#the epilogue is focusing on ********* so it's not going to be answered there

[dormont]

i really love the scarlet paradox forms but i can't get behind brute bonnet just because the concept is too confusing

[kasagia]

Right Hand - Epilogue

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: Your future with your baron. Your dream future. Your long-won future. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; It's very hard for me to end this one… Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART VI ~•♤♤♤•~

"Count Rabban." You nod when you pass Feyd's brother on your way to the throne room. To your surprise, the man stops and bows to you, which makes you frown at his extraordinary and strange behaviour.

"Lady Y/N. My congratulations." The man says, stunning you for a while. Your heartbeat accelerates when you wonder how the hell he could tell that you are pregnant.

"Um... thank you." You answer uncertainly and look at Feyd. He tightens up at his brother's words; you can see that he is clearly furious at his brother's comment. What the fuck was going on here?

"You should go, brother. We still have a lot of rats to hunt down." Fed says this and puts his hand at the bottom of your back, pushing you towards the throne room, as if he wanted to walk away from Rabban as soon as possible.

"Of course. I'm surprised you won't join me, but if I were you, I'd keep an eye on my woman too. After all, pregnancy is a real blessing for us.” You froze at his words. You look stunned at Feyd, who seems to be getting more and more… nervous. You frown, confused by everything that is happening around you. Since when in hell have these two been civil towards each other?

"Obviously. Just go." Feyd hastens him and practically pushes you into the throne room. He shuts the door behind you with a loud bang, not allowing any servants or guards to follow you.

He doesn't give you a second glance. He goes straight to the Arrakis projection and starts explaining to you the recent actions he took while you were... unconscious. However, you can't focus on what he's saying; your thoughts are still revolving around what Rabban said, so at some point during his long speech, you simply interrupt him and blurt out:

"Pregnancy? Who the hell is pregnant?"

There is a long silence in the room after your question. You think this is the first time you've seen Feyd-Rautha… embarrassed. And as much as it's a new and strange sight, you want to know what the hell is going on. So you walk up to him and grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

"I could have mentioned that you were with my heir to mobilise our troops to march to the desert and stop the great families from... complaining about me searching for you instead of focusing on killing Muad'Dib." You blink a few times, staring at him in shock when you hear this.

Your hand falls between you, letting go of his chin, which you can tell he's mildly happy about. You frown, trying to imagine him telling all the great houses that you were pregnant with his child.

Which actually isn't far from the truth now…

"I… Why the fuck am I not even surprised? Anything else besides this fake pregnancy?" You ask, shifting your gaze from him to the map of the desert, where the points of stationing units, the movement of soldiers, observed points, and recently conquered objects were marked.

"I couldn't say that you were just my concubine. They wouldn't take me seriously..." He starts, eyeing you carefully, having no idea what you were going to do. Just in case, he puts his hand on his belt, ready to activate his shield at any moment. Although he doubted anything could actually protect him from your anger.

"What the hell did you tell them?" You ask, annoyed, turning to face him. He takes a step back, pretending to move something on the map, but really wanting to be as far away from you as possible when he gives you this message.

"That you are my fiancée." He repeats calmly, taking your exasperated sigh and rubbing of your temple as a good sign. At least you're not attacking him with a blade. Wouldn't the idea of marrying him be as... repulsive to you as it used to be?

"You announced to the great families that I am your fiancée AND that we are going to have a child? And they believed you?"

"Yes, why not?" He asks, furrowing his hairless eyebrows at your surprise, slightly offended that you thought it was such impossible thing to happen.

"Because the very idea of you proposing to me is ridiculous and unrealistic." Your eyes widen as you see him move to kneel in front of you. You grab his elbow tightly, not letting him move even an inch, as you shut down his attempt to propose to you. "Do NOT do this now. How could you? And behind my back..."

"I can ask you the same question. Why did you literally stab me with a blade and leave me bleeding on the ship so you could play 'How to Destroy the Atreides House', risking your life, and worse, without me? I should punish you for that, little witch."

You stare at each other defiantly, each insisting that the other is wrong and carries more fault. However, the more you think about it, the more you come to the conclusion that maybe he was right. You both did shitty things. And it is possible that you will make even more of them in the future.

"Call it even?" You finally ask, deciding to let it go this time. After all, you had smaller things to worry about. Arrakis. Emperor. Irulan. Maybe he will finally tell you what happened during your... not necessarily voluntary absence.

"Only this time." He nods, cupping your cheek in his hand. He seals your deal with a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and joining yours in a mad dance as Feyd steals the air from your lungs.

You moan into his mouth, cradling his cheeks in your hands and bringing his face closer to yours as his hands rest on your hips. He manoeuvres you across the room, making you both approach the large throne. You break your kiss as he pushes you onto the stone seat.

"So... what's now?" You ask, placing your hands on his shoulders as he leans on the armrests of the throne, leaning over you.

"Now... I'm going to lock you here, and I am not going to let you go out until we create this heir of ours." He mumbles against your neck, placing feathery kisses there. You sigh softly, running your nails over his bald head.

"Of all the possible excuses, you had to come up with this one?" You ask, trying to maintain what little control you have as the pads of his cold fingers lazily stroke your collarbones. He squeezes your breast, earning a small gasp from you, and he chuckles contentedly, biting into your neck. He reluctantly pulls away from your neck and rests his forehead against yours, taking a moment to look into your eyes.

"I wish you could have seen their faces." He whispers hoarsely, making you shiver, and kisses you again. His plump lips take their time caressing yours as he enjoys the kiss, finally having all the time in the world to bask in your warmth, scent, and taste.

You smile into the kiss, distracted by his proximity. It seems unreal that the two of you can just enjoy each other without worrying about other things, without any urgent matters to attend to, enemies to kill, or evil plans to carry out. It was weird. Pleasantly weird. But you had been under the pressure of something for too long to just enjoy this peaceful, blissful moment without trying to find an excuse to stop him.

So when his hand goes under your skirt and lazily caresses your thigh, you place your hands on his chest and gently push him away from you. You look at him for a moment as he furrows his hairless eyebrows, trying to understand why you're doing this.

"Me too. But as much as I want to fool around with you, I think that we should focus on diplomacy and policy for a while. It wouldn't be in Giedi Prime's interest to create heirs before we establish government, and... can you stop undressing me?" You ask as his fingers begin to untie the bodice of your dress, realising that you were only pushing him away for the sake of politics and to solve Giedi Prime's issue first, which he obviously didn't want to do now.

"I have been covering the policy for the past few weeks. Now, I have more important things to worry about. Like how to untie those damn strings with one hand."

"But... the council..." You try, sighing as his mouth attacks your neck again as he loosens the ties of your dress, exposing your breasts to him.

"They will wait." He mumbles as he moves from your neck to your collarbones, his fingers teasing your nipples. You sigh, biting your bottom lip as he explores every little bit of your skin. "I have a little fantasy that I want to fulfill with you, little witch…" He purrs against your breasts. You hold your breath as he suddenly grips your hips tightly and lifts you up. He sits down on the throne and settles you on his lap, completely removing your dress and throwing it behind him. He licks his lips, staring at your naked form, and you blush under his watchful gaze. Bastard…

"But… oh, Feyd…" You moan as he leans towards you and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. You dig your nails into his shoulders. Sitting astride him and stabilising herself on his lap. His other hand slides from your chest down your stomach to your core as he teases your overstimulated pussy. He chuckles against your breast, only intensifying your sensations as he discovers how wet you already are for him.

"Yes… that's right, my right hand. Allow me to repay you for your faithful service to your new Baron." You kiss him hard, passionately, tugging at his clothes and stripping him off of them roughly, wanting to feel his abalaster, muscled chest as quickly as possible.

He doesn't do anything to help you. He just teases you, getting you so aroused and excited that you can't even dream of interrupting him again. Instead, you take and take everything it has to offer you. And it's a pleasantly blissful change.

"Marry me." He whispers in your ear when you lie wrapped in sheets in his bedroom after a fairly intense session.

You sigh and roll your eyes at him. He had been trying to convince you to marry him for a week, and as pleasant as the idea seemed, you were well aware that it wasn't that easy. He couldn't just choose a wife, and moreover, a woman without a family name or fortune.

"You know it's not that easy. I have neither titles nor a significant family name. I am only your right hand. The Council will never support this idea." You sigh, snuggling into him. He huffs, offended by your response, but wraps his arms around you anyway and holds you tightly to his chest. As if to at least make sure that you wouldn't be able to leave him even though you didn't agree to marry him.

"Have I ever asked anyone for their opinion? Have I ever cared about the opinion of these old people?"

"No. But you should. You are a baron now. Marrying me would make you weaker in their eyes. Besides, being your concubine absolutely suits me." You speak even though you don't know who you're trying to fool. Yourself, him, or both of you.

However, you don't take into account that he knows you perfectly. He grabs your chin with two fingers and forces you to look into his icy blue eyes. You shiver as his piercing gaze reaches almost to your soul.

"It is not. I know it well. You never wanted to be just a concubine. That's why you didn't want to accept my courtship for a long time. I don't want you as my concubine; I want you as my wife. I need a strong baroness by my side—one that will be just as terrifying as me. You can't refuse me now. Not after what we went through to be here. I know you don't care about the opinions of anyone in our council, so tell me why you don't want to become my wife, little witch?"

You look at him for a long moment, wondering how much you can tell him from what you saw in your visions. He senses your hesitation and gently pushes you off of him and moves to get out of bed, but you stop him by wrapping your arms around him. You rest your chin on his shoulder and whisper into his ear.

"I … I had visions … visions in which our marriage ended terribly … and I don't want it to happen. Not after how long we fought for each other." You say that and press a kiss on his earlobe. You hug his back, ready for him to walk away from you in anger, but instead, he places his hand on yours and squeezes it tightly.

"Haven't you been the one who did not believe in the prophecies and fate? Who believed that we create our destiny ourselves?"

"Yes, but..."

"Then marry me." He interrupts you and turns to look at you. He cups your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. "I promise, I won't hurt you. Never. Not me. I promise to protect you against everything that will come and to be by your side for good and bad. I promise you all of myself and everything I am. I promise to go back to our bed and keep you in it even after the worst quarrel in the world, because I am nothing without you by my side, and I prefer to argue and fight you forever than not to have you with me. I... I just want you."

His words tug at your heart. You know he's not effusive, that he doesn't like talking about his feelings, and this is a very rare moment when he shows you his weaknesses. And you really appreciate it, but you can't help but have doubts.

"But what if..." He doesn't let you finish your sentence. He cuts you off with a kiss, caressing your lips with his, preventing you from making any protest.

He places his hands on your waist and holds you tightly close to him, ignoring your attempts to speak. He pushes you onto the bed and looms over you, still kissing you. Not until he's sure he's taken any air from your lungs.

You inhale quickly, flushed as he strokes the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone, drinking in the appearance of you beneath him: flushed, dishevelled with beautifully swollen lips.

"Marry me." He whispers, pressing a short kiss to your lips. "Marry me." He repeats against your cheek. "Marry me." Another feathery kiss, this time on your earlobe. You shiver as his hot whisper reaches your ear. "Marry me." A kiss on your neck. "Marry me." A kiss on your collarbone. "Marry me." A kiss in the valley of your breasts. "Marry me." A kiss on your stomach. "Marry me." A kiss on your pussy crying with need.

You sigh, scratching your nails against his scalp as he keeps whispering the words against your clit, working towards your orgasm as if you're going to say yes and accept his proposal the moment he takes you over the edge. At first, you find his attempts absurd, but with every second, every kiss, and every whispered request, you realise how much you want to just say yes and let him do whatever he wants with you.

You wrap your legs around him, digging your heels into his back and pulling him closer to you. His hand wraps around yours in a tight grip as his tongue works tirelessly to please you. You don't know how he keeps whispering his request, but you know when your eyes meet for a moment that you can't respond with anything other than...

"Yes."

You growl as he stops all his movements and lifts his head to look at you. You tighten your legs around him, willing him to move back into place, but he stays firmly above you.

"Feyd..." You complain, but he silences you with a quick kiss, so quick that you don't even get a good taste of yourself on his tongue.

"Later, impatient needy witch." He scolds you. In retaliation, you reach for his nipple and pinch it, making him growl. He squeezes your hips and leans in to leave a hickey on your neck.

"You made me this way." You complain, propping yourself up on your elbows and pressing your lips to his, stealing a kiss from him with a giggle. He pushes you back onto the bed, your head bobbing, and he smiles, showing you his black teeth.

"And I plan to do much more to you when you're my wife. So, will you marry me, little witch?"

"Why doesn't this sound like a question but a threat?" You ask, smirking, not yet giving him the answer he wants to hear. You can barely contain your chuckle, watching as he furrows his hairless eyebrows at you in irritation.

"I've been asking you for a week, it's your fault my tone changes from day to day when you keep me waiting."

"Don't you know that the best things are worth waiting for?"

"They are. And I've been waiting for you for years. So maybe you can finally end tihis? Can you do this for me, my right hand? Will you be my baroness?" He asks you, stroking your cheek, giving you his full attention as he waits for your response. But you just can't help yourself from teasing him a little bit more.

"Such a high promotion… people will think I slept with you to get it." You joke stupidly, enjoying your small victory, when he rolls his eyes at you in annoyance. You're lucky his daggers were abandoned halfway from the door to the bed... otherwise you would have ended up with a dagger at your throat long ago. Not that he would ever hurt you. Just to scare you a little.

"Y/N..." He growls at you and nuzzles your temple. You place your hand on his neck and pull him into a gentle kiss, lazily brushing your lips against his. A low murmur escapes his throat as he pulls you closer to him.

He's practically lying on top of you, keeping his body weight on his arms but letting you feel every inch of him against yours. You enjoy this newfound intimacy with him. This closeness, sense of security, love, deep adoration, and peace. So how can you say no to him when he prolongs every second of your kiss, tries to maintain contact with your body as long as possible, and treats you with a tenderness he has never shown to anyone before?

"Yes... yes, I will marry you." You whisper, smiling as you watch his reaction. He doesn't believe you at first, trying to make sure you're not joking with him again, and when he makes sure that you have no intention to take back your words, he leans in, crushing his lips against yours.

You smile throughout the kiss, even as he pinches your sides, his form of punishment for teasing him for so long. He bites your lip, just enough for him to taste your metallic blood on his tongue, sealing the deal between the two of you. You take his hint and bite his lip yourself, drawing blood from him.

"About damn time." He murmurs against your lips, letting you take a few breaths before trapping your lips in a needy kiss again.

Such a moment of bliss and tenderness between you is very much needed. Especially after recent events. However, you know that you won't be able to enjoy peace with him for long. But as long as you both had each other's backs, you could face the world. And soon you will have one more little human to protect.

You stand in your blood-red wedding dress, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Baroness of Giedi Prime. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought you would come this far, especially not when you boarded a Harkonnen ship in fear to escape the Bene Gesserit and your destiny. The destinies you were meant to fulfil... just a little differently than the Reverend Mothers would have wanted.

"The essence of the bride hunt is that she runs away from her groom. She is not supposed to be waiting in their chamber for him. I didn't expect you to make it so easy for me to catch you. This isn't like you." Feyd grumbles, suddenly finding himself behind you. You sigh as he wraps his arms around you, pressing your back against his chest. You take his hand in yours and squeeze, resting your head on his shoulder. You can't help but smile as your black and gold wedding rings reflect in the mirror. "You've ruined my fun, wife. And I should consider leaving the veil outside our bedroom door as an insult and your lack of faith in my abilities to find you."

"I didn't feel like running away from you today. You could say you've had your fair share of bride hunting over the years I've been here." He chuckles against your neck, placing a few small kisses there.

"So clever. My baroness. My wife." He purrs, marking your neck, releasing one of his hands from your grip, and removing the ruby necklace from around your neck.

"I have a gift for you." You tell him before he starts stripping you out of your wedding dress. Black diamonds woven into your dress create beautiful, embroidered red flowers, and the sleeves and neckline of the dress are decorated with lace, of course, also in the colour of blood. You think Feyd sacrificed a few slaves on purpose to show the seamstresses... the perfect colour for your wedding dress.

As beautiful as the dress was, you'd also rather have it lying on the floor. However, you need to tell him something important before he starts your wedding night.

"You have? I did not expect it. I have nothing in return for you. I can always…"

"You will not bring me the heads of your concubines on a gold platter. We agreed that they would become my servants and that would remain so." You interrupt him before he can propose it to you again. You watch him take a breath before he speaks again. You place your finger on his lips, silencing him, knowing full well what he wanted to say. "I don't want anyone's head. It's enough for me that you hung Atreides' head like some kind of decorative horn in the throne room. By the way, we'll have to take it off when the Emperor's delegation arrives."

"Again, you're spoiling my fun, wife." He grumbles, offended, but doesn't let go of you from his embrace. He rests his chin on your shoulder and looks at the two of you in the mirror. He plays with the bandage on your hand and smiles, remembering how he pierced your joined hands with a dagger a few hours ago. You were his. His baroness. His woman. "What do you have for me?" He asks, nuzzling your temple before pressing a kiss to your earlobe.

Your eyes meet in the mirror as you take his hands in yours. You gently slide them down from your collarbones, over your chest, and into your belly. You press his hands so he can feel the tiny pregnancy bump through the fabric of your dress.

You watch his reaction carefully, biting your lip as you try not to smile at his shocked look. His fingers press further against your stomach, as if to make sure what he feels is real. He tenses when he realises it's true.

"You are… how long?"

"A few weeks."

"A few weeks?" He asks, both surprised and offended that you kept him in the dark for so long. You frown at him and turn to look at him properly and not through the mirror.

"I wanted to make sure she is okay and grows properly."

"She?" You frown when you hear the disappointed tone with which he receives this information. You feel the anger boiling inside you, all the joy and excitement leaving you as you realise this isn't what he expected. That he expected you to give him the Kwisatz Haderach first.

"Yes... is that a problem?" You ask him, furious. He realises what it might have sounded like to you. He sighs, looking away from you and focusing on the wall behind you. He clenches his fists and takes a few breaths, trying to calm down and not think about how you could ever accuse him of discriminating against your unborn child based on gender.

"NO. Not at all. I don't care about the sex, as long as it's healthy. I just... thought we were going to have a boy first." You shudder slightly, remembering what Atreides had shown you on Arrakis—the future that would await you at the hands of your own son. But it was different then.

You did everything to prevent your future from being like this: you confessed your love to Feyd first, you made sure that you showed him the same devotion as he showed to you, and you made sure that your firstborn would be a daughter. However, there was still a small seed of fear in you. After all, Feyd killed his mother, so how could you be sure that, ironically, your potential son wouldn't do the same?

"What's wrong?" Feyd asks, cupping your chin between his two fingers. You flinch, but you don't move away from him.

You place your hand on his, holding it in a tight grip as you steady your breathing, not even noticing that you had found yourself in such a state of panic. You close your eyes and focus on your breathing, the beating of your heart, and the feeling of Feyd's hand in yours as you try to calm down.

"I… had… visions."

"Of course. Visions." He replies mockingly and removes his hand from your grip. He takes a few steps back, looking at you with reproach and bitterness in his blue eyes, which now resemble the ocean in a dangerous storm. "I thought that by defeating Atreides, we were done with visions, fate, destiny and especially with hiding important information from each other. But I guess I was wrong after all. Well, so do you. You can take the Bene Gesserit out of the order, but you can't take the order out of the Bene Gesserit."

"Feyd… it's not like that." You say this as you reach for him, but he pulls away from you before your fingertip can touch his skin. It hurts you that he thinks you have any connection to these witches, but you can't say you're surprised by his behaviour or that it's unreasonable. You just couldn't tell him what you saw without worrying about him getting paranoid.

"So what's it like?! You're not hiding anything from me? You don't make decisions completely by yourself? I understand that you want to be your own boss and make your own decisions, but you're my wife! What would you do if the roles were reversed? What if I hid from you what you hid from me?!"

"Feyd..." You try again, but this time he pulls away from you as if your touch would burn him. Before you can say anything, he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him with such force that you're sure everyone in Giedi Prime heard it.

You sigh in defeat and lean your head against the wall. You hiss as the crown on your head prevents you from leaning back comfortably. You yank it out of your elaborately styled hairstyle and throw it across the room, not even flinching when the jewels shatter on the floor.

"Don't worry my sweethearts, everything will be fine. Dad's a little mad at me, but he's right. Even if he acts like an overgrown, spoiled little baby. I promise you that I will do everything to make us happy. All four of us." You whisper, wondering how the hell you're supposed to deal with your angry husband. This is not what your wedding night should be like. But was anything in the two of you's lives as it should have been?

"I'm having a little déjà vu, aren't you?" You ask, leaning on the doorframe of his private training room as his 'toy' falls dead under the blow he received from the furious man which now is your husband.

You're reminded of how you found him here in a similar condition a few months ago. Only then were you just his right-hand man, and he showed no... visible signs of interest in you. And now you were his wife and pregnant. And thousands of other things happened along the way.

"Leave." He growls at you and plunges his blade into the dead man several times. You sigh, throwing the towel you brought for him to the nearest chair and pulling out your own dagger.

"Fight with me." You request, looking at him carefully. He stops in his process of punching holes in the dead man's body, changing it into a sieve, and he looks at you in shock.

"You are with child." He responds emotionlessly, going back to abusing the prisoner's body.

"And? I haven't been pregnant that long that I can't kick your ass." You can see that this comment irritates him by the way he plunges the dagger deeper into the man's flesh. He clenches his jaw tightly, trying his hardest not to snap at you. After all, you were pregnant. He had to be gentle with you.

"Get out of here, woman. I won't fight you in this condition." He replies firmly, turning his back to you and walking to the table to pour himself some water.

You take a closer look at the muscles in his back; his body is painted red with the blood of the people he killed in his rampage. You purse your lips, shaking your head.

You sneak up on him and press the blade to his throat as he drinks. His Adam's apple bobs at the feeling of your cold steel against his neck. He turns his head to give you an annoyed look, as if you were a cat that had scratched him with its claws.

"Y/N..." He mutters menacingly, clenching his hands into fists. You lean in, lips brushing his earlobe and biting it after you whisper back:

"Feyd."

The low growl is all the warning you get. He pushes you away from him and reaches for his blade. You block his attack, your steels colliding with each other in a distinctive clanging sound. He doesn't move to attack first, watching you carefully and blocking your every attack as you try to leave a small scratch on his skin. You're furious that he's holding himself back and that he's making sure his blade doesn't even touch your skin, which is exposed by your regular combat gear.

You growl as you manage to break through his defences and stab him in the shoulder. He screams in anger and finally starts attacking you. You gasp, blocking his blows every now and then, and for obvious reasons, he doesn't hit you from the waist down. You're starting to get tired, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins and your own pride won't let you stop your fight. Feyd notices it, though. And he decides to end it.

He drops his blade and grabs your arms tightly. He pushes you against the wall, pinning you against it with his body. You both breathe quickly, staring wordlessly into each other's eyes as you press the dagger to his neck. His black blood drips from his shoulder onto the floor, the only sound in the empty room apart from your ragged breaths.

"I love you. Don't ever doubt that." You whisper and lean forward, capturing his lips in a furious kiss. His fingers dig into your arms even more, surely leaving small bruises in the shape of his fingertips as he uses his body to block you from making any movement.

You moan, pressing the dagger harder against his throat as he bites your lower lip. Feyd growls, and with a quick, confident movement, he grabs the gun from your hand and throws it across the room, unknowingly hitting the dead man's body.

You moan as his hands land on your hips. He lifts you up, rubbing his length against your pussy and biting your chin. You growl, digging your nail into his neck and wrapping your legs around his hips, gasping as you become wetter with each of his light thrusts into your clothed core.

"If I knew that all I had to do to get you like this was to argue with you, I would have done it the moment you chose that disgusting cake for our wedding."

"The cake was delicious, it's not my fault you're such a picky pain in the ass." You mumble back and bite into his neck. He moans softly, grabbing your hair in a tight grip.

"I quite like being a pain in your ass." He says this and grabs your hips. You wrap your arms around him and hold on to him as he carries you through the halls of the Harkonnen stronghold. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, trying to ignore the curious glances from the servants and passersby who look away as soon as they meet Feyd's hostile gaze. "I wish I had the opportunity to get you out of that dress. You looked beautiful at our wedding."

"I won't wear that dress again just because you decided to do your monthly sulk today. It took the maids an hour to put me in it." You grumble as he opens the door to your chambers.

"Do not worry honey. I'll undress you. And I will dress you up. And I'll undress you again. I have all the time in the world, my wife."

"And here I thought you'd rather spend your time differently than dressing me like a doll. More… active and enjoyable." You giggle as he places you on the bed at your remark. His fingers wander under your black linen shirt as he unhurriedly undresses you.

"Do you doubt that I have the time, skill, and stamina for both?" He proves his point by leaving a few hickeys on your neck. You smirk, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer to you. You wonder since when he has so much power over you (and you over him) that it only takes a few hours for you to reconcile.

Either you've come a long and successful way in developing your relationship, or you're simply getting too old for constant drama and want to finally have a moment of peace. But you weren't complaining if every little fight you had would end with you acting like idiots in love with each other again at the end of the day.

You sigh, drawing patterns on your husband's head. His arms tighten around you as you move, as if he's afraid you'll try to get away from him.

"As much as I like this, I must remind you that you have other responsibilities as a baron besides holding me."

"Possible. But holding my pregnant wife is my most important duty, to which I choose to devote myself completely today. Especially since you are getting closer to giving birth. The birth of twins, I would like to point out." He mumbles, pressing a kiss and rubbing his nose against your bump, and nuzzling into you.

"It's just childbirth, not a fight on Arrakis against the Fremen." You joke, rubbing his back. He purrs, snuggling even closer into you, making sure his arm wraps protectively around your belly.

"I'd be a lot more confident about your safety if you went to fight those rats instead."

"Said the man cuddled up to his pregnant wife." You try to ease his concern just a little. But you know your husband very well. Enough to know that he's stubborn as hell to give in so easily and forget about his fears.

"Does it bother you that I'm forming a bond with my unborn heirs?"

"No. Not at all."

"So let me continue, little witch, or I will silence you." You laugh, fully aware of his ways of shutting you up. He rolls his eyes at you, stands up, and kisses you, making you giggle even more. He breaks the kiss and presses his lips against your forehead before returning to his position as your protector.

"I'll be alright. We're okay. All three of us." You assure him and place your hand on his cheek, caressing it tenderly.

"I should punish you for hiding something so important from me again." He brings up the fact that… I missed telling him that yes, you are pregnant, but with twins. A girl, as you said, and a boy.

"That was months ago. Besides, there are many things I told you. Like my visions and everything. And I didn't get an award for it, so you can say we're even."

You defend yourself, and he just chuckles. A rare thing. But it seemed that with you and in the solitude of your shared quarters, (yes, he refused to have separate bedrooms. Something about how he had waited too long for you to spend even a night without you in his bed now anyway.) he did it a lot more often.

"You're way too smart, little witch. If you didn't love me, you would dethrone me in a week."

"Maybe even less." You banter with him with a smirk. You squeal as he tickles you, feigning outrage at your insult. You grab his hand in a tight grip and stop him.

You both freeze when your stomach suddenly bulges in one place. Feyd looks worriedly from you to your belly and hesitantly reaches up with one finger to stroke the small bulge. It disappears as quickly as he touches it. You giggle, realising that one of the kids must have stuck out its leg.

"I will teach them to fight. Both of them. They will be great leaders. One will get Arrakis and Lankiveil and the other will get Giedi Prime. They will support each other and fight for each other. They will get everything."

"Everything we didn't have."

"Yes." Feyd says thoughtfully, examining your belly. He presses his mouth there and cups your belly with his hands. You giggle when you suddenly get kicked by one of the twins, and you pull him towards you to hug you again.

"To be honest, I expected the first thing you would do was make them fight the snakes to prove their strength."

"I'm not my uncle."

"I know." You say and press a kiss to the top of his head. "You're… so much more. Someone much better than anyone ever wanted or thought you were. Never doubt it."

He nods and hugs you tighter. You sigh, happy with how close he is to you and the way he holds you. You could assure him that everything was fine, but the truth was that you were afraid of what the future would bring. If you were wrong... no. You couldn't think like that. You had Feyd by your side. And that was all that really mattered.

"We should name the girl Katerina."

"Katerina? Why?" You ask, turning your gaze towards him and frowning. The last thing you would expect him to do was to think about names for your children.

"I have a good feeling." He replies with a shrug and pulls you closer to him. You know him too well not to know he's up to something. However, you decide not to ask him about it. After all, each of you deserves to have your little secrets. Something you both learned to respect.

"Well, since you've already named the girl, I want to name the boy." He smiles and kisses the corner of your mouth at your request.

"And what do you want to name our son?"

"Feydor."

"Feydor? Why?"

"I have a good feeling." You answer him the same way. He rolls his eyes, but he doesn't ask you anything either. He hugs you tighter and presses his lips against your forehead. It's nice to have him so close to me and feel almost... normal.

Even if your normal was completely different from what was generally perceived as one.

"Your son got lost in the halls of Giedi Prime, the guards and harpies barely found him." Feyd grumbles as he enters the war room. You look up from the papers and watch as your husband slumps onto the sofa with a glass in his hand.

"My son?"

"Our son." He corrects himself, knowing full well better than to raise your ire with such a simple mistake.

"Are you blaming me? Need I remind you because of who Katerina almost killed the heir of Caladan last week because she was bragging about her fighting skills by actually fighting that boy in the arena?" You reproach him. He rolls his eyes and puts his half-full glass on the table next to him, not protesting or arguing with you. "I thought so. So don't blame me for teaching our son my tricks when you teach yours to our daughter."

"I can't believe how easily you turned me into an obedient husband." He complains, standing up and walking over to you. He rests his chin on your head and looks over the conquest plans you've made, glancing at the reports from the front that Rabban sent you.

"It wasn't that difficult at all." You banter with him and cup his chin. You kiss him, enjoying the softness of his lips. He cups your cheek in his hand and deepens it, moaning into your mouth.

You stop when you hear giggling coming from the secret corridor leading to the room. You raise an eyebrow and listen, realising that it's your twins trying to sneak up on you two.

"These kids are going to kill us both."

"We won't give up without a fight, my Baron." You whisper, standing up silently, making no sound as you two establish a 'plan of attack' on your children.

"Oh we certainly won't, my Baroness." He agrees with you with a smile. You answer him with your own, your teeth as black as his.

A moment later, the laughter of your two children echoes throughout the Harkonnen stronghold as you go on a little chase through the secret corridors.

The dagger that Feyd gave you hangs as a decoration in the war room. The steel is old but in good condition, although it is chipped in several places. Or rather, melted under the influence of the blood and wounds you inflicted. You never decided to repair it. It was a reminder of what you went through. All the way from being Feyd's right hand to the Baroness. His wife. The mothers of your two children.

Any visions of the future you had were good. Maybe not perfect, but what would your life be without a little bit of struggle? You and Feyd have proven that you can overcome any obstacle, enemy, or anything that could tear you apart. You were above fate and destiny.

And you will fight for your family with everything you have. Against every Bene Gesserit and everyone who wanted to hurt you or separate you. Being Feyd's right hand has prepared you perfectly for this.

So, this is the end. It feels strange to part with this story (it's the first time I feel this way). At first it was supposed to be just a oneshot, but thanks to your comments and involvement in the story, this miniseries was created. Thank you all for every comment, heart and all the love for this story. Thank you!!!!! (And I hope you will stay longer, for another mini-series with Feyd. ;D) Thank you so much again!! 😊🥰🩵🩵🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🩵🩵 ~ Kasagia

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[dekariosclan]

Hello my friend!

So we all know how amazing and wonderful Gale is, how kind, good, caring and funny he is. He is, in so many ways, a perfect man.

He is, however, only human. I have the tendency to idealise him, and forget this.

My question to you is - what do you think his flaws are? Both generally and as a husband/life partner.

💜

Ohhh I love this question so much ❤️ I am a hopeless romantic, and I adore Gale’s charming, sweet, loving adorkableness! He is truly amazing—but I can confirm NOBODY (and no relationship) is ever 100% perfect.

The thing about a long-term committed relationship is that, while your partner’s charms make the relationship wonderful, their flaws are what make it REAL. And that’s just as important.

So let’s talk about our charming Gale’s less-than-charming aspects, shall we?

[warning: this went from a short & concise answer to a rambling dissertation, please prepare yourself accordingly! Also I know this ask/answer was supposed to make Gale a little less perfect and help lessen our obsession, but uhhhh, I seem to have veered hard in the opposite direction 😂]

———

First off: The Pomposity™️ (I’m not 100% certain that’s even a real word but you know what I mean right) So we all know that by the end of the game, (human) Gale has come to accept himself as he is, and decided to henceforth be known as ‘Gale Dekarios, a most brilliant wizard of intentionally limited reknown.’ He’s come a lonnng way in cutting down his ego, but let’s be honest: some of it will never truly go away. And that’s fair, because he IS brilliant, and he IS talented, and he IS extremely passionate about magic.

…but it’s tough to remember all that and give him a pass when that usually-oh-so-adorable-finger-in-the-air is now aimed at YOU, as he declares that ‘after all, he IS an expert on [*insert topic here*] because he WAS awarded [*insert scholarly award here*] from the one and only [*insert impressive Blackstaff Academy professor here.*]’

And all you wanted was for your opinion to be taken into consideration regarding the wine selection at dinner.

———

Second: The Disarray / Messiness. Gale has a brilliant mind, one that he applies full throttle to any and all situations: concentration on magic spells, lance board strategy, calculations, poring over ancient tomes, and even figuring out how to cook something edible out of rotting fish heads and some moldy cheese (no veggies, though!)

The problem is, while his mind is brilliant and he will keep it laser-focused on his chosen subject at that current moment, from a day-to-day perspective he is straight-up scatter brained with all the things he has his hands in. We can see this in his vision of his tower: BOOKS. BOOKS EVERYWHERE. Some stacked in piles, some shoved onto shelves, some left open on the page he was reading when he got distracted, etc.

We also get confirmation of this from Tara in the epilogue:

Tara: The way he leaves his potions in absolute disarray—I know for certain he wasn’t raised in a barn, but you’d never know it.

It’s one thing to have books & potions & scrolls scattered throughout his library and sitting room—you have no complaints against that, you HAVE moved in with/married a wizard, after all—but to find them in the kitchen, wine cellar, even occasionally stuffed into your own wardrobe? It’s a bit much.

TLDR: Our rizzard is a hot mess.

———

Which leads us into perhaps his biggest flaw: The Fussiness.

So about all those books everywhere, on everything, all at once? You didn’t try and ARRANGE them or organize them for him, did you?…You did?! Oh, gods! No, no, he had an ORDER to them, you see, and he knew that the exact spell he needed could be found in the third book down in the stack next to the piano, page 453, why did you ever decide to move it?

Well, you explain as patiently as you can, it was in the way, and frankly you could tell from the dust on it that he hadn’t touched it in several yea—

BY ELMINSTER’S ELBOW, did you ALPHABETIZE his illusion scrolls??! Oh, for the love of—!

You get the picture.

There would undoubtedly be moments when you found yourself fully exasperated by this man and his exacting, fussy nature.

———

All that being said: true fights would be rare.

The occasional huffy remark or quickly-forgotten gripe would occur now and then as in any relationship, but a real, anger-filled argument? With heightened emotions and hurt feelings? Rare indeed.

The only thing bigger than Gale’s brain is his heart. And while his mind is dedicated to a great many things as mentioned above (magic studies, lance board, etc) his heart is 100% dedicated TO YOU, and you alone. So on those rare occasions after a fight has occurred, it does not take long for him to come down from the heat of the moment and realize, oh, hells, he’s been an ass, hasn’t he?

He knows you love him. His anxiety about not being enough for you has long since disappeared, and he’s calmed his worries that you would ever leave him, but still…there’s always a lingering concern that maybe you’ll grow distant from him after an argument.

If you are in the wrong and he is certain of it, he will be stiffly polite until you offer an apology, and then he will be taking you in his arms, kissing you passionately and telling you ‘all is forgiven my love, let’s never speak of this again’ (and trying hard to hide his relief that you apologized first, because he was not sure how long he would be able to hold out and stay mad at you.)

If HE is in the wrong, though? And you are truly mad at him? And he knows he really stuck his foot in it? Oh, boy.

You’ll be treated to an apology so eloquent it would make poets weep, and it will come packaged with hand-holding, pouting, pleading, and Gale getting down on his (bad) knees.

And if you’re still mad at him after that?

Well, then you’ll have to complete a gauntlet harder than anything Shar could ever throw at you. You’ll have to try and stay angry, explain your anger, AND explain to Gale why he won’t be easily forgiven, all while looking directly at this:

And this:

AND THIS:

…

…needless to say you will be failing, and hard.

Not that you mind, because the make-up sex will be absolutely phenomenal. Gale doesn’t just want to repair your loving bond after you’ve had an argument, he wants to improve it. Which requires much study and experimentation, of course.

And for awhile afterwards, all will be bliss again.

…until you find a pile of scrolls shoved under your side of the bed, and some open books scattered across your dresser, and you decide it time to do some organizing. ———

So yes, my friend. Gale definitely does have some flaws, and at some point they WOULD drive you crazy in any sort of relationship you have with him. Gale is wonderful, Gale is loving, but Gale isn’t perfect!!

…but when he takes you in his arms after you’ve made up, and his mouth is hungrily devouring yours, and he’s murmuring words of adoration against your skin as he trails his kisses down your neck, chest, hips—

Nevermind! I take it all back. He’s perfect. 😂

[peachesofteal]

The Sun - Epilogue

Sassy series

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

“Alright lad, ready?”

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

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

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

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

“That’s right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Looks like baby Riley is a girl.” 

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

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

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

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

“Can I hold her?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Theo, this is your sister. Josephine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Simon doesn’t sleep that night.

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

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

In this hospital.

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

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

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

He strokes the metal of his wedding band. 

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

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

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

"I got you."

You’re the sun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here, Sass. I got you.”

[waynewifey]

dear mr. wayne — b.w

part one: dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

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

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: angst romance & dark action

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

word count: 2.8k

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

gotham city, USA.

it's late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he's in a meeting, the boring kind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

part two

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Epilogue (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 13.

Epilogue

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, crying, trauma, mentions of killing characters, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, Anakin Skywalker's rage, reader insert, Grief, betrayal, REX CRYING, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag L

In the end, Umbara belonged to the Republic.

General Kenobi's battalion routed the last holdouts of Umbarans. Which allowed the remaining 501st to also secure several sectors.

A pyrrhic victory. One filled with death, betrayal and agony. 

Gunships had arrived to pick up the 212th who joined you in the hunt for Krell. You watched Dogma get on one of those ships, intending to leave the 501st and become a Coruscant guard. 

It suits him, you think.

You were standing next to Rex, watching a 501st ARF trooper help one of the injured 212th stand. Jesse, Tup and Fives were also with you.

“What's the point in all of this?” The clone captain shook his head, “I mean…why?” 

“I don’t know, Sir.” Fives responded, looking down, “I don’t think anybody knows. But, I do know that someday this war is going to end.” He turned his head up to try and meet the captain's eye.

“Then what?” Rex turned to face him, “We’re soldiers. What happens to us then?”

I don’t know. But I’ll be with you when you reach that point. 

Silently, you grabbed Rex’s hand. You hadn’t been able to look at him since killing Krell. You hadn't entirely come to terms with the fact that you ended the General's life.

Another gunship landed and the doors opened. General Skywalker stepped off, looking around furiously. Once he saw Rex, he rushed towards your group, “Captain Rex! Obi-wan sent a transmission that something happened. Krell ordered you to fire on another battalion!?”

You weren’t force sensitive, but the air around Anakin was buzzing with worry and panic. He cared deeply for his men. 

“General,” Rex saluted in greeting, “There’s…a lot you need to know.” He motioned for Anakin to follow to the airbase center.

The Jedi knew something was wrong, judging by his stare. Rex was too tense. too stiff.

You went with him to the tower to answer questions about Krell. It was only right, as you were the one who killed the Jedi. It made sense a Jedi would pass judgment. 

Your lover had only gotten about halfway through his report when you all made it to the top. When Rex explained Krell’s attempted execution of Jesse and Fives, you noticed a growing crack in one of the windows. 

As you and the captain retold events, that crack grew until there was a web of instability through the glass. When the report reached the point of firing on the 212th, the window shattered, sending glass to the ground below.

Anakin’s anger was so thick you could taste it.

His blue eyes were bright with rage and sadness, “You…I should…” He paced, “I should have been here! I should have stopped him!” 

“General…” Your words were quiet. quieter than intended, “No one saw this coming…”

“The council should have!” Anakin shouted, “The council should have known! I should have known! Instead we were so focused on victory…” He stepped back, eyes wide, “How many…How many did he kill with his fucking plans?”

In the light, you swear you could make out unshed tears. 

You cleared your throat deciding to be honest with him, “A little over a third of the 501st is dead.”

“That can’t be!”

 “Kix and I have confirmed the number three times, General.” Your voice was steady, surprisingly since you were so close to breaking down, “A little over one third.” 

Because you failed to save them.

Anakin stumbled back, raising a hand to his face, “Krell…”

“Is dead, General.” Rex answered him, stepping forward, “He was executed after being arrested. His body is in the brig.”

“By who?” 

“Me, General.” You responded, taking the Jedi off guard, “If you see it fit that I’m punished for killing a Jedi-”

“No.” General Skywalker straightened, “No. No one is going to be punished for what happened here,” His voice was trembling. The glass of another window crackled. This time, it was undeniable, there were tears in his eyes.

He cares so much for his men…

The breath the General took was shaky at best, “Rex…I…I want the men to rest. Properly. Once we’re back on Coruscant, the 501st is going on leave, so everyone can recover,” He cleared his throat, trying to get his emotions under control, “I will need to speak with the council, but I swear, I will never leave you all in the hands of a madman ever again.”

Anakin put both his hands on Rex’s shoulders, taking the clone off guard. 

“I promise Rex. This will never happen again. Not while I’m alive.”

Your lover nodded, “I know General. The men appreciate your leadership. No one faults you for what happened.” 

“I still should have been here.” He responded, “Both of you, get some rest. I need to send a message to Obi-wan.”

Wordlessly, the both of you stepped out of the room to the lift. However, before you lowered to the ground, you heard Anakin through the heavy metal doors. 

“How could the council let this happen, Obi-wan!?”

Your lover was staring ahead, brown eyes haunted as the lift lowered to the ground floor. You notice that something in him shifted. As if a switch was just turned off. 

Umbara changed him. It changed you. Most likely changed the 501st too. 

Once outside, Fives and Jesse were waiting, “How’d the General take it?” The ARC trooper asked. 

“Did you see the second broken window?” You snarked bitterly. 

There was no response from your lover. No comment to tell you to hush. You looked over to him, worry washing over you.

Rex looked…empty all of a sudden. His steps seemed unsteady. His expression was blank.

Anakin’s arrival has brought a sense of safety. Everyone knew that the General would fight and defend the clones in his legion. Even die for them, if the situation called for it. With Skywalker here, the 501st captain didn’t need to fight so much. Everyone could finally breathe. Rex included.

Adrenaline crash. He needs rest.

“The General has commanded everyone to rest and recover from…everything that's happened.” You informed the two troopers in front of you, “He’ll speak with the Council, figure out what to do…When we’re able, we’ll be leaving for Coruscant to go on leave.” 

Jesse nodded before perking up, “Captain Rex..?”

“I got him.” You held his arm, beginning to lead him to the barracks, “Get some rest, guys. I got the captain.”

Rex was silent on your small journey to his quarters. He maintained his blank expression, looking calm to an outsider. Those who didn’t know him would think he was handling the situation well. 

But you knew him. He was finally collapsing. 

He’s been awake since landing on Umbara. While everyone else could rest, eat and sleep, he had been working. The captain, as determined and hardworking as he was, was still a human with limits. He was coming out of a several rotation long fight-or-flight episode, and his internal systems were most likely shot. 

Not to mention shock. From death. The betrayal. The trauma. 

Luckily, no one paid you two any mind as your steps lead you to the barracks. Quickly and silently, you opened the door and led Rex inside his small private room. Hopefully with some actual sleep he would come back to himself. 

You’d have to shift your services, you realized. Your focus would need to be on the mental well being of the soldiers. You do have training in psychological health, but you’d have to catch up on the latest research, speak with colleagues, maybe shadow a therapist or two…

That was for the future. Right now, your priority was the clone in front of you. 

“Rex…” You whispered his name, raising your hands to hold his face, “You’ve done everything you can to take care of your brothers. Now let me take care of you.” 

Recognition was in his eyes. He nodded, turning his face to kiss your palm, “I am yours, cyare.” he mumbled lowly. 

The captain would rarely allow himself to be vulnerable. He would always be strong and reliable, never let himself seem weak. Rex was someone who would break rather than bend.

Unless it came to you. 

He gave you his heart. He trusted you with even the darkest most vulnerable parts of his mind and soul. 

You refused to break him.

You took his helmet from his hands and gently placed it on the desk before you began to remove his armor. You started with his arms and chest, slipping the painted and scratched plastoid off his body with ease. 

It didn’t take long for you to have him in his blacks. You looked up at his face meeting his beautiful brown eyes. 

Glossy with tears.

“Oh Rex’ika…” you held his face again, using your thumbs to wipe his tears, “It's over now…”

“My brothers…” He whispered, “So many of my brothers…” His shaky hands were placed over yours. 

“I know…” you responded, pulling him to kiss his forehead, “I know, Rex’ika…” Your arms wrapped around him tightly. You stepped backwards, knees hitting the bed, getting him on the stiff mattress. 

He pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder. You felt the warm wetness of his tears he refused to show anyone else.

You held him, as tightly and as protectively as you could, letting him weep. 

“I got you, love.” you whispered, rocking ever so slightly to calm him, “I got you, Rex.” 

The darkness on Umbara had changed him.  But he wasn’t alone. You’d make sure of that.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Return Back Home to You

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

Word Count: 5.3K

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

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

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

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

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

______

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But?” you prompt. 

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

“I get to fly again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted to spend forever with you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always, baby.” 

______

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

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

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

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

He clinks his bottle against his in acknowledgement. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm, and what’s going on tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You liked that, huh?”

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

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

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

“What do I do to get upgraded?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bradley.” 

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

“Make me scream, baby.”

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

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

“Come on, baby. Scream for me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

“You ready for this?”

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

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

“Yes I do. I’m ready.” 

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

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

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

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

------

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

Thanks Mak and Em for your help as always!

RYEWID Epilogue

RYEWID Masterlist

Masterlist

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

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

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

[aspoonofsugar]

RWBY Volume 9 Epilogue: The Five Stages of Grief Again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RENORA = LONELY TOGETHER

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

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

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

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

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

OSCAR = STAGNATION

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

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

Here, Oscar is speaking both:

Of himself, who is slowly and painfully merging with Ozpin

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

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

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

OTHER POSSIBLE FOILINGS

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

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

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

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

OTHER THOUGHTS

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

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

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

[heyhay13]

Lightning Round QnA!

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

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

Rae/Heyhay Questions

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

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

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

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

How did you come up with Vaeh's Name?

It's from Fenris' sister Nevaeh!

Will you continue to cosplay the characters after this?

Absolutely!

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

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

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

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

How did lore planning/pre stream work?

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

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

Ven lol

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

You might >:3

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

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

How much of the relationship constellation was planned?

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

Did Rae ever get better at baking/cooking?

YES! At least slightly-

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clarification Questions

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

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

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

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

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

Yes!

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

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

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

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

General Questions

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

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

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

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

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

YES - it's coming soon!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Wild Nights || CL16 {Epilogue}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (20/23)

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

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

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

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next part: Twenty-One

--

Twenty

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You find yourself hanging onto her every word. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's something you'll have to accept.

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

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

A piece of yourself.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s the cup competition coming along?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that's all that matters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She did what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn't you?”

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

“So?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And how did she react?”

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

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

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

Taglist: @canvascoloredin | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife| @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant | @cowxpoke | @sokovianbaby| @swiftie1-0-1 | @scarlettbitchx | @tercerspirit-22

[madamridley]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[daydreamgoddess14]

Support System - Epilogue

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

MASTERLIST

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, sorry!”

“He’s around here somewhere I think.”

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

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

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

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

“Sure is, seen Roy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you want it?”

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

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

“Not just a key?”

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

“We’d love to.”

FIN

[gaiaseyes451]

Surprise! Of Kings and Kids - Epilogue

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

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

----

Excerpt from the Epilogue: Continue Reading on AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*~*~*

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

[highvern]

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

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

Please accept this as my apology!!!

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom x fem!reader

Genre: humor, suggestive, fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So…do you come here often?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon babe, let’s go lay down.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, and he’ll kick your butt!”

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

“Yeah! And he’s all big and buff.”

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

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

“Too bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kids.

You want kids. With him.

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

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

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

Oh boy.

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

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

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

“If he asks, what would you say?”

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

“That I’d love to marry you.”

[another-lost-mc]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

self care self care self care

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