and traveling across dimensions without a gizmo. Like a ghost moving through dimensions, you started doing your job. Remembering your best friend’s words; you kept going.

The temporary barrier you made for your earth was still holding you back, secure from your past, working on the present. Earth - 1610 already had a Spiderman, so their Spiderwoman would serve outside. As soon as the barrier was broken, you knew it was a matter of time before they came for you. And you knew well, if they came, it was because things were going bad.

But for now, you are having a break.

Your smooth steps are calmed and you are feeling relaxed. The city is extremely crowded and you realize how different it is from California. But your gaze lands on something that reminds you of home; a pastelería. As you read they have conchas, elotitos, mantecado, and more, the smell invades you.

Your smile grows bigger as you step closer, and before you can even try to open the door of the place, someone opens it from inside.

“fuck…” you grunt as you feel the impact of the door in your nose.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, I’m in a rush and…” When you look up, you see a kid well, a teenager, who’s taller than you.

Your spider senses connect with him.

“You’re like me…” says the boy.

“You’re the Spiderwoman from California. I thought it wasn’t real!” you frown at him, then slowly nodding.

“And you’re Spiderman too… How old are you?” He’s wearing an oversized jacket, and he holds two boxes of cake.

“I’m fifteen. And you? How long have you been Spiderwoman? Why aren’t you surprised? Why there have been three Spider-people on this earth?”

“Woah, boy, those are too many questions in one sentence. I’m y/n, I was bitten three months ago and I’m twenty, by the way” he nods, looking at the boxes in his hand before looking at you again.

“I’m Miles, and I’m running late. Come with me, please”

“I’m a stranger”

“Oh please, you don’t meet spider people every day,” Miles says and you sigh, remembering you used to be part of the Spider Society.

“I can’t just follow you. Besides, Where?”

“My home. It’s my father’s celebration, he’s getting promoted, he’s a cop” You nod, but still unsure, feeling your nose throb and knowing you have to go back to the hotel with your parents.

“That’s nice, but they don’t know me, neither you do.”

“Please, I bet you don’t have anyone else to talk to about this?” you used to have many people. You fell in love with one of those. But now, Miles is right, so you nod, agreeing with him.

“Just say that you used to study with me at Visions Academy” You nod, feeling that it wasn’t a good idea to go with the kid, but it felt correct.

“Fine, but I won’t stay long enough” the boy smiles, feeling very happy and confused about meeting you.

So to his home, it’s rushed. Miles tells you that he fought a very strange villain that morning, a man who had spots all over his body. He also shares that he’s having some trouble with keeping his secret from his parents.

By the time you arrive at his apartment complex, you realize maybe it wasn’t that much of a bad idea to follow him.

…

For a long time, you had stopped caring about being alone in random places. But Miles had a tough argument with his parents and there you were left in the party where you were the stranger. You ignore the curious looks of the attendants, eyes locked on the two tables full of Puerto Rican food. You grab two alcapurias and after the taste of one, you realize they are to die for. The party is very pretty despite the awkward moment where Miles bolted away after the fight.

“Hi!… Miles said he brought an old friend from school, you are…” Startled, when you turn, you encounter Rio, the mother of Miles.

“I’m y/n” You are beyond embarrassed, with your mouth full of food and sweaty hands.

“Right, y/n. ¿Y hablas español?” Rio asks, her arched brow lets you know she’s judging, but thankfully you will make her happy.

“Así es, mi familia y yo somos chicanos, de California. And I’m so sorry for intruding like this, Mrs. Morales” The woman’s smile grows and you swear she wants to hug you.

“Oh, that’s amazing. You are unlike that other friend of Miles… Wanda. You can call me Rio” You nod, accepting her hand to shake. But all you can think about is that name… you have heard it before.

“And don’t get me wrong, Miles said you were older and you look responsible… but… please be honest with me” You leave the now empty plate on the table because the woman seemed to be serious.

“Is Miles in trouble? Because… he’s been very… difficult. He skips classes, lies to us, and-“

“He’s a good boy. I promise, he loves his parents and wants to make them happy. But he’s under pressure. I promise, Rio, he’s a good boy” Despite meeting Miles two hours ago, you know he’s good. You know he wants to do well, and you know what it is to be hiding your spider persona from your loved ones.

Rio nods, offering a little smile.

“I’m really glad to meet you. I’ll let you go now, pero que sepas que eres bienvenida siempre que quieras” you smile, feeling how good of a mother Rio was. So you nod, waving at her as she walks away.

“Gracias, Rio. Y la comida está riquísima!” she giggles, waving back at you, finally disappearing from your view.

Soon you turned to the food again, now it was time for dessert, which made you get lost and only pay attention to the food. When you look up, you see that the sky has started changing. It was getting very late, so you let your parents know you were still shopping and soon, that’s when you realized you hadn’t seen Miles since he fought with his parents.

You start looking around, the music is still playing and the party is alive. You start moving around when you bump into someone. The person holds you steady with very little pressure, preventing you from tripping or so.

“Woah, sorry… wait, y/n?” A female voice asks, when you raise your gaze, you are shocked. There is Gwen.

“Do you know each other?” Miles asks behind Gwen.

You panic, you panic. So you do what you best do, to bolt.

“I need to go, you know my number, Miles. You can call me whenever you want”

“Wait, y/n…” Miles calls you but you are already gone.

Gwen reveals that you worked in the Spider Society. Miles was a bit angered with you for never reaching out to him. But Gwen also shared that you had been Spiderwoman for less than three months, that you had entered the society and she as your friend, failed you as the others too. And lastly, you had a tough story with Miguel O’Hara.

Miles understood you. And he followed Gwen after she left.

…

You are going back to your hotel with your parents when a hand pulls you to an alley, it is Gwen again. Now with her suit on.

“Oh my god, y/n, it’s you!” She takes off her mask and runs to hug you. And as much as you want to push her away, you hug her back.

“I missed you so much. We all miss you” She looks very excited to see you. And you want to say that you missed her too, but you’re proud and stubborn, so you don’t.

“Why are you here, Gwen? And why do you know Miles?”

“A lot has happened. I promise to tell you everything, but please come back. For now, there’s this anomaly that I need to catch” he shows you her gizmo, and the little hologram of a white creature with dark spots appears.

“That’s the villain Miles mentioned earlier”

“And how do you know him? You said you didn’t know who was the other spider man from this earth” you sigh.

“I met him like three hours ago”

“You need to come back. Miguel was checking daily to see if the temporary barrier you made was broken. You really really need to talk with him” Rolling your eyes, you hear her. But deep inside, you are dying to know everything, every little detail.

“Gwen, I won’t lie that it didn’t hurt me what happened. I felt betrayed. But now I’m happy with the life I have. Despite everything… I’m trying to move on” You don’t have the heart to tell her that you resent everyone a little, that you don’t need a gizmo to travel and save people from other dimensions. And you won’t tell her that as much as Miss Miguel, you won’t give him the satisfaction to go back.

“I’m begging you, y/n. We need you…” suddenly, the tiny hologram of Lyla appears and starts moving around you; smiling.

“OH MY GOD, Y/N!!!, YOU’RE HERE, MIGUEL IS GOING TO FREAK OUT… but don’t tell him I revealed that” You find the humor in her words, so you giggle.

“Hello, Lyla. I love your new glasses” she winks.

“Gee thanks, I also love your new hair”

“Yeah, it’s longer.” Gwen agrees with the AI.

“You’re coming with us, right?” Lyla asks, making you sigh.

“I will accompany Gwen to capture the anomaly, but I won’t go back to the HQ if that’s what you two are inquiring” you calmly say, walking beside a trash can to take your suit, perfectly folded inside your purse.

“You have to be kidding. Besides what happened with Miguel, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Penny, Noir, Jess and everyone misses you a great deal. You were a very popular spider, you know?”

“Yeah, Miguel is my problem. I deeply resent him and I’m not afraid to admit it” you reveal.

“I swear he wants you back. He has a lot to say to you, Would you come back just to… At least listen to him?… we have a life or death situation growing as the Spot is out there free” Lyla fires back. You shrug, not thinking clearly before slowly nodding.

There are so many things to think about, but you have already nodded.

“I-… I’ll go, but you have to let him know. I don’t want an awkward reunion” Gwen nods excitedly, and Lyla also nods.

“Great, I’ll tell him. Now go, Miguel won’t be happy with you Gwen” and then, the AI disappears.

Oh man, what have you agreed to?

…

To say you had the eyes of the whole world on you, was exaggerated. But at least the eyes of every single spider at the HQ, we’re looking at you.

Some stare, some greet you with enthusiasm and others offer confused smiles. When you arrived in Mumbattan with Gwen, Pavitr gave you a huge hug and didn’t let you go for many seconds. And when Hobie appeared, as the man of few words you knew he was, still shocked you with a long pat on the shoulder and admittedly said he missed you.

“This is so cool, I can’t believe you quit” Miles whispered to you. The teenager also appeared on Pavitr’s earth and you were highly impressed by his abilities.

“They kicked me out” you revealed, Miles looked surprised and Jess heard you, but you avoided her gaze. Back from Mumbattan to the HQ, Jessica rarely spoke to you. Instead, you spent the time with Miles, who had so many questions; and you wished you could just blurt out everything, but you wouldn’t.

“You don’t know the whole story, y/n,” Gwen said, joining the conversation.

“I think I pretty much know most of it. That’s enough…” while you didn’t pretend to sound so cold, you did.

“Please have patience with Miguel. But listen to him…” Jess also adds, you only eye her, but you don’t say anything else, you just nod.

It was at that moment that you realized how freaked out you were to meet Miguel again.

“For sure, Jessica. Just like he listened to me the last time I saw him” the woman looks down with remorse, but you don’t see it because you turn back at the way that Gwen leads.

Everyone can sense that while you are being respectful, there was bad blood running through every corner and step you were taking.

Miles thought you were very bright and sweet, but once you entered the portal and stepped inside the HQ of the Spider Society, your demeanor changed, showing you bitterly defensive and cold.

“Here we are…” Gwen says pushing a button that opens what you remember being Miguel’s office.

“I need a minute…” you say staying behind everyone. Only Hobie stayed beside you.

“You got this, Luv,” he says. And you love that words were not needed with Hobie, he completely understood you.

“If anything happens, you know where to stand, Hobie” he nods after entering the dark room.

You sigh, taking long breaths, mentally preparing for what is coming. It could end well, or badly.

And you had a bad feeling about it.

…

The bad feeling got worse.

Miguel couldn’t stop looking at you. He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face when he saw entering his office along with Peter B. Parker.

You can’t stand the man trying to shamelessly blame a fifteen-year-old. At some point, you know, it’s enough.

“Even if Miles hadn’t been bitten, earth-42 would have remained without a Spiderman. So don’t you dare to keep blaming him” Miguel turns, and you can see and feel he’s getting mad, but you don’t care. You couldn’t care less.

Maybe your heart cared, but your head was winning.

“It’s more complex than that, y/n.”

“Yeah, it worked out when you sent me home without telling me why” Lyla pops out around the shoulder of Miguel and looks worriedly between you and the broad man.

“Woah, Miguel, maybe you should tell her about that…” you frown, looking at the AI.

“Tell me what?”

“It doesn’t matter now, Lyla.” Your head wonders what could it mean, but you brush it away, so you turn again towards Miguel, looking at him with fury.

“I don’t need your stupid gizmo, I don’t need the Spider Society and I don’t need you, Miguel” you spit with anger and confidence, but everyone knows you actually need your friends, and that you are ignoring the feelings you had for Miguel.

“And look where your recklessness brought us. You are a threat and Miles is an anomaly”

“Most of the spiders here were recruited at their lowest points in life. You have manipulated everyone, admit it. You are forcing a narrative to achieve your assets.” His eyes shine bright with crimson anger. He wants to scream at you so bad, you know.

“Calm down, y/n… please” Jess tries to soothe the rising tension but it doesn’t work. When you look around, there’s already a lot of people, all ready to jump and attack in case of need.

“I will never stay quiet again. And to be a mother, Jess, neither you should” She lowers her gaze. You feel a little shame for her, as a grown woman who can’t seem to be able not listen to Miguel for once.

“You need to comprehend this isn’t entirely about you. This is about Miles and your constant travels causing a major disturbance in canon” Jess explains coldly, which makes you even more enraged.

“Yes, and we can save everyone. You don’t know how I’ve seen canon without the gizmo and the premonitory models” Your heart beats faster than ever, and you swear you are passing the edge of stability before collapsing into a panic attack.

“Not always we can save everyone” Peter B. Parker reminds you.

“Peter, please. Please understand me, out of everyone… I know you understand me” the man sighs, and you stare at her daughter. Peter knows it, he looks down at Mayday and knows you have a point.

“The Spot is going to destroy everything…” you almost whisper to one of your old closest friends. You have hope, that you’ll remind him. He looks at you deeply, before turning away, breaking your heart a little.

“I’m sorry, y/n. But you need to stay here” You feel Miguel’s giant hand on your shoulder, so you quickly turn, moving away, standing beside Miles. Miguel shows you he has no other intentions with his hands, he wants oh so desperately to make you understand his point, but he is blind to see or hear yours.

So in the blink of an eye, Miles and you have an obstructed view, reddish and glitchy. Both realize you have been caged, and stare at each other in panic.

Gwen and Peter jump to argue with Miguel, questioning why he had to do that.

“It’s okay, it’s okay” you whisper to Miles, who starts panicking. Hobie gets closer and you elbow Miles to see what he wants.

“Oi oi, Peter Pan. Use the hands…” you turn away, encountering Miguel, who also stares back at you.

“I hate you…” you spit with anger towards him.

“I never wanted any of this to happen, but It’s the best for our canons, only you could potentially destroy The Spot” you frown.

“Ours?…” he stays silent.

“Yes. And I’m sorry, kid” he adds, walking away with Gwen and Peter still at him complaining for caging you and Miles.

“Stop calling me that”

Your head spins, and you hear Jess, Hobie, Gwen, and Miguel speaking at the same time. But Miles has a plan, he gives you a quick look and you get it.

Smart boy.

So you nod, giving him a reassuring smile.

The electricity that envelopes his hands soon invades and infects the cage. The adrenaline keeps building up in your system. Your eyes slowly start to glow as you prepare for the impact.

Boom. The silence is scary.

Miles looks at you when you both are free from the cage.

It’ll be dangerous, very risky. But you got this

You look at how everyone starts moving after the impact. Your eyes lock with Miguel’s, and he knows you will follow the kid. And he can’t lose you again.

Don’t stop running, Miles” you tell him, he nods.

“MILES!, Y/N!” Miguel yells as soon he sees you bolt with the kid.

Time passes so fast, you don’t have time to breathe. You can’t hear what Gwen, Jess, Peter, and other spiders are trying to tell you to stay put.

“You need to hear, y/n” Peter yells. But you ignore them, and you keep running. Miles took his own route, and you realized many spiders were going after you and the teenager, you knew Miles had a plan.

“Y/n, please!” Gwen begs you, watching how you shoot a web to swing away.

As you slide through the buildings with your webs, your senses alert you. When you look back, as the wind messes with your hair and a few ones stick in your forehead, you get startled. Miguel is coming for you.

He looks incredibly intimidating, his pace is ridiculously faster than anything you have seen before.

“Shoot” you mumble before returning to keep running away. You spot Miles again, which makes you quicken your pace.

You can feel Miguel behind you, only increasing your heartbeats. There are so many things you wish you could say. So many things he could’ve done, but you remember he never loved you.

Jess can get by your side, she throws a sharp kick that you dodge successfully. But she doesn’t give up, she punches your ribs and you can tell she didn’t mean to actually hurt you, but she’s doing everything to stop you from running. Thankfully Miles gets in the way and is more than enough to give you the advantage.

Once you realize you are in an imaginary railroad that keeps going up and up, you fear the height, but seeing all the people you once considered family coming at you as if you were the biggest atomic danger, makes you want to go back in time. Being a Spiderwoman was a responsibility that you wished it never came.

“You have to stop!” You feel a hand grabbing you by the arm, and the next thing is your body getting stamped against the surface. You open your eyes to see Miguel, his mask disappears and you are only able to get a big breath under the strong gaze of his mahogany eyes.

“You won’t try to manhandle my life. You already did it once” you spit, trying to squirm away from his giant hand holding you still.

“There’s a reason…” he yells with desperation since Miles could break his webs at any second.

“WHAT IS IT THEN?” You yell back. You are tired of their secrets and claiming it was for the best but avoiding sharing the truth.

“Y/n…” Miguel is pleading, he is fighting so hard the urge to explode in anger. Just for you, he needs to keep it together.

“JUST SAY IT, MIGUEL!”

“I JUST CAN’T LOSE YOU AGAIN!” His forehead brushes yours and it weakens your heart. The physical contact is sudden but feels so right. You sigh, feeling his warmth.

You know what is right and what is wrong. You eye Miles who looks at you with fear. You will not deny you still love the man in front of you. So you embrace your free hand with his cheek. He melts into your touch, savoring the moment you lean forward, whispering into his ear.

“My feelings for you haven’t changed. But you never got me back, Miguel” you reveal, caging him with your most potent webs, putting on your mask, breaking free from his touch.

Miles nods at you, to which you only reply with a little smile. You will help him, you can feel it’s what is correct. And under a Quick Look at Miguel who seems shocked by your actions, you let yourself fall.

The prolonged free fall feels like you can breathe again, you have decided, not them. Perhaps you did not know what was that thing that everyone kept debating whether to tell you or not.

The Spiderman of 2099 doesn’t think twice. He immediately goes after you and the kid who almost deactivated his suit. Miguel is confident that he’s doing things right. He can’t risk losing more people. And he can’t risk a possible future with you. It sounded selfish, but Miguel swore to never break canon again, and it was demanding him to be happy with a partner, he couldn’t say no. Even if he was forcing it the wrong way.

Perhaps your heart still lounged to beat in the signature tune with Miguel. But one thing was for sure, you would help Miles. Even when you realized he was sent to earth-42, that you were back in New York of 1610, you would keep the promise of helping him. The Spot was about to danger everyone, but you had to try. You remember all the broken promises, the deceptions and you realize you have to keep going. Letting behind what your heart desired. Miles had to forge his own destiny, and in that way, you would forge yours too.

_____________________________

I’m so excited for my next Miguel writing. I’m mixing both option I gave in my last poll and it’s gonna be bff to lovers.

Two years ago I had a crash (I still can’t drive), last year I got The Eras Tour concert tickets and today I was notified that my associates degree has been posted.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

On My Knees

Love Bites, Chapter 8 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Word Count: 2,360 words

Warnings: return to chp. 1 timeline, in-game timeline, reader becomes a vampire spawn, brief flashback, captured by Mindflayers, Astarion is vulnerable but also honest, confessions, Sebastian's back

Note: My apologies, I'm a day late! I had some technical difficulties yesterday but now we're back and almost done with Love Bites.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

“You screamed well into the morning. None of us slept. My siblings, they…offered me their blankets. It was the first time they had been kind to me in…a very long time.” Astarion fidgeted with his fingers, his voice thick with tears as he wrapped up his story. The spawn in the cage stayed quiet, listening intently, some wearing wicked, wicked smiles. “And we planned. They helped me sneak out when night fell so I could— So I could go to my grave.” He looked up at you for the first time in a very long time. “He buried you there. In my coffin.”

Bits and pieces of your memory came back to you. “Yes… Yes, he did, I remember— I remember so much. It was… Dark. Cold. Dirty. But I smelled…you.”

~❊~

The air was musty. It reeked of death, more strongly than the sickhouses during a plague. Your eyes burned when you opened them. You tried not to breathe, then realized after several moments of holding your breath, you didn’t need to. There was no pain in your lungs. You weren’t lightheaded from trying to hold your breath.

“What?” you whispered to yourself. Your lips tugged around two identical objects in your mouth, teeth that you knew had not been there all your life. 

Your eyes adjusted to the space slowly, but you knew from just a few experimental wiggles the place was cramped and tiny. It didn’t take long for you to recognize the smell of your lover or the appearance of your surroundings, lined in soft red velvet; you’d help pick the coffin yourself, all those years ago. It was Astarion’s.

You whimpered, the panic starting to set in. “Asty? Where are you?” You could smell him, all around you, even under the terrible scent of earth and bodily fluids and death and embalming fluids. 

You had no heartbeat, but you were sure you could hear it pounding in your ears, screaming, Out, out, out! You began scratching at the coffin lid and realized there were already claw marks there, ripping the velvet and gouging the wood beneath. You were not the first to have crawled out of here.

If Asty could do it, so can I, you told yourself and began kicking the lid. It didn’t take long for it to crack open, the latch already broken. You wedged it open slowly, clawing handfuls of dirt out of the way until you could make way for yourself. 

It was slow going, digging your way out of grave dirt. It was fresh and not packed down yet, which was your only advantage to get yourself out. It clung to you like summer heat, worming its way into your clothes, your ears, your mouth. You worked through the panic that built up inside you, getting worse the longer it took.

After what felt like hours—what probably was hours—your hand broke the surface. You nearly cried with relief and forced the hole to widen until you could pull yourself out, grappling with more loose dirt and very little for leverage. 

Your head came up through the hole and you took your first deep breath in ages, only to start coughing. You hacked up blood and dirt, your entire body heaving with the effort. You trembled more terribly than you had on the day you’d learned Astarion had died as you finally freed yourself from the grave. You turned to face the stone as you dry-heaved. Sure enough, Astarion’s name was carved into it. 

“You got out faster than he did,” a nasty voice said and you surged your feet, whirling and reaching for your knife. It wasn’t there. You stumbled forward, your body catching up to your exhaustion before your mind did. A black-haired elf stood before you and smiled sardonically. Cazador. “The only weapons you have now are in your mouth, dear child.”

Instinctively, you ran your tongue across your teeth and hissed as your new fangs sliced your tongue open. The tang of your own blood did nothing but make you aware of the pulsing, needy hunger curling in your gut. 

Memories came flooding back. Astarion, in your tavern, a vampire. Sleeping with him. Going back to Cazador with him. The pain of the bite that turned you. Attempting to run—being snatched up by Cazador and brought into the pit of the palace. Thousands upon thousands of spawn kept inside cages, jeering at you, watching you, giving you enough strength to try to fight back. Smiling defiantly at the vampire who promised you pain, even as you cried at the sound of Astarion’s sobs from so far above you. Darkness finally overtaking you as your body gave into the bite, the blood drained from your veins, your bones rearranging themselves, knitting together your new vampiric body.

“Get away from me,” you spat, stumbling away from him.

Cazador laughed. “Where will you go, little one? No one can save you now. Not now that you are this. You are mine.”

You heard a shout. Cazador stopped, turning to search for its origin. Another shout, this time your name, this time clearly Astarion’s voice.

“Do not meddle, boy,” Cazador warned, raising his voice in the direction of the shout.

A hand touched your shoulder. You looked, knowing you would see Astarion the moment you felt his touch. Cazador remained blissfully unaware that his spawn had already reached you. 

Astarion offered you his hand. You glanced back at your maker once, then slipped your hand into his. The two of you took off running. 

Cazador let out a shout, but neither of you heeded. You left the cemetery behind and began running through the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

“Where do we go?” you demanded, impressed by how much faster you were now, even without blood. 

“Anywhere,” Astarion said, glancing at you. “You wanted to run? Now we are. Just don’t stop until the city’s behind us.”

“How did you find me?” you asked.

He flashed you a fangy grin. “Dalyria. She helped me sneak past Godey.”

“She helped? Why?”

He shrugged. “She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”

The sky above you opened up. You both stopped short, staring up at the massive ship that had come through the rip in the world. 

“Come back here!” Cazador’s shout rang through the street. He was still some distance away, but he was gaining on you.

You tugged on Astarion’s arm. “Honey, we have to go.”

Astarion was staring at something just ahead of you. “What in the gods’ names is that?”

You turned and something with tentacles for a face grabbed your head. You screamed as, once again, the world went dark.

~❊~

The rest was a blank, until you woke up on the beach with Astarion leaning over you, but the rest of your companions had filled you in. After you’d blacked out, you’d been put in a pod and a tadpole was forced into your head. Some part of you had always been glad you’d had no memory of that—but if you had remembered it, would you have also remembered everything else?

You looked up at Astarion, who was nervously chewing his lower lip, his fang peeking out. You felt your own fang with your tongue. He did this to me.

You took a step backward, putting distance between him and yourself. You saw his heart break in the way his eyes began to water. 

“It was you? You brought me to Cazador? You’re why I’m like this?” You felt short of breath, your chest tight, your head spinning: the beginnings of a panic attack your body remembered from its time alive—which was much more recent than Astarion had been telling you.

“Darling, I had to,” he whispered. “You told me to. You begged me to bring you to him so I wouldn’t get hurt!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you hissed. “You didn’t have to tell the others, you could have fed them the same story you told me about keeping me safe from Cazador for two hundred years. But why me? Why did you lie to me about how I was turned?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. But there was more to it than that. He was afraid, afraid because he was vulnerable in front of too many people, afraid because you were slowly backing away from him. 

“I couldn’t tell you, darling, you wouldn’t have believed me—”

“No more lies, Astarion,” you snapped. “Tell me the truth! Why did you lie?”

His lower lip trembled. “Because I was scared, alright? I saw the fear on your face on the beach and it—it looked like the fear in your eyes when I brought you to Cazador. You were already afraid. Of me! I… I didn’t want to make it worse. I didn’t want you to hate me when you were all I had. I was—” His eyes dropped briefly to the floor. Then he looked back up at you, tears rolling down his cheeks. You knew they were real. “I was scared you’d stake me for what I did to you the first chance you got. Worse, I was scared you’d leave me.”

You studied his face. As you looked at him, your anger began to fade. Death scares him less than losing me. “Astarion…”

He dropped to his knees, clearly expecting more rage. He trembled as he kept explaining, “I had already been without you for long enough. I didn’t want to do it again, I was scared that you’d forget me the way I—the way I forgot you. I was selfish, darling, I was so selfish because I didn’t want to do what you had to do for two hundred years and remember and love and ache when it wasn’t returned. So I lied. And I lied well. I made up story after story and you believed them so much they were becoming your memories. Anything else was just a bad dream to you and I let you believe that! It was easier to dismiss your real memories as nightmares than confess what really happened. That’s why I did it. Because it was easy.” He sniffled and roughly wiped away his tears with his wrist. “You can hate me all you want, but I am going to be selfish even more and I am going to beg you to stay. Hate me for the next two hundred years but please, please don’t leave me.”

And Astarion remained kneeling on the ground, shaking, waiting for you to speak. No one—not the other spawn or your companions—dared speak or move.

Then you knelt in front of him and gently cupped his cheek in your hand, coaxing his head up. “Astarion… I don’t hate you, honey. I don’t. I…I understand. I’m not upset that you did what I asked you to do, I just…I wish you had told me the truth about it. I don’t like it, but I understand it. And I forgive you.”

The tension in the room shifted. Astarion stared at you with those wide, wet eyes of his, clearly caught off guard as much as, if not more than, your companions.

“Why?” he asked at last. “I let him turn you into a spawn! I let him make you the same abomination as me, as my siblings, as all these poor souls that had the misfortune of meeting me!”

You kissed the top of his head. “Meeting you was never misfortune,” you said to him. “Not in our lives. Not in your undeath. Not in mine.”

Astarion gripped your hand desperately. “Why?” he pleaded.

“Two hundred years are not easily shaken in six months,” you said softly, reminding him of a conversation you had already had about his instinctive need to seduce and manipulate you when he already had you. “I cannot blame you for any of your lies when I know why you have said them. You told me yourself, it’s instinctive. That you wanted protection. You couldn’t have known how I would have reacted if you told me the truth when I woke up, I’m not even sure of that. There was no promise that I would protect you then.” I squeezed his hand gently. “But I’m going to protect you now. I swear it.”

He shook his head, but he held your hand tightly as if he was still afraid of you leaving him, the bones in your fingers grinding from the pressure. “I’m… I’m not sure I’m worth protecting—”

“You are,” you said, cutting him off without a second thought. 

“Why protect me after what I did to you?”

Your heart broke. “Can’t you see? Oh, honey, it’s because I love you! I knew what I was getting myself into then, even if I didn’t remember it for so long. It’s not your fault I insisted, you even gave me several ways out.” You stood and pulled him up with you. “Come on, up you get. We’ve still got work to do, remember?”

Astarion dusted himself off as he got off the ground. He looked at you tenderly, his eyes soft. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

From the cage, Sebastian cleared his throat petulantly. The bubble that had kept your focus on Astarion popped. 

“Tender,” he drawled, “but foolish, trusting him again.”

“Speak for yourself,” you said, shrugging. “You’ll see, when we free you all.”

Astarion pulled a face. “Are you sure we can?”

You glanced back at Sebastian. “You said I fought back, right? And that was without a tadpole, when I was still a thrall.” You turned back to Astarion. “He can’t control either of us anymore. If anyone can kill him, it’s us.”

Slowly, Astarion nodded. “I… Yes. We can. Together.”

Sebastian drew closer to the cage’s bars. He held them as he murmured, “Maybe you will do it. Gods help us if you don’t, though.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you learned the gods don’t listen to the likes of us?”

“Boys,” you chided, before Sebastian could snap back. You glanced at your other companions. “Is everybody ready?” They nodded and, at last, Astarion nodded, too.

You offered him your hand. “Now, let’s go kill our maker, shall we?”

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

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[xf-cases-solved]

i am aware that this is likely not a new take at all, and i'm not like, claiming it as mine, but i never had the chance to have this opinion (or hear other ppl have this opinion) on a public forum before, so i just want to take this opportunity to say to another person, possibly for the first time with the exception of mb my mother, who is no longer here to agree with me, that "existence" came out when i was 8 years old, i watched it live, and literally the day i watched it i remember thinking to myself "why did they have a boy named william? they should have had a girl named samantha. OF COURSE they should have had a girl named samantha," like it felt so obvious to me

and tho i couldn't rly articulate it this clearly at the time, my little muddy 8 year old thought process was that the entire story of the xfiles starts with samantha, right? mulder has his beliefs bc samantha was taken; he says so in the very first episode. the whole reason he even thinks aliens are real to begin with is bc of samantha. the person he spent his whole life searching for was samantha. he MET SCULLY bc of samantha. samantha is the thread that ties the whole story together, so then how beautiful--how narratively perfect--would it have been to tie THEIR story--their love story (bc xfiles is, at the end of the day, a love story, fight me) up with a bow, where the beginning starts with samantha getting lost, and then ends with samantha there in their arms, finally found, just in a different iteration. (instead of naming the baby after mulder's dad who he doesn't even like? or scully's dad. or scully's brother. or mulder's middle name, which is after his father ik, but still, why are there so many fucking williams??)

like, imagine it. rly sit there and take a moment to imagine how the end scene in "existence" would have gone if mulder had said, "what are you going to name her," and scully had said, "samantha"

not only does it get the "ding ding ding, you're the dad!" point across, but how fucking Touched would mulder have been to have the woman he loves--the PERSON he loves--more than anything on earth honor the sister who took up so much of his soul for so long? who always will take up part of his soul, just in a healthier way. it would be scully saying, "we know she's gone from this world now, but she's not gone from our hearts" emphasis on OUR hearts, bc mulder's pain is scully's pain; mulder's quests are scully's quests. she never met her sister-in-law (they're married, fight me), and will never have the chance, but by naming their child after her, she would be saying, "i love her anyway. i love her because you love her, and because anyone you love deserves my love as well, bc we are intertwined at our core. our fundamental values, our suffering, our joy, it is felt in us both concurrently, bc i am your person, and you are mine, and together we made a whole other person who is a literal representation of our combined selves, and we are going to call her SAMANTHA, bc that little girl you watched get stolen from you however many decades ago has been the pillar that has kept us going as a team for the last eight years"

or maybe it would have been even simpler than that. maybe she would just be saying, "your sister is IMPORTANT, mulder, even in death, and her memory isn't held only by you. it is unrelenting, and preserved forever in our child"

i wanted that scene. i wanted to feel the heaviness of mulder's grief mixed with his elation and gratitude and love. i appreciate william for who he was in the scheme of things, but that moment in the bedroom, with their baby between them, shouldn't have been lessened for me bc they chose a name that made me pause and go "his dad was named william? oh yeah! forgot about that guy, it's been a few YEARS since we saw much of him, and what we did see of him wasn't like... awesome. but sure, name your baby that ig, if you must"

that scene should have hit so much harder, and if that baby had been a samantha? it could have hit like nothing ever has, and for all the mishaps that show took after that (and there were MANY), i think the thing i will always have the most resentment for is the fact that i felt robbed of something that would have meant so much to me as a viewer who had followed their journey from the start (or, well, almost start. i was born the year it came out, so i didn't start watching until 1998, when my brain came online, but i'd seen the past stuff at least)

anyway! that's all to say, 8 year old me was salty as hell about that, and ykno what? she was RIGHT and should have been able to say it. but, again, 2001, 8 years old, not old enough to participate in fandom, so that thought has just festered and rotted away in my brain like a piece of old, putrid meat. but! finally i can give my 8 year old self some catharsis by letting her bitch and bitch and bitch to her heart's content about how "existence" should have been the series finale, and how that baby should have been a girl named samantha, and how i climbed onto that hill 23 years ago, and how i will die there with my heels dug down deep

ty, internet, for coming to my extremely overdue tedtalk. somewhere in the past there is a small child (who definitely shouldn't have been allowed to watch xfiles as young as she did, but what can you do?) finally has a weight off of her chest. it's just a tv show, and in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter, but also, it's a tv show that i grew up with in my formative and unfortunately very traumatic years, and it genuinely feels like a loved one who has always been there to comfort me, and so yeah, it doesn't "matter," but the truth is, it Matters so incredibly much

that's all

-diz

[young-royals-confessions]

I'm legit freaking out here and yours was the first tumblr that came in the Young Royals tags, so please bear with me. So I just came down from an 8 hours flight where by chance I binge watched the first season of Young Royals. AND HOLY FUCK. I don't know what I was expecting but it WAS NOT THAT. Wow. Why the fuck isn't this show more promoted by Netflix? Like any young adult I periodically open the app and search for stuff to watch for hours but I never got this show as a recommendation and I wish I could complain somewhere because I feel like I've been deprived of something magnificent and wonderful for three years and that feels unfair.

Wow doesn't begin to cover how this show left me. I didn't start the second season on the plane because I had to unwind for the last couple of hours left of my flight and I wonder how am I supposed to go on when this beautiful love story exists? AND AFTER MY EYES GAZED AT THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PERSON ON THIS EARTH?? I'm still not convinced the boy who plays Simon isn't made by AI, people aren't this beautiful in real life but I guess he's real and even more gorgeous IRL for what I saw in the tag before I jumped here to unwind. Also the chemistry with the cute kid who plays the prince. What the fuck was that??? How the fuck was I able to FEEL his love and desperation?? What kind of sorcery it's in this show?? I didn't even know Swedes were able to make stuff like this, I thought their talent was to make pop bangers and nothing else.

I don't know if I'm doing this confession thing right, I just have all these thoughts and feelings and I need to get home and binge watch the second season and Netflix says that season 3 it's coming and do you happen to know when it's that happening? And how have people survived the waiting between seasons? I finished watching a couple of hours ago and now I can't wait to get home and keep watching even it means I'll have to WAIt for the new season but I also need to know I won't be waiting for literal years.

THANK YOU ANF I'M SORRY FOR THIS XX

OMG HELLO AND WELCOME 💜💜💜💜💜

[devilmen-collector]

The Pope is Dead

Ft. M!MC, the Devil Kings (only the five who have been released), Gamigin and other nobles (only nobles who have appeared stories, except Astaroth, I don't have any story part with Astaroth in my account), the Seraphim

C/W: religious theme, reader's death (natural cause)

This is a revamp of my own fic in OM with similar theme

It has been 72 years...

It has been 72 years since you last saw them. Back then, you were a young man with many lustful desires of the youth. Yet you remember the time you spent with them... It went by in an instant but you were happy.

When did it start to go wrong? When did the conflict start to appear? Maybe because your got into conflict with them when you saw or heard them blaspheme God. After all, you were raised a cradle Catholic, seeing them blaspheme God never sat right with you. Or maybe it was because you saw the danger if devils continued to have influence on humanity. After all, we and they are two different races, with different views towards things. And you knew that many things applied to devils and their society can't be applied to human society, regarding how the society works, government, laws, etc. You foresaw what you believed to be the inevitable destruction if you continued to let human have contact with devils. Or maybe some other reasons. It was very complicated. Sometimes, you don't even know what ultimately led to the rift.

That day 72 years ago, you used the devils' power to pull the strings behind the scene to get yourself elected to the most powerful spiritual position in the world, the Pope. The devils were unhappy but they followed your wish anyway, even though your office is totally opposed to them. They loved you too much for their own good to go against your will.

Right after your election, you exposed the existence of angels and devils to the world. With concreate evidence, even the most convinced atheists and agnostics before had to believe in the existence in the supernatural. Then you made sure the idea that the human society was incompatible in every way to devils became the mainstream and most accepted opinion. You also made sure that people never believed that inventions came from devils, but devils only claimed that to be the case to control human society. Leaders of the world soon declared they would be cutting ties with the devils. You didn't believe them completely, of course, which was why you waged a Crusade. The Crusade was fueled by either the faith or the wrath of 8 billion normal citizen and it was so effective that it's believed that all ties between Earth and Hell were cut off. At least, no concrete evidence or sign or any report sent to you supported a remaining connection between earth and Hell.

You also used the powers that you inherited from your ancestor, Solomon, to make a shield around papal residence, which prevents any devil from coming in.

As for the angels, you tricked the Seraphim that you were on their side now. With what you had done, they believed in you. But you trapped them and turned them into energy sources to sustain the shield around your residence. With their infinite life forces God has given them, they are still alive and curse you every day from under the Vatican basilica, where they are imprisoned.

Even though you did manage to cut off Hell's influence on humanity and make the Church's influence stronger, world peace has never been achieved as you have hoped, many people still live in poverty and starvation. Technology is more advanced, but the world is still the same now when you are at death's door as it was 72 years ago.

*cough cough*

"Holy Father" your secretary uses a piece of tissue to wipe the blood that is flowing from your mouth after the coughing.

"We have little time left." You say, almost like a whisper, but all of those cardinals, bishops, priests and doctors around you understand what you said. Your priest secretary can't even hold back his tears.

"We are the longest-reigning Pope ever, with 72 yeats occupying the Chair of St. Peter, but We have not achieved anything noteworthy, except pushing all devils back to Hell."

"No, Holy Father, you have achieved something we couldn't for more than 20 centuries. God will reward His faithful servant." A cardinal says.

"You are a faithful laborer of the Lord." Says another cardinal.

Suddenly, a Swiss guard runs into the room, his face terrified.

"T-the Devil Kings, t-they are here..." The guard says as he pants.

Ah, the shield protecting the papal residence must have been weakening as I lay dying. You say to yourself. That must be the reason why the Devil Kings can break in now.

"Leave." You say calmly. All the clergy and the guard turn to look at you, surprised by your order.

"Leave." You order again, your tone more firm this time. It's time for you to face them, alone. The children God has committed to your care have nothing to do with this.

Some of them start to cry but all of them leave, but not before whispering among themselves to alert all the exorcists and papal guards. However, the Swiss guard stay.

"Holy Father, I have sworn to protect you, even if I have to sacrifice myself." The Swiss guard says. You know he won't leave so you agree to let him stay.

The doors to your room bursts open, as four devil kings, no, three devil kings and a hundreds of flies step or fly into the room. You can see the young guard standing by your side shudder but he stands firm, determining to protect you, whatever the cost he may have to pay.

"You have changed so much." Beelzebub is the first one to speak as his handsome appearance emerge from hundreds of flies. He doesn't smile.

"We- I see that you guys are still the same." You look at the four devil kings. There's Beelzebub, Mammon, Leviathan, and Lucifer.

So Satan, Asmodeus and Belphegor aren't here. They must be so mad at me that they don't want to see me again. You say within yourself. You aren't surprised that the nobles aren't here. The shield may be weakened because you are dying, allowing the kings to pass through, but you are still breathing and sustaining it with your powers, and it's strong enough to prevent the nobles.

"Not the same ever since you left, Master." Mammon says with a sad voice.

You are surprised to hear Mammon still calling you Master, but you no longer have the strength to point it out.

"I must have hurt you guys a lot."

"Yes, you did." Leviathan says with an angry expression. "You said you would stay in Hell but you betrayed us." However, the scowl is quickly replaced by an expression that looks like Leviathan is holding back his emotions.

Lucifer is the first one to come over to your bed. The guard beside you raises his weapon but he's knocked unconscious soon enough.

"Don't kill him." You say weakly.

Lucifer nods as he takes your hand. He checks your weakening pulse. You can see his eyes sadden. "Oh the fate of all children of Adam." You can hear him whispering, like talking to himself. Other kings also come over and stand beside your bed.

Ah, that's my cue. You close your eyes, awaiting your cruel death, after all, you are on your death bed, you have no regrets.

However, nothing comes.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" You open your eyes and ask.

"No, we're here to take you home." Beelzebub answers.

"Even after my betrayal?"

"We have never gotten over that. But knowing you are dying, we want to take you back first, Master. We will talk about this over in Hell."

"I'm dying, Mammon. I can't be there for the talk."

"That's why we have created a plan."

"We will wait for you to die, so that the office of the Pope will leave you. Then we will have Gamigin revive you."

"And I'll have Orias feed you angel's soul to make you young again."

"It won't work." You say calmly. "It's the sentence on all children of Adam. Gamigin's revival ability won't work. Just as your healing ability won't work on me, Lucifer, because I'm dying of natural cause."

The kings go silent. They know you could be right. Lucifer, more than anyone, knows you are right because none of the healing he is doing works. He only clings to some hope. You know you are crushing their hope, but you have accepted your fate long ago. At least you know they still love you. Thinking about that, tears start to flow from your eyes

"Where are Satan and the others?" You ask.

"Gehenna nobles are here. But Satan...he's very depressed after you left."

"It will be...too...late..."

The vision you start to see changes. The images of yourself and your memories, be it happy or sad, start to flash through your eyes. With each moment of you with the devils, your tears start to shed more as you can't help but say "sorry", "I miss you" and "I love you" in your mind. Your breathing becomes harder and you can't feel your body anymore.

Lord, forgive me, I wish I could have served you more faithfully.

I love you all and I'm sorry.

Is that Leamas and Nina waving at me?

Is that you... Minhyeok? It has been so long.

"You have done what you think is best. Now rest." The young man with long purple hair says and smiles. "With you, my bloodline is extinct, but I won't hold it against you." You can even hear a little bit mischief toward the end.

Outside the papal residence, the devil nobles, led by Sitri, Bimet, Foras and Bael, are engaged in a mostly glaring contest at the guards and exorcists and clergy who have arrived to aid the Pope. There are a few guards lying on the ground, but they are only knocked unconscious.

"No." Sitri suddenly laments as the shield around the palace disintegrated.

"That means..."

"Let's go inside."

As the devils rush inside, the clergy, exorcists and guards follow suit.

As they come into the room, they see the devil kings surrounding you, who are clearly dead.

"Holy Father!" All of Catholics in the room kneel down and weep.

"Who is the Camerlengo?" Lucifer asks and one cardinal stands up in response to his question. The Camerlengo knows what he has to do. He comes over to check your body to confirm if you are dead or not.

"I need a doctor. But all doctors left for safety. Only us clergy returned."

Lucifer turns and nods at Morax, who comes over to check on you. After finishing, he tells the Camerlengo his conclusion. The Camerlengo turns to all in the room and says.

"The Pope is dead."

The Camerlengo turns back to you. He kisses the golden ring on your right hand and takes it out and destroys it in the presence of all, signifying the end of your papacy. The Catholics make the sign of the Cross and say the prayers for the dead. A priest leaves for the adjacent room to say Mass for the deceased pontiff.

Even with the plan, the devil kings don't plan to stop the piety of the Catholics.

"Gamigin."

"Yes, hyung."

Satan arrives when the bells of the Vatican basilica are being rung. Hundreds of people in the square immediately get into prayers as they know what those bells signify. Satan doesn't care and speeds up his vehicle pass them.

Many thoughts are going through Satan's head: anger, depression, the feeling of betrayed, sadness, etc. But the biggest thought in his head is that he wants to meet you again. Everything else, let's sort out later. He speeds up the Akira into the papal residence. The Akira runs through the corridors until it arrives at the room of the Pope. Satan only stops because he can't go in further with the motorcycle. He can't wait to see his beloved alive and well because he believes in the plan. He did feel his bond with the human got broken earlier but he believes in Gamigin's ability to bring his human back.

"Where's MC?" Satan runs in the room and shouts.

"He's right there." Mammon says with a sad voice and points at the bed.

No. Satan rushed over to your bed. No, it can't be.

"Gamigin, why haven't you brought him back yet?" Satan shouts his question at Gamigin, who is holding his staff and stands behind Lucifer.

"Your Majesty, it didn't work. MC's heart will no longer beat." Sitri tries to stay composed as much as possible as he reports to Satan but the hand holding the tea cup is shaking.

Satan turns to the remains of you on the bed.

"OPEN YOUR EYES AND TELL ME THIS IS A CRUEL JOKE, MC!!!" Satan shouts and punches the wall on the side of the bed, making it crack.

All of the human in the room flinch at Satan's wrathful action, however, your lifeless body makes no move.

"I want to take MC's remains back to Gehenna." Satan says as he crunches his teeth.

"No, you can't do that. A Catholic must be buried on consecrated ground." A bunch of clergy react and state the Church's teaching.

"I will kill all of you." Satan crunches his teeth again. The clergy flinch but don't have any intention to back down.

"Your Majesty Satan," Paimon intervenes, "if you kill them, MC will be sad. After all, they are MC's spiritual children.

"I can let you consecrate a plot of land in Paradise Lost." Lucifer says.

"We have to see what he has written in his will." The Camerlengo says. "But his will can only be opened at the meeting of cardinals after the mourning period, but before the next conclave."

"How long before the next conclave?" Leviathan asks.

"15 days, the Canon Law doesn't allow anytime sooner." The Camerlengo answers.

Leviathan scowls but Beelzebub intervenes.

"Then let's wait for 2 weeks. If MC has a clause in his will to be buried in Hell, can you promise you will accept that and give his body to us?"

"Only with the condition of burial on consecrated ground and we can build a chapel around it."

"You have only mentioned the consecrated ground before, now you include a chapel. You human just keep asking more and more." Leviathan scowls again.

Before anyone can say another thing, the ground begins to shake like there is an earthquake. But it soon stops.

"They are here." Lucifer mumbles. "But they won't have any strength left to fight if we are here."

The devils all look outside the window and they see three shadows emerge from underground. They are the three Seraphim, finally released from their bondage after the death of their captor.

The Devil Kings immediately surround the bed to protect the remains of their beloved.

"Where is he? I'm going to cut off his head." Michael growls, he's so angry that blood vessel can be seen on his face.

Sensing the Devil Kings, the Seraphim all look at the papal residence, which is right beside the Vatican basilica.

"He-he's dead." Gabriel says as he looks at the remains on the bed through the window.

Seeing that you're dead, Raphael begins to laugh maniacally non-stop, so much that he has to hug his stomach mid-air.

"The kings are here. Let's...retreat for today." Michael says as his wings soar toward the sky. Gabriel follows suit.

"Remember to send funeral invitation." Raphael says finally before following his two brothers.

"Let continue our discussion later." The Camerlengo says after the commotion has subsided.

Some other people enter the room and walk toward the remains of the Pope.

"What are you doing?" Satan crunches his teeth as the newcomers.

"Calm down, Satan. They are here to take the body away for bathing and vesting."

All the devils don't want to leave you but they all back down to let people do their job.

...

"You really are so beautiful, Master, it's like all the precious things in this world are created to adorn you." Mammon says as he looks at the papal remains put on display inside the Vatican basilica of St. Peter.

You lying there, on a dark green catafalque. You are vested with red vestments, your hands are vested with red gloves embroidered with the Holy Name of the Savior, your legs wear traditional red papal shoes embroidered with a golden cross on each one. On each shoe is also adorned a ruby, which came from Mammon's treasury. A golden cross and a rosary were also put in your hands. The golden cross was from Lucifer, an accessory from the time he was still a Seraph. On your head, a golden mitre, with two folds, representing the Old Testament and the New Testament, the two "horns" of a bishop. Surrounding the catafalque are 72 candles made from pure beeswax, each represents a year of your pontificate.

The kings and their nobles stand on the upper floor of the basilica, looking at thousands of mourners paying respect to you. Each cardinal who comes over sprinkles holy water on your remains and kisses your hand. Priests and religious gather around your remains to pray for your soul.

At an occasion like this, Bimet would have already gone to collect funeral money. However, this time, he doesn't want to do that, but only to look at your "sleeping" face. Eligos standing next to him can't stop his sniffles. Valefor standing behind Mammon looking at your remains, now that nothing can be done to bring you back to them, he wishes he could stand guard beside your body as the last thing he could do for you.

Foras doesn't say anything but his heart is broken, even his beautiful horns seem to be darker than normal. Barbatos looks at the withered rose in his hand. In his heart currently there is a complete solar eclipse that has covered the sun of his life, the sun which he knows will never shine its light on him again. Glasyalabolas can't help but get angry with you, with Leviathan, with everyone, and with himself. Angry with you for being a traitor to his love. Angry with Leviathan for his bad decision of not pursuing you when the problem starts and only meet you when you are dying. Angry with everyone who separate you from him, including God. And angry with himself for failing the promise to create a kingdom with only you two. Orias drops the angel's soul in his hand. It was the angel's soul that was supposed to be used to make you young again. But what use is it when you are dead?

Bael is the only one staying in the basilica of Abyss camp, beside Beelzebub, closing his eyes remembering your smile and each moment you called his name sweetly. Stolas has gone somewhere to shoot his guns to his heart's content, calling it the last salute for you, who are "a fool". Naberius and Amon are staying with him, not speaking a word.

"It doesn't come true." Leraye remembers he once said he saw you both walking together on the streets of Gehenna, enjoying your time together for many years to come. But that never comes true. He's wondering of the only target he has missed is your heart, he fails in convincing you to stay in Hell. Paimon tries to console Leraye, but his heart is also breaking apart. Zagan doesn't say a word but he has lost an important person he must protect. Belial tries not to shed any tear, he has to stay strong for Jjyu. Sitri couldn't hold his tea cup anymore and it is dropped to the ground, shattering into countless pieces.

Andrealphus holds tight to his scythe, as if he needs something to hold tight to after he lost you. They say twins share a soul. He lost half of his souls when his brother was killed. But your death breaks to pieces the remaining half.

"It's my fault. I can't bring him back." Gamigin blames himself.

"No, it's not your fault." Each time Gamigin blames himself, a brother of his in Paradise Lost will reject that. They don't say anything more comforting because they have no strength to do that right now.

Each of the kings' heart is broken but each of them knows they have to stay strong, as for their nobles and people. They will only mourn your death in private.

Lucifer is the only one walking in the lower floor. He doesn't join the line of mourners but wandering around aimlessly, no one stops him either. Finally, he stops to look at the mosaic of the Eternal Father stretching his hand out on the dome of the basilica.

Why? Father, why? I have served you faithfully since the beginning of time, I had one source of happiness, and you took him away from me. Why? SAY SOMETHING! ANSWER ME!

...

In a graveyard in Korea, where almost no one comes on such a mourning day for the whole world, there is a little lump floating above a grave. He poured a glass of soju on the ground of the grave.

"Minhyeok, the son of Solomon...went over to meet you. Have you two...reunited? I hope you did. Please...send my regards to him." Ppyong says even though he can't stop his sniffles.

The end.

...

I have an epilogue but decided to not write it and let you guys decide the final burial place :)

[mio-actuallywrites]

The World You Once Loved 2

Apparently being in your world is still surprising for you.  PREVIOUS NEXT

2/?

//Reader lives in Japan.  not proofread

Fyi through out all these parts NO book 7 spoilers.  also I assure you next part I will try to make it longer!!

Apparently 8 months in Twisted Wonderland means 16 on Earth. And those 16 you have spent in a coma. Apparently your Roommate Oboko said you had got ran over by a car and have been in a coma ever since. 

She had also told you the night before you woke up, items had appeared in your room, apparently in your suitcase. (Haha I wonder why)

After the doctor came in, checked on your vitals and health you were told you needed to stay a day or more in the hospital. So after getting to eat earth food again, thinking about what you missed in that last year, thinking about all those memories and how they are doing right now you were ready to go back. 

After getting Oboko to drive you to your place, you finally entered the house you thought you would never return too. 

After entering the front door, your eyes immediately trailed to all around the house, all the furniture was the same, but it was werid to see new and not old furniture, I guess living in Ramshackle caused you to get used to the sometimes uncomfortable and dusty furniture. 

“All are you going to enter?” Obokos voice rang in your mind as she suddenly lightly pushed you in, bringing you out of your shock. 

“Sorry Oboko-Chan I’m just still in… shock you know??” You replied hoping she would just shrug it off. 

“It’s fine, however I have your phone with me if you wanted it, I was gonna give it to you in the car. But I wanted you to get adjusted.” She replies as she hands you the phone. “I’ll be in my room if you need me!” She yelled as she left. 

You stood there for a second as you grabbed your phone and went to sit on the couch. 

You put in the password you would never forget, no matter how many worlds you been in you will always remember. *insert password* seeing as you logged in, you had million of notifications, filled with texts, updates and snaps that were left unseen for the months you were gone. 

You opened up Magi- no Instagram and viewed every news peice you missed. The new Taylor Swift album, the new update to Genshin, the upcoming movies, new trends etc. It seems like it will take AWHILE to catch up on all of those events. 

After looking through the app you decided to go into your room, and see the place you thought you would never see again. 

However right when you entered the first thing you noticed was the luggage you clearly packed a few days ago. You went over to the luggage and opened it, once you opened it the first thing you saw was the picture of you and the first years + Grim. You guys were all at Ramshackle probably at a sleepover. 

Under the photo you found your diary you kept that you bought at Sam’s shop. It was filled to the brim with the 8 months you spent there, going from your first unbirthday party to (Something that happend in chapter 7)

After picking up the diary and putting it on your desk, you grabbed your school uniform, and hung it up. Once you hanged up your school uniform in your closet you then grabbed the photo and hung it up next to your desk. 

Thinking about what to do with your life now that you finally returned after it being your goal for so long. But wasn’t completing a goal make you happy?

Today marks the 1st anniversary since you left. If you were right it had been six months since you left in Twisted Wonderland. Your friends were now 2nd years and some were about ready to graduate. And again, If you were right, they were in the middle of finals, since you left during that period. 

Yes although you did have the period of tears, and overwhelming sadness of leaving all of those memories behind, right now you were living your BEST life right now. 

While you were in your 3rd year of Highschool. Like Night Raven, you stayed at the High School with your Childhood friends, Oboko and Saki. Yes you did have your fun with them, but what about those past memories that you dearly loved and held at your heart?

“Reader? Are you there? We still have work to attend to and close shop, not zone out.” Your co-worker snapped at you. 

“Sorry Keiko, I tend to a lot.” You responded, although it was a little bit of a lie, you would still cling onto those memories from time to time. 

“Anyways, I’ll finish the dishes you start locking up.” She responded, completely ignoring your response. 

You nodded in response and left the Cafe’s kitchen to go lock up all the windows, doors, blah blah whatever this job paid good that’s all you cared about. 

After quickly finishing it up, you walked to the back door walking past Keiko who was still washing dishes, you were always fortunate when you didn’t have to. (Who even likes washing dishes???)

“Bye Keiko! See you tomorrow!” 

She had mumbled a response as you left the door and entered your car. 

While jamming out to the new album of your favorite artist, the drive home was relatively short. Basically 5 minutes.

You pulled into the driveway and couldn’t wait to get into your home. All that felt nice was a nice warm shower and watching your favorite episodes of your favorite show/anime. With a cup of hot chocolate on the side. 

As soon as you entered the dorm avoice hit you. 

“Hey, reader, just like 5 minutes ago there were some people saying they knew you and kept assisting them. I don’t know if you know them but the acted like they knew you for a while or so. They are in the kitchen currently because they acted like they haven’t eaten in awhile. Uh please be safe?”

/ENDING WAS RUSHED, once I have time I’ll go back and edit. 

[transhuman-priestess]

The follow-up to The New Flesh. Read that one first!

15 months prior to the raid on the Blair Mountain, Captain Terry Holder butts heads with her Chief Engineer as an unknown threat bears down on their ship.

This story does not contain sexual themes, however it is part of a larger work which does, therefore, this story is only for consumption by legal adults over the age of 18. It includes moderate violence, and coarse language.

January 14, 2253 1041 Earth UTC

15 months prior to the raid on the Blair Mountain

The Hildas, 550 Million Kilometers from Jupiter

“Chester, how long do you think we’re going to be stuck here?” Captain Terry Holder asked.

She and her first mate, Chester Silvera, were sitting in the mess hall of the Huntington. The ore hauler had been coasting .9 AU from 153 Hilda for 56 hours with a damaged ablator in her #2 main engine. Holder was growing restless.

Silvera, on the other hand, was in a fine mood. “Why are you so eager to get back to port?” He was downing his third slice of pizza since taking a seat 10 minutes ago. Holder couldn’t understand where his appetite came from.

“It’s creepy out here,” she said, “The nearest station is 6 days away. It takes 10 minutes for someone to even hear a distress signal. There’s nothing outside the hull. We’re alone.”

“Captain,” Silvera replied, smirking “You are aware that you can, in point of fact, choose a different occupation than deep space captain, correct?”

“Shut up,” Holder said, smiling. “You know what I mean.” She leaned back in her chair. She’d barely touched the chicken Parmesan she’d gotten from the replicator.

“You’ve been out here for 15 years, Terry,” Silvera said, slipping effortlessly into confidant mode, “You’ve been a captain for 8. You’re used to this. What’s different now?”

Holder sighed. Chester, as always, knew how to get to the heart of the matter. She sat for a moment, not wanting to say it out loud, but knowing she couldn’t hide it from her friend and crewmate. Finally, she said, “It’s Powell.”

“The engineer?” Silvera seemed genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” said Holder, her hand idly falling to the nickel-plated pistol she wore on her hip, “I don’t like her attitude.” She rubbed her thumb on the hammer, feeling the familiar knurling, catching her thumbnail on a well-worn burr.

“You seem to get along with her just fine.” His pizza lay forgotten on the plate, he was all business now.

“Well, that’s what they pay me for, Chester.” She took a bite of chicken to buy some time before continuing, “She’s arrogant, inflexible, obsessed with rules and procedure.” She tossed her fork to the table. Chester scooted back slightly, sensing one of his captain’s moods coming on. Holder stood and began pacing.

“It’s always ‘SOP says this!’ or ‘The tech manual says that!’ always coming up with excuses why something can’t be done, except when it’s something she wants done, then procedure flies out the fucking door!” She ran her hand through her hair in frustration.

“Terry-”

“We’ve been coasting for two and a half days.”

“Terry is-”

“She told me that she has to strip the bell down to the cooling tubes for fuck’s sake.”

“TERRY!” Silvera banged his hand on the table for emphasis. Holder stopped talking.

“Yeah, Chester?”

“This is about the pistol, isn’t it?”

Holder rolled her eyes, “No, it’s not about the fucking pistol.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

The engraved, nickel-plated .45 was a family heirloom. Captains in the Civil Navy were allowed sidearms for ceremonial purposes, but they weren’t supposed to wear them outside of certain occasions. Of course, in deep space, the captain had more or less free reign, barring mutiny, and Terry liked the feeling of the heavy steel on her hip. She didn’t keep it loaded, though she did keep 2 magazines of hollow-points on her belt.

She’d never had to draw it in anger, though there had been a few close calls with pirates where she’d gone as far as to carry it cocked and locked. But that was on her old ship, the Joachimstahl.

This was her first sortie in command of the Huntington. She’d inherited the ship from a retiring captain, Jack Thorton, and the crew along with it, including the old engineer, who immediately took issue with Terry’s habit of wearing the piece. She’d actually pulled Chester aside to complain about it. It pissed Terry off.

Chester smiled gently. “Terry, I’ve known you five years. I’ve been your right hand for two. You need to get over this grudge.”

“She’s a little shit, Chester.”

“She is a fine engineer. Captain Thorton had nothing but praise for her. Has she ever disobeyed an order?”

“No, but-”

“Has she ever put the crew in danger?”

“No, but-”

“Then you need to drop this little grudge, and you know that.”

Terry was about to argue when her the radio on her belt chirped.

“Captain,” the voice of Jill Cambell, her radar navigator, “There’s something weird on the scope here.”

Terry keyed to reply “What do you mean by weird?”

“I mean I’ve never seen anything move this fast. You better get up here.”

“Be there in a minute.”

***

Captain Holder and First Mate Silvera walked onto the bridge of the Huntington. The radar station was the only one currently occupied. Campbell turned to them as they walked through the door.

“Alright, Jill,” said Terry, “What’s cracking?”

“About 20 minutes ago I got an off radar return about an AU out on the long-range band.” Campbell reported, “No exhaust signature, and it was redshifting so much I thought the scope might be broken.”

“And?”

“It’s not.” Campbell said, tossing a hand in the air. “I switched to the secondary dish. Same cross-section. Same redshift. Hit it with the high-rez, same cross section, same redshift. Whatever it is, it’s at least 50 meters long and it’s moving at O.1C.”

“So send a message to SETI’s Europa Division.” Terry was amazed but couldn’t understand why Campbell had called her to the bridge for this, “I mean, that’s incredible, really, it is, but if they’re moving away from us what’s the rush?

“Well,” Campbell seemed nervous, “Now they’re blueshifting.”

“Bullshit,” Holder dropped the word like a bag of bricks, “How is that possible? Even if something could put out that much delta-v, in that short a span, the g forces of changing direction would rip it to pieces.”

“I don’t know how, Captain,” Campbell said, turning back to the scope. “But I’d really like to have a plan when they get here.

***

“Fucking Christ, whose god damn idea was this?” Chief Engineer Genevieve Powell cursed to herself.

“Sorry Chief,” Engineer’s Mate Karl Miller said over the radio, “I uh, didn’t copy that.”

“Whoever designed the Shinkolobwe-class engine is either a sadist, an idiot, or both.” Powell replied, “This engine is pissing me off.”

She was nearing the end of a 4-hour long EVA replacing a cracked ablator panel right in the throat of the massive 10-meter fusion rocket. When the engines were active, the reactors would vent hot plasma out the back at temperatures approaching that of the surface of the sun, sending the ship moving in the opposite direction and accelerating it to a top speed of 20 million kilometers per hour.

But right now, they weren’t doing anything of the sort. The ablator shield, a layer of boronated plastic 4 meters thick meant to both protect the engine bells from melting and absorb excess neutrons, was cracked, right in the throat. With the ablator shield damaged, the plume coming out of the rocket engine wouldn’t be smooth and even, but roiling with turbulence. Turbulence that would, at best, drop the propulsive efficiency enough to put serious differential stresses on the spaceframe. At worst, it would impinge on the hull, or through to the engine bell, either way burning through and destroying the ship.

Which was why Powell had been awake for 40 hours. Why she and the engineering team had been working in shifts to painstakingly repair the panel. Angle grinders, caulk guns full of boron paste, a portable X-ray unit, and lots and lots of elbow grease.

“Miller,” Powell said, wiping her cheek on the inside of her helmet. “You ever wonder whose brilliant fucking idea was it to use ablative shielding instead of magnetic on a 100-giganewton fusion engine?”

“Can’t say I have,” Miller replied, “You’re gonna have to take that up with Tycho Shipbuilding. Captain wants to know your ETA.”

“God dammit,” The Captain was pissing Powell off. No respect for the work involved in keeping nuclear fusion going without blowing the whole ship to hell, or bombarding the crew with fast neutrons, or turning them all into sludge with 100g burns. “Is this about me not using the tether?” The umbilical tether was supposed to be worn whenever the EVA thruster pack was in use, as a backup, in case the thrusters failed. Powell hated the damn thing. It got in the way and the thruster pack was reliable enough she didn’t need it.

“Uh, I don’t think so, Chief.”

“It’ll be done when it’s fucking done. I’ve got another 3 meters of length on this bitch of a crack. It goes 45 centimeters deep. It’s going to take at least another 10 hours to fill that.”

There was a pause as Miller relayed this to the captain, then, “Uh, Chief,” Miller said, nervously, “Captain says you have an hour.”

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN? Put her on, now.”

“She says there’s some kind of pirates bearing in on us in 60 minutes.”

Powell rolled her eyes, “That’s not possible. There wasn’t anything within 4 AU of us when I came out here. Tell her I’m not doing anything without talking to her first.”

A brief pause on Miller’s end, then, “Have it your way.”

Powell continued grinding at the crack for a moment. Then Holder’s voice came on. “Powell, I know we don’t get along,” that was an understatement, Powell thought, “But Campbell confirmed this thing is moving at one-tenth c, heading directly towards us. It’s crossed 20 million clicks since she started tracking it. It actually reversed direction to come this way. I know it sounds like bullshit, but I need you to get whatever you can filled and get back into the airlock. I sent out a distress signal but I won’t hear back from Hilda station for at least another 2 minutes”

“Captain, you can’t just rush something like this!” Powell protested, “The differential forces alo-”

Holder cut her off, “I’m aware of the structural ramifications. It’s my ship and that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Captain,” Powell said, “how are we going to outrun something a hundred times faster than us?”

“We’re not. But I��ll need the engines. Trust me.”

Powell gritted her teeth. She couldn’t stand Holder, but Campbell was good. She and Powell had served together under Thorton, and Campbell had helped Powell develop a couple of scanning tools for the engines that worked a hell of a lot better than stock equipment.

“If Campbell’s sure then. I can maybe get you 10 cm of depth along the rest of the crack. It won’t be good for the full trip back to Europa but I should be able to get you enough dV to get us on our way before I have to come back here and fix it again.”

Holder thought for a moment, then replied, “Make it so, Jenna.”

“Aye captain.”

For the next 45 minutes, Powell broke rule after rule for ablator repair. Instead of x-raying the crack she ground it down to 15 centimeters visually. She filled it in with ablator paste and smoothed it by hand before it had cured instead of sanding it once it was dry. By the end of the ordeal, she had used 100 kilos of ablator paste, far less than the 700 the job properly needed. She looked out at a nearby asteroid as they drifted past, and said into her mic, “Miller?”

“Chief?” came Miller’s soft voice through the headset. Powell saw a glint of something off by the big rock in space.

“Tell the captain I’m climbing out. I’ll be at the airlock in 5-” Powell was cut off by a squeel of static and a flash of bright light from the dorsal side of the ship. The shock jolted the Huntington and knocked Powell against the inside of the engine bell. She felt her shoulder crack. The screeching of static faded but was replaced by her own cries of agony. She was floating out towards the center of the nozzle, she couldn’t move her fingers to control the maneuvering pack.

Another flash and another impact jolted the ship vertically. Static filled Powell’s ears as she bounced into the bottom of the engine bell and then up, out into the vast expanse of space.

***

“Owens, damage report,” Holder barked.

Iris Owens responded, “Two detonations in the 2 kiloton range, a kilometer dorsal of us. Numbers 5 and 6 radiators showing a pressure drop. The rest are showing overheat but coming down.”

It had been an ambush. Holder didn’t know how it happened, but it couldn’t have been anything else. Somehow the two ships, 10 light-minutes away from each other, had coordinated. While the Huntington had been busy worrying about the distant ship, another had been hiding behind a nearby asteroid.

There wasn’t time to think about it though, “Miller,” Holder barked, “Pitch us up 115 degrees, roll 45 starboard.”

“Pitch up 115, roll 45 starboard.”

“Powell, what’s your status?”

***

Powell couldn’t move her right arm. The impact had shattered her shoulder blade and humerus. Her RCS system was giving her a warning that one of the quads had malfunctioned. Even if she’d been able to move the translation control, it wouldn’t have done any good.

I’m going to die out here, she realized.

Flashes of warm yellow-white light appeared behind her. The hypergolic RCS system was pitching the ship up, rolling it to the right. She watched as the huge ship seemed to breech like a whale, then pirouette. Over her radio she heard the captain’s voice, “Powell, what’s your status.”

“I’m alive!” she’d never been so happy to hear Terry Holder’s stupid fucking voice, “I’m alive but I can’t get back to the airlock! My thrusters are damaged and my shoulder’s broken.”

“Powell?” came the captain’s voice again, “Powell can you read me?”

“I can read you,” Powell shouted, tearing up from pain, or maybe from fear, “I can read you! Please respond.”

She realized that Holder couldn’t hear her. The wire for the microphone must have been damaged by the impact that broke her shoulder.

She was alone out here.

***

“Miller,” Holder said, “What’s Powell’s biomed say.”

Miller turned red in the face and stammered, “Uhhh,”

“Miller I do not have time for this, what’s her biomed say?”

“She isn’t wearing it.”

“What​?”

“She said she didn’t have time to put it on.”

“Retract her tether.”

“She’s not wearing that either.”

Holder felt ice creep down her spine. The whole scene seemed to go quiet and time stood still. In 8 years as a captain, Holder had never lost a crew member. She hadn’t even considered it a real possibility. But now, with her chief engineer missing and unresponsive, she didn’t know what to do. It felt like she was a lieutenant again, fresh out of training. She looked at Silvera, pleading.

Chester, for his part, looked as disturbed as she was. But he kept his cool, “Its your call, Captain.”

Holder knew what she should do, but that didn’t make it any easier. The fact she couldn’t stand Powell made it even harder, somehow. But if Powell wasn’t responding, and there was no way to retrieve her, then she was dead, one way or the other. Holder didn’t want to think about it.

Time started again, “Owens, get ready to dump ore bay 3. Miller, point the ventral hull at that ship and be ready with a 200m/s dorsal burn.”

***

The ship swung away from Powell, but then continued through its arc and, incredibly, came close enough to her that she was able to grab a handrail, only 20 meters from the airlock.

She scrambled to gain a foothold as she held on tight with her one good arm. This was a long shot, but it was her only hope for survival. She found purchase, and set her aim, then kicked and swung herself around, spinning head over heels. For 3 eternal seconds, she drifted through space, only inky black and stars filling her vision. Then the ship came back into view, and she grabbed at the first thing she could see and held on for dear life.

She’d grabbed one of the many high-gain antennae that dotted the hull. Carefully, she slid her hand down and pulled herself towards the hull. She was only 5 meters from the airlock. As her hand made contact with the hull, she felt a rumble through it. She looked around, and her heart dropped.

***

“Ore bay 3 open, Captain,” said Owens.

“Good. Disengage cargo restraints.”

“Cargo restraints disengaged”

“Miller, 200m/s dorsal,” Holder commanded

“200 m/s dorsal, captain.” Came Miller’s reply.

***

The roof of the ship lit up all around Powell. She could feel the heat from the thrusters. The sudden change in environment made her jump, and she lost her grip on the antenna. Relief turned, once again, to mortal dread as the Huntington sped away from her, leaving her floating, dying, in deep space, billions of kilometers from her home in Dublin.

***

“Dorsal burn complete, captain.” Said Miller.

“Good,” said Holder, “Now put that ore between us and that ship, face us away from it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She would only have one chance to make this work, but Holder was a star poker player and knew how to use a bum hand to her advantage. Hold 3 had, until a minute ago, contained 20,000 metric tons of dense iridium ore. The Huntington didn’t have any armaments, but that didn’t mean she was defenseless.

“Holder, on my mark, engage engines, full power. Skip the purge burn.”

Miller nodded, “Preparing to fire main engines.”

***

The captain had jettisoned the contents of bay 3. Powell was beyond panic now. Not calm, but something else entirely. Numb to everything around her, she watched with a detached fascination as the ship pitched downward and yawed to starboard, before translating forward slightly, and finally starboard. It settled with the #2 engine that she’d just been working on a mere 10 meters away. She could see the big regenerative cooling tubes and the mounting cavity behind them.

She watched as the bell shuddered slightly, and recognition dawned on her. She hoped she wouldn’t feel what was coming next.

***

“Ignition complete.” came Miller’s clipped voice, “Standing by for full-power burn.”

Captain Holder got on the PA, “All hands, prepare for burn in 10 seconds.”

A preternatural calm came over the Captain. She hoped that Powell’s work had been enough. With 3 seconds left before the burn, she opened a channel, hoping Powell would somehow hear her, and said, “Please forgive me, Jenna.”

The two main engines of the Civil Ship Huntington spooled up. The ship’s dual fusion reactors pumping liquefied lithium deuteride into preburners that heated the silver grey dust hot enough to push it past liquid and gas and into ionized plasma, so hot the electrons and nuclei were ripped apart by sheer kinetic energy.

That was only the beginning, though. Next, the reactor squeezed down with a magnetic field stronger than the sun’s, and as the plasma was squeezed and heated even further, strong forces in the lithium atoms broke down, creating hydrogen and tritium, the latter of which sought out another atom to join itself to and, finding deuterium, they embraced, creating helium. As they did, each of them sacrifice a small portion of its mass to ensure this wedding would endure and, in doing so, a tiny fraction of each of those atoms was transformed, vanished from existence, into pure energy. This happened billions of trillions of times in a single second, and all of that energy had to go somewhere. Knowing this, the ship’s computer opened a hole in the magnetic confinement that coincided with the opening in the engine bell. Kinetic energy and Sir Issac’s third law dictated what happpened next.

Superheated plasma existed the engine bell at a temperature unmeasurable by any mechanical means, directly at the mass of iridium behind the ship. Much of the heavy metal immediately evaporated, but some survived, now white-hot and superheated, and heading directly towards the unknown ship assailing the Huntington at nearly 20 million kilometers per hour. The kinetic energy imparted transferred itself immediately to the ship, shredding it as easily as buckshot would disintegrate a clay pigeon. The Huntington sped away under her own power as the enemy ship dissolved under the barrage.

***

There is no air in space, thus there is no convection. There is, however, thermal radiation. The bulk of the plasma had been directed behind the Huntington, but the brilliant white-hot glow of her engines carried heat as well as light. It was this heat, in a pulse that lasted only 10 milliseconds before the Huntington sped away, that struck Jenna Powell.

For 10 milliseconds, every inch of her space suit that had been facing the engine, as well as her face, were heated to incandescence. Only her flesh and hair burned. The suit’s suppression system temporarily flooded her helmet with CO2, which worked to quell it within 2 seconds, but the damage had been done. The exterior of her suit, unable to ignite due to the lack of oxygen, instead boiled off. The sudden release of energy propelling her backwards, away from the rocket blast, saving her from the quick and painless death she had expected.

She screamed. She screamed and she cried. She was alone. Alone, and dying. She thought about home. About the Wicklow Mountains, about the sound of rain on a March evening, about the warmth of her bed. She thought about all of these, and how she would never see them again.

A shadow appeared over her. She felt herself being pulled backwards. Suddenly, an unfamiliar hallway appeared around her. A door closed in front of her, and she heard the hiss of an airlock pressurizing. After the silence of space and her ordeal, the sound was like a hammer in her brain.

She felt artificial gravity engage, and fell to the floor on her broken shoulder. She couldn’t even muster the energy to scream.

A pair of strangely mechanical armored legs appeared in front of her, and she felt herself lifted off the floor by powerful hands. A twisted face came into view, covered in wires and metal.

“Do not resist,” the figure said, its voice feminine and curiously synthetic, “You will become beautiful.”

Jenna Powell blacked out.

[redheadspark]

Hi hi! I love your writing!! For the December prompts can I do Druig with 8 & 13 ?

A/N - I love this for Druig! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Brave

Summary - Druig thinks of himself as a coward. His wife thinks otherwise

Warnings - angst with fluff at the end

Amazon

1600’s

The otherwise of the bed was cold, which made you worry as you woke up from your slumber.

Usually, you would have a warm body next to you, more than warm since he would run hot when he would sleep out there in your little shack.  It didn’t help when it was humid, even in the winter season the air would be sticky in the dead of night.  But his side of the bed was in fact cold, you could only feel the bunched sheets.

He was also a clinger when he slept, always wanting you within arms ready with either tangled legs or his arms around your waist.  You never minded it, not really since you two were an item for the last 600 years or so, long before you both came to the Amazon 50 years ago.  Leaving your Eternal family and only having each other to lean on for support.  Although you missed them all and their company after being together for centuries on Earth, you would never trade your choice in walking away with Druig.  

You two were building a life together.

You blinked slowly to rub your eyes, seeing the otherwise of your bed empty and abandoned.  It wasn’t like Druig to leave your bed in the middle of the night unless he would wake to tell you.  But your heard the front door crack, making you look and see that it was opened slightly and the moonlight was shining in.  The cooler breeze was filling in the room, along with the softer sounds of the nocturnal animals echoing from the high trees.  You slipped out of bed, threw on your robe that was a gift to you from one of the elders in the tiny village, and tip-toed along the wooden floor.

Poking your head out of the cracked open door, you saw the very person you were looking over, leaning against the pillar of the shack and looking up at the moon with a haunted look on his face.  You quickly grabbed his blue robe that was hanging up on a singular nail on the wall, sliding out onto the porch where he was to silently sit next to him. 

“Put this on before you catch a cold,” You hummed to him, placing the robe along his shoulders to watch him carefully slip his arms through.  You grinned slightly, though you leaned your shoulder against his.  Passing a kiss on his shoulder, you spoke again, “What’s on your mind, honey,”

He said nothing for a moment or two, you knowing well to not press him when he was in deep thought.  Druig was never one to hide things from you that haunted his mind, he was very open with you and never wished to withdraw anything from you.  But you could see it in his eyes and how he seemed….lost.

“Did I make the right choice?” 

You looked at him with a hot of worry as he asked that, his voice sounding a bit raw and uneasy as his eyes were still trained on the moon.  You rubbed his arm with your fingers, feeling him lean back against you a bit more. This was the last thing you thought he would ask, since up until this point he was more than fine with being out in the village.  

“What do you mean?” You asked him gently.

“Coming out here, leaving the family,” he replied, you hearing him call the others “family” for the first time.  You knew he admired them and never wished any ill wishes towards them.  He would be aloof with them of course, but nothing negative.  He missed them every once in a while when you two went off on your own, joking around with Kingo or talking about her inventions with Phastos.  Even with Ajak, the leader who would always have to answer to Arishem, Druig missed her pearls of wisdom and warmth.  

“You did what you had to do,” you reminded him with a calm tone, “That was the worst night of your life, Druig.  You had to watch what happened to those humans and you made a new path because of it—“

“Because I couldn’t simply stop them,” Druig muttered.

“Druig..” You said his name as he huffed and blinked a few times, you finally noticed that he was silent crying.

“I had a nightmare,” He explained, his voice now sounding a bit raw, “That night out there and seeing those humans kill each other.  I could hear them crying out for help…..but I just stood there and did nothing…..like a coward.”

“Hey!” You huffed, reaching over to frame his face in your hands to get his attention.  His blue eyes were brightened in tears, and his cheeks and skin were flushed, this was now the same Druig knew that was filled with life and hope.  You saw him thrive there in that village building new homes for the growing families and new crops on the small farm.  He loved what he was doing, he looked so happy and filled with joy in helping the small cluster of humans thrive and survive.

To hear himself call himself a coward though…

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” You scolded him, seeing him blink at you as you stared at him hard, “You are not a coward, not even close! Don’t ever call yourself that ever again, you hear me?”

He said nothing, but you knew he was drinking it all in as he laced your spare hand in his own and you gave him a small smile.

“Druig, you are one of the bravest beings I know. You’re brave for knowing what is right and saying it, not holding it in.  If anything, that is uncowardly.  I have always loved how brave you were and wishing to do the right thing and never holding back with your words, it was one of the reasons I fell in love with you,”  

Druig smiled, small but softly as you traced some of the tears away with your fingers.

“You should have told me you were feeling this way,” You advised him, but he shrugged and bit his lower lip.

“I thought I could handle it on my own,” he tried to explain, but you huffed.

“Why do you always think you have to do everything on your own?  You stubborn ass,” you said, Druig snorted and finally chuckled for the first time that night as you giggled.  You were glad to break off that mood he was in, Druig wrapping you in his arms to hug you as you let him.  Druig would never be one to ask for him in any way, which bothered you since you knew it would be too much for him at the time.  Something like this though, worried you that he was having these nightmares over time and keeping it to himself just to protect you.  Then again, you knew deep down old ghosts and demons would haunt anyone.  

Even the mind controller himself.

“All is well, Druig,” You said against his head as you kissed his ear, “Don’t think you can do this alone, not with me.  Lean on me when it gets heavy, please,”

“Anything for you, my love,” he replied as he pecked your lips.  

“Good, now come to bed with me.  I miss you in my arms,” you replied, getting up and taking Druig by the hand.  He laughed, following you willingly as you two finally left the porch to go back into the little home that you made together.  Nightmares will come and go, but they won’t last forever.

Not like the love you had for Druig. 

The End

[theshelbyclan]

Merry Christmas, Thura 😊 I know it’s probably not happening and you don’t have the time, but could you maybe just for me, as a small Christmas present, write a few lines about Teddy and the Shelbys during Christmas? 😍😍

Thank you sweet Anon, and I wish you all the best too and a blessed Christmas! Just for you, here’s a small bit (just don’t expect too much of it). This takes place shortly after the war, so Teddy’s like 8 in this.

*****

In the bleak midwinter

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan…

It was the day of Christmas Eve and Tommy stood outside their house at Watery Lane, quietly smoking a cigarette. He looked up at the sky, where thick grey clouds were gathering: snow was coming in. That was all he needed.

The Shelby’s didn’t celebrate Christmas this year and, if he had anything to do with it, they never would again. They’d celebrated before the war, but after the war, there was no Christmas anymore. The fields of Flanders hadn’t allowed it, Small Heath didn’t allow it and most of all, Tommy no longer allowed it.

Christmas was dead. No more hope and no more light. All there was left now, was: in the bleak midwinter.

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone…

Arthur came approaching and Tommy looked up. He knew it before he’d opened his mouth: there was trouble.

“There’s been some trouble at the Garrison, Tom,” Arthur explained, “Couple of boys tried raiding the place, knocked Harry about, broke half the bloody bottles in there too.”

Tommy nodded slowly, “So what is it you want from me, Arthur, eh?”

“What do we do, Tom?”

“You know what to do,” he flicked his cigarette away, “Cut them.”

The oldest Shelby nodded, but the hesitation was written all over his face.

“What is it?” Tommy demanded.

“They’re just kids.”

“Kids who fucked with us.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…”

“For fuck’s sake, Arthur! Just get on with alright? Just grow a fucking backbone for once and get it done.”

“Alright, Tom, we’ll get it done.”

“I don’t have time for fucking soft sentiment, alright?” Tommy growled.

Snow was falling, snow on snow, snow on snow…

Meanwhile, John was working over the books. He tried to get as much done as he possibly could during the day, before he got really drunk.

He looked out the window and saw some children playing in the snow. He looked for Finn and Teddy amongst them, but couldn’t find them.

One boy threw a snow ball at a factory worker, who then slipped and fell over. He cursed loudly and all the children ran away and laughed. John couldn’t help himself and stifled a laugh too.

But then he remembered the bodies piled up in the snow. And somehow, he could see the blood mixed in with the whiteness in Birmingham too. In seconds, the moment had lost all its purity. Now it was just death and decay, hidden in ice.

He took another swig and continued his numbers.

In the bleak midwinter, long, long ago.

“Church starts at nine.”

Tommy coughed a laugh and looked up at his aunt, but her eyes seemed set.

“Arthur and John are coming too.”

Probably not by choice, Tommy thought. And he added, “I have no business with church, Pol, and nothing to discuss with God.” He practically spit the last word.

Polly shrugged, “I’m sure he has one or two things to say to you. You’re going, end of discussion. Teddy is singing.”

Tommy looked up in surprise, “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“I bribed her. Be there at nine.”

What can I give him, poor as I am?

And so the Shelby’s turned up at the church at nine. Not because they wanted to, but because the holy saint Polly Gray, enforcer of all things fearful, had ordered them to. At least Arthur had brought the bottle with him.

People piled into the church slowly, but they left the front most pews empty for the Shelby’s.

Tommy sighed deeply. He had better things to do. They had business to do and money to make. There was no way he was going back to poverty. There was no way he was going to let them walk all over them again.

Because, when they were in the mud, where was God then?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb…

John elbowed Tommy and pointed, big grin on his face. When he followed his gaze, he saw one very pissed off little girl in a white dress, standing off to the side near the altar.

Teddy was not happy, and it showed in every way she held herself. Tommy couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Polly must’ve offered her some money…”

“Better still,” Arthur whispered lowly, “She promised her a horse.”

“She always knew how to bargain,” he said not without pride, “Innocent as she may be, she knows how to get whatever the fuck she wants.”

“Innocent?” John laughed, “She’s about as innocent as a wolf in sheep’s clothes. She changed though, Tommy, after we left.”

“Yes, she did. France fucked her up too, even though she’s never even been away from Small Heath.” Bitterness crept into Thomas’ voice.

He never wanted any of that for her. He wanted her to stay small and sweet forever. But he knew that was gone already.

If I were a wise man, I would do my part…

“Move over,” Ada hissed, as she unceremoniously joined them in the pew. “Now will you look at this, the whole family together at church. What the fuck.” Sometimes it was like Ada was physically incapable of speaking without sarcasm.

“Then why are you here?”

“Teddy’s singing. She hates it, so I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” And when her brothers stared at her reproachfully, she added, “Just doing what any good sister would do.”

They were quiet for a little while, but then Arthur leaned over John and told Tommy, “Tomorrow at 11, we’re meeting with that importer I told you about. Charlie’s yard.”

Tommy nodded.

Arthur opened his mouth to talk, but one slap from Polly made him close it again. “No business at church.”

“Why not, aunt Pol?” Ada challenged, “Looking at the size of those golden statues, they’ve done some pretty good business themselves.”

“Ada…” Polly warned.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she continued in her bored tone of voice, “Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? The rich not giving to the poor, but instead celebrating no longer having to?”

Tommy lowered his head to hide his grin. He never liked to admit it, but he had a soft spot for his sisters. They were smarter then all the men he knew combined and they always, always, had something to say.

Life would be incredibly boring, without his sisters doing their part in making his life hell.

But what can I give him? Give him my heart.

The service finally started and the whole procession of pomp and circumstance started. One by one, the Shelby’s sighed deeply and resigned themselves to the next hour.

But after all of that, Teddy stepped forward. She shuffled around a little, uncomfortable, and pulled on her robe that apparently got stuck behind the altar.

She looked back at Finn, who got roped into being an altar boy, and he nudged her forwards again.

Tommy made eye contact with her and nodded. Teddy sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I’ll bet you a pound she’s going to bolt,” John giggled.

“Shut up,” Tommy replied, “I want to hear her.”

And he actually did. It was strange how all his grumpiness and pessimism seemed to have fallen away. And he looked over to John and Arthur, both sending Teddy reassuring smiles. They looked nothing like the bored bastards they’d been only seconds ago. And even Ada, sarcastic detached Ada, fixed her slouch and leaned forward in anticipation. Maybe this is what Christmas was after all: in the middle of the whole fucking chaos of the world falling down around your ears, dropping everything, because your little sister has to sing. And actually feeling warm about it too.

So Teddy breathed in deeply and started to sing, in perfect pitch and angelic voice:

In the bleak midwinter…

[reve-de-sang]

for @vamptember

(x) Vamptember September 8 prompt: honey

“No,” Louis said. “Do not,” he emphasized, “compare my skin to food.”

David sat up straighter, sniffing. “I don’t know why you take offense. My pale British skin, for example, would commonly be described as a milky white—“

“It’s not a conversation.”

“Fine,” David said primly. “How would you like me to describe you to your European counterpart, then?”

“Pissed.”

-

The North American and European covens were attempting to make an alliance for the first time in history. No one was quite certain why it had taken so long—until now, when there was a real crisis pending—though Marius posited that things tended to move glacially slow for vampires. One blink and it was five hundred years later and technology was unrecognizable. Or two hundred years later, and an upstart colony was a nation. One could sleep in the earth for that long.

Lestat privately felt like things could move quickly if one wanted them to. For example, last week he’d been single. Today he was engaged. It would have come as quite a surprise to the Lestat of seven days ago.

Last week’s Lestat would have also been quite alarmed at his transformation, but in the wake of a pending move overseas, a pending new husband, and suddenly finding himself a diplomat and figurehead, Lestat found himself oddly pacific about his newly granted ability to bear life.

He’d reached the point where it was all just washing over him now. Gabrielle could come into the room and pull back the curtain to a green sky and Lestat would just assume that was how Tuesdays were now.

“I know the North Americans shun being recorded, but David could have at least described my future husband to us in his email,” Lestat pouted. “‘Handsome’ could mean anything. David is a terrible delegate.”

“He is an excellent delegate,” Marius corrected as he typed away at his laptop. “He is not some matchmaker. Patience. You will meet de Pointe du Lac soon enough.”

Armand gave a soft laugh as Lestat theatrically melted in his chair. Lestat always felt compelled to be extra dramatic in Marius’s pompous office. “Marius, Lestat is nervous. Maharet came all this way to perform the ritual on him, Mekare has confirmed we are now in line with the prophecy, the whole continent is heavily invested in our new brood mare—” Lestat threw a pen from Marius’s desk at him; Armand easily deflected— “The least David could do is confirm the baby daddy isn’t an uncouth ogre. One doesn’t want to marry one’s father, after all.”

“Unlike you, Armand,” Lestat smiled.

“Who said anything about marriage?” Armand wondered, curling his fingers to study the shine of his nails. “Why would I leave the elderly gentlemen of this world so unexplored and untested?”

Marius glanced up from his laptop and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t worry,” Lestat reassured Armand, “I know that someday you will find the attention you crave.”

“Surprising world view from a man who lost the interest of both his fledglings.”

“We seem to have different perspectives on the maker/fledgling dynamic. Are you confused, thinking I expected to bind them to me?”

“I suppose not having the guidance of a maker does make the maker/fledgling dynamic opaque to you,” Armand sympathized.

«Do tell me more about healthy maker/fledgling dynamics, Armand.»

Armand tilted his chin up. «What Marius and I have makes sense to us. I appreciate he is too busy for involved commitments.»

«Well, if I end up as this American man’s booty call, I am going to revolt.»

“The pressures of being the chosen one,” Armand observed with a sigh. “Or, well. The little chosen one’s dam.”

“If you refer to me as livestock one more time—”

“No, please do keep your conversation private and telepathic,” Marius said. “In fact, you are welcome to take it out of my office. We covered the paperwork. Go—pack, or something. Armand, make sure he actually has some clothing that is not lurid, so that we may be well-represented. At least in the first few days.”

Lestat tossed his hair as he stood. “I have a very stuffy Calvin Klein and a rather conservative Tom Ford. I saw the grey and thought of you, Marius.” Lestat smirked at Armand. “The Gaultier is for day three.”

Armand cocked his head in approval.

-

Lestat felt a mounting sense of finality as his formidable pile of bespoke luggage was wheeled away in one direction, and he and Gabrielle made their way in another direction to the the delegation’s private lounge at the airport before their jet departed London for New Orleans.

In the lounge, Marius and Pandora paused to acknowledge them from where they were deep in conversation across the room, and Lestat noticed Khayman skulking by the small bar.

Lestat was antsy as he and Gabrielle settled in the plush lounge chairs with elegant glasses of fresh blood (a merciful 0.2 blood alcohol content). He cast about for something to say. “You told me once that your first birth was one of the most painful experiences of your life.”

“Yes.”

Lestat waited for her to elaborate, but her gaze was placid. “Mother,” he insisted. She hated to be called that.

“I have been burned by the sun briefly, in the early days, when I did not make my hiding place from the sun as carefully as I could have, out in nature. I woke up in the evening to agonizing pain—the flesh of my arm was charred and blackened. Do you know this pain from the sun?”

Lestat shook his head, wide-eyed, fascinated.

“Childbirth was worse.”

“You know, most mothers would offer their children some comfort. Lie to them or something.”

“They sound, as they say, like some basic bitches.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Lestat sighed.

Lestat had not been chosen for this for his child-bearing hips. He certainly hadn’t been chosen for his ability to bear children, because at the time, he’d been missing the parts and the inclination. The twins’ prophecy, mindless of the mechanics, had dictated he and the American de Pointe du Lac would combine their legacies to birth the young vampire queen who would defeat Akasha when Akasha rose and began her reign of terror.

The prophecy didn’t indicate a timeline, but the councils thought it was obvious the faster this particular bun was in the oven, the better. Lestat liked to imagine his pre-teen daughter vanquishing some vampire queen magical-girl-style. But he acknowledged adulthood was probably a more stable place to be for homicide.

He was a little disconcerted that he wasn’t more bothered by being rushed into making a family with a stranger—much less parenthood itself. Perhaps the idea of making a life was too fascinating to him. And he might be impulsive, but an entire prophecy seemed to dictate he couldn’t derail the fate of the world too badly? How much could he fuck it up if his daughter was destined to be a savior?

“You know that’s not how this works, right?”

Lestat drummed his nails on his crystal tumbler as Armand sat down next to them. His mother acknowledged Armand with a nod, and pulled a book out of her bag.

“Leave my thoughts alone. Boundaries, Armand.”

“I’m just saying, do not get complacent.” He briefly clasped Lestat’s forearm with an elegant hand. “This isn’t set in stone. She is the only hope for defeating Akasha. But we do have to actually make that reality happen. Did you really think everyone would be this worked up if it were a cakewalk?”

Lestat frowned. “That’s not how I understood it.”

Armand laughed. “Perhaps the twins gave you a more palatable version of the prophecy to make you more amenable to the idea. There was a lot riding on your cooperation.”

“Oh really. Any other surprises.” Lestat swirled his untouched drink in its glass.

“Well, as none of it is certain, you may actually have to do a little work. Don’t assume de Pointe du Lac will fall into your bed. And if you do manage to conceive, imagine the possible horror of you spawning a hellion worse than yourself. Having to raise a child like that. She does defeat a queen, after all, and then become one.” Armand signaled for his own beverage from the fledgling manning the bar.

Lestat swirled his drink a little faster. “You and Gabrielle are such excellent travel companions. I’m so delighted you’re part of the delegation.”

“Goodness—you could even die in childbirth, Lestat,” Armand observed. “There’s not a lot said about the vessel beyond its purpose.”

“It’s remarkable how jealous you are that you’re not the prophecy’s specialist little boy.”

“I’m glad it’s not me that’s going to have to give up a 26 inch waistline.”

“And once again I am disturbed by your obsession with my body.”

Armand leaned in. “It’s not infidelity if you’re not married yet. There’s still time for us to discover new things about each other—and discover how well-appointed the VIP lounge facilities are at Heathrow.”

“Oh, Armand, how can I possibly be the first person you’ve dragged into a Heathrow VIP lavatory.”

“It would be the first time with you, however. And it’s been over a year since Marius and I were in one. Perhaps they’ve repainted.”

“Are you going to be like this the entire flight.” Lestat downed his drink.

“What if it’s my last chance. What if your beau is a troll, and the Americans make you wed at gunpoint right out of the airport gate before you can change your mind?” Armand’s drink was promptly delivered. “Bring another round for both of us,” he ordered.

“Two more for me,” Lestat sighed.

“Oh yes, of course— good thinking. You’ll have to give all that up for the baby. Best to make the most of it while you can.”

—

Mercifully, Armand sat with Marius on the flight. But the damage to any remaining calm Lestat had had was already done. He was nine hours out from a performance in front of a wild card audience with an unknown partner.

None of this would work if Lestat couldn’t stand de Pointe du Lac. It was impossible to imagine putting up with a terrible husband: Lestat felt he knew himself well enough that he could acknowledge that.

”Please distract me from turkey baster thoughts,” Lestat whispered to Gabrielle.

She had burned through her first book and had almost finished it. She tilted one slender finger down for a bookmark and looked over at Lestat. “This doesn’t sound like the kind of prophecy that accepts artificial insemination.”

“Why does everyone else know more about this than me?”

“I'm sure it's as Armand indicated: given the extreme upheaval, perhaps they were nervous about which straw would be the one to break the camel’s back.”

“Look— I feel like we’re moving backwards if I repeat the past. You coming to Auvergne, and the fate that awaited you there. Your life uprooted for an arranged marriage.”

“And yet you are not a young girl—you’re a 34-year-old man with agency and power. You have agreed to this, up to this point. I do not think anyone would force you, though, if you changed your mind.”

“How does one change one’s mind about preventing the apocalypse and the death of everyone one loves?”

Gabrielle shrugged. “We all have to die sometime.”

“No, not if I can help it—”

“I apologize, I do not mean to be flippant. But Lestat,” Gabrielle said softly, leaning her shoulder against his. “Do not forget that Auvergne was not the end of my story. It was a chapter. I had a son, and he saved my life. I am free. I have experienced parts of the world I never dreamed of, and I wield the powers of a god. De Pointe du Lac will not define your life.”

Lestat leaned back into her a little. “…No, of course not.”

Lestat sighed in gratitude as he felt his anxiety melt a little, if only for a while. Ridiculous to worry. De Pointe du Lac was the other half of the prophecy—well, one third: obviously he would be important. But ultimately how much could one man matter, when Lestat had eternity in front of him?

—

Representatives had met them on the tarmac when they landed in the small hours of the morning, escorting them to the de Pointe du Lac mansion. As if he were once more about to step out on stage from the wings, Lestat felt an odd, focused calm descend upon him.

It was shattered when he walked into the crowded, glittering de Pointe du Lac drawing room and David Talbot guided him to his devastatingly handsome future husband.

Lestat may have taken half a step back in alarm.

His future husband also looked thunderously irritated. With everything. It added an exciting edge to his beauty. Lestat took half a step forward.

His heart was doing new and complicated things in his chest.

At his side, Lestat heard a soft sigh from Marius; Gabrielle laid a hand on Lestat’s forearm. He was admittedly not known for his level-headed behavior around beautiful men. But surely this would all be fine!

«Congratulations,» Armand murmured in Lestat’s mind with a hint of wonder. «When you die in childbirth, I am going to marry your gorgeous, grieving husband.»

[friendship-ditch]

The Best Stuntwoman

(Jody Moreno x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: After your accident and practical disappearance off the face of the earth, your ex girlfriend Jody is conflicted on your appearance as the stunt woman for her movie.

Warnings/Notes: None! No described romance but theres the buildup <3 (I am branching out a bit on my fandoms/stories now btw because theres not a SINGLE Jody x Reader fic out there and it's a CRIME

Word Count: 3134

  A car roll was no easy feat, especially after you’d been out of the job for over a year.  You’d wondered if it was a mistake to even consider coming back here, if you should’ve just stayed in your house in your new peaceful life… but then you thought about Jody, and that urge to make a beeline for the nearest plane out of Australia faded.  This was your chance to fix those mistakes you’d been dwelling on ever since you changed your number.  You couldn’t back out now, you’d never get this opportunity again.

  After a brief conversation with Dan to get a lay of the land (or stall), you clipped your helmet on and climbed into the stunt car.  Your nerves were jittery and your heart was racing.  Shouldn’t they have given you a bit of a refresher before throwing you back into the field?

  Apparently not.  Seconds after, the shoot began, and so did the engine.

  You drove down the beach, tires skidding in the damp, slightly dense sand.  You tried your best to focus on the camera ahead of you, maintaining a distance between your bumper and the lens.

  “Move up, y/n!”  Dan’s voice crackled over the speakers.  You hesitated, feeling the car jump a little bit across the sand.

  “I can’t!  If I get too close I won’t be able to control the car.  The sands a little loose, I don’t have enough traction.”  You tried to ignore the quivering tone in your voice.  “If I get any closer you’ll lose the camera.”

  “I know, I know, but get in there!  You’ve got this.”  Dan gave you as much encouragement as he could, though he was probably able to see how bouncy the car was.

  Against your better judgment you did what he said, and just as you predicted, the car bounced a little too far forward and broke the camera hanging off the back of the recording vehicle.

  You could imagine Jody’s glare and her soft mutter at your mistake, feeling glad you didn’t have to face her at the moment.  Oh, why couldn’t people listen to you when you were right?

  Recovering quickly from the bump, you came to terms with something much more frightening than a scolding by your ex; the car jump.  The last one you did was years ago, way before your accident, and it was not a fun experience.  You could vision yourself landing a little too hard and breaking your arm, or flying too far forward and breaking your neck.  No, no, you had to stay focused.  If not for you, then for Jody.  

  As the pyro went off beside you, you held your breath and pressed the button.

  You must’ve blacked out during the sequence, because the next thing you knew, the car was upside down on the sand, and your hand was out, making the classic thumbs up.  Dan and the rest of the team pulled you out, exclaiming something about ‘world record,’ and ‘8 and 1/2 rolls,’ but you didn’t really hear them, still a little freaked.

  Dan brought you back to the main camp of the set.  You still had your helmet on, fearing if you took it off, your eyes would still be huge, frozen in terror.

  “That was so good!”  A familiar, joyful voice exclaimed from behind you.  “How is she, Dan?  Is she good?”

  And before you realized what was happening, you were facing Jody, in all of her director glory. 

You removed your helmet, and worried for a moment that your fears were right, and your eyes were permanently paralyzed as wide and white, but then reality kicked in.

  Her gardening hat fluttered in the wind, her arms crossed across her light pink jumpsuit, and her dreamy eyes were staring blankly at you, almost as if she was as shocked as you’d been in the car.  After a few seconds of near cinematic eye contact, your eyes drifted to her parted lips and suddenly she snapped out of it.  

  “Who’s idea was this?”  Jody asked, voice carrying an uncharacteristic crack.

  Dan hesitated for a second, looking at you, and then the other woman.  “I think it was Gail’s idea.”

  “I thought it was your idea.”  You turned to Jody, confused.  Had Gail lied?  She sounded so insistent over the phone that Jody had wanted you for her movie.  You.  But… that could’ve been a front.  Gail lied so easily that at some point you had to step back and wonder how much of anything she said was the truth.

  Jody glanced at you from the corner of her narrowed eyes, eyebrows furrowed.  “Dan, come on.  I didn’t approve her.  I would never approve her.”

  You were about to protest when Jody suddenly elbowed you in the side.  “Can I talk to you for a second?”  

  She took you aside, shoulders tensed and eyes still at about 75% of a glare.  “Interesting move, really.  Really interesting.  You disappear off the face of the earth, change your number, and then you casually show back up here on my movie set?  You show up and now you’re my new stunt person?”

  The wind from the nearby helicopter nearly sent her hat flying.  You caught it and placed it back on her head, gingerly tucking her blonde hair out of her face, then putting the hat back on her head and pulling the tie closed.

  The whole time, Jody stared at you.  You couldn’t tell if she was looking at you with a look that read “I’m so smitten by you,” or the contrary, “I’m going to skin you alive when nobody is looking.”

  “You can’t–you can’t do that.  Don’t do that.”  Jody protested pathetically and pulled out of your touch.

  “Well, your hat was–”

  “Why are you here?”

  You sighed again, shaking your head.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  “Clearly.” 

  “I was under the impression that… you did want me here.”

  Congratulations, you’d graduated to being skinned alive in private to being skinned alive in front of the whole cast and crew of Metalstorm.  Jody huffed.  “That’s a delusional thought, we haven’t spoken in a year.”

  “Gail said–.”

  “I don’t care, whatever.  But you clipped my camera.”  As angry as she was at you, Jody couldn’t help but bring up your newest mistake.  That’s what she did when she was mad at you.  At least it was better than the time you brought a snake into her trailer to show her and it decided to make home in her bed, which neither of you found out until 2:00 am.

  “I’m a little rusty, I’m sorry.  I’ll make it up to you.”

  Jody was just staring at you now, watching your every move with her big blue eyes, as if she could read your mind.  For a moment, you thought you won her over, but then you and your stupid mouth spoke a bit more.

  “I think this is going to be an amazing movie, I mean not as amazing as you, or as beautiful, but–”

  “No, I can’t do this.”  Jody turned, shaking her head.  She held the edges of her hat down and turned to Dan.  “Don’t we have anybody else?”

  “You want the truth?”  Dan said, not really giving the director a chance to respond.  “We literally have nobody else.”

  Jody turned back to you, reading your thoughts once more; of course your socks were two different colors, no, she couldn’t see them, but of course she’d be able to read your most embarrassing fears.  She seemed to glare through you for a moment, and then lowered her voice.

  “What’s next?”  She asked Nigel, who responded with something pertaining to lighting you on fire.

  For the first time since you’d stepped onto this set, you saw a small glint in Jody’s eyes and she nodded.  “Alright.”

  That was all she said, and for a moment you wondered if you’d misheard.  But then you heard Nigel speak into his walkie-talkie about setting you on fire and that pit in your stomach grew once again.

  The next hour was borderline excruciating.  Getting set on fire hurt, and so did getting thrown into a wall.  Being publicly embarrassed about your mistakes by pure metaphors in front of the entire cast and crew also hurt, but more so your ego than your body.  

  By the time the scene was finally finished, and there were 4 perfectly fine and alike cuts for Jody to mull over later and maybe regret refilming so many times just to get a lash at you, your body ached and you wanted to pass out.

  You dragged yourself over to the medical tent and got patched up, feeling Jody’s eyes on you from afar.  For claiming to hate you as much as she did, she sure was watching when the doctor removed your dirt cladded jacket to reveal your dusty white tank top.

  They patched you up, covering your numerous fire burns and gashes, and then sent you on your way.  It felt like chains were hanging from your legs as you trudged to your truck and then collapsed into the seat.

  Now with the first privacy you had all day, and with the radio already set on a sad station, you couldn’t help but finally let those pent up tears spill down your dirty face.  You pressed your forehead into the wheel, ignoring the dent it would leave in your skin, and just let it out in your own little isolated world.

  A tap at the window snapped you out of it and you buried your face into your jacket to wipe the tears.  You hesitantly peered over the rim, and right into the gaze of Jody.

  Without saying a word, you rolled the windows down and then hid back into your jacket to rub at your eyes a bit more.  When you were satisfied, you cleared your throat and turned to face her.

  “What are you doing?”  Jody asked, resting her arms where the window was, and her chin on top of them.

  “Just… chilling down.”  You mumbled.

  “That’s a weird phrase.”

  “It’s something the Australians say.”

  “Really?  I’ve been here 6 months and I haven’t heard it.”

  You just shrugged, looking down again.  Your attempt to clean your face must’ve been shitty because Jody spoke again, her tone a little softer.  “Were you crying?”

  “No.”

  She didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, as she reached in and moved your hair out of your face.  With a discontent hum, she shook her head and put your hair back, as if her touch hadn’t just sent 100 butterflies into your stomach.

  “Can I get in the car with you?”

  Maybe you did hit your head during the car roll.  You would’ve thought now Jody would perform her final duty of ending your life, which honestly, you probably deserved.

  “What…?”

  Jody took that as a yes and climbed into the passenger's seat.  Upon sitting down, you realized she didn’t have a knife or a baseball bat, so your nerves softened a little.

  “So how have you been?”  She asked, looking at you with an oddly peaceful expression of curiosity.  That was one thing you’d always loved about Jody; when she let her voice grow softer and that neverending curiosity take over to reveal her almost childlike wonder of the world.

  You were still a little uneasy with words, voice a bit hoarse, so you just gave her a thumbs up.

  “Thumbs up?  God, I hate that bullshit.  That stunt person bullshit.”  Jody huffed.  She was about to go on more of a rant, but then cut herself off with a deep breath.  “Alright, no, that’s okay.  Boundaries… if that’s how you want to express yourself, then I’ll have to unwillingly accept it.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant…”

  “What do you mean then?”

  I’m sorry.  I fucked up.  I’m an idiot, I know.  You can slap me if you want, I deserve it.

  But none of the above apologizes made their way out, they just got stuck on your dry tongue.

  Jody watched as your mouth fell part way open and just hung there.  Then she let out a soft chuckle, relaxing and leaning back into the carseat.

  “Well, go on then.  Ask me how I am, use your big girl words.”

  You swallowed a few times.  “How… how have you been?”

  “Okay.”

  That was it?  Now Jody was staring out the windshield as if her mental dictionary had fallen apart.

  “Use your big girl words.”  You teased, gently nudging her with your shoulder.

  “Shut it.”  Jody replied, though there was a little grin on her face.  She tried to hold the smile back from getting any bigger but soon she was laughing, and so were you.  

  It felt like the old days again, the two of you sneaking off of set on your free time to just have fun in each other's presence, laughing in some weird situation or place, over some stupid joke.

  Jody managed to get control of herself first, her happiness dying down into a soft frown.  She reached a tender hand to brush your hair out of your face again, tracing a finger over the gash on your forehead.  “You’re not hurt too badly, are you?”  Her voice had softened once more to one of worry, if not guilt.

  With the way her fingers moved across your face, scanning your skin for any sort of wounds, you almost forgot how to speak.  But you forced out an answer.  “No…  I’m okay.”  

  It was a lie and you both knew it.  Jody deflated a little and you frowned.

  “I bet you enjoyed that though… slamming me into the wall, setting me on fire…”

  Jody let out another soft chuckle.  She shook her head as if to deny it, but the smile on her face didn’t crack.  “It was... cathartic, I’ll tell you that.”

  You smiled too.  “Yeah…  You’re lucky, you actually got to set your ex on fire, and not get arrested for it.”

  Jody laughed again, her head leaning into your shoulder a little.  You were surprised, but it was as if she didn’t even notice, her old habits were coming back and she didn’t even notice.  She then heaved a sigh.  “Did you miss me at all?”

  “A little.”

  She wrinkled her nose and you grinned, lowering your shoulder a little so she could lean into it better.  You moved your head to look out the window.

  “I missed you every day.”

  “You did?” 

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”  Jody whispered.  “Because… I missed you too.”

  You looked back over at her, surprised by the intensity in her eyes as she gazed up at your face, tracing the forgotten paths of her fingers across your skin.  If you didn’t know better, you would’ve leaned down and kissed her, and she probably would’ve done the same.

  Jody was the first to look away, though she only pressed herself into you a little more.  “You’re going to stick around, right?  I know I was a bit of an ass earlier… and I’m still mad at you, but I’m not like… going to rip your head off.”

  “Oh, that’s relieving.”  You said in the same tone.  “I guess that means I can stick around.”

  “You will?  That’s good, that’s good…”  Jody murmured, half to herself.  “I didn’t really like the other stunt double that much anyway.. She wasn’t as nice as you, or as good.”

  “You think I’m good?”

  “Good?  You’re the best damn stunt woman I’ve ever seen.”  Jody muttered affectionately at you.  “I’m glad Gail found your number, even if I didn’t ask her to.”

  You nodded and the two of you fell into a gentle silence for a moment.  You could’ve fallen asleep, you were so exhausted.  Then an idea popped into your mind and you said it before you could stop yourself.

  “Do you want it?  My… my new number, I mean.”

  “Do you plan on changing it again?”

  You shook your head.

  “Okay.  You can put it in my phone after you drive me to my car.”

  Her car?  The vehicle about 10 feet away?  

  “I can do that.”  You started the car, then took a little left.  “Uh-oh, we’ve got a bit of a detour here.  Please keep your arms inside the vehicle at all times, you’ll soon arrive at your destination.”

  Jody couldn’t help but laugh at your little game.  Sure, she was exhausted too, and normally she’d be pissed but… she just got you back, she didn’t mind a little more time at your side.

  You did a few quiet laps around the parking lot, neither of you saying much besides sometimes pointing another car out as if you hadn’t just seen it.  It was silly, but it was fun, and it made your heart flutter.

  After the fifth or so round, you finally pulled up to her car, parking about a foot away.

  “Your carriage, my lady.”

  Jody smirked and headbutted your shoulder gently.  She looked over at her car for a second, the smile on her lips not exactly matching the look in her eyes as she realized your little fun was over.  Then she let out a soft sigh.

  “Thank you.”  

  You nodded and reached to open the door for her.

  Jody mouthed another thanks and started to leave, when something came over her.  She turned back to you, slipped her hands on both sides of your face, luckily covering their sudden pink tint, and then planted a kiss on her forehead.

  You sat as still as a rock, worried that if you moved, your heart would give out.

  Jody pulled away quickly after that and slipped out of your car.  For a second you thought she hadn’t realized the gravity of what she just did, but then in a shaky, embarrassed voice, she blurted out: “See you tomorrow!” and then darted off to her car.

  You stared after her trail for a few seconds, coming back to earth.  A big smile had spread across your face and you forced yourself to wave, though she wasn’t looking in your direction, probably to hide her own blush.

  A few seconds later, you drove away, thinking only about the touch of her lips on your forehead, and how dizzy it made you feel.  Clearly, all hope was not lost.  Your wounds didn’t hurt much anymore, and you didn’t care if you’d have to jump off a cliff tomorrow… it wouldn’t matter in the long run.  

  You were slowly getting Jody back, that’s the important thing.

  Now that it had finally set in, you let out some sort of an excited scream, rolled the windows up, did it again, but a little louder, and then drove off, already dreaming about the next day.

[chicken-wayng]

If Rhaenyra was truly a Valyrian supremacist she wouldn’t have had three kids with Harwin Strong. Also her mother is half Andal just like her siblings.

She’s not a supremacist like Daemon but I do think she’s a narcissist, genuinely believing the world revolves around her. That’s what made the rift between her and Alicent inevitable imo, she expected Alicent to want to be nothing more than her dutiful lady in waiting for the rest of her life with no ambition or desire of her own.

Rhaenyra does mellows down when she’s older, mainly because Jace keeps calling out her bs but you can’t truly change who you are. Even in 2x03 although she desperate for peace a part of her was still expecting Team Green to simply give up rather compromising because the idea of either her or Jace stepping down was incomprehensible.

So prev anon was right that 2x08 only worked because Alicent has degraded herself back to her bare bones, she’s exactly how Rhaenyra wanted her to be 20 years ago: the dutiful handmaiden who will wait on Rhaenyra and her sons, no wants of her own.

I disagree. I don't think Nyra sleeping with Harwin (+ having his children) is enough evidence that she wasn't also a Targ supremacist. I grew up in Arkansas, where racism is still very much alive. Yet all of those racist fucks would still get down dirty with a black Mamacita because they're attracted to her (but just don't respect/view her as a person, which a lot of Arkansans don't see women as to begin with). So it is possible to mess around with someone and literally have not a drop of respect for them. Also - still from what I've seen in Arkansas - it's possible to have a mixed heritage and be racist towards part of it and prefer the other more. In MY OPINION, what I observe from Nyra is similar to this. I especially think after she marries Daemon it becomes worse. I think her Targ Supremacy and Bastardphobia run hand in hand (her bastards are okay because they're Targaryen/her's while others are a sin, type of mindset). Also doesn't she say to Laenor that each time she had hoped they were his? So she hoped she was carrying his children not Harwin's, is what I gleaned from that line (also I'm thinking 3 way but that's a different post). However I do understand what you're saying and I don't believe it's like full racism but more of a casual racism, like I don't think she's fully aware of it.

I do agree that the rift between Nyra and Allie is because of both of their mindsets and I do think Nyra never thought about Alicent's future more than how it would connect to her's. I truly do think if she did think about it she did think Allie was always going to be her's in some way, probably never marrying so Rhaenyra could spend her time with her whenever. I also think that Alicent knew this and that's why she stripped herself of her titles/colors to see Nyra in 2×8. She wanted Nyra to see her as the human she is but seeing that confirmed to Nyra her own supremacy.

Also I absolutely love how they show us Jace confronting Nyra. It reminds me a lot of confronting my mom. My mom has 3 bastards (myself being the most awesome) and she's also racist. It's out of her love for me that she's starting to unlearn a lot of toxic behavior that she's realizing came from her dad. I see a lot of Nyra in this, however Nyra doesn't have a child who believes love is why we were put on this earth and we are all a part of a huge puzzle that only forms it's picture when we share our stories. Plus she's in a world so dominated by the patriarchy even as Queen she has no fucking say. Jace is trying but unable to properly verbalize it cuz he's still a child (say what you want, until someone is 20 I don't fully count them as an adult, plus Jace is like 17 when he dies, right?) and has so much weight put on him. Plus terms like "bastardphobia" aren't a thing, it's just the norm.

Thanksya for sharing your opinion and allowing me to do so as well!! I hope you're having a good day💜