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five-rivers · 3 years

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What Was Bound, What Was Loosed Chapter 3

Written for Dannymay Day 6: Core.

Ellie took to spending her days in the palace library.

Danny thought he was trapped. Believed he was trapped. So did everyone else. But Ellie didn’t believe it. All cages had keys. Danny had opened hers. It was only right that she return the favor.

(Of course, she wasn’t happy about being stuck herself. There were still things she wanted to see on Earth. She missed the stars.)

The books were old and new. Some were in English, others were in languages she couldn’t even begin to recognize. Most of them had nothing to do with what she was looking for. Like in any library, they were on a wide variety of subjects, all spread out.

Still, she searched. The stack of tomes that had to do with ghostly kingship and the laws of the Infinite Realms grew progressively larger. Occasionally, one of the shades would attempt to put the books back, but they were easily dissuaded, having no will of their own.

She was making progress. Not a lot, but some. Enough to keep her going.

Vlad knew when to quit.

Oh, maybe it didn’t seem like it, he was easily as obsessive as any ghost, but he did. Sometimes, a plan just wasn’t feasible, and he had to cut his losses.

Cutting his losses, in this case, meant getting incredibly drunk on ghost wine. Fright Knight didn’t approve, but who cared what he thought? Fright Knight was part of the reason he was in this situation in the first place!

If he had just been warned this would happen, he’d have been able to make arrangements, to find some way to keep his portal open, or to stay in the human world, where his life was.

But no. They were all trapped here. No way out.

When hundreds of ghosts all said the same thing, Vlad was inclined to believe them. Danielle, as motivated as she was, was simply experiencing denial. Or, perhaps, bargaining. He had to admit he was never exactly clear on the stages of grief.

Then, there was Daniel, who seemed to be firmly trapped in the ‘depression’ stage, more of a ghost than Vlad had ever seen him as. He lingered in corners, at the edge of Vlad’s vision, quiet, sad, always flanked by Fright Knight and that other ghost, the one with the clocks.

There were parts of him, his Obsession reasserting itself, that yearned to reach out to Danny, but… He didn’t even know how to begin.

Danny felt like a pale, wandering shadow of himself.

Most of the time, he slept, exhausted by the demands the Zone made on him and the continuing changes he was undergoing. The expanding circle of vitality, of rejuvenation, of reconstruction and growth, that so many ghosts were celebrating had to draw energy from somewhere, after all, and even though Danny was absorbing just as much as he was expending, that process made him drowsy in and of itself.

Pain, too, plagued him. His missing eye ached, and sometimes it seemed as if the crown was burrowing into his skull, not merely resting on it. His hand hurt from all his attempts to take off the ring.

He could hardly care for himself in even the most basic of ways. Clockwork often had to remind him, or help him, and he was always so excruciatingly gentle.

Then Vlad and Ellie came.

Their arrival was a relief. Ellie was a friend, was family, and hadn’t been complicit in his betrayal and binding. Vlad had been an enemy, and not even an honest one at that, but essentially everything they’d been at odds over was moot, but he was familiar.

Despite the relief, despite his desire to connect with people who hadn’t hurt him, at least not as badly as everyone else, he hung back. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

So, he lurked and lingered. When Ellie went to the library, when Vlad moped and bothered the shades that ordered the kitchen, he followed, he watched.

Clockwork and Fright Knight, of course, followed and watched him in turn.

At least, this is what happened when he was awake and aware enough to do anything. Danny was under the impression that being awake and independently mobile at all this soon after being… coronated… was unusual, perhaps even unnerving. Normally, he’d be curious, excited about new abilities and what they might mean. Maybe he’d even throw around a quip or two about how awesome he was but…

It wasn’t the time, and he didn’t have the willpower to reach for even that dubious coping mechanism.

In the too-numerous times when Danny was both awake and not well enough to follow Ellie and Vlad around, he liked to sit in the garden. It was almost peaceful there, by the fountain, although the plants had a distressing tendency to reflect his every change in mood.

Today was one of those days. He was too dizzy and lightheaded to drift after Vlad or Ellie, even if neither of them moved very much, but he didn’t want to stay in the bedroom, or, worse, the throne room. His core seemed to pulse, sluggish and painful in his chest. Or perhaps that was his heart. He couldn’t really tell with this mixed-up form. It could even be both.

Another slow wave of transformation swept out from him, making his extremities tingle. He watched, tiredly, as it briefly interacted with the walls of the palace and the scattered shades before moving on. The shades… another aspect of all this that Danny wasn’t comfortable with, but couldn’t bring himself to learn more about. They were sustained through his power, but what were they? Extensions of his will? Aspects of his personality? Constructs generated by the palace? By the Ghost Zone itself? He didn’t know.

As much as he should try to learn, he couldn’t help but think of them as yet another imposition, another burden he was being forced to bear.

This wasn’t a healthy mindset. Jazz would tell him as much. Jazz wasn’t here.

“Danny!”

He looked up, his one eye already searching for Ellie. Fright Knight stepped forward, as if to protect him, but Danny snarled at him, annoyed. He wasn’t going to let him get in between him and one of the few people he could currently stand. Clockwork stayed back, passive, but he looked… worried. Uneasy. As if anticipating a disaster.

“Danny!” exclaimed Ellie again, bursting from a bush, a thick book raised above her head. “I found it!”

“Found what?” asked Danny, leaning forward slightly as Ellie joined him sitting on the edge of the fountain.

“A way out!” She opened the book and started flipping through it, obviously looking for a specific entry.

Both Clockwork and Fright Knight looked extremely tense, now. They probably didn’t want him to find this, didn’t want him to leave. Would they try to stop him?

He hunched his shoulders. He might not be well, but he could fight and make it hurt.

“Here!” said Ellie, triumphantly. “Look at this.” She tapped a picture of a bright, spherical object.

“The core of the Infinite Realms?” asked Danny, reading the legend of the picture.

“Uh huh. Apparently, it’s what determines what the Ghost Zone is like as a whole and controls the rules and laws and stuff. Like, even when it comes to what ghosts act like, and what they can physically do, or how the Ghost Zone’s physics behave. But the important part is that you can go talk to it and petition it and stuff, and sometimes it’ll listen. I bet we can get it to listen to you and make it so that the Ghost Zone doesn’t need a king anymore.”

Danny felt a flutter of hope. The book was old from what he could see, and, ignoring Ellie’s paraphrasing, the language was fantastical and couched in metaphor, but still if there was a possibility…

Near their feet, small, bright flowers began to bloom, each no larger than the head of a pin.

“Daniel,” said Clockwork, in a careful, soft tone. It wasn’t pity, not quite, but it was the verbal equivalent of being handled with kid gloves. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then what is it like?” asked Danny, hunching his shoulders and leaning protectively over Ellie.

“What do you think the King of the Infinite Realms is?” asked Clockwork.

Danny shrugged. Clockwork gave him a small, pained smile.

“The King of Ghosts and the core of the Ghost Zone,” said Clockwork, “they’re the same.”

Danny shook his head, unwilling to let this scrap of hope slip through his fingers so easily.

“Please, Daniel,” said Clockwork. “Why do you think it was so vital that you be crowned? The Realms cannot exist without their core.”

It made sense. A horrible, horrible sense.

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Ellie. “The core’s supposed to be the basis the whole Zone is built on. That can’t just be one person.”

“The library has some books on the subject,” said Clockwork. “But you can see how Daniel is changing things.”

Danny felt his hope collapse and doubled over, hands on his head, face almost touching his legs. A scream bubbled up in his throat, but he swallowed it. All those people, everywhere, his responsibility, his… Not just the people, everything. Everywhere. Not just his responsibility, but relying on him, modeled on him, dependent on him, centered on him.

He wasn’t just the Ghost Zone’s ruler, nominal or not, he was its heart.

“Danny?” asked Ellie. He looked up.

There were blast lines in the ground, radiating away from him. The fountain was cracked and leaking water. Fright Knight had, evidently, grabbed Ellie and leaped away, into the air.

Clockwork hadn’t left, still leaning towards Danny. There was a jagged, dripping slice across his shoulder. Danny gasped, reaching towards him.

“It’s alright,” said Clockwork. “It’s alright.”

“I can’t be,” said Danny. “I can’t be. I’m—I can’t be part of the Ghost Zone. Not—Not like that. That’s not—I can’t be what the Ghost Zone is built on, it doesn’t make sense, I…”

“It’s alright,” repeated Clockwork. “Would you like to go inside? You may feel better if you eat something.”

“Don’t want to bother Vlad,” mumbled Danny. Didn’t want another person to see him crumbling like this.

“We can send something up to your room,” said Clockwork.

He did feel tired. The fountain was repairing itself behind and underneath him. He groaned as the ground beneath him pulled together as well.

“I don’t want to be the core of the Ghost Zone,” he said, knowing that what he wanted was not and never had been a consideration. “I don’t want to be king. I don’t want to be in charge of anything.” He grabbed the edges of Clockwork’s robe, ignoring the moisture despite the pang of guilt it brought him. “I want to go home. And I…” His words failed as he reached for Clockwork’s injury. “I don’t want to do this.”

“This is nothing, Daniel,” putting a gloved hand over the wound. “I have had far worse.”

It started to rain. Great, heavy droplets of water tainted with just enough ectoplasm to glow.

It was one way to hide tears, he supposed.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2021 #a king in chains #what was bound what was loosed

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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The 5 Stages of Grief

Stage Two: Anger (2/5)

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer POV)

Summary: Spencer going through each of the stages of grief after the death of the reader. Stage two is anger.

A/N: Thank you for all the love this series has gotten just after posting the first part!! I know angst isn’t for everyone— and neither is seeing Spencer in pain but thank you to all the people who read it 🥰 Again there’s a lot of rhetorical questions in this chapter- plus a lot of repition in Spencer’s thoughts. and, again each chapter gets progressively longer (cause each stage lasts a longer period of time) I did want to clarify that the only thing in this series that’s really going to give away what season it’s in is the people that are on the team. Requests are open and thanks for reading!

Warnings ⚠️ (if you want full warnings for the series check the Masterlist): Unnecessary agression against Spencer’s co-workers, Spencer attacking an unsub, Talk of death, Blood, Talk of guns, Unreliable narrator

Main Masterlist | 5 Stages of Grief Masterlist

Word count: 1.6k

The water that I had been submerged under immediately following the denial slipping away was slowly being replaced with a fire that burned hot. As I was being brought back to the police station in one of the bureau supplied SUVs nothing else was on my mind except the scorching anger that flickered inside me. I was inflamed with rage, so much so that I didn’t care to respond to Morgan’s soothing words to me. The words did nothing to douse the flames flaring to life within me, it just made me wish I did shut him up back at the crime scene. I should regret that I almost injured part of my own team earlier when I was blinded by denial, but the roaring inferno that consumed me was forcing me to focus only on the man that dared to pull the trigger.

“Shut up!” I snapped hotly at Morgan. In response he gave me a wounded look, I could care less about his feelings right now, he didn’t have his significant other murdered right in front of him. That at least got him to be quiet for a moment, which allowed me to let a few hot tears slip down my cheeks. They were tears of frustration and anger, they might as well have been gasoline poured on me acting as a propellant for my hostile feelings.

What further fueled the fire that burned hot inside me was the fact that they would never fulfill the dreams they had for their life. There was also a small part of me that was selfish, the fact that I would never be able to experience those dreams with them, it only served as another accelerant for the fire within me.

They deserved a better way to go, they deserved not to be shot in the back alley behind a gas station. They deserved to die surrounded by loved ones after living a long full life, with me right beside them.

When we pulled up in front of the station I quickly shot out of the vehicle, almost forgetting to even unbuckle my seatbelt. Morgan swiftly followed behind me trying to catch up with my long belligerent strides.

“Wait kid!” He grabbed my arm that was still covered in their blood, cardigan had been soaked enough to even bleed through to my button up. My once pristine purple cardigan was stained blood red, I would never wear this again. As soon as I got the chance I would burn it, even if it was gifted to me by them.

“Don’t call me kid.” My statement was laced with a deadly tone, I didn’t want his help nor did I need his pity. I yanked my arm out of his grip, then storming up the steps and barging into the station. The police officers all looked at me with varying looks of sadness that made me want to wipe their expression off their face. They had no right to be sad. They didn’t even know them.

I paced by the evidence board waiting for any news, not caring that I was still stuck in my bloodied clothes. Most of the team had left to go follow a lead a while ago leaving me with Emily. At least she didn’t feel the need to speak to me. She knew there was nothing she could say or do to make this situation better.

“Spencer, can you come with me?” JJ asked me gently. I perked up instantly at those words, hoping that they had at least been able to track down some sort of information. At least then maybe my fire would be partially quelled.

My breath hitched when I saw what JJ had led me to see. There he was sitting at the interrogation table, the only thing separating us was the one way glass. There was no doubt in my mind, it was him.

JJ then looked at Hotch and Rossi with a saddened expression before joining Morgan in the room where the unsub was shackled to the table. They started the interrogation of what they were all probably saying was the ‘suspect’, but I knew him to be the perpetrator.

“Where did you find him?” The volume of my voice was soft when I spoke, though my words still had an edge of fury to it.

“He was found a mile away from the scene by some of the officers on patrol, with a gun of the same caliber that- Anyway, we are just waiting for ballistics to confirm.” Rossi was gentle as he explained the situation to me. My mind wandered again instead of fully listening to the reason this man was apprehended. Where was everyone’s rage? Why wasn’t anyone angry? The sadness everyone permeated right now, did nothing to help bring this man to justice. Justice was needed. Real action was needed. Vengeance was needed.

“It’s definitely him.” I wasn’t paying attention to the man’s recount or his alibi that I had no doubt was fake. It didn’t matter to me, there was no doubt in my mind that he was guilty.

“Are you sure?” Hotch finally spoke up with a tone of authority, seemingly unaffected by the events of today. “You never said if you got a good look at him or not.”

My face hardened into stone at Hotch’s question. Was he trying to make me more mad? Was he trying to goad me into retaliation? Did he even care about them? Did he even care that one of his co-workers had been murdered? Or was he really as stone cold as everyone made him out to be? Maybe Haley’s murder had really made him void of all emotion. I couldn’t do that. I needed to be angry, I needed it to fuel me into bringing this man to justice. Maybe it wouldn’t be the most legal form of justice, but I would make sure he’d see it, whether it was by my fist or the courts.

“It’s him.” I said with even more conviction, almost on the edge of yelling at the two of them. I turned around to face my two bosses, a dark expression taking over my face as I did. I wish they would just let me in the room.

Rossi’s face was full of pity and through learning to read Hotch’s micro expressions throughout the years I could tell he was trying to express his sympathy, though it felt hollow. The pity and sympathy only served to make the rage inside me more volatile, which I didn’t think was possible. I didn’t care that Hotch had experienced the same pain I was feeling and I didn’t care that Rossi truly had cared about the both of us. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make me not want to burst through the door of the interrogation room and beat the man to a pulp.

My vision clouded over so I only saw red, I had been consumed by the fire within me. I was like an uncontrollable wildfire now, nothing would stop me. Nothing would stop me from reaching the source of my wrath.

————

My hands were bruised and bloodied, almost like I had punched my fists into glass repeatedly. The blood was seeping through the bandages, someone must have patched me up. But, who? I didn’t even know where I was right now or even how I had gotten these bruises.

Scanning my surroundings I realized I was sitting at the round table in my usual spot, my memory then started coming back to me. I remember JJ pulling me off the unsub after I barged into the interrogation room and had landed a few blows. In my fury of being pulled away from the source of my fire I punched through the mirror in the bathroom I had been dragged into. I remember the wounds on my hands being carefully cleaned by Emily with a softness that I didn’t see often from her. And, I remember being taken home on the jet accompanied by half of the team, the other half had stayed behind to wrap up the case. It scared me that I could barely recall the memories without a haze of fuzziness. I must have been so wrought with fiery emotion and exhaustion that everything around me had started to slip away as unimportant. The team must have brought me in here, they probably wanted to keep an eye on me and knew I wouldn’t want to go back to our apartment. Well, I guess it was just my apartment now. Yeah, the team was right to leave me here. If I even caught a glimpse of their belongings I was sure the rage would take over again.

My eyes immediately shifted over to the chair next to me that would usually be occupied by them. Tears once again filled my eyes, I had cried so much in the past few hours- or was it days? I had cried so much that I wasn’t sure how it was possible. My eyes felt raw, my nose felt raw, my skin felt raw, really my whole being felt raw from the abuse it had seen throughout this whole ordeal. I just wanted this to be over. I just wanted them back.

The fire hadn’t fully gone from me, and I wasn’t sure that it ever would. It flickered inside me, trying to force me into enacting vengeance on the man that had extinguished the person I cared about the most. But, the overwhelming feeling of desperation to see the person who mattered to me most had taken over to partially snuff out the flames into embers. I’d do whatever it takes, I just wanted them back.

—

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

5 stages of grief:

@joonie-centric @tatesimper @half-blood-dork @mcntsee @illuxions-x @rainsong01 @nomajdetective @loveheathens

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds series #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #5 stages of grief series #5 stages of grief

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scrapyardboyfriends · 3 years

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His scenes are basically unwatchable at this point. They are bizarre, the writing is insufferable the acting is after school special level and if genuinely don't understand what they are doing with any of this. It's actually misery porn and twitter seems to agree.

I didn’t think the acting was bad in today’s episode so much, or maybe Danny’s ‘over it’ style works for this because Aaron just looks done in and exhausted during that whole fight with Liv, which fits the situation. And I do feel bad for him. His life is literally awful right now.

He’s stuck in a house with his alcoholic little sister who hates him. He’s got no friends. He’s got a boyfriend who his mother seems more into than he does and all she does is gush about him and push them together. Not to mention said boyfriend is currently lying to him for unknown reasons. He’s also cut himself off from the Robert situation out of fear and stubbornness. He’s so isolated right now and it’s just sad.

And you wonder if there’s a purpose to all of it or if the writing is just that bad. Certainly with the Ben stuff. Will this “relationship” ever make sense or will it just coast along until…who knows what. Will the drunk man story actually be interesting? Who knows.

But also the Liv stuff. What is their end goal there? Do they have one or will this just be another story that drags on until it’s just over and everything resets with no lasting consequences?

I was thinking about Aaron’s post Jackson guilt and self destruction and the unhealthy relationship he had with Hazel afterwards. Whatever way you feel about Jackson or the assisted suicide story, certainly the whole aftermath is significantly better storytelling than this Paul aftermath stuff. I mean I didn’t watch it in real time so I don’t know how I would have felt with it dragging on or whatever but I feel like there were enough different stages of it that it didn’t feel totally repetitive. There was the murder trial and then Aaron wanting to be punished and being reckless and then the exhaustion part of it and then we got to the cutting. And even after that you had Hazel putting all her focus on him and trying to get him to go traveling with her.

I think the difference also is that I felt bad for everyone involved. For Jackson it was tragic, for Aaron I was heartbroken for him and for Hazel too. Whether you like Jackson or not, he was very much a loss in their lives. That was Hazel’s son and Aaron’s first love. Plus, even though Jackson wanted that, Aaron still gave him the drink. It was a purposeful thing. He did end his life for him. And Hazel had to deal with the fact that she couldn’t do it.

With Paul, I was happy he was dead, in part because I just hated the character and the story was awful but also because he was a terrible person. Even though I understand there are complicated feelings there, Vinny was self aware enough for long enough that I couldn’t deal with his denial or guilt over it all so I just didn’t care. And same goes for Liv. She wasn’t going to be able to get him out. He’d literally just been attacking her. If she didn’t leave when she did, she would have died too. So even though I understand what they’re doing, I don’t connect with her guilt in the same way. So on top of all of that indifference, we have to endure this alcohol story which, in some ways I’m glad they’re revisiting because they did a terrible job the first time, but also it’s just so cyclical this time around, I’m tired of it. She already reached rock bottom and apologized and was going to try and get sober. And sure she might struggle with that, but instead they just set her back to square one by having Mandy come around and yell at her and having Aaron ignore her for Robert problems. And now it’s like “what is the new rock bottom? Where do we go from here?”

With post Jackson Aaron, it was a new way for Aaron to deal with his pain vs the retread for Liv. And so we got to see the basics of the cutting being discovered and Chas trying to understand it and him eventually going to counseling and getting healthier. But even so with Hazel still around, he couldn’t fully move on so he had to ask her to go traveling without him and they eventually parted ways knowing that they were both never going to be able to move on from their grief if they stayed together.

So I just wonder what the end point is for Aaron and Liv because we’ve been here before, almost exactly with that prison visit fight and Liv talking about the break up. And now here we are again with her calling him self centered and hating him and they just have this terribly unhealthy dynamic where they’re too on top of each other and in each other’s pockets. Liv can’t handle it when Aaron’s depressed and Aaron can’t handle it when Liv is like this. They don’t know how to help each other without it just consuming them and ruining them. And even when things are okay, Liv is pushy with him and he’s too overprotective with her. It’s bad. So to me the logical endpoint of this is them taking the space they both need.

But yeah, I don’t know where Ben fits into all of that or where one of them would go if they moved out or how the Vinny and Mandy of it all wraps up either. I just need there to be a point to all of it and not for things to just end and reset.

This is very long and rambly I apologize. Basically, I agree that it’s misery porn but so was the Aaron stuff after Jackson but that managed to be well written and go somewhere and if all of this current Aaron/Ben/Liv stuff going borrow a fraction of that quality and actually go somewhere, I would be grateful.

But…you know….extremely low expectations.

Also….for the love of god get Aaron a friend so he can talk to someone other than Ben and Chas.

#current aaron #nonron #current emmerdale #emmerdale complaints corner

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swaps55 · 3 years

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POV Case Study – Have Some Writing Meta

Point of View (POV) is an integral piece of the storytelling puzzle for Opus, my main body of fic, so I thought I’d do a meta post that walks through how I use it as a narrative tool. The intention is not to tell anyone how they should or shouldn’t use POV, but rather to demonstrate one way I used it very deliberately to create narrative tension, weave in characterization, and develop an overarching theme.

Your POV character is an enormous tool in your writing toolbox, whether you are using a single POV or multiple. How you use it depends on a lot of things: what person you’re writing in (first, second, third), the type POV you’re going with (omniscient, meaning the POV narrator can see into everyone’s heads, or limited, meaning you only have access into the head of a specific POV character).

My preferred writing style is 3rd person “in-your-face” limited POV, that puts the reader so solidly in the POV character’s head it’s almost like 1st person in a 3rd person trench coat. That coupled with present tense gives me some extra intensity that I love taking advantage of in emotional or climactic scenes. Again, this isn’t to state a right or a wrong way to use tense or POV – there are lots of great ways to use these tools – but for the purpose of this exercise, this is my chosen loadout.

I made the conscious decision early in Sonata that I did not want to use Sam Shepard’s POV, ever. Every story in his series would be told through the eyes of the people around him. Why? Because one of the key character traits of Sam is that he makes himself whatever someone needs him to be. He sees himself as a tool, so to be a useful tool, he has to have the right shape for the job. This raises the question: who is Sam, when he is free to just be himself? I’m not sure even Sam knows the answer to that question, so to reinforce it through storytelling, I never wanted to reader to see what goes on in his head. Everything you learn about Sam comes through the perceptions of others, and to show the reader how differently he is perceived by others, I write with multiple POVs rather than just Kaidan’s.

Below the cut, I’m going to walk you through a specific example where POV was an essential part of crafting the story I wanted to tell. The chapter in question comes from Fugue, a story I’m writing that explores the aftermath of Alchera. You don’t need to have read Fugue to follow the logic, but if you care to read the chapter, it functions well on its own separate from the rest of the story.

Fugue – This Hole You Left.

This was a very complicated chapter that lived and died by POV choices, and it was extremely difficult to put together. The approach I took was a gamble that (thankfully) worked after much fretting, gnashing of teeth, and help from @pigeontheoneandonly.

This Hole You Left takes place after Sam dies over Alchera. I wanted to paint a ‘kaleidoscope’ of grief, and explore how Sam’s death impacted the people around him in very different ways. Therefore, I needed a plethora of POVs to work with, each one giving me something different. The goals were this:

Find differing POVs that would offer demonstrably different perceptions of Sam and/or illustrate different stages of grief and shock.

Allow each of those POVs to mold to that character’s specific goals and motivations. i.e., I did not want the grief of other characters to be tied to the romantic relationship that had been lost – because that’s not the lens those characters would look through.

Each POV had to move the chronology along in a way that made sense and felt natural.

Kaidan’s POV was off limits. In the absence of Sam’s physical presence, I wanted to treat Kaidan like Sam – the character people could see, but not explore the headspace of. Everything the reader learns about Kaidan in the immediate aftermath of Alchera comes from other people.

That last piece was important. Arguably, Kaidan’s POV was the most valuable one of all, but I was going to have lots of time to explore it in meaningful ways elsewhere. I thought it might be more powerful to express his grief through the eyes of others, and use him as a central theme to weave in and out of the chapter. More about that later.

This constituted one hell of a puzzle to put together, especially when it came to the chronology. For instance, an early mistake I made was putting the most powerful POV (Anderson) too early in the sequence, which diminished what came after it. Moving that POV around meant re-framing other POVs to keep the chronology moving forward (for example, Garrus’ POV initially came after Anderson’s, by moving it before his, I had to change the context so that Anderson’s POV wasn’t a step backwards in time).

Each POV scene was also intended to essentially be its own self-contained short, creating a microcosm of grief, that when put together, would create a much larger and significant whole.

I could write forever about all the trial and error that went into finding the right formula, but it’s probably more valuable to look at where I wound up, and why:

1st POV: Lora Alenko (Kaidan’s mother)

Why: She gave me a window to set the clock in motion and make the loss of the Normandy feel real, because she had the advantage of having no idea anything was wrong. Plus, her perspective felt like a unique one I hadn’t seen in fic when it came to Alchera. I’d set her character up in Sonata, so readers of that fic would be familiar with her and understand what that phone call meant to her in a more meaningful way.

How I used it: I put her in the middle of a mundane, normal, event – lunch with a friend – and then shattered that normalcy with a phone call telling her the ship her son was on had been destroyed. That shift from normal to a state of dread gave me the tension I wanted to use for the rest of the chapter.

Excerpt:

But before she can answer, her omnitool flashes. She frowns and looks down at her arm. It’s a message from Marc. SOS. Call now.

A chill runs down her spine. SOS isn’t something Marc throws around lightly. She’d gotten an SOS from him when he’d found Apollo, the warmblood she’d ridden for years, with a leg stuck through the paddock fence, and the day they’d learned about Vyrnnus.

Kaidan.

“Melia,” she murmurs. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

2nd POV: Admiral Hackett

Why: Hackett gave me the chance to explore Shepard through the eyes of the Alliance. To them, and to Hackett, he’s a weapon rather than a person. He also gave me a chance to weave in a sense of anger, one of the stages of grief.

How I used it: This POV came about late in the revision process, but I’m thrilled it did, because I was missing that cold, calculated look at Shepard’s importance. Shepard dying fucks up Hackett’s plans and political machinations, and his immediate response is not to mourn someone who died, but to move on to plan B. This also gave me a shot to work in Shepard’s mother. By seeing her in Hackett’s POV, I could reinforce the ongoing theme that Captain Shepard sees her son as a legacy, rather than a person.

Excerpt:

There isn’t a list of people who can replace Shepard. Time to make one. Hackett exhales, gaze falling to the datapad on his desk, Shepard, Sam still displayed at the top of the casualty list.

He picks it up and hurls it at the wall. It cracks, screen flickering to black as it clatters to the floor.

What a goddamned waste.

3rd POV: Joker

Why: Joker was an easy one. I’d set up some rather terrible foreshadowing in Sonata with a scene in which he makes the comment “I’d go down with that ship,” and Sam replies, grinning, “Not while I’m around.” I wanted to spike the ball over the net in Fugue, so parking in Joker’s POV in the immediate aftermath was a no-brainer.

How I used it: Through Joker I could explore guilt and shock, so I went back to that memory from Sonata and used repetition to make Joker feel stuck in that moment. It was also my first chance to weave Kaidan in to reinforce the notion of guilt and lay some neat groundwork for narrative tension that would come to a head later.

Excerpt:

I’d go down with that ship.

Not while I’m around.

He should have abandoned ship. The escape pod was right there. He could have given up the Normandy at any time. All he had to do was step over the bodies of Pressly. Chase. All he had to do was leave them all behind.

Instead he’d stayed, and Shepard had made good on his word.

I’d go down with that ship.

Not while I’m around.

4th POV: Dr. Chakwas

Why: Through her, I could look at the adrenaline and denial that comes with managing trauma. To her, Shepard was a patient. Because she is overwhelmed with patients in the form of the Normandy’s wounded, she cannot stop to think about the one she cannot help: she has a job to do, and she has to do it. There will be time to grieve later.

How I used it: Again, I used Kaidan to emphasize her role as a caretaker. Kaidan, who is in command of the survivors, has a moment of weakness that she cannot afford to have, and he can only afford to have in front of her, because she overrides his authority in a medical emergency. Because we are in her POV, we see her outwardly refuse to crack, when internally she’s hanging by a thread. It made for a nice contrast.

Excerpt:

“There was no transponder signal,” she tells him, saying out loud everything she’s been repeating to herself. “We were in hostile territory, with over twenty injured crew. He was gone, Kaidan.”

His fingers curl, eyes still trained on the window.

She puts a hand to her forehead. Between Virmire, triage on the Citadel and this it’s too much. Before today she’s never felt old. Tears sting the corner of her eyes and she swears under her breath. Not here. Not today. Tears are something for tomorrow. Right now, she has a job to do.

5th POV: Garrus

Why: Garrus was a member of the crew who wasn’t on the ship, which is a completely unique perspective. But the question that took me forever to answer, was, how does he react to Sam’s death? What was Shepard to Garrus? I hadn’t written about them during ME1 yet, he was not part of Sonata, and ME1 Garrus is always a little tricky for me. I knew there was something important to gain from his POV, but I couldn’t figure out what it was to the point of tearing my hair out. Eventually, I settled on Garrus seeing Shepard as a mentor he couldn’t live up to, and made his POV about failure and regret.

How I used it: Shepard was everything Garrus aspired to be, but could never quite achieve. He left the Normandy because Shepard made him feel like he could make a difference, only he didn’t. And then, his friends needed him, and he wasn’t there, and now Shepard is dead. I wove a lot of doubt, regret and self-deprecation into his POV to drive that home.

Excerpt:

Dammit, why hadn’t he stayed on that ship?

He grabs another report from the top of the pile on his desk, which is getting tall enough to sway in the breeze.

This is why. Because Saren had obliterated the Citadel, and Shepard, damn him, had made him believe he could make a difference. He thought he could make it here. Crazy thing, having to fill out a form every time you find a corpse. He’s got three more to add to the list after today.

6th POV: Anderson

Why: Anderson was both a father figure and commanding officer to Sam. Because he’s known him for most of his life, he has a perspective no other POV character has. To him, Sam was more like a son he’d been tasked to protect, and in the end failed to protect him. He and Kaidan are the only people who know Shepard well enough to mourn Sam, and not just Commander Shepard. Anderson would really let me start to explore grief.

How I used it: This was my heavy hitter. Through Anderson’s POV, I could trace Sam the person as he grew into Commander Shepard, and explore the echoes of the kid that still lived in the adult. I was also able to use Kaidan in a really fascinating way. In Opus, Kaidan and Sam served together for four years before the Normandy. Therefore, Anderson is pretty familiar with him, but doesn’t know him the way he does Sam. He keeps looking at Kaidan expecting Sam. In a sense, trying to plug a puzzle piece into the wrong hole. It was a neat way to show Anderson’s grief.

Additionally, this was a great opportunity to demonstrate Kaidan’s sense of loss without being in his head. Anderson does not know there was a relationship between Sam and Kaidan, but the reader does. Thus, I could have my cake and eat it, too: The POV character wasn’t examining the relationship that had been lost between Sam and Kaidan because he didn’t know it existed, but the reader got to.

Excerpt:

He exhales through his nostrils. “The Normandy was attacked by an unknown vessel. Whoever they were, Joker says they came out of nowhere. Shepard got him into the escape pod, but the ship lost gravity. He…well.”

Alenko stares straight ahead, silent. Anderson looks for a tell, but he only knows Shepard’s.

Alenko isn’t Shepard.

7th POV: Tali

Why: Tali presented a similar problem to me that Garrus did. What was Shepard specifically to her, and what did his loss mean to her? As my closing POV, not only did she need to hit a home run, but she also needed to close out the chapter in a way that tied all the other POVs together and examined Shepard’s death through a much wider lens, without feeling like I was pulling the camera back from her POV to get there. That’s a lot to ask. Lucky for me, Tali never lets me down.

The answer I came to also called back to Sonata, in which exploring what home meant to each of the characters was an important theme. So I went back to this idea for Tali, as she and Sam had a very important thing in common that set them apart from everyone else: they were both born in space, and did not have the traditional fixed point of home that everyone around them had. Home was different to them than it was to everyone else.

How I used it: Tali was the only one left who understood how truly unique and special the home she’d found on the Normandy was. Therefore, when the crew starts to fragment and fall apart around her, she is forced to mourn the loss not only of Shepard, who gave her that home, but the home itself. I was able to use that grief to circle back to how much Shepard changed the people around him, and how deeply his loss will be felt in ways people haven’t even realized yet.

That conclusion was the magic final puzzle piece that made the whole thing work, and it was literally the last idea to take shape.

Excerpt:

Aliens don’t carry their ship names with them the way quarians do. Perhaps when you’re born with dirt under your feet you don’t need to. For them, home isn’t a vessel among the stars – it’s a fixed place in the universe, a way back no matter how far from it you venture.

But Shepard had been different. Like the quarians, he had no fixed point. Home was what – or who – he carried with him. He’d understood the power of a ship name, even if he hadn’t used one out loud. People who served with Shepard felt like they belonged, in ways they couldn’t anywhere else, because he said to hell with that fixed point in the galaxy and brought home to anyone who needed it. For Shepard, there wasn’t a way back. Just a way forward.

Shepard changed people.

They’ve lost so much more than a ship.

The primary objective of Opus is to examine the relationship between Sam and Kaidan, but to really understand the magnitude of Sam’s death, it was critical to explore it outside the confines of that relationship. Part of the struggle Sam and Kaidan have is that Sam doesn’t truly belong to himself or to Kaidan – he belongs to everyone else. That means his death doesn’t belong to either him or Kaidan. It’s shared with all the people he touched and shaped.

That’s what made this carousel of POVs a challenge I really wanted to make work. It required an absurd amount of juggling, but the diversity and uniqueness of each made Shepard’s loss feel real and devastating. But not only did each of those POVs tell us something about Sam, they provided some meaningful character development for the POV character. How they react to Sam’s death and what it means to them tells us a lot about that character, which in turn lends the entire story more depth.

If you read this far, I’m pretty sure you deserve a cookie.

I don’t know if any of that is helpful or meaningful other than to show an example of how POVs can be a really awesome tool to tell a story. There can be a lot of depths and layers to why you use a particular character to tell a story through, and those choices can greatly impact the story you end up telling.

#how writing is written #writing meta #POV meta #peak self-indulgence

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bisexualsforprompto · 3 years

Note

This one might be a bit mean. MLB prompt idea. What if anyone could be a true wielder of the Miraculous. But to do so it would require the Kwami 'eat' the heart of their chosen and replace it with their magic. No one not even Fu have gone that far to become a true holder because of the negatives that come with it (I leave that to you). Marinette on the other hand didn't even think twice once she was told about it and became a true wielder. (sorry not really a maribat prompt)

What was she supposed to do?

Hawkmoth had to be stopped and the only way to do that was...

Well it had started off okay. Once she had made the exchange of her heart and soul for the magic of luck she hadn’t really felt a change. She felt a bit lighter; as if a burden almost was lifted off her.

For the first couple weeks she was fine, her friends noticed small differences in her but mostly attributed it to lack to sleep.

After all Marinette was Marinette, right?

Sweet, caring, loving Marinette...

Nothing could change her. They knew that for a fact.

But it began to get harder to deny after some weird happenstances: passing Adrien and Alya without so much as a glance, ignoring her parents, not going to Kitty Section meetings...Her friends noticed that she even stopped designing after awhile.

There was no more denying it: Marinette had changed. Everyone in Bustier’s class was worried, even Chloe had shown some remorse; asking one day during Marinette’s absence from school, “What is wrong with Dupain-Chang?”

She stopped answering calls and texts. She stopped playing video games. She only ever showed up to school half of the time.

There was no doubt that everyone missed her. Alya had even tried to tell her once, trying to get her to open up...but with no success. Marinette simply brushed her aside coolly, a cold stare gracing her usually kind face.

Class morale was low. Who knew one person made so much of a difference?

After a months of her behavior, most of the class gave up, resigned to their fate: that this Marinette was here to stay.

In the end it was only Alya, Nino, and Adrien still holding out hope.

It wasn’t that the other members of the class didn’t care about her...just the opposite: without her they couldn’t figure out how to care. Apathy was running in their veins just like it was in Marinette’s.

It felt like losing a friend. Most of the class had gone through the stages of grief, ending grimly at acceptance, but...Adrien was stuck in denial.

“Nathalie,” Adrien whispered on the way to school, “What do you do when someone seems like they changed completely?”

Nathalie looked back at her charge quizzically, “How so?”

“They go from kind and loving to cold and uncaring...” Adrien sighed, analyzing the situation. He still knew the old Marinette was in there somewhere, he just needed to bring her out.

He had tried asking Ladybug earlier but even she had seemed to change. She only showed up for akuma attacks to get the job done. No pound it, no team-bonding, no more “hey kitty.” Only staring at him coldly when he made a mistake and then leaving once the akuma was purified. He half wondered if he did something wrong, but it was kind of hard to know that if Ladybug didn’t stick around enough to ask.

Adrien tried to muffle his frustration. Sure, she had grown significantly as a hero over the last few months. And that’s what was important, right? His feelings didn’t matter as long as Paris was safe...

But it still hurt.

And losing Marinette at the same time...he wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle it.

Nathalie’s quiet response startled Adrien out of his spiral, “Is this about your father, Adrien?”

“F-father? No...I know father...is busy. This is about someone else.”

Nathalie gave him a pained look, “I suppose I’d try to talk to them then.”

“She won’t listen.” Adrien huffed, “I’ve tried over and over to talk to her but...” Suddenly he didn’t even know if he was talking about Marinette or Ladybug.

“Is there any way you can get her in a situation where she’d feel comfortable to talk to you?”

Adrien narrowed his eyes in shame, “Shes never been comfortable around me, but I at least...thought we were friends.”

Nathalie pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, “She is probably uncomfortable sharing because it’s something personal to her. I’m not saying this will work Adrien, but try to share something with her...”

Adrien looked up at Nathalie. Could that work? Maybe Marinette would feel comfortable sharing her feelings if Adrien told her something that put them on even ground...

But could he do that? Was it worth it?

He knew, he knew what he wanted to tell her, but...

“I can’t.” Adrien sighed, there was no going back from that. He’d have to give up his miraculous and...

Ladybug had seemed better without him these days. Did she even need him anymore? All he did was get in the way it seemed...

Before he knew it the car door was opening for him. He stepped out. He noticed blue pigtails making their way into the school.

He gulped, could he really...?

Walking into Lycee, and then Bustier’s class he caught a glimpse of her.

Eyes void of emotion.

No classic Marinette smile.

No anger either...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He felt his heart squeeze in his chest. ‘Please Marinette, please...’

Classes dragged on. Adrien watched Marinette like a hawk. He watched her eat alone, ignoring anyone around her, watched her push away her closest friend, watched her deadpan face as she sat in lectures...

When the final bell rang, something in him knew, ‘There is no going back now.’

He watched Marinette pack up. Everyone else filtered out the door. Alya gave him an odd look, and then looked to Marinette. He motioned for her to go and gave her a reassuring smile. Her face feel and she reluctantly left with Nino.

Adrien glanced at Marinette, he could still remember the girl who was once full of life and emotion. He would do anything to have that girl back. He suddenly realized—

“Marinette?” Adrien asked, beckoning her to come closer. She hesitantly agreed, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of listening to Adrien. “I have something to tell you.”

“What?” Marinette deadpanned, as if she couldn’t care less.

“Uhm, it might be easier if I show you actually...” Adrien looked around quickly to make sure nobody was watching. He whispered, “Claws out.”

Only a flicker of shock came from Marinette as Adrien transformed into Chat Noir. He looked at her and watched her face turn stone cold.

She held her hand out, “Why would you tell me this? Now you can never have that ring again.”

“W-what?!” Adrien sputtered, why was that her reaction? “Marinette please— I just shared to you my secret, I trust you. Please know that...you can trust me too, with whatever you’re going through.”

“I’m fine,” she glared, “I am disappointed in you though.”

“Marinette?! What?! Why?”

“How could you give up your power for something so trivial?! Why would you reveal your secret to me for no reason?” She sneered.

Adrien began to get frustrated, he felt tears well up in his eyes, “Because you’re more important than a stupid ring!” He blurted out, thrusting his miraculous to the floor.

Now detransformed, he cried, not meeting Marinette’s eyes, “Please Marinette...we all miss you, can’t you just let me help?”

“You just gave up your chance to save the thousands of people in Paris. Do you not believe their lives and the threat of Hawkmoth is important?”

“You’re still on about my miraculous?!” Adrien seethed, “Marinette...why?! Why...?” He broke down, sliding onto the floor.

Marinette watched, devoid of emotion, her former partner sob on the floor, mourning her own loss. She took in a breath, feeling no remorse whatsoever.

“Adrien Agreste, former wielder of the cat miraculous, I beseech you of your destruction powers.” Marinette said, grabbing his ring from the floor.

“W-what?” He asked. Then a pause, “You’re Ladybug...aren’t you?”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, “I must erase your memories of the miraculous now that you have given up your powers.”

“Marinette— Ladybug! Wait! Please...” Adrien softened, “If you’re going to take away my memories can you at least tell me...why have you been acting like this?”

Marinette shut her eyes, “I became a true holder.”

Adrien shot up from the ground, “Y-you...y-you gave up your soul?!” He tore at his hair, “How could you do something so irresponsible?! What made you such a good Ladybug was your compassion! What made you Marinette was your boundless positivity! How could you give that up?!”

“The only thing that matters for Paris is defeating Hawkmoth. I thought Chat Noir knew that.”

“But it shouldn’t come at the cost of you! We wanted to save everyone in Paris that includes you Marinette!”

“I don’t need saving. I am Ladybug.”

“You gave up your emotions, your heart, your personality.” Adrien remarked, “You aren’t Ladybug anymore...”

Marinette frowned and furrowed her eyebrows, “You can’t possibly hope to understand it seems. This power is greater than you and greater than me.”

“No...” Adrien said, “It isn’t.”

“You will not listen to reason,” Marinette chastised, “I must remove your memories now.”

Adrien sighed, “Marinette...”

She began to pull out her guardian book, flipping to the spell she needed. She glared up at Adrien once finding it. “I hope you know what you gave up.”

“I hope you know what you gave up, Marinette.” Adrien breathed, “I hope one day you realize that love...emotions...your soul is worth more than you think. You are worth so much more.”

“Goodbye Adrien.”

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #I really like this idea btw #very interesting #I do feel bad for cat boi tho #I do torture him a lot #maybe I will give him the love he deserves someday #*chuckles* no lmao #torture the cinnamon roll by torturing the other cinnamon roll

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Attached: Hurtful Words Pt.3

Type: (mini)-series, Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 6420 + 280 (you’ll see)

Summary: Graduation day, yay! Says no one, ever.

Except for Penny, who practically drags you to enjoy one of the most important days of your lives. You go along, just because. Hell, who knows - maybe you’ll like it in the end.

A/N: Attached: Hurtful Words is an addition that loosely followes the Attached series. You don’t necessarily need to read the mini-series as a whole, but you will understand much better.

Warnings: mentions of name calling and humiliation,swearing, some angst and lots of talking and maybe... ;)

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You had been through several phases of dealing with what happened and they came and went and came and went, one blending into another, other times changing so sharply and quickly as if you flipped a metaphorical switch.

But what stayed for the majority of the time was that you simply had no idea what should you do.

One moment, you were certain that this was a sign from above telling you to break things off with Steve, because no matter the beautiful moments you had shared, continuing the relationship was an epitome of asking for more trouble and even though you had never met a guy so close to your dream man, you wondered if it was worth it.

The next minute, you mentally yelled at yourself and called yourself a dumb ungrateful bitch, convinced that this was in fact a trial, an ordeal by fire; a test you had to pass so your relationship came out stronger from it. Your faith was rock-solid that Steve was it, because after all, he was the closest guy to your dream man that you had ever met.

Your emotions were bubbling, the order of stages of grief all messed up, a mixture of self-pity, anger, resignation, denial---shame.

And shame seemed to be a theme that stuck, because the longer you were stalling and leaving Steve’s kind supportive and pleading messages without reply, the worse you felt, ashamed to reach out now, after such a long and pointed silence. Because Steve hadn’t relented, keeping in touch and very obviously staying convinced that you two could push through; the stark contrast of your doubts and his unshakable belief was breaking both your heart and mind.

How did you even deserve him? He stood by your side, at least as much as he could… while his name was in the poem too and he was probably dealing with so much shit right now and yet he didn’t cease reaching out while you left him in a lurch and really, you must have been the worst girlfriend ever.

If you even still were a girlfriend… though Steve appeared to still consider you one and it was making you want to tear your hair out, frustrated with your own stupid overthinking ass.

Penny, bless her, was there the whole time, loyal by your side instead of drinking herself into oblivion in a celebration of her bachelor degree. She was there as well when you received a text yesterday morning, followed by longer-than-usual silence.

I know this has little chance of reaching you, but know this: say the word and I will leave you alone to the point of not going to the ceremony at all despite my presence being formally half-required. Or I’ll be there and stay away. Anything you want, anything that helps you to enjoy your special day. You deserve to celebrate such a great success and I’d hate to be the reason for you to miss out on a memory that will last a lifetime. You deserve the world, sweetheart; and if you don’t want to me to be the one who gives it to you, I’ll have to accept it. Congratulation.

The text had to be split into three separate units, but the message was clear and you had a good thorough cry at it, your shaky conviction growing firmer and earning a solid base.

He had hit a nail on the head – you had been considering not going and then definitely going and then not again, back and forth for various reasons, but mostly because of him; too excited, too hopeful and too scared to meet him.

And to think you had been once afraid of facing him after you suspected that he had read your smutty story about him… this was so much more terrifying than that and now you were biting on your lips, slightly redder due to the lipstick you had applied for the ceremony, and you glanced up to meet Penny’s narrowed eyes in the mirror.

“Don’t you bail out on me now. You promised yesterday that you’d go,” she reminded you, half-concerned, half-strict.

You sighed, knowing fully that she spoke the truth.

“I know. It’s just…”

It’s just that I haven’t replied to Steve, AGAIN, and I don’t know if he’s gonna be there. And what I am going to do if he is.

And what I’m going to do if he isn’t.

Penny charmed a supportive grin, walking to you and putting her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it in comfort until you managed to swallow your nerves for a brief second and return the smile weakly.

She squealed and pulled you to her side, a happy twinkle in her chocolate-coloured eyes.

“We did it, girl! We fucking made it to the end of bachelor studies! And we’re gonna enjoy every moment of that mummery that comes with it!”

You couldn’t but snort, amused at her exclaim, while tears burned in your eyes, a mixture of nerves, grief and happiness.

“Yeah. I guess we should.”

“That’s my girl!”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

For all you wanted to enjoy this day with your friend since your family wouldn’t be able to make it, the first thing your eyes searched for in the crowd getting ready for the ceremony was a broad figure with blond hair, a beard and the most beautiful eyes you couldn’t but fall in love with.

Your stomach, tight from nerves and anticipation, dropped to your feet and you had to focus on keeping the tears at bay.

Steve wasn’t here.

The professors were always seated together, expected to hang out in a group – which somehow provided them safety from both students in the gowns and the few individuals who didn’t understand the dress code and arrived in jeans and sweatshirts – and you couldn’t see Steve among them. You even caught a sight of Bucky; and if Steve wasn’t with him, well, then it was clear that he decided to stay home.

Home. You had felt at home with him too, but that was over now.

What did you expect though? You ignored him for almost a week and even a guy like Steve, so amazing and understanding, would lose his patience with such inconsiderate and downright bratty attitude.

Your heart weighted a ton, heavy in your chest, pounding anxiously at the thought.

Was this how you parted ways? Just… fading away? Two lovers, two people in love – and you had realized over the past few days that Steve must have truly loved you – falling apart for the lack of communication? What a cliché.

But really, how could you have kept your hopes up that he would show up? Because it was sort of expected from the professors? Please. Because he had asked you to let him know if you didn’t want him here… and you hadn’t responded? Again? Right.

Yes, you hadn’t requested that he stayed away – then again, you hadn’t exactly begged him to come either. All that because you let yourself fall into the pit of doubts and allowed them to eat at your soul and ruin your relationship with the best man you had ever met instead of holding onto him for a dear life.

You guessed it served you right, more so now, in this very moment.

Because right now, your resolve and faith that you had been meant to be with Steve felt more solid than ever. By the laws of human nature, by its very essence, you were certain of what you wanted the moment you understood that you lost it.

A tug at your hand snapped you from your gloomy self-depreciating thoughts, your head automatically turning the direction the intrusion came from. Penny’s face came into view and she frowned as she saw you blink away tears.

“Hey! No brooding today! Today is a great win of our lives. You hear me?” she scolded you lightly, her eyes twinkling with true happiness and you gulped, nodding obediently.

“Right. Sorry. You’re right of course.”

“Damn right I am.”

You charmed a pathetic smile for her and looked at the other students in the black gowns to distract yourself from one single thought – Is it a win? Or is it the final prove of my loss?

You desperately tried to believe Pen and forced yourself to focus on the bright side, on what you were supposed to be delighted for; you finished your bachelor studies. Yay!

Yet, despite your best efforts, the ceremony and the speeches from the professors and the officials of your university, all the ‘mummery’ as Penny called it, happened in a strange haze.

Perhaps that was how everyone felt, drunk on euphoria instead? You guessed. You thought you might have smiled at some point, fuelled by a brief moment of true victory.

You stood there among other students, your eyes on the stage where Sharon Carter, a student at the top of your class, walked to the stand to give a speech.

You weren’t exactly friends with Sharon – you talked sometimes, more of a common courtesy exchanged simply because you were classmates. Still, you were mildly curious about what she had to say; she was marked a great student for a reason and she tended to have the ability to catch attention and awake something in others when she talked. An excellent choice for the speech – however, you caught yourself nervously toying with the cap of the case with your diploma, feeling fatigue of the past days catching up with you.

God, you wanted to go back to your whining and misery, not because you revelled in it, but because in the safety of your dorm room, you didn’t have to put up a front of a student excited to graduate. Not that you were any good at the pretence.

“Good morning, everyone. Mr. President, Mr. Dean, Professors… and most importantly, students. For some of us, the journey ends here – we are about to leave the not-so-safe space of the university and try our chances out there, in the open and much more dangerous world,” Carter started, a mild smile on her lips. “That said, it doesn’t mean that our school days were exactly easy.”

“Oh, you had no idea,” you mumbled under your breath, a pang in your ribcage reminding you just how harsh university space could be – not just because of the professors and their impossible tasks.

And they said high-school was the nightmare.

You noticed several people muttering under their breath too, for various reasons. For a brief moment, you felt shame – the pain others had been through could have been even worse, because illness and death had little regard for waiting for when it was more convenient. Who were you to complain?

Then again, you felt like you suffered enough too, your pain just as real as theirs.

Sharon looked around the audience and took a deep breath, her smile turning almost wistful as if she could hear your thoughts.

“While I’m up here, I would like to do something… a bit unconventional. I know this day shouldn’t be dedicated to one person and that is not what I want to do, but I have to speak up. After all, that is what history taught us – that we have to speak up. I want to talk about something everyone who stands here know – sadly, because it was perfectly wide-spread at the university.”

Whispers rose in the crowds along with your pulse skyrocketing.

Fuck. Fuck, she wouldn’t.

Right?! This was something else she was talking about, something you had missed, because you were too busy sulking.

You grabbed Penny’s hand at your side, squeezing harshly and shot her a panicked look, wordlessly pleading her to tell you this was not happening and you were just projecting, imagining this was some nightmare coming to life.

She gave you a side-eye and beckoned her chin to the stage again. Your breathing picked up, your knees feeling weak.

Oh my god, oh fucking shit this was happening.

Why the fuck Sharon wanted to open this can of worms publicly?! Did she hate you?

Granted, you weren’t paying much attention to other people’s faces, but you were hopeful that the mess was slowly dying down and people weren’t necessarily staring at you.

Now, the small circle of people around you who obviously knew where you were, glanced at you pointedly.

Hadn’t your ears been ringing and your panic rising, you might have found it weird that they were smiling at you – and not in a condescending or malicious way.

“Come on. Listen to what she has to say,” Penny whispered to your ear and you eyed her, shocked to find her smiling as well.

A terrible realization hit you like a train.

“Wait, you knew about this?” you hissed angrily, your stomach somersaulting. The actual FUCK?! “You knew she was gonna talk about that? What the hell? Why?!”

Was that why she made you come here?

“Oh honey, you have no idea what was happening these past few days, do you? Just listen.”

Huh?! What the fuck did Penny meant by-

“I just want to remind to the people feeding bad blood that the girl I’m talking about – a smart young woman who had accepted her diploma today, one of us – she earned her degree. In fact, she probably had to work even harder, because that’s the policy, a sort of a reverse favouritism. The records of her exams are much more detailed and she was under scrutiny, she had to prove that she was nothing the self-proclaimed experts were calling her.”

As outside your body as you felt, in this surreal moment where Sharon Carter talked about your dirty laundry during your damn graduation ceremony, the word ‘whore’ still popped in your mind in angry red letters and chased tears into your eyes, the humiliation you had felt when you first spotted the poem overwhelming you again.

“She had to face every evil glare people sent her way, glares she faced for something as simple as being in love. And just so you know, I have it from a reliable source-“ she pretended to cough while saying Penny’s full name, “-her roommate, that for the long months she’s been with her favourite man, it was in fact Professor Phillips whose name she was whispering in her sleep, because we all know he’s a real hard-ass; my condolences to Professor Rogers.”

Chuckles erupted in the crowd and you felt your lips twitch involuntarily. More and more people were turning to you as their colleagues elbowed their ribs to subtly point in your direction.

You lowered your gaze, embarrassed by so much attention – a positive one, it seemed.

When the hell did that happen?

“Also, all kudos to Nelson and Murdock, who accepted our request and are now suing the hell out of the Expert One and Two, possibly Three, for defamation and possible attempted assault.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

A breathy “Wait, what?!” fell from your lips.

“They offered to do it for free, but I think that a small donation never hurt anyone. You’ll find the link on the forum dedicated to our girl. You’ll find the link to that forum in your inbox if you haven’t already.”

There was a forum dedicated to you?! To hate you or to support you? How could you… not know about that?

Probably had something to do with how you shut off the whole world… social media included. Hell, especially those.

And the people who wrote the poem and sent it to everyone on uni could actually… be sued? It was that serious? From the legal side, not yours, you were sufficiently ruined about that you had no doubt-

“Let’s clap for Nelson and Murdock as they wave at us. Thank you, gentlemen!” Sharon called out and everyone’s head turned to a pair of lawyers you couldn’t hope to see – but you really had to in the future, because what?!

However, you did reluctantly join the deafening applause the people present dedicated to them.

Seriously, what was happening?

“Why I’m saying all this… I know she’s here with us today, because she deserves it just like everyone else. I would like to invite her to stand to the very left of the crowd. Please, come on, our brave soul.”

Sharon’s eyes unmistakably found you as if she knew where you were standing the whole time – which she probably could. Because of Penny. And obviously, few others.

Penny nudged you with a grin and you gulped as several onlookers sent you encouraging smiles.

You felt your face burning with all the eyes on you, your head spinning.

Oh god, oh god-

“Go,” Penny whispered to your ear. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

I’ll like what exactly?

“Uh-huh, sure,” you mumbled but gave in, your shaky feet carrying you outside the line of chairs to your left – it was probably no coincidence that you didn’t have to cross the aisle, already standing on the left half.

Everything was planned, that you were starting to understand… but to what end?

“You see, I want her to understand that maybe two or three people in this damn school made a fuss, but there’s quite a lot of people who don’t think any less of her, of people who are in fact happy for her and Professor Rogers. Also, I want her to be easy to find for later purpose,” Sharon explained as you reluctantly approached the aforementioned spot.

For later purpose? Easy to find?

A hunch slowly crept up your back and you couldn’t decide whether you wanted it to be true or not.

What were the chances it was something else though?

Pretty big, in fact. Because you had no clue what a surreal world you had found yourself in and how, but it seemed like everything, even the most absurd thing you wouldn’t even dare to think about, came to life here.

“You know, the best thing about her story is that… it’s a story of all of us. I mean, not in such a great detail, gosh, we wish to own a heart of such fine man, but…” More laughter erupted from the crowd and you choked on the sound ripped from your throat, something between a chuckle and a sob.

Wasn’t that the truth…

”But in the end, there is no great difference. We’re standing here today, because we pushed through. We stand here today, because this is our story of love and passion – for things, for people. It’s a story of working hard and losing sleep for something that truly matters to us. It’s a story of fighting off sticks and stones and overcoming obstacles, of fighting for our future,” Sharon said ceremonially, her voice fuelled by true yet not theatrical passion. One corner of her lips rose in a sad smile as she lightly shook her head, sending her blond hair flying. “And folks, I hate to break it to you, but it ain’t always gonna be easy. But the fact that we’re here today, in these ridiculous outfits we secretly love because they are a testimony to our success… it tells me that the future might not be the worst either.”

Sharon Carter made a pregnant pause, eyes searching in the sea of faces watching her, until her gaze fell at someone near you and her lips spread in an almost cheeky smile, one you hadn’t know she was capable of.

Before you could try and see what was the cause – even if the rapid beats of your heart already seemed to know the answer – she delivered an explanation.

“Isn’t that right, Professor Rogers?”

Hushed voices and shocked exclaims reached your ears, but you couldn’t quite hear them over the pounding of your pulse in your temples.

A tall figure with broad shoulders cladded in an unfamiliar hoodie was making its way to you, the crowd parting like a sea with each step he took. Even though he did, he didn’t have to lose the hood for your benefit – you had inspected his body thoroughly on many occasions, you knew his gait, and until now, you had believed that you were aware of every hoodie he had in his closet, because you had borrowed each and every one of them at least once when staying at his place... often.

Ruffled blond hair appeared first and then everything you had eyes for was his lips, curved in a hesitant smile and the beautiful eyes, so deep you could drown in them.

Your fingertips tingled with anticipation, your chest heaving in quick shallow breaths full of anxiety.

The expression on Steve’s face was unreadable – and yet, just seeing his face after the series of unfortunate events, was enough to chase tears into your eyes and for your feet to twitch with the unstoppable urge to run to him.

It was only the fear of his reaction that prevented you from making the tinniest move.

A pointed clearing of a throat sounded through the microphone, but you couldn’t tell if it worked on people, if they turned their attention to the person on the stage or kept watching your reunion. Reunion with Steve – who naturally hogged all your attention and as he approached you, his presence assaulting nearly all of your senses.

A sight for your sore teary eyes.

The barely audible yet deafening whisper of your name.

His natural scent mixed with his cologne and the detergent he used – even standing two feet away, you would swear you could smell it, perhaps a mirage created by your wishful memories.

The ghost of his skin and hair tickled your fingers as you had been running your hands through his hair and beard and roamed his body so often that you could practically feel it even now.

Half of the things you sensed must have been a figment of your imagination; yet, they felt very real, as did the rapid staccato of your heart hammering in your ribcage, the butterflies both pleasant and unpleasant occupying your stomach.

“Now, let the lovebirds figure it out and listen up, people…”

“Hi,” he greeted you softly, a single caress of his voice encouraging the flipping of metaphorical wings in your stomach.

“Hi,” you replied automatically, unable to think about anything better to say.

What were you supposed to say?

You had already made your peace with him not coming… to a point. You forgone all hope; so now you were desperately unprepared for him showing up, all casual-looking in jeans and a hoodie and so damn gorgeous as always.

An attempt at a smile graced his lips, his hand rising to the back of his neck in his typically bashful gesture as he self-consciously looked around.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea they would make such a fuss. I just followed the instructions and showed up-“

You heart sank to your gut; your body, warming up in his presence alone as he was your personal sun, suddenly felt cold with the metaphorical bucket of icy water his words provided.

He came here because someone told him to – someone who planned this stunt, this ridiculous and utterly stupid show. What was next? Were you supposed to kiss for the audience?

The same nausea you remembered feeling when seeing the poem hit you all over again; Steve didn’t want to be here.

He wasn’t here for you, he wasn’t here because he wanted to set things right.

The pain erupting in your chest was shocking and burned like a flame fed on gasoline. You truly were over and his words-

“No, wait, that came out wrong!” he hurried, crossing the short distance between you in three long steps and you would have taken a step back, hadn’t your feet rooted into the ground. “I came… I’m here because I wanted to see you. I missed you, sweetheart.”

Tears rolled freely down your face, the endearment sending a shiver down your spine, the admission sparking a warm light within you again.

You met his gaze, your knees shaking slightly in weakness, threatening to give out as you feared what exactly you would see in his eyes.

You could melt right there when you were met with the same softness he always observed you with, a blue-green sea of wonder and love, tainted with reluctance and regret.

You pressed your lips together in effort to stop your jaw from quivering.

Regret you were more than familiar with; conflict, sorrow, self-pity, anger, resignation, shame… those were the other emotions which you guessed he could read on your face.

His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“I’m not here to guilt trip you. Actually-“ Steve started again and finally, as his hand disappeared in the front pocket of the hoodie, you found your voice, interrupting him.

“I missed you too,” you sobbed, covering your mouth as soon as the pathetic sound left your lips.

Steve’s own lips parted in awe, his gaze somewhat lighting up with a new hearty emotion.

But once you started talking, finally, finally speaking up, the dam broke and the waterfall of words couldn’t be stopped.

“And I’m sorry, Steve, I’m so sorry for shutting you off like that, you didn’t deserve that and you were probably in a small personal hell too, I don’t even know if your job was affected and how are doing and it’s not right, I wasn’t supposed to ignore all your calls and texts, I was supposed to-“

“-reach out when you’re ready,” he finished for you, completely differently than you had intended.

It shut you up effectively.

“Look… I understand. It was tough and it still is and if you want this to be the last time we ever talk-- then it will,” he rasped, his voice breaking towards the end of the sentence, your heart squeezing painfully at both the premise and at hearing him hurting.

God, how much he must have been hurting for the past few days and now he was talking about understanding you and forgiving you for ghosting him and still offering you an out and--- Jesus fucking Christ, you were going to drown in your own tears.

And Steve reached into that damn pocket again and even if you had no idea what was there, you had a hunch it was some kind of a gift – either a parting gift or something for your graduation and you simply couldn’t--- you didn’t care for some materialistic shit right now-

You just needed to feel him again.

Taking one single step at a lightning speed, you let the diploma case fall to the ground and threw your arms around Steve’s neck, burying your face in his chest, drawing a surprised huff from him.

A box dug into your stomach, the content of the front pocket, but you didn’t give a fuck.

Not when Steve’s arms sneaked around your waist and shoulder with no hesitation, engulfing you, his nose burying into your hair—and cursing when the cap got in his way.

You chuckled madly into his hoodie, your fingers clutching the fabric when his daring lips awkwardly found a way to your temple.

You felt like you were touched by an angel, delighted laughter that shook both of your entangled bodies ripping from your throat along with a sob.

“Shit, Steve, I’m so sorry, I missed you so much, please forgive me, please, please, please-“

“No way. Nothing to forgive-“

“Like hell it isn’t-“

“It hurt, but I get it. I truly do,” he whispered frantically, his hands moving to push you away just enough to frame your damp face with his big warm palms. “You just needed time to process what happened.”

You nodded and then lowered your gaze in shame – because you were incredibly embarrassed for your further cowardice, sobbing like a stupid five-year-old. “And then I—I was scared that you wouldn’t care anymore- that it was too late-“

God, now when you said it out loud, it sounded even more pathetic, but that was now, in his arms, when everything made so much more sense-

He shook his head, causing you to look up again just in time to see the flash of hurt in his brilliant irises disappearing. With a brief smile passing his lips, he held your face more firmly in attempt to maintain eye contact.

“No. It would take a whole lot more for me to stop caring and there still would be no guarantee it would work,” he promised, gaze so intense that you couldn’t but believe him, no matter how unreal his words sounded. “You are not what they called you and you are mine, as long as you want, because I love you. Okay? I love you, because yeah, I still think you’re really freaking amazing.”

You chuckled at his choice of words, your heart bursting with their message. The heavy burden resting upon your shoulders dropped at last – and you felt as light as a feather, bound to the man staring into your eyes as if they were the last thing he wanted to see should he turn blind the next second.

He still loved you. Steve still loved you and both your heart and mind were enamoured of him, overwhelmed with his declaration.

You were not good with your words – in fact, in that moment, you were certain you forgot all the words in English language and in every other language you had ever tried to learn too.

There was only one language left to use then; the universal one that could fit thousands of words into one single second.

You let go of Steve’s hoodie, grabbed his face instead and pulled, rising to your tiptoes in hope to reach his lips with yours.

Luckily for you, he got the message before you could pathetically kiss only the patch of skin under his chin and allowed you to move him as much as you wanted.

And by Gods, did you want, finally adding the fifth sense into the play. Taste. You missed how he tasted and how his beard scratched against your sensitive skin-

Your tears spiked your kiss with salt, but neither of your cared as you pushed through the seam of his lips, letting him know what you desired before passing on the lead to him, an open-mouthed kiss full of desire, longing and raw emotions causing you to forget all about your surroundings until a low wolf-whistle sounded on your right, bringing you back to reality.

You parted involuntarily, foreheads resting against each other, warm tears still rolling down your cheeks, but now getting lost in your content smiles.

“I love you, Steve. I love you and if you love me too, then we belong together and whoever thinks otherwise can shove their opinion where the sun doesn’t shine,” you echoed his words from almost a year ago, words that stuck with you, because they were true.

You and Steve, you were the ones who mattered. These were your lives, your relationship, and you had done nothing wrong.

Because you loved each other.

Steve’s mouth caught yours for a short moment, nothing but a nip at your lips – a silent agreement followed by a warm smile, mirroring your own.

“Will you let me give you a little something now?” he whispered, sounding slightly amused as that would be the third attempt that day and the urge to slap his arm for being cheeky felt like a surge of pure life into your veins. The familiarity made your heart sing.

You glanced up at him, retreating and eyed him from head to toe in an appreciative and yet teasing matter. “Haven’t you already? How do I unwrap you, mister?”

Steve chuckled and pulled out a rectangular box, holding it out for you.

“Here. Congratulation to your bachelor degree. And know that if you don’t like it, we can always pick something else.”

You were only human – and curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back and the curiosity was killing you now as well. You bit down on your lip, not quite succeeding at masking your excited smile; even if you weren’t exactly deserving of a gift from Steve at the moment, which he would probably argue with, you couldn’t deny that you were touched by the gesture and who were you kidding, you did enjoy receiving a gift. And it was your graduation ceremony, you deserved to celebrate in every way imaginable.

You carefully took the box from Steve, tender fingers caressing the bow stuck on top. Hesitating only a second, enjoying the brief intoxicating anticipation, you lifted the lid.

Your breath got stuck in your throat as you revealed the necklace.

The chain, probably silver, was very delicate, carrying a simply decorated heart with a winding line in the middle, as if the heart was broken. Despite the symbolism, you couldn’t but revel at its beauty.

“Steve,” you breathed out shakily, unable to tear your gaze away from the jewellery, tears, dried at last, threatening to escape your eyes again. “This is… so beautiful. So much-“

You lifted your gaze, only to meet his twinkling eyes. “You like it?”

You nearly choked at the absurdity of the question. Liked it?

“Steve, it’s—like it? It’s breath-taking. You shouldn’t have- that’s-” Shit, this must have been so expensive- but you had seen it now and you loved it and you didn’t want to part with ever. “-but I absolutely want to keep it now.”

Steve chuckled lightly at your antics, but you took no offence since you were being a bit greedy.

You reached out to brush the pendant with the softest of touches – and sucked a breath in fright when it fell apart, causing you to realize for the first time that the heart could be divided in two, each part having its own loop on the chain.

“Oh,” you let out in surprise, your mind racing. Now that definitely was symbolic. Not a broken heart. Two parts of one heart. “That’s… does this mean one half is for you?”

As you asked the question to make sure, you looked up to Steve’s face, only to find a blush creeping up his neck.

“Uhm… I mean-“

“That’s so cute! And cheesy. So sweet though! I guess we do fit…” you mused, a goofy smile from the swirl of emotions today a testimony of how mushy the lovely and meaningful gift turned you. Steve’s blush deepened, but a delighted smile spread on his lips, eyes soft, so you assumed he was simply happy you liked it. “And we do complete each other.”

“Oh sweetheart,�� Steve whispered, clasping your free hand in his, caressing tenderly before bringing it to his lips and dropping a barely-there kiss on its back.

“Would you wear it?” you queried, slightly nervous. “One of the halves I mean.”

It might have been his idea, but did you read him correctly?

“If that’s what you want. Give me your half and keep mine,” he offered, one corner of his lips higher in a cheeky and yet tender smile.

“You got a deal, Stevie. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. I was going to give you a key to the apartment officially, kneel on one knee and all that-“

“WHAT?!”

He wanted to do what?!

“-to ask you if you want to move in permanently, but I understand that we’ve been through a lot, you’ve been through a lot, so while the offer stands, I don’t want you to feel pressured or-“

Oh really? Then why did he even tell you about it?

Your heart felt like beating its way out of your chest, the widest grin spreading on your lips. Staring at Steve as he was stuttering, you couldn’t decide whether he was nervous about asking, trying his luck, or was teasing you, knowing all too well what you were about to say.

Oh god, your head was spinning, again-

“Yes!” you blurted out before you could think twice, shocking the stammering mess of Steve into silence.

“Really?!” he shot back in awe, his lips left parted in genuine surprise – and his expression was pure relief.

“Yes. If you mean it – and God help you if you don’t-“ And you were serious, if he was messing with you now— he wouldn’t, right? Steve wouldn’t joke about such important topic, about your life together.

“Of course I mean it-”

You squealed, closing the box you had nearly dropped in shock and hugged Steve as tight as you could, causing him to huff for the second time that day. Oh you were never letting go of him!

The crowd you entirely forgot about cheered and you jumped away from Steve as if burned, horrified that they had been following your reconciliation and displays of love this whole time-

And then you noticed the graduation caps in the air, a tradition celebrating the success of your year. You grinned at the image, catching Steve’s gaze.

“Go on,” he encouraged you, mirroring your grin when you reached for the square cap, swinging and sending it high in the air.

A yelp escaped you as you found yourself in the air as well in a blink of an eye, nestled in Steve’s arms as he laughed madly, pure delight shining from his eyes; and love. So much love.

You barely caught the cap, not really caring for it when in the arms of your man. You dropped a kiss to his lips, earning one in return and a few more, as you couldn’t get enough for each other after such a long time apart and so much unnecessary heartbreak.

You rested your foreheads against each other, tender meetings of lips, brushes of noses-

Steve winced and hissed in pain, causing you to withdraw and frown as you studied his face.

“Sorry, just… my nose…” he mumbled, seemingly embarrassed, “...tender.”

“From…?” you questioned, absolutely baffled. Steve sighed, but just one glare from you told him that you were not letting it go. You didn’t want him in any pain – you both lived through more enough of it in the past few days.

“Bucky punched me.”

“What?!” you blurted out, shocked to the core, and you braced yourself on Steve’s shoulders, your gaze automatically flickering through the crowd to find the culprit.

Why the heck would Bucky-

“Long story, tell you later,” Steve promised with a peck to your lips, signalling that the conversation was over. For now.

You had better things to do after all. So you only smiled in agreement – you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for some reason.

Wonder what that could be? Maybe because it finally feels like today is a win?

“I’m sure you will.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦- Bonus: -◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

It was the day after her own graduation when the blond was sitting on a park bench, light summer dress with cherry blossoms gently swirling around her knees, absentmindedly swiping through the apps on her phone, looking up every now and then to smile at the image of families enjoying the weather and freedom of summer.

She merely paused in her idly actions when the redhead woman she was waiting for seated herself next to her on the other end, sliding an envelope with a promised reward her way.

“As promised,” the redhead said disinterestedly, barely on a lower volume than a normal conversation would be and tugged a loose strand of her hair behind her sunglasses. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

The blond smiled softly, reaching for the envelope and subtly hid it in her purse. “Same. It was rather fun, actually.”

This time, a smile broke on the redhead’s lips as well, cocky, satisfied, but by any means false.

“Well, I heard you’re staying for your master’s. You contact Danvers if you want any more of that fun, da?”

“You better count on that, Rushman.”

“It’s Romanoff, actually,” the redhead smirked, side-eyeing the blond as she rose to her feet again, ready to go where her orders would take her. She spent one more glance at the other woman though; she had carried out her task perfectly, in a way that seem very natural. She’d make a good addition to their growing team and since Natasha was anything but unpolite… “Looking forward to working with you in the future, Carter.”

Sharon Carter felt a surge of pride and couldn’t but return the courtesy before the woman would walk away from her life for god knew how long.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Attached masterlist

Attached: Words Lost in Translation

S.R.masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading ♥ We’re over 40k into the series, so thank you if you stuck around :-*

Lemme know your thoughts?

You might have noticed a to-be link for another addition to the Attached series called Words Lost in Translation. It’s more of an idea in my head, very little of the actual story written, but it will hopefully involve a bit jealousy… and smut. Just FYI.

Stay happy and safe!

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ahhhsami · 4 years

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TLOU2 and the Stages of Grief

To begin, here’s a quick crash course into the 5 Stages of Grief.

There are five stages of grief; Denial & Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Although these are the identified stages, they are not experienced the same for everyone. People experience them occurring in different orders, experience each stage to different degrees, and in some cases people don’t experience all of the stages. Often times people in real life experience these stages without full completion due to how quickly the world moves and the responsibilities that society has put on an individual. Throughout the whole process, our own feelings and thoughts of mortality is brought up. But there is a common thread in each of the stages and that is Hope. While you may have lost someone you are still alive and there is hope that you will continue to live, or in some cases just survive.

Now that we’ve covered some basics to the 5 Stages of Grief, let’s really get into it in regards to The Last of Us Part II. There will be spoilers ahead.

1. Denial & Isolation

The obvious trigger to this first stage for Ellie was the killing of Joel. We can see this particular event beginning the thoughts of “This can’t be happening.” Denial is a buffer, a protection mechanism against tragic events. This then moves onto the feeling of helplessness and a lack of hope. Often times this stage is shorter, a more immediate response to the loss. Ellie clearly experiences this stage quickly, this can be seen through the audio distortion as soon as Joel is killed. The stage has begun and continues to be present as the scene cuts to Ellie, Ellie who has isolated herself and who is clearly going through the stage of Denial & Isolation. It’s the first wave of pain.

2. Anger

This is the stage that Ellie stays in the longest. Denial & Isolation, as mentioned before, is a defense mechanism. This wears off though and what replaces it is the realization of what has occurred and pain. Absolute pain. We are vulnerable creatures and to protect ourselves we express ourselves in different ways. A very common way is Anger. Anger can be expressed in different ways and towards different people and objects. In Ellie’s case, the Anger is supposedly focused on Abby, the killer of Joel, and the people of WLF. But when we delve into it further, it’s not just about Abby and the WLF. Ellie expresses Anger at Joel, at her life and circumstances, and even herself.

The reason for feeling anger isn’t always obvious. Her anger towards Abby is. This woman has taken someone that Ellie cares for. But when it comes to the other things that Ellie has anger towards, it’s not as obvious and definitely isn’t fleshed out or recognized unless you’ve completed the game. Ellie resents Joel to an extent. That is clear. It stems from him lying to her about the Hospital Incident from The Last of Us Part I. But it also comes from him leaving. Although it was out of his control, Joel is still gone. Resentment and anger can be rational and irrational, just like all of the other emotions and thoughts people have. Ellie also feels resentment towards herself. She continues to struggle with the fact that she was saved. That with giving up her own life, she may have been able to save humanity. That’s a lot for one person. But what makes this even harder to endure, is the fact that Joel made that choice for her. On top of all of this, it’s easy to be angry, and then feel more angry for feeling angry. It’s a vicious cycle that Ellie gets trapped in.

In the world of TLOU, this stage is the most prominent due to the circumstances. Anger allows someone to survive and that’s what the people of this world do. They don’t have the luxury to sit back and go through the Five Stages of Grief properly. Ellie has learned anger and survival from the very beginning and Joel just reiterates it. He cements it in TLOU when Henry and Sam die. Not everyone gets to see or hear this interaction, but here it is; Ellie “I want to talk about it.” Joel “No.” Ellie “Why not?” Joel “How many times do we need to go over this? Things happen. And we move on.” Ellie “It’s just-” Joel “That’s enough.” Ellie “Alright.” Survival does this to you. It suppresses normal feelings and thoughts to allow someone to survive. On top of this, Tommy prolongs this stage too. He’s also trapped within it, taking Ellie with him.

Let us not forget the hopeful part of this stage though. Again each stage has the underlying fact that you are still alive. That although you have lost someone, you can still live. That hope begins in the presence of Dina. She is Ellie’s rock and someone who almost pulls her out of the stage of Anger, but unfortunately isn’t enough. Ellie is still grieving when she leaves JJ and Dina. She’s dealing with PTSD, depression, regret, anger, denial, and so much more all at once. She’s not living, she’s surviving. She’s putting her own family at risk. And although people would have loved for her to stay with Dina and JJ, she wouldn’t have been happy. She wouldn’t be living.

When Ellie does leave, she is still in the stage of Anger. It was clear that she had thought that she was past it, done with grieving, but with her reliving Joel’s death, she had not progressed through all of the Stages of Grief. This also brings to light the fact that you can also experience the stages more than once. By having an episode like this, it can restart stages such as Denial and Isolation. Grieving is not linear.

3. Bargaining

This stage is honestly one of the most interesting to me. Bargaining deals with the “If only” ideas and statements that people think of when grieving. For Ellie a big one I believe is “If only I had found him sooner.” You can see that from her flashbacks from her PTSD and depression. You can see it in her actions of trying to get revenge on Abby and the WLF. She continues to think and act on these “If only” and “What if” statements and questions. But not just about the specific moment that Joel is killed. She thinks about “What if Joel had let me die? Had let the Fireflies find a cure,” “What if I had stayed with Dina?,” “What if I hadn’t convinced Tommy to also get revenge?,” “If only we didn’t live in this type of world,” “If only I had been able to kill Abby when I had the chance.”

Ellie is plagued by guilt throughout TLOU2. This stage can eat away at someone mentally. And it does for Ellie. Often times she experiences the Stage of Anger and the stage of Bargaining at the same time. But also experiences them separately.

4. Depression

There are different types of depression and when it comes to grieving, there are two main types. One is related to more practical implications, like feeling sadness and regret for not spending time with others due to isolating oneself from the grief. It can also be linked with your worries, such as how are we going to bury them, what do we do with their belongings, or in Ellie’s case, how to get revenge. The second is more emotional and private. It’s based on inner feelings of sadness, helplessness, hopelessness, and guilt.

This stage is something that Ellie suppresses. She pushes these feelings and thoughts down and instead it’s replaced with anger.

5. Acceptance

This is the stage that people may find the most controversial in regards to the game. Many people never reach this stage. Often stuck in Anger and Denial. When this does occur, that’s okay and that’s life, but in Ellie’s case, she does reach acceptance.

Some people may expect acceptance to lead to instant happiness and moving on. But that is not the case. Acceptance is often marked by withdrawal and a sense of calm. Acceptance is coming to grips with what has happened, who you have lost, and also accepting your own mortality. It’s coming to the conclusion that “I’ve lost someone important, but I’m going to be able to survive, I’m going to be able to continue to live my life.”

I truly believe that Ellie would not have been able to find acceptance if she had killed Abby. If she had, her own anger would have continued to consume her and she would never make it through the Stages of Grief that she had needed to. Ellie ended a cycle of being driven to only survive. She wasn’t living and that was clear.

The way that I personally felt from the ending was withdrawn, but also calm, just like the stage of acceptance should feel. Ellie put down Joel’s guitar and left. She didn’t just accept his death, but all of the other things that she was struggling with inwardly and outwardly. A huge thing being the fact that she was kept alive by Joel. She didn’t just accept his death, she forgave him. She continued to live, finally fully grieving for the loss of Joel. She will continue to miss him, but the stages of Denial and Anger probably won’t be present again. She may feel sadness, but it won’t be to the same extent. She may think of those “what ifs,” but will then be able to counteract those thoughts rationally.

Grief is complex and so was this story. To sum this all up, the writing in TLOU2 is human, it’s real, it’s tough, it’s uncomfortable, and not everyone will like it. If you do struggle with this story, try to be self-reflective. Try to be empathetic towards the people who have enjoyed it, to the writers, to the team of creators, and just to people in general. There’s a reason why TLOU2 makes people uncomfortable, just like The Last of Us Part I did.

#tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #the last of us #tlou #text #so long #PS: Abby was the example of killing the person u wanted revenge against but not reaching acceptance #her story paralleled Ellie's #Killing her would have just led to Ellie experiencing the same shit over and over again #All the psych and social work lectures really coming out clutch rn #Ellie #Joel #Abby #Dina #Tommy

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moonflower-31 · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Part 25

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

A/N: So, if you haven’t noticed, I’m gonna do one every other day with this so I don’t get burned out again. Hope that’s constant enough for you! Sorry about my little hiatus but I should be good now!

Warnings: Talk of murder, PTSD Flashbacks, the usual stuff.

Also, Feedback is really appreciated :)

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @thatsonezesty13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of reality - Edgar Allen Poe

Unfortunately for you, serial killers didn't know how to wait. So not two days after Spencer had finally been able to be home with you were they called on a case. Their first one without you since you were hired.

It left you with a slight dull feeling in your heart as you sat curled up on the couch reading the same page over and over as you kept losing focus. Morgan had stayed, as Spencer had promised. But he was currently asleep in Spencer's bed. Something about it being softer than his own with Savannah. Whatever that meant.

You grumbled and closed the book after your fifth attempt at distracting yourself from how lonely you felt. And how the nagging feeling of thinking you're being watched didn't go away, even with Morgan’s less than helpful presence.

You sighed and put the book down on the coffee table and picked up the remote instead. You flipped through a few channels until you find the news channel was having a 'Breaking News' segment. When the title appeared on the screen you almost screamed.

19 year old Arthur Grant goes missing from his family's estate, reward not yet posted.

You widen your eyes, your hands beginning to shake. Why? Why you? Why must you be overloaded with so much grief and trauma? Did some bereavement mailman decide to ditch his route and dump all of the bad stuff on your doorstep?

You didn't even have tears that came to be shed. You'd cried so much the past week that you had run the banks dry and squeezed more than at least 5 headaches out of you. And each of them having lasted at least 4-5 hours. Sometimes more.

Instead of your normal first step of denial, or depression in the stages of grief you unfortunately knew too well, you found anger boiling up through your feet, making your toes curl and your fists clench. You were pissed. Everyone around you was suffering because of Peter's self-absorbed, narcissistic, and sociopathic God-Complex. And you were sick of it.

You didn't care who heard, who came running to see if you were okay. You just couldn't hold back your frustration anymore: you screamed.

You threw the remote against the couch, still having half the mind to keep from destroying it. It was still Spencer's property. You didn't exactly have the 20-40 bucks to give to replace it. So, precautionary aggression was the best course of action.

Your hands found your hair and gripped tightly, letting out a frustrated and loud grumble. You could still see his cocky smirk, his evil eyes as they stared at you like you were nothing but a good fuck to him. You could hear his sickening laughter in your ear, and you could hear the rumble of the gravel underneath the tires of his stupid truck. You were almost there, same feelings, same feeling of paranoid, survival instinct came rushing into your decision making controls and overrided them.

You were engulfed in the flashback, seeing him, feeling the cold metal of the cuffs around your wrists as they dug into your skin, the shiver of having your clothes ripped off of you like you were some prize he had won, it was too much.

You were panting and holding your head, trying to make sense of everything and trying to get a grip on your own reality. You ended up backing up into the dining table and sending things to the floor. This only amped up your paranoid reaction, causing you to be on guard, but thankfully the flashback was able to end.

Then, some poor soul decided to knock on the door. Your eyes snapped towards the mahogany door and you let out an instinctive growl. You then began stalking towards the door, sneering and baring your teeth.

As you made your way towards the door, a pair of protective arms wrapped around you, preventing you from opening the door or causing anymore ruckus from your rampage.

"Woah there feisty, what was all that for? I thought you were seriously in trouble."

Morgan’s calm but worried voice was like a fire extinguisher to your anger and your guard, calming you down in a matter of minutes. The fire quelled inside of you, being replaced with a lake of sadness and pain. And unfortunately, that meant that instead of anger, well, you had to deal with tears. Which you had recently come to find were annoying as hell.

"Morgan…" you breathed, letting yourself become almost limp in his arms. You felt the tears building, almost climbing inside your eyes. You couldn't do this. You couldn't face him again. Face these memories. But you were fucking stuck with them. You had no way of forgetting them. Ever. Thanks to your stupid memory. You didn't want it. You wished you had a normal memory, or at the very least an eidetic memory like Spencer's. At least then you could forget some things. But you? No. No the only things you couldn't remember were whether or not your parents ever really nursed you or even held you when you were an infant. Even the things you did remember weren't pleasant. No warm glow, no blanket colors. Just the cold, monotone voice of your father introducing you to your 'future staff'.

Morgan held you, not asking you any questions. He just let you begin to cry and let out your frustration on him. Your balled up fist gently hit his chest a few times as you wailed and inaudibly tried to explain what you thought had happened. He didn't stop you, just tried to sooth you as the knocking sounded again.

You froze in Derek's arms, the knocking now being persistent and fear-inducing now that you had your overly cautious mind back.

"D-derek…" you whispered. Derek shook his head.

"I'll get it, alright? You stay right here." He says, gesturing for you to stay. He didn't have to tell you twice, you were still hiccuping from your sobs.

Derek slowly approached the door, looking through the peephole before opening it slowly. "Hey… you should've called first. We might've been able to answer quicker."

All of your fears and concerns and panic all ceased at the sight of the man, well more of a boy, that stood in the doorway.

You stood there in disbelief as you called to him, hoping you weren't seeing things.

"Arthur?"

○●♡●○

Spencer sighed as he was put in charge of the geographical profile yet again. He had a newfound routine in having you help him with it so much so that he found it harder to do his job.

Not to mention his mind was filled with worry about how you were at home. How your well-being was, if Morgan would be enough company for you when you had the nightmares he knew you had after everything. He'd been the one to comfort you after each and every one in the hospital. He just hoped that Morgan could still comfort you while he was away.

Not only that, but a certain Real Estate Broker had his mind doing flips and his eyes seeing red whenever he thought of him and what vile thing he could be planning next. Spencer hated being away from you. Especially when everyone knew by now that Peter was a snake and was easily able to slither away. And to sneakily find you as he had done before. Spencer was thankful now that he had asked you to stay with him in his apartment rather than your own. If you were staying in yours, the chances of Peter finding you were 90-100%. And he hated those odds.

So safe to say, Spencer's mind was at odds with itself. And to top it all off all he could think about was what it would be like to squeeze the trigger and kill Peter himself. For you. That's all he wanted was revenge for you. He'd have to make sure he didn't instigate anything, so that it would be seen as self defense. But he would love to feel the backlash of gunfire if it meant that Peter would be dead. And you would be safe.

"Hey, any progress on that profile yet?"

Spencer looked up and saw JJ standing in front of where he stood next to the map, having found himself lost in thought with his fist clenched around the little box of pins in his hand.

"Oh, uh… no, not yet. I was just… distracted is all." He admitted, pulling out the box from his hand and pinning the last two locations for the dump sites.

"From what I can see just from first glance is that the dump sites seem to be within 6 or 7 miles between each other, give-or-take." Spencer expressed, trying to flip on his work brain to no avail. He soon found himself thinking of you before he finished his statement.

JJ looked at him with a sad smile. "You're worried about her, huh?"

Spencer was caught off guard by JJ's question, causing him to turn towards her a few seconds later. "Huh? Who?" He asked.

JJ gave him a slightly teasing look. "You know who. Garcia told us and the rest of the team about your little crush on her. Apparently she overheard you talking to your mom a few weeks ago. Said you loved her." JJ reveals, a gentle and motherly smile on her face.

Spencer felt a warmth rise to his cheeks, suddenly feeling much warmer in his cardigan than usual. "S-she did?'

JJ nodded. "Mhm. It's okay, Spence. Besides, I kind of figured after how you carried her back to the ambulance. She was snuggled up on you. And you refused to let her go until you knew for certain that the lead medic had an actual medical license." JJ teased gently.

Spencer sighed and rubbed his neck, closing the box of pins so as to not spill them all over the carpet. "Is… is it that obvious?"

JJ nodded again, a slight giggle on her lips. "Am I or am I not a liaison for the BAU?" She asked, obviously giving him a half hard time. "But seriously, I know you're worried about her. We all are. But she's gonna be alright. Morgan’s with her. Even with a busted knee he can wrestle any man to the ground."

Spencer sighed. JJ was right. The only reason Morgan had been taken by Peter was because he caught him off guard and was shot before he could shoot first. He was more than capable of protecting you. So why did he feel so badly?

Spencer rubbed his face and put the box down on the map's marker holder. "I know, JJ. I just… I can't help but worry about her. What if she has a nightmare and I'm not able to be there to comfort her? Wh-what if she has a panic attack and I can't get to her cause I'm all the way out here in South Dakota?" He asked, his worries getting the best of him.

JJ lifted her non-full hand and laid it on Spencer’s shoulder, no matter how much taller he was than her. "Spence. She's going to be okay. We have people watching over your apartment building on Strauss's orders. They're doing it on their overtime. I think she's safe. Even then, you're just a phone call away, right?"

Spencer sighed again, now noticing that JJ carried with her a coffee in her hand that wasn't on his shoulder. JJ laughed. "I'd be wary of the day you don't smell coffee when it's available. You're lucky it's for you." JJ teased, handing the warm cup to him.

Spencer took it and took a quick sip of the liquid. "Thank you, JJ. Really. I… I really needed this." He says. JJ nods.

"I figured you did. Now I gotta go address the press. They're gathering like vultures out there. So I gotta be their food source." She jokes. Spencer laughed and nodded.

"Yeah… actually, most vultures tend to go for larger prey than the usual roadkill, as that is more sustenance for them-" Spencer began to ramble. JJ laughs as he caught himself.

"Yeah, just like every animal it seems." She answers before he leaves the room, opening the door wider as Garcia bursts into the room with her laptop.

"Reid! Reid I think I might've gotten word about Peter!"

○●♡●○

"Arthur?"

Your brother chuckles slightly and rubs the back of his neck. "Surprise? Please don't tell me you've watched the news. You know how dramatic mother is. I told her I was going to come visit you and-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as you very quickly engulfed him in a hug. You felt short, as he had grown much taller than you. But you didn't care. He was still your little brother. And you loved him.

"Y-you're okay… you...you've grown so much…" you begin, looking up at him as you pull away. Arthur's arms had very quickly reciprocated your hug, enjoying the first bit of contact he has had with you since you left.

"Yeah, apparently somewhere in my genes there's supposed to be another inch or two. But I think I'm done." He laughs, laying a hand on your head. You smile at him, your panic completely gone at this point.

Derek raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms from where he stood. "(Y/N), you wanna tell me who this is?" He asks.

You look over at Morgan and laugh softly, Arthur having given Morgan his most awkward expression. He really hadn't changed much.

"Derek, this is my younger brother, Arthur Grant." You introduced. Then you turned to Arthur. "Artie, this is SSA Derek Morgan. He… He was the agent P-Peter captured alongside me."��

Arthur widened his eyes and held out his hand to Derek as he gulped. "N-nice to meet you. T-thank you for protecting her. She's really all I've got." He says, rubbing his neck.

Derek smiled and gave Arthur a firm handshake in return. "It was my honor, Arthur. I'm glad she's got some real family left. Not that her work family isn't good." He jokes, nudging your arm. You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself.

"Hey, as a wise man on Supernatural once said, 'Family don't end in blood'. And I think that qualifies here." You giggle softly, happy to have found even a small bit of happiness and willingness to be able to express it freely.

Arthur shook Morgan’s hand gladly and smiled his signature smile, looking back towards you. "Hey, uh… sis? Can we… can we talk? I haven't seen you for… what is it… five years now? I just wanna catch up." He expresses, his eyebrows turning up genuinely.

You sigh, but nod. "Morgan, can you go into the other room while we talk? Just for a half hour?" You ask. Morgan shrugs and nods.

"'Course kid. He's the only member of your damn family I'll trust. Just don't be gossiping without me." He teases as he leaves the room. You giggle softly as you watch him leave.

"So… how have you been? O-other than-" Arthur began, his awkwardness taking over. You sigh and hold up a hand and look at him sadly.

"Artie… please, let's just… not talk about that. I'm dealing with it. That's all that you need to know right now. You might be taller than me, but that doesn't mean that you're gonna know all of my secrets like an older brother." You tease, guiding Arthur towards the couch.

Arthur playfully rolled his eyes and followed you, mocking offense. "Oh come on, height has to factor in there somewhere Sis."

You shake your head and take a seat beside him on Spencer’s couch, sighing gently. "Nope, sorry little bro." You insist.

Arthur smiles at you and leans back on the couch, sighing as he looks at you. "(Y/N/N)... you… You have no idea how much I've missed you. I pushed myself to graduate with all honors because of you. I got a scholarship too. In business. Because you always pushed me to do better. To do my best. I… I want to do something for you in return. Please. Name it. I can start making it up to you."

You give Arthur a joking look and shook your head. "No need, Arthur. Besides, that was all you. You just needed the extra push. I'm so proud of you." You say, laying a hand on Arthur's arm. He smiled at you and took a sigh, signaling to you that the conversation was about to take a turn.

Arthur's hands intertwined with each other and he leaned over for a moment, his elbows digging into his thighs. "(Y/N)... Look I… I know you said you were okay but…" he sighed again. "Mom she… she forbade me from seeing you in the hospital, I promise that's the only reason I wasn't there. After I promised to testify against her for you she banned me from leaving home."

You widen your eyes, your mouth gaping a bit. "Arthur… y-you're testifying?"

He looked up at you and nodded. "Yeah. She assaulted you at work and literally sold you, sis. If I can put her away, along with him, I'm gonna do it. For you. I want you to be safe. I may not be your older brother, but I want you safe too. I'm gonna try and protect you like a brother should. I couldn't do much as a scrawny 13 year old you know." He chuckled. You laughed briefly, a smile teasing at your lips.

"Yeah… not really." You giggled. He shook his head and laughed back.

"Ha ha. Very funny. But really… it's good to see you sis. I… I'm sorry I didn't do enough for you back then." He exhaled, his expression solemn and regretful. You take his hands in yours and give him a reassuring look.

"Hey, just as you said. You were a scrawny 13 year old. What much could you do?" You point out. Arthur sighed.

"I could've protected you. At least told Peter to scram at least once." He grumbled. You shake your head and smile at him.

"I think I did that enough for the both of us."

Arthur smiled softly and looked down, showing you his vulnerability when it came to you. You squeezed his hands gently, assuring him it was okay.

And you both sat there in each other's company for a few more moments of silence. It wasn't an awkward one, so there were no awkward feelings.

Arthur spoke up a few minutes later, having come up with an idea. "Can… can I at least pay for your therapy? I can pay for it with the money dad gives me. You… you need to see someone. I saw someone, you pushed me to go see Dr. Francesca and now I see her every two weeks. Please… let me do this for you."

You sighed as Arthur began to try and persuade you. Damn him and his puppy eyes. He still had the gift.

"Tell you what, how about we call Derek back in here and we watch some procedural cop show that we can all laugh at and I'll tell you what I decide later?" You narrowly avoid. Arthur thankfully notices this and drops the question.

"Only if the show is dumb enough for a citizen like me to laugh at it." He settles.

You giggle and nod. "Deal!"

65 notes · View notes

axwalker · 4 years

Text

Tears in Heaven 10: Endings

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

Pairings: Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings: NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog.

Mention of child death, mention of depression, grieving

N*FW content!

A/N: There will be a small epilogue next week, but this is the official ENDING.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thank you so much to all the people that read it, shared it and commented it. Every single like, reblog or comment gave me life! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@mskaneko Thank you for all your amazing insights when you read and your incredibly inspiring edits and mood boards. You’re one of a kind!

@pedudley Thank you for pre-reading every chapter and being such a great, supportive friend. Your feedback meant a lot/

@burnsoslow The MVP of this whole thing!! I was so stuck before your brilliant book idea!! Thank you for that and for the hours and hours (and hours) of editing!! Without you I would’ve never been able to write this fic. You’re an amazing friend and human being. THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR HELP.

I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH ❤️

To catch up: Masterlist

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry. The edit at the end of this fic belongs to the talented @mskaneko

Word count: 7 697 (!!!)

Songs inspiration: Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton

Tagging: @ao719 @yukinagato2012 @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @cordonia-gothqueen @bebepac @nomadics-stuff @cordonianroyalty @forthebrokenheartedthings @bascmve01 @gibbles82 @mom2000aggie @gardeningourmet

Perma: @burnsoslow @mskaneko @mskaneko @pedudley @pug-bitch @ac27dj @twinkle-320 @kimmiedoo5 @marshmallowsandfire @loveellamae @debramcg1106 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @ravenpuff02 @princessleac1 @ritachacha @drake-colt-lover-99

Liam woke up feeling restless. He rolled over in bed, trying to get a few minutes of sleep, but guessed it would be useless. Before taking a long hot shower, Liam called the kitchens so they’d bring him a large jug of strong coffee with his breakfast - he would need it to get through the day. Thirty minutes later, he was sitting on the balcony of his room at Valtoria, sipping his second cup of coffee of the morning and thinking about his fiancée. More than the conversation he had had with Alexis two days prior, it was the one he and his brother had shared the previous afternoon that he was obsessing over.

Since he had met her, he had been head over heels for Alexis. However, even if his love for her was undeniable, the real question was if they were right for each other. Reluctantly, Liam had to admit that he barely recognized himself in the jealous, controlling, manipulative man he had become. And as tempted as he was to blame Drake and his return for the demise of their relationship, deep down, he knew something else was profoundly wrong with them.

Leo was right: He didn’t trust Alexis. Liam wanted to, desperately, but he just couldn’t. The memory of the day he had found her almost dead on her bed still haunted him. Liam had never really gotten over it.

Alexis entered their room and saw Liam sitting with his paper and sipping coffee, lost in his thoughts. Earlier that morning, when she had left Drake’s cabin, she had done so convinced that the only right decision was to marry Liam. However, standing there and watching him, her own words resonated in her head. Liam deserved better. And he did; he deserved better than a life with a woman that would never be able to fully love him. Neither of them would ever be happy if they went ahead with their wedding.

Alexis was scared -- terrified -- of loving Drake again, of facing her grief, but hiding behind Liam couldn’t wouldn’t, be the solution anymore.

“Hi, Li,” she said, sitting on the chair next to him.

“Love.” Liam saw her sad expression and instinctively knew what she was about to tell him.

Alexis hugged herself and took a sharp breath, trying to gather some courage. Her eyes watered as she tried to get the words out. “I’m sorry, Liam.”

Liam’s hand gripped his cup of coffee. “You’re calling off the engagement.”

“I … I wasn’t planning to do it,” she sobbed. “But the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m not good for you, Liam.”

Despite his best efforts, a cold rage overpowered him. “Do not pretend that this has nothing to do with Drake, Alexis.”

“I’m not going to lie. Drake showing up again accelerated things. But our problems have nothing to do with him. Our marriage wouldn’t have lasted. We were asking too much from each other. I would never be happy being a duchess, and I know how badly you want to be a father, Liam. It was selfish of me to ask such a huge sacrifice of you.”

“I don’t care, Alexis. I would do anything for you,” Liam implored. “I know we have problems, but I’m sure that if we work together, we would be able to find a solution.”

She shook her head. “Are you happy with me, Li?”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I love you very deeply, Alexis.”

“That’s not what I asked. You’re constantly worried about me. You don’t trust me. And we never share our problems because we don’t want to burden each other. We never talk about Tom.” She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

Liam’s eyes widened. “Did you just say his name?”

She nodded.

“One day with him, and you’re already saying Tom’s name again.” His glossy eyes looked at her. “It’s always been him,” he muttered. “All this time, you didn’t stop loving Drake, did you?” he asked her.

“Liam … please don’t go there,” she begged, more tears running down her face.

“Did you ever even love me?” His voice betrayed the cool façade he was trying to maintain. Incapable of staying put, he stood up in front of the balcony’s railing.

Alexis cut the distance between them and hugged him as tightly as she could. After a moment, she took his head between her hands. “I love you, Liam. And not only because you saved my life, but because you’re an amazing, loving, generous man; because of all the moments we shared together. You gave me a reason to wake up in the mornings. Thanks to you, I was able to smile, to live again. I’ll never forget that.”

“Right ... you’ve always loved me, but you never fell in love with me,” Liam replied bitterly.

At that moment, watching Liam breaking in front of her, Alexis hated herself. “I tried Li. And it has nothing to do with you; I just never really got over … everything.”

Liam wiped a tear from her face. Too heartbroken to talk, he simply took her in his arms and kissed her head.

Alexis took off the engagement ring and placed it in his palm. “I never deserved this. And maybe you don’t believe me right now, but I know you’ll meet someone who will.”

Every word she pronounced felt like he was being stabbed. Liam turned his gaze towards the gardens. “Please leave, Alexis. There is no point in prolonging this anymore.”

Alexis squeezed his hand and left him there. As she walked away, a strong feeling of contrition flitted through her body in response to the tightness in her chest. However, despite her guilt over hurting a good man, Alexis knew she had made the right decision.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drake put his syringe and gloves in his bag, patted Thunder on his rump, and left the horse’s stall, rubbing his neck tiredly. After a long day doing the weekly check-ups on the horses of one of his biggest clients, he was shattered. However, working to exhaustion hadn’t worked as well as he had hoped; Alexis and her goddamn stubbornness hadn’t left his mind for a second.

When he finally got home, his heart skipped a beat when he saw Alexis sitting on the steps of his porch, waiting for him.

“Hi, Drake.”

His heart raced as it did every time he saw her. “Hi, Lexie.”

“Can we talk?” she asked, and he detected a slight edge in her voice.

“Of course, Lexie. Let’s go inside.”

Alexis shook her head no. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d preferred if we take a walk.”

“Why?” Drake questioned, puzzled.

Because if I enter the house, I won’t be able to leave it again. “It’s better,” she stated simply.

“Okay.” Drake shoved his hands in his pockets. If she didn’t want to come into the house, that meant she was divorcing him and choosing Liam. He felt the pain of losing her all over again threaten his heart.

Drake and Alexis walked a while next to each other without a word. Inadvertently, they took the path to the lake where they used to fish and have picnics with Tom. Drake glanced over her; the look in her eyes was not sad as he had expected but determined. She was wearing the fierce expression that meant she had made a decision.

They sat in the old wooden pier next to each other. “What do you want to talk about, Lexie?”

Alexis bit her bottom lip. “I broke up with Liam.”

His eyes immediately darted to her left hand. Relieved to see that the ring was gone, Drake exhaled a lightened breath. “Lexie.” He was impatient to kiss her, to feel her again, but something about her demeanor stopped him. An awful thought snaked into his mind. “Do you want to sign the divorce papers anyway?”

Alexis placed her small hands on his large ones. “No. It’s the last thing I want.” She smiled at him.

Drake cupped her face, allowing his thumb to draw soft circles around her lips. “I don’t get it. Why are you so sad?”

“I need to ask you for something.” Drake nodded, still tenderly rubbing her face. “I’m sure that I don’t want a divorce. But I’m not ready to move back here yet.” She took a sharp breath. “I never really grieved Tom, you know? I mean, I did all the four first stages. I was furious at first and then hurt and broken at that clinic. But after my depression, I regressed. I realize now that I’ve been in denial for the past three years.”

Drake wiped her tears again and pulled her close to him.

“My therapist didn’t want me to leave the clinic. She said I wasn’t ready, but I wasn’t a danger to myself anymore, so she didn’t have any other choice but to sign my release. I need to do that now. Finish my therapy, be alone, and I’m sure you’re going to roll your eyes at this,” she joked, “but I need time to find myself. I don’t know who I am anymore, Drake. I don’t do any of the things I used to enjoy. And I feel this guilt that I can’t seem to shake. I feel guilty for the pain that I just caused Liam, but I especially feel guilty about us. About all the things I told you that day.”

“Lexie, please. You have to let that go. You weren’t yourself back then -- neither of us was,” Drake said tenderly.

“I still need to forgive myself.” She squeezed his hands. “Please don’t give up on me, Drake. I just need some time. A few months, maybe,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes.

It hurt like hell, but he understood. Drake took her face between his hands. “Listen to me, baby, because this is very important. I love you. No matter what. No matter what I’ve done or you’ve done. No matter what will happen. I will always love you.” He interrupted himself to give her a soft kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “If I have to wait for you for the rest of my life, I will. I lost you once, but I swear I will never lose you again. Never.” She smiled through her tears. “This is what I wanted. That you chose whatever was best for you. And I think this is it. I’ll be here at the end, loving you. Okay?”

“Thank you, Drake.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he crashed his mouth with hers in a searing, hungry kiss. After a breathless moment, he forced himself to stop. It was clear that Alexis wasn’t ready for anything else. They shared a few more moments together, then Drake walked her back to her car.

She opened the door but stood next to it, torn between her longing to stay and her need to leave.

“I know you need to go through this alone, but promise me that if it’s too much, you’ll call me, Lexie. Day or night.” Drake said as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I promise.” Alexis kissed him again, trying to memorize how much she enjoyed his lips on hers, the way he had to kiss her with all his body. Drake held her as close as he could; if he had his way, he would never let her go.

But Alexis was too confused, too rattled by everything that had happened. She needed to claim her independence and regain control of her life before coming back to him. Watching her leave broke his heart, but he knew that she was worth the waiting.

With tears in her eyes, she got in her car and drove away, hoping that she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

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The first month was arduous. Coming back to therapy and having to deal with Tom’s death proved to be as challenging as Alexis had thought, but she persisted, determined to get better. She and Drake respected their arrangement and didn’t see each other, but whenever a session became too strenuous, or she was at risk of getting depressed, she called him, and they talked for hours over the phone. Drake told her about his experiences in prison and his life in Spain, and she finally spoke about the long months she had been committed to the clinic and her suicide attempt. Each phone call left them hopeful and terribly nostalgic, but Drake never pressured her.

After two months of intense therapy, Dr. Salas, her psychologist, encouraged her to do something for herself. Alexis immediately knew what she needed. For the next four months, she rented a cottage in Portavira and moved next to the beach. It was a small cottage, but it had a porch where she could sit, watch the ocean, and write every day. During that time, Alexis cried a lot, but she also began to take long walks along the beach, hike and swim in the ocean; the calm of the secluded beach and the soothing sound of the waves had a curative power on her. Alexis missed Drake desperately, more and more with every passing day, but she knew that she needed to finish what she had started before coming back to him.

The first days in Portavira, Alexis only managed to write a few lines, but soon an idea began to form in her mind. At first, she refused it; nothing would be more painful than writing that, but Dr. Salas had suggested that it could be cathartic to explore her grief through her words. One afternoon where Alexis was feeling unusually relaxed, she sat in front of her computer with a cold glass of Chardonnay and started typing. She cried her eyes out with every word, but in the end, she felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. For the first time since her little boy had died, Alexis accepted that while the pain in her chest would never really disappear, she might be able to be happy again.

The next morning, she called Charlie, her old boss, and sent her the manuscript.

Drake was quickly regaining his excellent reputation among the owners of Cordonian stables and racetracks. Thoughts about Lexie consumed him day and night, so he spent those six months working like crazy. In his spare time, he read, fished, or rode his horse, but he felt restless all the time. One night after talking to her, an idea crept into his mind. He already knew the perfect place, so he made an offer, and when he got it, he devoted all his free time to making it perfect.

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Liam rubbed his eyes tiredly; he had been up working for almost 20 hours straight, trying to figure out a way to bring new investors to Valtoria. He, Hana, and his team had developed a health plan that aimed to offer affordable healthcare to all the duchy’s citizens, but he needed private investors and the help of the Crown to be able to fund it.

At almost 10:00 p.m., Liam leaned against his chair. Hana dropped her pen on the desk and raked her hair with her hands. They both yawned at the same time, which made them chuckle.

“We’re too tired, Hana,” Liam said as he stood up to get a drink from the cart in his office. “Something to drink?”

“Gin, please,” Hana answered, grinning.

Liam couldn’t help but admire how pretty his assistant was. Hana was a special woman; she was smart and kind, and she cared about Valtoria almost as much as he did. He always had fun in her company.

Alexis had left him six months ago. The first two months had been hell; after being in love with her for so long, Liam had had trouble adjusting to the idea that she would never be with him. However, after some time, he realized that Alexis had made the right decision. They weren’t happy together; she had never stopped loving Drake, and he was in love with a woman who no longer existed. Besides, Liam had to admit that he felt lighter and freer without the burden of his constant concern for her. His love for Alexis wasn’t healthy or romantic; it was toxic and harmful for both of them.

Liam handed Hana her gin, smiling at her. “What would you think if I called that place where we had dinner with the French ambassador the other night? We can ask for a couple of Black Truffle Croque Monsieur and some eclairs au chocolat?” he asked playfully, his stomach groaning at the thought.

Hana’s face lit up. “That would be perfect, Liam.”

“You call the restaurant, Hana. I will go look for a bottle of Beaujolais from the cellar.” Liam left his office, grinning. He didn’t know why, but the prospect of spending an intimate moment with Hana made him happier than he had been in a long time.

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Alexis swam for almost an hour. The cold, tranquil ocean was the only place where she could calm her nerves that morning. After four months on the beach, she was going back to Cordonia that same afternoon, hopefully to stay. Charlie had arranged a public reading in a small bookstore in Cordonia to launch her book, and Alexis had invited Drake - the real reason behind her nervousness that morning. A smile formed on her lips from just the thought of him. When she had called him to invite him to the reading, she hadn’t dared to tell him that she was ready, that she couldn’t wait another minute to be with him. Mostly because she didn’t want to do it over the phone.

But also because a part of her was still scared. There was no doubt in her heart; she loved Drake more than anything. But what if they were able to be happy again and another tragedy struck them? If she had to go through the pain of losing him again, Alexis knew without the shadow of a doubt that she wouldn’t be able to recover.

In addition to all of that, there was something she needed to tell him, and Alexis wasn’t sure how Drake was going to react. She stepped out of the ocean and dried herself. When she got to the house, Alexis went to her closet, thinking about what she was going to wear. Butterflies flapped in her stomach, knowing that she was dressing for him, that if everything went well, she would be in his arms that same night — the feeling of being 19 years old all over again washed over her. After a short shower, she applied light makeup and blow-dried her hair. Before leaving the house, she looked at herself in the mirror. It didn’t matter how scared she was; fear had dominated her life for almost five years. It wouldn’t control another minute of it.

Drake turned on the engine of his jeep, his heart racing thinking about her. He had no idea what her book was about, but Alexis had talked about it with that cute voice she had when she was really thrilled about something. Drake could almost see her face if he closed her eyes: her wide, gorgeous smile and a pink blush covering her cheeks with excitement. During their conversation, she hadn’t said anything about their marriage, but Drake knew she wouldn’t have invited him if she wasn’t ready to be with him again. At least he really hoped so. Before going to the library, he made a quick stop. His project was on the right track. He prepared the last surprise for her and then left for the reading.

The children’s bookstore that Charlie had picked was perfect. Small and cozy, it had a lounge with two large sofas and colorful cushions. Posters of Tom Sawyer’s books and figurines of the Harry Potter and Narnia universes decorated the walls. The owner had moved an antique armchair to the middle of the room, so the kids and their parents would be surrounding Alexis in a half-circle as she told her story. She was greeting the families that her agent had invited when she heard a familiar voice calling her.

“Blossom!” Maxwell ran to hug her. “I missed you so much; I have a million things to tell you!”

She hugged her best friend back. “Hi, Max! I missed you too. How’s the married life?”

“Perfection. Rashad is the best husband in the world. A total control freak, but I knew that already.”

Alexis laughed. “Anyone seems like a control freak compared to you.”

“I guess that’s true.” Max beamed, looking at her. She was wearing a beige mid-length dress with an oversized camel blazer and nude high heels. “You’re gorgeous, by the way.” Her friend gave her a knowing smile. “Drake is going to drop dead when he sees you.”

She gave her friend an anxious smile. “He isn’t here yet.”

“He’ll be here soon, Lexie. Don’t worry,” Maxwell said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Darling, everything looks fabulous.” Olivia kissed both her cheeks. “I’m so proud of you,” she said earnestly.

“Come on, Liv. Don’t make me think you’ve gone soft,” Alexis teased.

“I mean it, Alexis.”

“I know you do,” she replied, squeezing her best friend’s hands. “Thank you.”

Charlie interrupted them. “Please take your seats. You need to start, Alexis.”

Alexis sat in the armchair; she glanced at the door one more time, and there he was, looking shamelessly handsome in a white shirt and jeans. Drake winked at her as he sat on one of the sofas next to her. His boyish grin had the power of rendering her speechless. She swallowed her nervousness and opened the book. Drake noticed that it was signed by Alexis Walker, and his smile got wider.

“Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Tom who lived in a small red cabin in the middle of the woods. Every night before bed, his mom and dad sang him lullabies and told him stories of faraway lands, brave princes, and courageous queens. His best friends were Buttons, a little grey rabbit that followed Tom everywhere he went, and Maxie, an enthusiastic fire truck with a loud voice that only Tom could hear. Tom wanted to travel very far; thus, his dream had always been to conquer the faraway lands his parents described to him every night. One sunny April morning, Tom put his wooden sword and blue cape in his backpack and left, followed by Buttons and Maxie, to live the adventures he had dreamed of.”

Alexis looked up and saw Drake staring at her with glossy eyes. He gave her a soft nod, so she turned her eyes back to the book and kept on reading. Perhaps to avoid thinking about his lost son, Drake’s attention focused on her. He looked at her, enraptured. Alexis’ bright brown eyes were almost shining; her silvery voice had the entire room captivated with her story. The inner light he had always loved in her was back, as bright as before. In only a few months, she had managed to regain control of her life and make her dream come true. Every time he thought that he couldn’t possibly admire or love her more, she surprised him again. He was utterly, hopelessly, crazily in love with her.

“… Tom, Maxie, and Buttons had lived an incredible adventure. Tom missed his mom and dad deeply, but he knew that they were waiting for him in their little red cabin in the middle of the woods and that he’d soon come home.”

Alexis closed the book with watering eyes. “Thank you for coming. This book means a great deal to me.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I hope you enjoyed it. I’ll be happy to answer questions if you have any.”

One woman holding a little girl in her lap raised her hand and asked the question Drake was dreading. “Is Tom’s character based on someone real?”

Charlie had warned Alexis that she needed to be prepared to answer that. She gripped the book and took a deep breath. “Yes, on my son.” After drinking a gulp of water to control herself, she added, “He’s no longer with us.”

Drake smiled at her sadly but reassuringly when the audience went silent for a few seconds.

Maxwell quickly raised his hand. “Um … I just wanted to know if you’re preparing a sequel.”

Alexis gave him a grateful look. “Not at the moment, maybe later. Thank you for your question, sir.”

A little girl in pigtails asked her a question about Buttons, and a blond boy questioned her about Maxie the fire truck.

After she was done answering and signing copies of the book, she went to meet with Drake, Max, and Olivia.

“I loved it, Blossom! I have to say that Maxie the fire truck is the best character. He seems to be the smartest, funniest, cutest one of them all. Certainly much more than the evil Queen Nevrakis,” Maxwell beamed as Olivia shook her head, for once, more amused than annoyed.

A sudden silence made Olivia realise that Drake and Alexis were looking at each other longingly. She cleared her throat. “I have a date with Jin tonight, so we better get going, Max.”

Maxwell beamed as he hugged both of them. It was unquestionable for anyone who knew them that Drake and Alexis belonged with each other, and nothing could make Max happier than to see them together again. “I’m so happy for you guys! See you soon!”

They both chuckled; Drake brushed Alexis’ hand with his, slowly intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Did you like it?” Alexis asked Drake timidly.

“It was wonderful. The way you described him was simply perfect.” Drake threw her a small smile. “It was our Tom. I admire you so much, Lexie. Thank you for this; I needed it too.” They locked eyes with each other, both their hearts racing.

“I’m ready, Drake,” Alexis blurted out and immediately felt the blush in her cheeks, her heart beating furiously in her chest.

“Are you sure you’re ready to come with me?” he asked her with his deep voice, an intense longing in his eyes.

“As long as you still want me to,” Alexis gave him a coquettish smile.

He tightened his grip on her hand. “Always, Lexie.” The loving look she gave him back was enough to drive him wild. Drake looked around him; they were in a children’s bookstore surrounded by kids and Alexis’ old boss. Probably not the best place to kiss her as he was dying to.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered sheepishly.

Alexis arched her brows. “Really? What is it?” she asked excitedly.

Drake smirked. “A surprise has to be unexpected. As a writer, aren’t you supposed to know definitions of words and shit?”

“Smartass,” she laughed. “I just need to say good-bye to Charlie really quick, and we can go.”

When they got into the car, Drake leaned to her seat and cupped her beautiful face. She let out a soft gasp when he kissed both her cheeks, the corners of her lips, her nose. “I’m going to spend the rest of the night, of my life, kissing every part of you, baby,” he growled in her ear.

If Alexis waited another minute, she would’ve imploded right there, so she crashed her lips on his, making him groan with want. Drake pressed her body against the seat, but an annoying thought made him stop. “Our first time after all this time will not be in the passenger seat of my jeep, Lexie.”

Alexis bit her bottom lip. “Let’s go,” she urged him.

After a short drive, Drake pulled over on the side of the highway. He grabbed a silk tie from the back seat. “I need to cover your eyes.”

“It’s dark, and we’re in the middle of the woods, Walker. Are you trying to kidnap me?” she asked with a flirty tone.

A smug grin spread on his lips. “Actually, that is exactly what I’m going to do. Turn around.” Gently, he placed the tie around her head and tied a knot. “No peeking, Lex,” he said, kissing her head.

She shook her head, now too excited to speak.

After a few minutes, they arrived, and Drake helped Alexis to get out of the car. The feeling of walking in an unknown place with her eyes covered could’ve made someone nervous, but there was no one Alexis trusted more in the world than Drake; he would rather die than let something happen to her. They walked a few inches with him firmly holding her. When they stopped, he pulled her back against his chest, circling her waist with his arm. He leaned to speak in her ear. “Six months ago, in one of our phone calls, you told me how difficult it’d be for you to live in the cabin again. That you would love to start our lives somewhere else.”

Alexis nodded.

“That day, I recalled how much you loved that abandoned house next to the lake. It was small and run down, but you fell completely in love with it. Remember?”

“I do,” she said with a lump in her throat.

They were taking a stroll next to the lake when Alexis saw it. The house was almost in ruins, but according to her, it had significant potential. As it was clearly uninhabited and there was a window open on the ground floor, she climbed through it; Drake followed her, chuckling, with Tom in his arms. Once inside, he had to admit that the house did show promise. They would have to spend a lot of weekends renovating it, but he loved manual work and was sure Alexis would make it as cozy and comfortable as she had made his father’s cabin. Back in their own place, they daydreamed about buying the house and renovating it. She drew a small sketch of what she pictured: a huge kitchen where they could both cook together, a swing for Tom to play, a porch to watch the sunset, and a main room with a skylight where they could see the stars every night. It would take some time and a lot of effort, but they thought the house was worth it. When Drake was about to make an offer to the real estate agency, tragedy overcame them, and they forgot all about it.

Drake uncovered her eyes, and she gasped. They were standing in front of the house, but it had changed. Drake had spent the last five months working on it every minute of his spare time. The old washed-out exterior was now a beautiful wooden façade with a large, wide-pillared porch in the front.

He held her tightly. “Now this is the exterior. There’s still a lot of renovation work to do inside. You’ll see.”

Alexis had happy tears in her eyes. “I … I can’t believe you did this, Drake. It’s gorgeous.” She turned around, and he cupped her face and gave her an intense, searing kiss.

“Come on, I want to show you the rest,” he said when they finally parted, breathless. Drake grabbed her hand, and they laced their fingers together.

They stepped into the house, and even if Drake was right and the first floor still needed a lot of work, Alexis wandered around happily with her heart full. “I love the kitchen! We can have a large counter here,” she said, pointing to one side of the room. “What would you think about a thick wood table?”

Alexis’ face reflected so much excitement and enthusiasm that Drake couldn’t help but grin at it. His gaze followed her as she pranced all over the house with a thousand ideas of how to renovate every corner of it.

“So I gather you like it?” he asked, arching an amused eyebrow.

“Like it? I love it, Drake! It’s perfect. I’d like to move here as soon as possible!”

Drake couldn’t help but smile tenderly at her. “Are you sure? We can stay in the cabin for a few more months while we do the renovation work here.”

“If the water is running, I’d prefer to stay here,” she answered with an earnest smile. “This is us, Drake. Ours. A new life together. I’m not running from our past, and I never want to forget Tom,” she said, brushing a small tear with her hand. “I just want to start over in a place where we can create new memories.”

“If that’s really what you think, there’s a room that’s already finished.” He threw her a quizzical smile. “Do you remember the drawing you did of how we pictured our house?”

Alexis let out a spontaneous laugh that made Drake's heart leap. “I would barely call the doodles I made drawings, but I remember the moment, yes.”

“Well, I hope I did the doodles justice.” Drake held his breath as he opened the door.

Alexis gasped; he had remembered everything she had dreamed of. A soft, fluffy carpet. A big bed full of cushions, a fireplace warming the room, and the skylight over the bed. The moon and stars lit up the whole room through it.

Mesmerized, she took off the blazer she was wearing, and Drake’s eyes widened. The beige dress she had underneath was tight and hugged every single curve of her body. Suddenly, Drake was very aware of the taunting way she moved; she turned her back on him to look at the fireplace, and his eyes went straight to her bare upper back and the delicate line of her neck. Blushing, he moved to readjust himself. Her thrilled voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“I love it, Drake. Every single part of it! The skylight is exactly how I’d imagined it!” He took off his own jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “What?” she asked, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she realized he was looking intently at her.

“Are you wearing that for me?” Drake’s low baritone and sexy smile made her blush crimson red.

“Maybe,” she answered with the most innocent look in her eyes but a sultry voice.

Drake cut the distance between them; even with her sexy nude heels, he towered over her. “Don’t give me that innocent look, baby,” he growled. “Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Alexis leaned towards him, her hands playing with his collar. “See, Drake, that’s the thing. I don’t want you to control yourself.”

He swept her off her feet. She looped his neck in a burst of roaring laughter. “I want you so fucking much, Lexie,” he told her as he gently dropped her on the bed. Their bed. He hovered over her, holding his weight up with his right arm.

She hid her nose on his neck, inhaling the intoxicating sandalwood. “Me too, Drake.”

“You deserve the world,” Drake said, staring at her almost black eyes looking at him adoringly. He wanted nothing more than to make this night last as long as he possibly could. “It’s been four years that I’ve been thinking about this moment,” he said, gently kissing her cheek. “Four years that I’ve dreamed of making you mine again.” He growled at her ear as he nipped it. “And now, I finally have you here --” He softly bit her neck. “-- all for myself.” He kissed her collarbone as he slowly unzipped her dress. “This damn dress is making me wild, Lexie.”

As he rubbed his thumb on her lips and cheeks, Alexis’ heart beat so fast, she was sure he could hear it. Finally, he kissed her, and time stopped. His lips felt so soft on hers, his tongue so passionate when it slowly entered her mouth, intertwining with hers. His strong hand cupped her head as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly the need became urgent, and he moved to her neck, possessed by the need to claim her. Drake softly sank his teeth in her, making an exhilarated moan escape from her throat.

Slowly, he pulled the dress’ front zipper down, peppering sultry kisses on every inch of skin he discovered, until only her lacy underwear was left. He pulled her to him and kissed her senseless as he unclasped her bra. Her beautiful breasts appeared, her buds erect, ready for him to kiss them. Drake softly flicked his thumbs over them. Then his tongue tasted them, taking pleasure in the sight of Alexis arching her back for him. He took a deep breath until all he could smell was her cherry fragrance. With a cocky smile, he pulled down her last piece of underwear, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable to him.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Lexie,” he groaned as his eyes wandered over her body lit up by the moonlight, and his calloused hands moved down her body, rubbing her face, her breasts, her hips, a trail of excited goosebumps appearing everywhere he touched. “And you are all mine.”

Alexis gave him a flirty smile. “I want to see you too, Drake.” She softly pushed him up until they were both on their knees.

The sight of her naked, kneeling in front of him and undressing him with nervous fingers, desperate to kiss him, to touch him too, almost killed him. She undid his jeans and let her hand wander around his cock. He drank in the sight of her, enjoying her soft, small hand around him for a moment. Her soft, skilled strokes on his impossible hard length felt incredible, but after all the months, the years they had spent apart, he wasn’t going to last long if she continued. “I won’t be able to resist much longer, baby.” He grabbed her wrist. “And there are a lot, a lot of things, I want to do to you first. Lay down,” he growled, standing up to toss off the rest of his clothes.

Alexis felt like she was on fire, ready to explode. Drake’s lips kissing her legs, her knees, and her inner thighs only made the fire wilder. She gripped the sheets when she felt his hot mouth on her, kissing the soft skin around her clit.

“It drives me insane how wet you already are for me, Lex,” he said, parting her lips with his tongue and softly entering her, inebriating himself with her taste.

“Drake, god! Drake,” she chanted again and again as his expert tongue and fingers explored her, thrust inside of her. Feeling the heat build more and more, she tugged his hair, making him smile against her warm skin. Finally, she reached a point of no return and screamed his name again.

Drake smirked. “Fuck, I’ve missed that, baby.”

Still panting, she managed to answer in a soft voice. “Me too, Drake.” Drake caught her lips in a slow, tender kiss as she came down from her high.

“Come here,” he whispered, scooping her and sitting her in his lap. Alexis straddled him, enveloping his torso with her legs. Cradling her with his arms, Drake’s desperate lips ravaged her neck, alternating soft kisses with small bites. Her back arched, giving him full access to her breasts that he cupped, his thumbs slowly circling her hard nipples again. Alexis rolled her hips against him.

Drake chuckled against her neck. “Are you trying to tell me something, Lexie?”

“I need you now, Drake,” she moaned. His cock was already throbbing, but he felt like he was going to burst at her words

“Whatever you want, Alexis.” He positioned himself with the tip of his dick, teasing the little nub of her center. “Look at me, baby. I want to see your pretty eyes as I enter you.”

She locked her burning eyes with him, and he grabbed her hips, confidently guiding her body to enter her folds slowly, giving her time to adjust to him.

The world, the moon, and the stars, everything around them faded. Each set of eyes only saw each other, reflecting the passion, the excitement, the deep love they felt.

“I love you, Lexie,” Drake whispered as he slowly moved inside of her, adoring her smell, the way she moved, how she moaned his name.

“I love you too, Drake,” Alexis whispered back, reveling in the sensation of him filling her completely. Of her heart racing with every delicious thrust. Of his strong arms holding her tightly, safely. Of his hands caressing her back. “I feel you everywhere, Drake, god.”

They rocked their hips at the same pace, increasing speed as their movements became more passionate, more desperate. He ground into her powerfully, feeling her walls tighten around him. The sensation was unbelievable, an exceptional connection that neither of them could ever experience with anyone else. “Come with me, baby,” he whispered as his hand reached her center, allowing his thumb to rub the little nub in it, making her lose her mind. Alexis couldn’t formulate a coherent thought, let alone talk, as the most intense wave of pleasure of her life came cresting over her. A powerful “Drake!” escaped her lips as she climaxed.

His name on her swollen lips and the way she was still vibrating against him pushed him over the edge.

“Mine, Lexie, mine,” he growled, marking her neck as he filled her in complete ecstasy.

He pulled her into his chest, both of them silently enjoying their descent from heaven.

He held her tightly, kissing the top of her head as he lazily rubbed her back, incapable to stop touching her.

“A penny for your thoughts, Lexie.”

She looked at him through her eyelashes, smiling.

“I was just thinking about how absolutely perfect this was.” She stroked his chiseled abs with her hand.

He smirked. “You’re perfect, baby. A fucking work of art.”

Alexis smiled against his chest, a pleasant feeling of utter happiness settling in her chest.

Part of the night was spent with tender whispers, passionate touches, and shared laughs. The rest, they spent rediscovering every nook and hidden corner of each other’s bodies as if they were trying to recoup the last five years in a few hours. Finally, the morning lights caught them sleeping tangled in each other’s bodies. Drake opened his eyes first, smiling as he hadn’t done in five years.

“Good morning, baby,” he whispered in her ear, waking her up.

“Nuh, uh, too early.” She hid her head under the pillow.

“You have to see this, Lexie. Wake up,” he said softly, kissing her bare back.

“God, I’ve forgotten how good you are at motivating a girl.”

Drake chuckled. “Come here.”

Wrapped in the sheets with Drake hugging her tightly from behind, Lexie sat on the porch in front of the lake, and she understood why he had woken her up. In front of her eyes, a sumptuous spectacle of pink, ochre and golden sun rays extended over the glowing lake. It was the most stunning sunrise she had ever seen.

“There’s something I need to tell you that might change your mind about us,” Alexis warned him cautiously. She bit her lips, feeling remorseful. She should have discussed it the day before, but selfishly, she had wanted to enjoy the night with Drake.

He almost laughed at the idea. “Nothing would change my mind, Lexie. Test me.”

She took a deep breath and let the sentence out as fast as she could. “I don’t know if I ever want any more children, but I don’t think so.” She carefully gauged his reaction as she asked. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered sincerely. “I didn’t for a long time; I was adamant. ” He looked tenderly at her. “Now, I’m not so sure, but I do know that the idea scares the shit out of me.”

Alexis let out a relieved breath. “Me too.”

“I’ll tell you this. We’ll revisit the idea in a few years, but we won’t do it unless we’re both sure. Deal?”

“And what if I don’t change my mind, and you do?” she asked worriedly.

“Then we won’t, Lexie. All I want out of life I have right here,” he said, holding her even tighter. “Nine years ago, in my vows, I told you that I loved the fire in your eyes and how much you love life. I told you that I would always take care of that gorgeous inner light of yours. But I didn’t do a great job.” Alexis was about to protest, but Drake put his thumb on her lips, smiling. "I promise that I’ll devote the rest of my life to making you happy. I’m so proud of you, of everything you are, Lexie. I love you more than I did back then, much more.” He opened his palm, where he had their wedding rings in his hand. “I always knew that one day we would be wearing these again, Mrs. Walker.”

Alexis beamed. “I love you, too. You have no idea how much. For years, I felt lifeless, and now just looking at you, my heart hammers, Drake. You take away the emptiness, the sadness. You make me so incredibly happy.”

A bittersweet tear escaped from her eyes when she extended her hand and watched, immensely moved, how Drake slid her wedding band and engagement ring on her finger. Then she put his on.

Relieved, she turned her head up and caught his lips in a delicious, deep kiss.

Drake noticed a small, tiny tear. “What’s up, Lexie?”

“I was really convinced that I could never feel this extremely elated again, and now that I do, I also feel …” She stopped in her tracks.

“Guilty. You feel guilty for feeling happy.”

She nodded slowly.

“Me too.” Drake rubbed her cheek with his hand. “I think we have to learn to live with that, baby. Tom will always be here. He’ll always hurt.”

Alexis snuggled against him as Drake drew her into his arms. A loving smile spread on her lips; no matter how difficult or painful their grief would be in the future, they would be facing it togther.

The End.

#tw child death #tw dark fic #tw grief #tw grieving #drake x mc #drake walker #axwalker writes #drake walker fanfic #alexis o'brien #n*sfw #n*fw

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chatsanova · 4 years

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Have Another Go At It: Chapter 2

AO3

When La Grande Paris and Chloe collapsed, it seemed like nothing Chloe ever did would matter ever again.

Every snap at Pierre, every name-dropped or rule bent in the name of Chloe getting what she wanted, none of it would ever matter again. It didn’t matter before either, Chloe had just tricked herself into thinking it did. Her thoughts went like this: grief, guilt, regret, distraction then denial.

Chloe had always loved being center stage. It was where she thrived her whole life. Sure, her father was always busy, and sure, her mother was always gone, but to everyone else, she was the most famous, the most beautiful, the most worthy of their attention.

Occasionally she’d use her status to make things work in her direction, but Chloe just saw that as using her resources.

At her lowest points, she’d use it to humiliate others, but negative attention was still attention.

To those around her, dare she say, those that care about her, it seemed her reign of boisterous claims and attention-seeking would never end. She’d assumed they thought the worst of her, that she would fall into more destructive means, and slowly she’d become too much for her Pierre, for Sabrina, for Adrien. She’d never deserve them and it seemed most stuck around for employment. Her father paid well for friendship.

Adrien always insisted that he never accepted money as there was no point for him to do so. And well, he was in the same boat. Adrien was the first person that understood her, that knew why she was always clinging to her fame. He didn’t always agree with it, but he understood it. At that point, it was all she could ask for.

Plus, for a long time, she had Adrien’s undivided attention. He didn’t know any other kids, he was homeschooled, and Chloe was the only option for companionship. Maybe Adrien was never paid, but the sentiment of sticking around simply because there were no other options had plagued Chloe as well.

Then he came to school with her. It had taken some convincing, but Adrien’s mother thought it would be good for him, as long as he kept up with modeling.

Adrien’s attention wasn’t undivided anymore. Adrien became fast friends with Alya, also new at school, and Nino seemed attached to Adrien’s hip merely two days in.

Alya and Nino tolerated her but had a nasty habit of trying to stop Chloe from picking fights with Marinette. Adding pure, soft, can do no wrong Adrien into the mix didn’t help.

She’d been forced to mellow out in order to keep Adrien around. It was a lot easier to do so after the incident. Picking fights with Marinette stopped instantaneously, though she could feel Marinette’s irritation at the prospect. Marinette never wanted pity, but it’s what she received, even from Chloe.

Marinette had sort of snapped in a weird direction.

It was like she suddenly felt the need to grow up all at once. She wasn’t at school for 2 weeks and when she reappeared, she looked completely different.

She stopped wearing handmade clothes, she stopped putting her hair into pigtails, she just stopped. Her grades slipped, though the teachers also took pity on her.

Marinette waffled in between efforts for attention and not wanting anyone to notice her.

The new clothing style said attention, Chloe thought, recognizing it in herself.

She got looked at more often for tight-fitting jeans, mesh shirts, and dark lips extenuating her blue eyes. But then her closed-off attitude, her snappy remarks, those were defense mechanisms to push people away.

Chloe realized a long time ago that looks were something you can control. Attention is something happily given to pretty people, and sometimes when you can’t control what sort of attention you’re given, looking a certain way gives you a way to drive your own narrative.

Being in the papers for being pretty is more fun than being in the papers for being a bitch. Chloe and Marinette understood that if you’re going to be a bitch, you might as well be an attractive one. People are more willing to forgive a pretty bitch.

These thoughts occurred to Chloe during her distraction phase. It was easy to be distracted by a girl who was sitting right next to her, silent but present, especially one dressed for attention-seeking.

Neither of them wanted attention right now, and they were both sitting with the precisely right person to avoid it, but Chloe allowed herself to be distracted by Marinette. It was better than the alternative.

Chloe didn’t speak; Marinette didn’t speak.

Maybe it didn’t matter if people noticed you, as long as they kept their mouth shut about it.

She couldn’t remember why they had fought so regularly. They seemed so distant, those arguments. She assumed she had done something entitled and Marinette had done something condescending and they’d argue until someone got involved and they’d part ways until their next encounter. Maybe at that point, both had each other’s attention.

Around Marinette, Chloe felt seen. Not in a positive way but definitely in a way that allowed Chloe to feel better about herself for a few quick moments. They both fought for the moral high ground and both won in their own eyes.

Occasionally, Chloe’s thoughts would circle back around to her parents, but she quickly pushed them away. She had to, otherwise, she’d break down again.

So she studied Marinette’s hair, her eyebrows hidden beneath her bangs. Her eyelashes. Her eyes stared into nothing, or maybe into something deep in her brain. Those tended to be the same. She wondered what she was thinking about.

Chloe had wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face in her knees. At some point, was it two? three? hours of sitting on the ground, Marinette said something.

“Do you,” she cleared her throat from disuse, “Do you need a place to stay?”

Chloe looked up sharply. Marinette also seemed surprised at the suggestion, despite the fact that she had offered it.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking... if you needed to...you could stay at my house…”

Of all the things Chloe had thought about, her physical things hadn’t even crossed her mind. Her physical home. Her home had collapsed. She’d cared so much about her shoe collection 12 hours ago and now she couldn’t be bothered.

“Oh…” Chloe lowered her face back into her knees, “I hadn’t thought about it, I guess.”

“Well, If you do…” Marinette trailed off, the offer hanging in the air. It was the official olive branch.

They hadn’t been fighting, but they weren’t friends by any means. It seemed like this was saying, “I’m willing to move on if you are.”

Maybe it wasn’t the right time, or maybe it was the best time. Maybe they desperately needed someone in their corner. Maybe Adrien hadn’t understood Chloe for a long time. Maybe Marinette and Chloe had always understood each other.

Maybe seeking attention meant seeking those that were willing to give it.

“Thank you.” And they fell back into silence.

If Chloe had thought about it, which she hadn’t, she’d probably assume that she’d stay at Adrien’s. But Adrien was in his own headspace now.

Then her thoughts shifted to the denial. This denial was justified, Chloe felt, because Adrien had practically been saying it all day.

“None of this is right.” Which in Chloe’s mind translated to, “None of this is real.”

She had felt the wrongness before but now couldn’t attribute it to anything but grief. People always tried to bargain, right?

What if none of this is real? What if my parents aren’t dead? What if I can get them back? But Adrien hadn’t lost anything. What excuse did he have for making up shit in his brain? This is what Chloe said to herself in order to decide that whatever Adrien needed to do to “fix” things, she’d do it. Because maybe, just maybe, the madman was right. That her parents shouldn’t be dead. That this was fixable.

Nino and Alya had explained their dreams to Marinette. They were more than dreams, they all understood that, but Marinette was having a hard time latching on.

“We just need to know what you think feels wrong,” Nino said. Marinette scoffed, not out of malice but out of frustration. Her arms crossed defensively against her chest, her head shook bouncing hair on her shoulders, her mouth struggled to form words. Adrien understood that frustration, as he was currently feeling it as well. It was not being able to find words that should feel so normal, and knowing something is wrong but not anything else.

“I don’t know! I don’t know what feels wrong! Everything feels wrong!”

It occurred to Adrien that you can’t really feel water when you’re surrounded by it.

Everything about Marinette’s life was wrong, as far as he could tell. He wouldn’t be able to tell you what was correct exactly, only that if you squint really hard something about her was familiarly incorrect.

It wasn’t easy to explain, and he wasn’t the best with words anyway. He glanced at his friends, who returned his glances, each with a tinge of sympathy. He couldn’t tell who the sympathy was directed towards but suspected it wasn’t mutually exclusive.

Adrien was obviously more affected by this phenomenon. Dreams were one thing, but Adrien’s mood had been violently swinging all day. It was to be expected in the midst of a national crisis, but this had begun before the building fell.

He cried when there was nothing to cry at, both in happiness and grief. He felt as though he were living two days simultaneously, one very different, but maybe not much better. And to him, Marinette was at the epicenter.

Feelings around her thrashed like waves against a rocky shore. He tapped his foot impatiently and crossed his arms, becoming jittery. He paced around the hallway.

“Adrien?” Chloe sounded more concerned than she really should have been. Adrien felt guilty for not being the one next to her to deal with her parents. And then ashamed of his guilt and then ashamed of his own self-pity.

He was so caught up in his own bullshit that he had stood to the side while Marinette, of all people, comforted her. It was bizarre, wrong, and also the best thing to happen today.

“Sorry, I’m just...confused.” His mental failings shouldn’t be a priority right now. People have died.

It wasn’t his place to be more distraught than those around him. His parents were still alive and well, his home unaffected, his life unchanged. That felt incorrect too, somehow. He felt as though his life had changed significantly, just in a way that was unplaceable. Like pointing at it would be pointing at air.

The news outlets and websites said that outside wouldn’t be safe until the next morning so everyone camped out in the main gym. There were a scattered number of teachers that had arrived before the collapse but apparently most had been stuck in a Ladybug induced roadblock.

They instructed students to stay calm and a few reached out to Chloe specifically, checking in occasionally, but Chloe made it clear that the teachers should focus on the other students. They looked surprised at this sentiment, but continued to try to help those who seemed more visibly distraught than Chloe.

They had been advised to stay put until the next morning, so the teachers gathered yoga mats and the school’s few sleeping bags from upperclassmen camping trips. A few blankets scattered the floor. There wasn’t enough for everyone so some used jackets or backpacks as pillows. The students gathered together, select laughter echoing through the gymnasium. But otherwise, it was about as quiet as an entire school of 14-18 years could be.

They struggled through another explanation, but Marinette remained unconvinced. Chloe explained her dream, eerily similar to Nino’s about a purple butterfly and not being in control. They watched her carefully. When she was done, she looked over at Marinette, who looked sympathetic and maybe a little confused.

“I’m sorry, this all seems odd, I’ll give you that, but I just don’t recognize it as familiar.”

They all turned to look at Adrien. He’s the one who needed this, he’s the one with the next step. He had no answers. He hadn't told her his dream yet. He wasn't sure he could.

“No, I’m sorry. Maybe...maybe it’s nothing. Maybe nothing is going on.” he pressed his palms into his eyes, rubbing away a headache he didn’t know he had. “Maybe I’m going crazy.”

“How can you say that?” Chloe glared, “How can you claim, how can you...give me hope that none of this is right, that maybe we’re in some sort of dream, and then just toss it aside like it’s nothing? What if my parents are supposed to be alive right now, Adrien? Do you want to just ignore it? You want me to live a life I’m not supposed to be living?”

“Chloe, I never claimed this world isn’t real, just that it’s wrong.”

“Then that’s what I’m saying. This world...isn’t real.”

“Chloe…” Alya reached a hand out to her.

“No.” Chloe stood, turned, and walked away, leaving Alya’s hand suspended in the air.

For the first time in months, Marinette slept in a building with other people in it. More people than she ever had, really. She slept on a blanket, sharing with Alya and Chloe, who had come back only when she realized she didn’t want to be alone.

She didn’t say that, of course, but no one commented on her return either. They didn’t talk about the feeling for the rest of the night, instead opting for silence or half-hearted plans for the next day.

Adrien said Chloe could stay at his house. Chloe didn’t even have to ask. Marinette and Chloe shared a glance before Chloe agreed.

Marinette had a dream on the gymnasium floor. She wasn’t lying when she said Alya, Chloe and Nino’s dreams didn’t sound familiar, but this one was not unfamiliar .

She stood on a rooftop, wind-battered her skin, and she was cold. She couldn’t possibly be really cold, it wasn’t real, but she shivered. She felt the chill on her arms. It wasn’t right.

When she looked down at her hands she was surprised to see them. She felt as though something was missing from her skin. Her hands bolted to her ears and felt nothing.

In front of her, the scene was incomprehensible. There were two people, wearing garishly ridiculous outfits. It didn’t seem like they should be a threat, but in her dream, her pulse quickened.

One of them had a gun. It wasn’t pointing at her but to an empty spot next to her. Panic ran through her spine all the way down to her bare fingertips. There’s someone missing. Where...where was he? For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to look downwards. She knew something was just below her vision if she could move her neck every time she pulled, her vision remained stiff, forcing her chin to remain level.

The woman with the gun, she sauntered to them, Marinette and the Something. She dipped into her blind spot and came up with a ring. The man, he looked grief-stricken, panicked, and angry.

“NATALIE.” his voice boomed in the quiet city. It...shouldn't have been quiet.

“Relax, boss, once you have the miraculous everything will go back to normal. You’ll have your family back.”

“Then give me the ring”

“Hold on a second, I want to talk to the girl.”

“No, enough of this. Give me the miraculous.”

Then she held up the gun to his chest. Marinette couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything. She was hopeless. She was helpless. She was weak.

“Give me the earrings, Gabriel.”

“Nat-”

A click of the gun, “I’m not asking.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll get you your family back Gabriel, but I want something too.”

“How do I know you’ll bring her back?”

“Because I don’t want you causing me trouble on the other side. Gotta keep you fat and happy. The earrings.”

He held them out. She turned around and walked where Marinette couldn’t see. A shining light sparked into her field of vision. And then a stronger brighter one a few seconds later. And then...and then there was nothing but light.

Marinette woke up her arms tight around Chloe. She gasped (from the dream) and made eye contact with the back of Chloe’s head. She’d gotten so tense during her nightmare that she’d pulled Chloe against her chest.

Okay, I’m big spooning Chloe Bourgeois.

She couldn’t even think beyond that. She felt another body on her other side, Alya sleeping peacefully.

She needed space. Room to breathe. Sitting up proved to be easier than standing up. She managed to get free, grab her backpack, and flee into the hallway, still buzzing with public school lighting. She aimlessly walked the hallways. A teacher stopped her once, she quickly rambled about going to the bathroom and they let her go. She took deep breaths trying to remember everything about that dream. The names. The faces. The location. It already began to blur in her mind. She remembered the gun and the earrings and the ring and the chill on her skin and how wrong it felt. She felt something, someone, missing from her field of vision.

She sat and drew everything she remembered. Her hands, the roof, the gun, the earrings and the ring in the hand of the wrong people. The flashing in the corner of her eye, the grief stricken angry face of the man in purple. The cruelness of the woman in blue. She couldn’t quite remember her face.

Adrien wasn’t going to sleep, he knew that when he woke up this morning. So when he saw Marinette grab her backpack and run, it wasn’t a large leap to try and talk to her. Problem was he couldn’t find her.

“Mr. Agreste, what are you doing up and about?”

“Bathroom, ma’am.”

The teacher narrowed her eyes.

“No fooling around, Mr. Agreste.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He couldn’t remember what he had done to receive a reputation of tomfoolery but apparently word had spread. That wasn’t even his teacher. He almost asked if she had seen Marinette, but that wouldn’t have helped.

He found Marinette on the roof.

“What the fuck, Marinette?”

“GOD! Fuck, Agreste, you scared me.”

“You’re on the roof.”

“Well spotted.”

“Why?”

“Needed some air.”

“Toxic, debris-filled air?”

“That warning came down hours ago.”

“What are you doing?” he gestured to her notebook.

“Drawing, Agreste, what does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re on the ROOF during a traumatic NATIONAL CRISIS. Please just come down.”

“Oh. OH! No, Agreste, I’m fine. I’m good. I just needed to…” she trailed off.

He looked around. From here, you could see where Le Grand Paris used to be.

“The world is fucked,” he ran his fingers through his hair and sat down next to Marinette. She flipped her notebook closed. She was drawing a pair of hands.

“Well spotted.”

“Marinette, I think it’s my fault.”

“Full of yourself, are we? Center of the world Adrien Agreste? The only one who realizes the world is fucked?”

“Jesus, I’m trying to,” he sighed, “Fuck, Marinette.”

They were silent for a while.

“Marinette, your life is wrong.”

"You keep saying that."

"I mean it, I don't think this is how things were supposed to go."

"You can't just brush off things you don't like with denial, Agreste. At least, that's why my therapist says."

Adrien laughed, "Watch me."

"Blondie, I can't help but want to believe you, and that's why I can't do this. Whatever it is you're doing. I can't let myself believe that nothing is permanent. I can't just go along with it because I think I'll see my parents on the other side."

"No, I know that. Of course, I know that." Adrien uses his hands to push himself off the ground, spinning that he's sitting across from her, "I just...Marinette I'm going to tell you my dream."

"Ooookay."

"No, my literal dream, the dream that I had last night, not like, my existential drea- ya know what, never mind."

"No, I get it," Marinette smiles, and it's good to see.

"Alright, I'm on this roof."

His dream starts on a roof. Of course, of fucking course it does.

"And there's something next to me that I can't see. And I'm looking at this roof and there's a guy in purple, with, like, this butterfly brooch on it. It's a ridiculous fucking outfit." Marinette has to smile. "And he's talking some big game about something miraculous. And I'm pissed. I'm angry as fuck. And then this equally gaudy bitch pulls out this canister that's got my MOM inside which is wild, and then I'm cussing this guy out. Just screaming at him. I honestly don't remember what I said. Then he moves to that place I can't look, ya know, that blind spot? And comes back with earrings. Then the bitchy lady comes back and I wake up."

"Wow, that's quite the dream." If Marinette hadn't experienced what she just experienced, she would have thought that's a fairly normal dream dream.

"Now, I know how that sounds."

"Sounds like a dream," she lied.

"No, I know, dreams are crazy in general, but I swear more happened than that. I just, it felt so weird, like I was actually on the ruth, filled with rage. I just need to know who was next to me."

Me. Adrien was next to me.

#ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #fanfic #tw parent death #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #chloenette #chloe bourgeois

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

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Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {6}

Summary: Knowing the truth, Y/N wants to force Ethan to confess and in her attempt to prank him into doing it, she realizes the joke’s on her.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, talk of depression and anxiety

Word count: 4700+

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are, Isak Danielson - Love me Wrong, Dove Cameron - Remember me, Tom Odell - Can’t pretend, The XX - Angels, Coldplay - Fix you, Coldplay - The scientist, Elvis Presley - Can’t help falling in love.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Eccendentesiast (n.) - someone who hides pain behind a smile

Finding out something that absolutely goes against all you believe in isn’t quite something Y/N expected to happen once she woke up in the place she felt safest in all her existence – Ethan’s bed. She had never thought that something so earth-shattering, so unbelievably life-changing could be hiding in that brain of his she adored so much and while she felt the urge to scream at him, to throw a tantrum, even contemplated burning his damn apartment to the ground, she just sighed instead. There was no fight, no defiance left in her – yet she embarked on a journey, passing the stages of grief within minutes.

First came denial. Her shaky hand covers her mouth to stifle a whimper aching to escape her quivering lips, her breath shallow as she tries to understand. It wasn’t possible, right? She would have known if he were the one, right? Being around him all that time and not knowing? She didn’t know if that was ever recorded or if she is just the worst in detecting the man who is meant to be her soulmate. After all the time they’ve spent together, why would he keep quiet on such an important subject? Why would he have ever lied to her? Well, he didn’t necessarily lie, but he did omit a pretty big truth.

“Will you ever tell me about her?” Her voice is quiet, small, meek. She doesn’t really want to know, or ever hear him talk love with someone other than herself, but that tiny bit of silver in his hair haunts her more than she anticipated.

Ethan wets his lips, the corners of those soft plush rosy colored cushions she craved every minute of every time twitch and she can’t help her stare, nor the odd fixation she has with them. She had never met a human being with lips as perfect as his and she never thought there would ever be a pair of lips she’d be addicted to as much as she is to his. They’re a drug – he is a drug, but he’s the drug she chose and she couldn’t and wouldn’t rehab from.

“Do you want to do a heart transplant with me today?” And typically, in Ethan fashion, Y/N received no answer, however, the way he shifted her attention to anything but her question was effective and she quickly forgot about it altogether.

At least for the day.

Then came anger. How many times did she ask him about his soulmate and he just bribed her into forgetting it? How many times did he have her right in the palm of his hand and he completely disregarded her or her wish to know? Or how about the fact that he knows exactly where she stands on the soulmate connections and he chose to hide it from her? Did he know from the start? Did he know it that night in the bar when she was just a wreck looking to lose the soulmate she happened to stumble upon? She wanted to find a way to wreck that love before it ever began and he was there? He must have seen the silver in her hair appear right before his eyes and yet he continued to flirt like nothing was wrong at all? Why? Why is he so cruel and selfish? Why couldn’t he just tell her the truth? Instead, he got into her bed and her heart and mind and she can’t deny that he’s there to stay. Now she understood his reasoning about pulling out and using condoms…he was afraid she’d get pregnant, not because they might get an STD.

“Fucking asshole.” She mutters under her breath as her eyes focus on her hands in her lap, her head throbbing as she glances back at the door, realizing they must have wised up and went to talk somewhere she can’t hear their lies become truths.

“You really want to use a condom? Don’t guys usually convince girls otherwise?” She rolls her eyes, wishing he would drop the ridiculous request yet all he does is pull his boxers up, much to her dismay.

“I’m not going to risk our health for a momentary pleasure. Y/N, we’re not exclusive and that’s something I’d love to change, but unless you do too, I’m not going in raw anymore.” Emotional blackmail, that’s how she saw it at the time – an ultimatum where he used her horny needs for his own use and while she wasn’t about to completely fall for it, she groaned and parted her thighs to give him a view he would build a shrine to if it didn’t make him feel like a total creep.

“I’m not ready for that. But if it means so much to you, put the condom on and get to work because a certain Grant had stressed me the fuck out and I need to get it out of my system.”

Third came bargaining. Finding excuses for him is incredibly easy for her, trying to make his actions justifiable. After all, didn’t she tell him she wouldn’t be with her soulmate? Didn’t she make it clear she wasn’t interested in ever going down that road after her parents showed her all the wicked ways that bond can work against you? Maybe he was just scared of losing her? Maybe he’s still scared she’d walk away and leave what they’ve built from ground up? But how could he think that after all they’ve been through? After she opened up to him, laid her soul bare? After she resorted to acting as his girlfriend without the official label? She did that to make him happy – everything she did was somehow connected to a smile she hoped to see.

“Look what I got you!” She tosses a surgical cap his way, too fast and off target and with no previous warning so much so he barely grabbed it as it fell toward the ground. Hospital floors may be clean, but they’re not that clean.

“What the? Turtles?” Ethan’s voice went higher as he questioned her choice, even more so when he saw her giggle as if she cracked some major code to his personality and while he found himself confused, he couldn’t help but chuckle to appease her. He could never not smile when she laughs.

“I heard Grayson call you turtleman and I found this the other day and you popped in my mind. You’re the only surgeon I know who doesn’t have his on-brand cap. Thought I’d fix it.” And with that victorious smirk of hers, she left him smiling like an idiot. He never liked customized caps, never wanted one, but she changed that in an instant. Even if it’s silly, he would wear it if it made her happy. Always.

But when depression settled in, she was defeated. There was no way around a fundamental concern that hounded her brain. What if Ethan only loves her because he knows she’s his soulmate? What if all of it was a lie? Their love felt like a cosmic joke now, something that rose bile in her throat and she couldn’t help but question his feelings for her. She loved him for him, but did he love her for her or the promise of true love? Is that what this was about? Could she have avoided him? If she locked the world away, would she have managed to escape this unrelenting pain inside her chest with the thought of Ethan’s feelings being fabricated? She always believed you should be your own planet, high up in space, but rooted in yourself. Then he came and anchored her and she never wanted anything more than him.

“Do you ever think about a world where soulmates are just a concept? Like, no one wrote your story, you get to choose it yourself?” She wondered out loud, staring up at the moon as Ethan’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back into his embrace, their breaths synchronizing as he dipped his head in the crook of her neck and his lips placed a feather-light kiss upon her collarbone.

“No. I feel like we still have a choice in everything. You could escape your soulmate, or you could seek them out. You choose if you want to be romantic, friendly, or nothing at all. It’s not so bad, even if you find yourself addicted. What’s so wrong about loving someone that is made for you?” His low tone had given her chills, his beating heart made her heart still. The effect he has is unparalleled with anything she had ever experienced and he was only holding her. Why would she want anything more than him?

“In that case, I’m always finding myself addicted to wrong things.” She heard him hum in curiosity, his lips ghosting over her shoulder before leaving a quick peck that made her smile fondly, widely enough to wonder if she ever smiled as much before meeting him.

“You, for instance.” Turning her head to the side, her eyes find his as quickly as his lips find hers. There was never a need for words between them, their eyes and actions spoke volumes instead.

In the end, she faced acceptance. Ethan lied, hid things, manipulated her, but she understood why. She had ruined every chance he had to be honest and while she’s still cross with him for doing it, mostly because she could have been knocked up in her intern year, Y/N accepted he did it for both of them. It couldn’t have been easy to keep it a secret and it must have eaten away at him daily, but if he didn’t, she’d never know what it means to love a person so fully that your heart swells just by thinking of them. She’d never know what it’s like to daydream about a future she didn’t think she’d have and she would never have stuck around long enough to see what they could become. It would have been a shame to miss out on Ethan and the way he had turned her world upside down. This would be a big issue for her to get over, that’s for sure, but if the tree falls at the first gust of wind, the roots were never deep to begin with and their roots were really fucking deep.

Alexithymia (n.) - the inability to express your feelings

When she mouthed a faint ‘I love you’ to Ethan, she didn’t know if she would ever see him again. She had a madman holding a gun at the back of her neck, time just wasn’t on her side. It never was. But that’s when she realized she had more than enough chances to tell him how she felt and she always hid behind her pain instead of giving him her all. She did give ninety nine percent, but that last percent she held onto out of pure fear.

She wished she had a second chance to do it all over again – to go all in from start to finish, to tell him she loves him more than words could ever explain, that she loves him to the moon and back, that she will never stop loving him, even if the world stops spinning ‘round. She wanted to grow old with him, just him. She wanted him every day, all the time, for him to know that while she used to think love is nothing but chemistry, essentially a lie, he showed her she was wrong and she was never happier to be wrong in her life.

That’s when she realized that she used to see beauty in the world as a child, but then she learned the truth. Nothing ever lasts. This world is suffering until you’re dead and while she used to wonder why she was taking all that pain, why she bothered to wake up every day, she knew now. Her entire life had boiled down to the moment she would meet this man.

Her only regret is that she didn’t tell him she loves him enough, that the words would die with her and he deserved so much better.

And she’s still angry, vengeful even. But she can’t deny one abundantly clear fact – she loves Ethan Grant Dolan and even if he’s a lying douchebag, he’s her lying douchebag. Maybe she would forgive him eventually, but for now, she just wanted him to tell her the truth. However, instead of facing him while laying indisputable proof before him, she crafted a plan of her own.

Clearing her throat, she stood up and decided to find him and his equally treacherous brother. It didn’t take her long, because as soon as she walked into the living room, she found the pair talking in hushed voices. Grayson notices her first, slapping Ethan’s shoulder to shut up and they looked exactly like she imagined one would look if they were guilty.

“How did I get here?” She rubbed the back of her head, noticing it really is sore, likely from the fall she took earlier. Ethan didn’t blink as he rushed toward her, his big brown eyes checking her over as his hands felt drawn to her, resting on her hips to keep her steady.

“How are you?” The concern in his voice is palpable, enough for her to let a real smile slip past her.

“Confused. A bit sore. What the hell happened?” She chuckled at the continuous touches Ethan had issued as if his hands have healing abilities and would make everything stop aching. Maybe they were healing to some degree, but this isn’t something he could have fixed.

“The SWAT team got him. The girl was his daughter and he chased her and her mother halfway across the world. Abusive fuck got what he deserved.” Grayson fills her in and while she would usually be shocked by his foul language, she couldn’t really look at him the same knowing he too had lied to her. Sure, it wasn’t his secret to tell and looking back at it Grayson did drop massive hints for her to pick up on, but damn it, she thought they were closer than that.

“Good.” Swallowing thickly, she raises her hands slowly, allowing her palms to rest on Ethan’s cheeks, just noticing how pale he is. And she’s pissed at him, but she can’t help the pang of worry that makes her soften her gaze.

“I’m fine. I’m a little nauseous, but I’m fine.” She reassures him, her voice never quite as gentle as in that moment and Ethan’s lips quickly stretch into a smile she longed for - a smile she never thought she’d see again.

“I know. I’m just having a hard time dealing with today.” Shrugging, Ethan forces a smile before letting out a heavy sigh. “I really thought I’d lose you today and while I fucking admire you for being so brave, I really wish you’d fucking stop being so fearless and fierce. One day, it will get you killed and I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for the pain of losing you that would annihilate me.”

Grayson took it as a cue to leave, offering a tiny wave as goodbye and “Glad you’re safe” before escaping the situation he saw as a possible fight.

But he was wrong. Instead of arguing, Y/N wrapped her arms around Ethan as tightly as possible. There was no escape, he was right. She tends to undervalue her life and offer it up whenever she deems it could save someone else. When she was a kid, she had done it when she offered her morphine to her dying friends, or when she had tackled a robber as a teenager or now, when she basically told a shooter to take her as a hostage for a child. She didn’t want Ethan to feel the loss that drove her mother to suicide, not ever. After years of wanting death, Y/N found herself wishing for a long life.

“I won’t do that again. I promise.”

A night in bed where they held each other for dear life was enough for the pair to find a way to breathe again. However, Y/N still wanted to exact her plan instead of just talking to her soulmate and expressing her feelings. It would start that morning.

Jumping from the bed, she rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Ethan jumped right after her, startled by her sudden urgency, only to find her slamming the door in his face. But when he heard the unmistakable sound of her puking her guts out, his fists connected with the door with force enough for her to realize she has to calm him down.

“Open the door!” He insisted as the sound of her throwing up stopped and silence ensued.

“I don’t want you to see me this way! Plus, I’m fine. Probably just the stress.” She lied through her teeth, smiling on the other side of the door after her performance and while she knew it was cruel, so was his choice to lie to her since the night they met, way before she was his intern.

“I don’t care if you’re drenched in puke, I want to see you.” He exclaimed and she rolled her eyes. It’s sweet, but she can’t let him in because there was no residue smell of vomit and she needed it to be believable.

“I will let you in after I shower.”

And while he had waited in front of the door like a lost puppy, she showered and painted a small smile for him to see when the door opened again.

His arms wrapped around her instantly, the warmth of his touch making her melt and a little guilty for making him worry at all, yet she didn’t give up on her plan.

“I’m fine. I’ll make us breakfast.” Pecking his cheek, she tapped it lightly before getting dressed and doing just as she promised. That’s when she implemented part two of her plan.

“Why are you opening all the windows and why the hell are you holding a wet wipe to your nose?” Ethan found himself even more concerned when he found the very appealing eggs prepared on the kitchen island and his very beautiful soulmate running around wildly as she opened every window in sight.

“I don’t know, they smell so bad. I think the eggs went bad!” Shaking her head in disgust, she furrows her eyebrows as her eyes meet his and the odd frown on his face.

“They smell delicious.” But the moment he sat down, she rushed back into the bathroom, once again locking the door and pretending to throw up while Ethan is left on the other side for the second time that morning.

She washed her mouth away with mouthwash to have a reason for fresh breath instead of the sour smell vomit would cause, only to let him in this time. The open window above the toilet seemed to be a believable reason for the lack of vomit smells and she was ready to put her slightly shaken mask back on.

“You need to see a doctor. This isn’t just stress.” Ethan spoke, his hands running up and down her back as he massaged her gently to relieve whatever stress residue she may have.

“I am a doctor and I know my body, Grant. I’m fine and I want to work. It’s probably nothing, okay?” She leans into him, wondering if the pounding of his heart that is echoing in her ears right now truly worth her revenge.

It didn’t take long for Ethan to find Grayson once they came to the hospital. He left Y/N in the plastic surgery ward, unhappy with how pale she seems and even worse, how shaken up she still feels.

Who gets back to work just a day after a traumatic experience and even more importantly, who comes into work when they feel under the weather?

Ethan understands she wants to be a doctor and she doesn’t exactly have an eternity to take her time with it like the other interns, but he didn’t want her to work herself to death either. His idea of their future included a long life for both of them.

“She okay?” Grayson asks as he sips his morning coffee, crumbling the plastic cup in his hand right after he’s finished as he always does.

“I don’t think so, bro. She’s pale, queasy, threw up twice and thought the eggs are rotten even though they smelled and tasted delicious. I think she’s got a stomach bug.” Ethan licks his lips as his fingers thread through his hair, contemplating if sending her home would make her hate him again. He honestly didn’t know how many more fights he could handle.

“You’re kidding, right?” Grayson chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief before leaning toward his brother, his hand landing on his shoulder, firmly clutching him.

“What?” Ethan’s disgruntled groan follows his words, sparking up annoyance as Grayson’s grin widens.

“You’re a doctor and you can’t pick up on basic symptoms of pregnancy? I mean come on!” Tapping his brother’s shoulder, Grayson relents and leans back comfortably as Ethan begins to sweat.

“Fuck, no! I’ve been careful to the point of thinking about wearing two condoms! There’s no fucking way.” Ethan insists in a state of panic Grayson could see a mile away.

“There’s no such thing as safe sex with a soulmate and you know it. Dude, you’re a dead man walking.” Grayson didn’t mean to chuckle, very much aware how fucked up this situation is, but he also spend a better part of a century studying pregnancy, he knew the symptoms like the back of his hand.

“If she’s pregnant, she’s gonna know we’re soulmates and that’s not something she should find out like that! I was gonna tell her soon, on my terms. She should have had a choice in when she wants to get pregnant! She’s gonna hate me forever.” Ethan could feel his mind slipping into madness of his own creation, shaking as his mouth runs dry and he can’t even string two sentences right

“Hey.” But then she shows up in the worst possible moment and she can’t help but notice the way Ethan paled once she walks in, making her wonder just how fast did he connect the dots. He’s clearly freaking out and she’s assuming he’s doing so because of all the hints she dropped during the morning.

“I just wanted to ask Grayson for a consult.” She feigns innocence as she walks closer to Ethan, placing her hand on his back.

“Sure, just, uh…Would you mind if I ask you something for uh….study I’m doing?” Everything he had said came with a stutter, but Grayson figured he could be inconspicuous and get some solid information on which his brother could form his next steps.

“Shoot.” Y/N cringes at her choice words, it was too soon for her to joke on what had nearly taken her life just the day before but she spoke before thinking and it was too late to take it back and neither of the twins said a word anyway.

“Are your periods regular?”

Frowning, Y/N noted the pink hue on Grayson’s cheeks, loving just how uncomfortable he feels and even more the death glare Ethan sent his way. It was pure comedy watching them sweat after they’ve played with her head for so long.

“Yeah.”

“And when was your last period?” Grayson managed to say without losing his shit, feeling as if he too would hyperventilate the longer Y/N kept quiet, mulling it over longer than she should have but they were changing shades of red right before her eyes as she widens her eyes as if she too had realized something is amiss.

“I need to go.” She had never left the room faster, making Ethan’s heart drop and there was no returning from this. Looking back at the door, Ethan imagined a Y/N shaped hole in the door, aware he’s fucked for life.

“She’s late and I’m pretty sure she just figured that out. So congratulations, bro, we’re about to have a mini Dolan with us.”

Ethan wasn’t himself that day. He had walked around the halls half dead as dread gripped him. He must have changed his clothes at least five times during his eight hour shift, each time because he sweat through the scrubs – courtesy of anxiety and a crippling fear of losing Y/N.

How could he be so irresponsible and keep the truth hidden for so long?

At the time, he had justified it with the possibility of her leaving him in the dust, but he had no right to keep it a secret for this long. She deserved to know when they started being intimate and no matter what excuse crosses his mind, there’s nothing he can tell her to issue forgiveness once she finds out.

When he got home, he found her shoes at the door, tossed as if she was in a hurry. Surprised she had come home earlier than him when she was supposed to do a double shift, Ethan took his jacket off and called out for her.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” No response. Swallowing thickly, Ethan rubs his face before walking into the bedroom, finding a box at the bed and the bathroom door closed with the light shining from under it.

Apprehensive, he moves closer. He wishes he is brave enough to knock on the door and tell her he loves her and that he needs to come clean about something that would impact them both, but he’s frozen as he nears the bed and the label on the box that becomes easier to read the closer he gets. He’s anxious. It comes as an electrical storm in his brain that, quite honestly, is painful. It's different from a headache and it feels the same as intense sorrow, perhaps as a sort of frozen panic with nowhere to go, and he can’t pretend anymore as his eyes finally read what the box says – Home Pregnancy Test.

“You’re home early.” Her voice is void of joy, of anger, of sadness, of emotion. She sounds defeated, exhausted, weak. With a tiny gasp, Ethan turns to see her, noticing her holding the item in question and he can hardly breathe as he takes in the disheveled look she rarely allowed herself to sport. Her mascara is ruined, her lipstick smeared and her eyes have lost their light.

“You, uh…have a pregnancy test?” Ethan could barely talk, words becoming hard to form as he tried to seem unbothered but even she could tell he was losing his shit. There isn’t a man in this world that had treated her right and just as she believed Ethan might be the one, he had reminded her just why she resisted for so long.

“It was supposed to be a joke…a way to make you confess. It’s not funny anymore.” She tossed the test on the carpet in a momentary flash of anger and he didn’t dare look down.

“Confess?” Uttering like he had forgotten how to speak, unable to move an inch, Ethan stared at her and he couldn’t even pinpoint what he feels anymore, much less what she feels.

“I know we’re soulmates. And I was angry. I was so angry at first, but I understood. I just wanted to hear you say it and I was going to make you think I’m pregnant, but I don’t have to make you think anything anymore. When Grayson asked me those questions today, I realized I really am late. Two weeks.” Sniffling, she drags her sleeve under her breath as tears form in her eyes.

“Well, your lies have caught up with us both.” She went silent as he glanced down at the test and found two thick lines have formed. Looking back at her in shock, he felt his soul leave his body and he couldn’t speak, not when he had no excuse for what just went down.

When you hurt a woman you love, most of them can't even look at you, not even turn to you. But what does a man do when the woman he hurt, the woman he loves most in the world, stares right into his soul as he shatters her completely? What can a man do when her teary eyes hold his with such bravery, such complexity as she crumbles and he has to see it happen? When he's the perpetrator and sole witness of her fall? There isn't a single thing in this world that breaks like a heart does, Ethan knew that now for in this silent exchange between their souls, the silence has never been so deafening.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tags: @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12 @zeusgrayson @libradolan @justordinaryjen @pineappledolan @graysavant @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan @shadowsndaisies @maybgrayson @dolans4lyfe @mendesficsxbombay @fxkthatdairy @sharpdolan

Anyone crossed out wasn’t able to be tagged, probably an issue on Tumblr’s side, sorry.

#ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan au #ethan dolan doctor soulmate au #ethan dolan doctor au #ethan dolan soulmate au #ethan dolan series #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fluff #ethan dolan fanfic

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mcheang · 4 years

Note

Not a salt but Alya's start to redemption a sequel to Jealousy doesn’t become a hero where Alya goes through the 5 stages of grief after she lost her best friend her boyfriend and her the friendship with her classmates Denial and Anger where she blames Mari and lashes out at her and others Bargaining: begging to forgiven by everyone Depression: 4 losing everything including Nino and Mari and acceptance: she can't change the past but she will start to do better in the future

5 stages of grief

I love adding pictures to my posts. It makes identifying them in notifications so much easier and prettier. I wondered what to use for this draft. Then I remembered. DUFF introduced me to the 5 stages and they got it off Simpsons!

Denial

At first Alya couldn’t believe it. She had been kicked to the back! (Cough, karma!) worse still, she was stuck next to her new enemy, Lila Rossi.

That bitch had broadcasted her confrontation with Marinette and turned the whole class against her.

Alya decided to be patient. Surely things would go back to normal. Nino would realize he made a big mistake breaking up with her. The class would switch seats because she sure as hell could not concentrate with Lila’s elbow blocking her writing space (Alya returned the favour by hogging the leg space)

I mean what had she done wrong? She didn’t bully Marinette. She wasn’t Chloe.

So Alya still tries to instigate or join conversations with her classmates, but they always ignored her. That didn’t stop Alya from trying. She was nothing if not persistent.

Anger

It had been a week and her class wasn’t getting over their pompous, self-righteous selves.

It infuriated Alya to see Marinette and Nino hanging out with Adrien without her. (The model was doing double time helping to heal their heartbreak).

When those 3 formed a group for a pairs project, (Ivan had immediately Nathaniel to be his partner so he wouldn’t be stuck with the liars), Alya finally complained that it wasn’t fair.

Lila and Alya couldn’t agree with each other. They needed a tie breaker in their group.

When Adrien gently asked if anyone would volunteer to partner with them, no one raised their hands.

Alya vented that her banishment was totally not fair. She didn’t bully anyone. The class was treating her worse than they did Chloe because at least they still acknowledged the latter!

Nino finally snapped that Alya was a bully. She manipulated Marinette, she used Lila for her own ends, and she even let Lila manipulate the rest of them.

Alya was exasperated and retorted that Marinette had been fine with it. Marinette was just a drama queen who likes to imagine the worst.

This broke Adrien’s polite exterior because he had seen the akuma, he had to witness his friends’ going through depression, and here Alya was downplaying their suffering, and even blaming Marinette for it.

“That’s enough, Alya! You don’t get to speak for Marinette! Or Nino! Just stay away from us.”

“Speak for yourself, Sunshine Boy.”

It would have escalated into a class argument but Marinette stopped them. She offered to go to work with Alya and Lila but the class vehemently protested.

Finally Markov volunteered.

Depression

Alya had gotten used to her new class life.

She was ignored by everybody decent.

Lila was a nuisance.

Ladybug ignored her.

Life became a gloomy monotony. Even after school, Alya had nothing to do besides homework, babysit, and browse the internet.

School was worse because Alya felt more alone with in the crowd. She couldn’t even befriend anyone outside class because word had spread.

Her Best Friend was her cell phone.

Bargaining

Eventually the loneliness got to be too much. Alya threw herself back into ingratiating herself with her ex-friends with new fervor.

She offered to buy them lunch. Rejected.

Offered to tutor Ivan. Hard pass.

She even tried sucking up to Chloe. “I don’t take in rejects.”

Acceptance

Eventually Lila’s harsh words mocking Alya for her failure got through to her.

Alya had gotten what she deserved.

What mattered now was moving on. It is possible she will never have friends at this school ever again.

But Alya can’t spend the rest of her life running after the impossible. She has to focus on what she can get.

Alya can get good grades. She can still update the Ladyblog. And she can make up for what she did.

Forgiveness doesn’t matter now. What Alya needs to do is just make things right.

And thus, Alya began to just quietly do her part. She contributed fully to fundraisers without asking for anything in return. Alya helped Mylene and Ivan in their protests voluntarily and surprised them.

When Marinette and Adrien started to date, Alya stopped Lila from interfering. They only learned about it from Juleka who saw the whole thing.

It took months, but eventually her classmates didn’t ignore her presence anymore.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #adrienette #alya redemption

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saikostories · 3 years

Text

BTS - Five stages of Grief (Jin)

Warning - May be upsetting to some readers, contains bad language

Jin hums to himself as he juggles the bags around on his arms, searching for his keys in his pockets. He silently scolds himself for wearing such tight jeans to the shop, but he forgets it when he thinks of how you’ll react when you see him coming in. He can tell that you’ve been feeling a little down lately, so he took the day off to spend with you. He let you sleep in while he went shopping, buying everything he needs to make your favourite meal. The excitement bubbles up inside of him as he pushes the door open, calling your name,

“Hey! I’m home! I hope you’re ready for the best meal of your whole entire life because I bought the best ingredients I could!” Jin yells into the silence of the apartment. He smiles to himself, assuming that you’re probably still in bed. He walks through to the kitchen, going to set the bags down on the counter when he sees you.

You’re collapsed on the floor, in an unnatural position. Jin stops short, not able to do anything but stare at you. The way your hair fans out behind you, the dead glassy look in your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the lack of movement on your body. You’re not breathing. For a moment, Jin can’t move he doesn’t know what to do. The silence seems to buzz at him, growing in volume and enveloping him menacingly until he breaks it, shouting your name. The bags drop from his grip and he falls down beside you, pulling your head against his chest as he begins to cry. He knows you’re not breathing. He can’t see any signs of life, and your skin isn’t warm anymore. You’re dead.

The first stage of grief is denial. Jin refuses to acknowledge that you’ve gone. When the coroner comes, after the paramedics pronounce you dead, and Jin’s done insisting that they’re wrong, Jin nearly doesn’t answer the door. He nearly refuses to let them in,

“They can’t take her, she’s not gone yet. It’s those damn paramedics not doing their job!” Jin yells at Yoongi, who had to drag him away from you. He’d tried to revive you himself when the paramedics wouldn’t, but everyone knew it was never going to work. Your skin’s cold. You’re not coming back. Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung are huddled in a corner, holding each other as they cry. Hoseok isn’t far away, watching over his maknaes while his elders are busy. Tears fall silently down his own cheeks, but he can’t break yet. Later, he promises himself, you can cry later. Just hold it together for them,

“Jin, she’s gone. I’m sorry, I know-“ Yoongi starts, hands still firm on Jin’s shoulders, physically holding him down as he tries to get up,

“Shut up! Namjoon don’t you let that coroner in! I just need to get to her! Please, I can help her! Yoongi just let me get up, I can do it! I learned CPR, she’s not gone yet! Why are you just giving up?” Jin pleads, not letting Yoongi get out what he wants to say. Namjoon throws an apologetic look to Yoongi as he opens the door. The black bags will set Jin off more than Yoongi will be able to handle on his own, and both of the men know it. When Namjoon opens the door, he quickly bolts over to Jin, helping Yoongi in holding him down. But he’s hysteric, and the pained sounds leaving his lips hurt everyone.

The second stage of grief is anger. Jin stays in this stage the longest. The group visit every day, but it only aggravates Jin. Jimin and Taehyung sit on the couch, holding each other as Jin has another one of his outbursts. They’re becoming more and more frequent, and more and more unpredictable. Hoseok had gone to get a blanket for Jin, because he was shivering, but when Jin saw Hoseok’s hands gripping the fluffy blanket, he snapped,

“Don’t touch that!” He had screamed, leaping up to tear it from Hoseok, “That’s hers! Don’t you get it? Don’t touch her things! It’s hers and it’s not yours to touch and throw around like some toy! How dare you waltz on in here, taking her stuff and getting it dirty! Who the fuck do you think you are?” Jin spat, taking a step closer to Hoseok with every passing moment, his face red as he bore down upon the younger man. Jungkook had tried to step in, placing a hand on Jin’s shoulder,

“Jin hyung, please calm down. Hobi hyung didn’t know. You can put it back, and we won’t touch it again, okay?” The maknae had suggested. He wanted to fix the situation, but it only did the opposite. Jin shoved the younger man hard. Under normal circumstances, Jungkook was easily stronger than Jin, but the shock of the violent outburst sent him stumbling back, falling into the couch. That’s when Jimin had started crying,

“Shut up!” Jin had screamed, rounding on the smallest of the seven. That’s when Yoongi had to step in. Jungkook could take getting hit, Hoseok could take getting yelled at. But not Jimin. He’d taken this badly too and Yoongi wouldn’t watch him suffer the way that Jungkook or Hoseok had,

“Jin, take a step back. This isn’t Jimin’s fault. We’re all upset,” Yoongi had told Jin firmly, taking a step between the two. Jin’s eyes darkened a shade further at this challenge, but rose to it. He stepped forward, towering over Yoongi, but no means more intimidating. Jin had height and broadness, but Yoongi had heart. Yoongi breaths were controlled and calculated, but he had an air about him that screamed danger. He still does. Jin had stepped back with a scoff, turning to go to his room,

“Group therapy’s over. Fuck off, all of you,” Jin had spat, slamming the bedroom door behind him. But no-one got up to move. Jin would go to sleep, wake up worse than before and need his boys. And his boys needed him too.

The third stage of grief is bargaining. Jin had been refusing visitors, keeping his door locked and windows shut at all times. Namjoon still came every single day, leaving a pot of soup that Jin would drink (cold) hours after Namjoon left. At least he was eating, though. Namjoon would pick up the empty pot and leave a fresh one. It became a routine over the three weeks that Jin kept himself completely closed off.

When Jin wasn’t gulping down the (poorly made) cold soup that Namjoon made, he stayed sat in the middle of his living room, knelt on his bare knees as he spoke with God. He didn’t even believe in a God before you were taken from here. But now, here he was. His knees are raw and bleeding from the three weeks he’s spent like this, and every muscle and tendon in him is inflamed and begging for him to stop. But Jin can’t stop. He wants to make a deal with God, to get you back. He knows that you must have gone to heaven, but if Good doesn’t respond soon he’ll try Satan. In his head, it makes sense,

“I’ll practice Christianity. I won’t swear, I won’t drink, I’ll sing Jesus songs, I’ll go to church, I won’t ever have sex until I’m married. I’ll get a cross tattooed on my forehead if you really want, just please, I want her back. It wasn’t her time. Why did you take her? Why didn’t you turn her around at the gates and tell her to come back down?” Jin pleads, leaning forward so that his forehead touches the ground. The tears slip onto the carpet in front of him and sobs wrack his body.

Namjoon presses his ear to the door as he usually does, straining to hear more of Jin’s one sided conversation with God. He knows he shouldn’t invade Jin’s privacy like this, but he can’t help it. He hasn’t seen his oldest hyung’s face in three weeks, and he’s more than scared for his health. Thing’s aren’t much better back at the dorm. It’s all falling apart. You and Jin had stapled things together, and now that’s collapsing.

The fourth stage of grief is depression. When Jin had finally opened the door for Namjoon, he was barely standing. Namjoon had nearly cried at the sight of him. Jin was dressed in a large shirt and basketball shirts. The loose garments hung off of him in a scary way his collarbones jutted out violently, his cheek bones were too pronounced, his eyes seemed to sink into his head and his wrists were too thin and shook as he held onto the door handle. His knees were blistered, bruised and cut to the point where Namjoon wondered how Jin had managed to continue to kneel every day for so long. Had Namjoon seen Jin with no shirt, he would have been able to count every single one of ribs, and seen the way his hipbones pushed against his paper white skin,

“I need help,” Jin had whispered, and Namjoon had just nodded, not trying to speak. He had walked into the apartment, not reacting to the state it was in. Jin hadn’t moved from the living room in weeks, and hadn’t tidied up since last time the boys were over. That was a month ago now. Namjoon had missed Jin more than words could day. All he wanted was to call the entire group to come over, but that wasn’t for today. For the first time since your suicide, Namjoon had hope. Maybe Jin was getting better.

The fifth stage of grief is acceptance. But Jin never gets there. He can’t accept it. He’s stuck in limbo, forever trapped between the stages of grief. He can’t escape.

Namjoon knocks on the door twice before just letting himself in. Jin probably wouldn’t answer the door anyway. Knocking has become more of a courtesy at this point. Namjoon shuts the door behind him, walking through to the kitchen, intending to put the kettle on to make some tea. He stops short when he sees a crumpled mess on the floor. Unnatural position… not breathing…. His hair fans out behind him, his eyes are glassy, he looks pale, he’s not moving. He’s not breathing. He’s dead, too.

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gaycharr · 4 years

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Stages of Grief

A bit different than my usual writing style i think, just a quick(ish) thing. Do the stages of grief apply to a life? When you lose your way, that is also a sort of grief, is it not ?

Vetrius and, in a way, resolutions. Initially inspired by @tyrias-library ‘s resolutions prompt but idk if it follows that theme enough to still count

warning for themes of depression and talk of suicide

Shock and Denial

Childhood is innocent, yes, but at what point does that naivete start to change into a painful awareness of those around you? Vetrius could pinpoint the exact moment.

She’d never given much thought to her own image until here. She was happy, and sociable. She enjoyed chatting with the others in her Fahrar and never thought twice about offering a hand to another.

It seemed this very thing was what would bring her new revelation around. Practicing in the yard (swords today) after a heavy rain. When her sparring partner slipped backwards, falling heavily to the ground as their sword thudded away, there was no hesitation on her end. She dropped her sword, stepped forward to offer her hand to her friend, and froze at the look on their face.

They sneered up at her angrily, eyes glittering. Vet felt numb as they slapped her paw from them and scrambled to their paws themself. She didn’t react even as the smaller cub shoved at her shoulders, making her take a step back as she blinked at them, still processing.

“Burn it! You’re so...so..SOFT! Can’t you just be normal?” The other cub hissed at her before stalking away. Vet felt her ears burning under the weight of the stares of the others. Her stomach churned. How had she missed this? Now that she looked, she noticed the pattern of slit gazes and twitching tails. How bodies angled from her and the line of the shoulders grew tense and flat.

Vet clenched her fangs. No, no, this was fine. This was normal. Nothing had happened.

Pain and Guilt

In the wake of her newfound hyper vigilance of others, Vetrius seemed to see evidence of her wrongness everywhere. Always too ready to offer a smile, to compromise, to lend a hand. These came naturally to her, but now it was soured by the jarring realization that these weren’t strengths, but weaknesses. It sat heavy within her, writhing and occasionally growing overwhelming and clawing up her throat.

At night she curled up on her bunk in a tight ball hugging her knees to her chest, tail wrapped around her. She clenched her teeth against the cresting waves of despair within her, clawed at the sheets in the breathless pain of emotion. What had she done to be so alone?

Anger

Slowly, so slowly, Vet’s pain and despair started to boil into anger. Why was it so hard for others to just accept each other, to be kind? Why was SHE the odd one out, for having fucking compassion? How dare she give a shit, how dare they treat her like this!

She withdrew ever further within herself. No longer attempting to bridge the gap between her and others, what was the point, she didn’t matter to them and she didn’t want to. No longer was she content either, to ignore snide remarks made against her, and her claws and fangs became ready to bear as she growled back.

She thought it was ironic, in a blood boiling way, how before she was too soft, but now she seemed too harsh, too prickly. The others avoided her now, not out of second hand embarrassment but out of a sort of discomfiting fear that the dog they’d beat might bite back now. She felt too big in her fur these days, felt as if she was always clenching her fangs against something- she didn't know what, just that it would be horrible to unleash.

Wasn’t she perfect now though? She thought with a snarl. Big and angry and ready to fight.

(and Bargaining)

She didn’t need them to accept her though. She could just- run away. Start a new life.

This thought manifested in different ways, but quickly took a turn for unhealthy. To fantasize of a new life is okay, but not when you stray into the territory of ‘can i just die now so i can have a new life’. The thought turned into claws over skin, an increasing recklessness with herself, an always prickling sense of being prepared for a fight against her peers.

And then it happened. A heavy storm that her band was caught in, trekking back home after some field practice. Heavier than normal. Vet foolishly remarked this out loud, and instantly remembered herself as another scoffed. “Scared of a little water?” was the sneered reply.

Vet felt her fur grow hot, start to bristle at the shoulders. Felt that ugly something rear up in her, ready to bite. And just as she opened her mouth, a flash of lightning blinded her. In the receding bright and boom of thunder, they all stared in shocked awe as a large portal opened in front of them.

Instantly her band began to bicker about what to do. Vet felt her anger fade as she considered. “We should go back and tell the others, see what they want to do about this.” It seemed sensible to her, what were they gonna do, step through it? Nothing else to do but find someone who could at least take a proper look.

Except- to her band- it translated into cowardice, a want to leave the situation and have someone else handle it. “You would say that! Hah! Why dont you just run along for us, we’ll stay here and do the hard work.” And suddenly the anger was back and boiling up and finally, Vetrius could no longer bared it.

It radiated off her, heavy and palpable, and even the storm seemed to quiet as everyone hushed and stared at her, waiting for the wave to crest. Her clenched fists trembled, blood mixing with the rain where her claws dug into her own skin.

She thought about turning around. Though about ripping into every single one, fighting until they had no choice but to admit that she was Strong, Stronger than them even. Distantly, breathlessly, and almost furiously disappointed in herself for it, she knew that she wasn’t going to do that.

Instead, she took a deep breath, and stepped through the portal. She would have a new life, one way or another.

Depression

The mists were unlike anything Vetrius had ever thought to expect. They were...ineffable, indescribable, in a way that sometimes struck an odd chord of nostalgia within her.

They were dangerous too, she quickly learned. When she first stepped into the mists from the portal, still dripping with rain water as it snapped shut behind her, she’d felt only a numb angry sort of joy. She’d stuck it to them! Except...what now?

Time passed, or at least Vetrius thought it did. It was hard to tell, some areas seemed to lack any sort of sun or moon even. She could measure it only by her hunger, which stopped being effective as she slowly began to starve, the small meals she was able to catch not quite enough.

Often she could feel the weight of a gaze on her, or would snap her head around looking for the source of an imagine whisper. She must be going crazy. She must be dying. The thought came almost as a relief to her. Or...she wanted it to be a relief, so she refused to admit that it wasn’t.

She struggled on and on and on. The worse her shape became, the more she struggled, the more the panic within her started to rise. Her admittance was just on the tip of her tongue but still she couldn’t let it out.

It was in the dead of night. She’d come across some berries and, starving, had eaten them. It was the wrong choice, she could feel her stomach rolling. By the time the cold sweat of fear had reached her, she knew it was too late, whatever she had eaten was undeniably poison and finally she was faced with the reality that she was going to die, possibly any moment.

Her limbs began to tingle, her vision growing hazy. She shook her head dizzily, trying to stay in focus. Her breaths came in harsh pants. And finally, FINALLY, her realization hit her in a bright burst of light.

(the upward turn)

She...she didn’t want to die! She could feel the thought fill her, breaking through the walls she’d built against her own self. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to live! She WANTED to live.

Her teeth creaked as she clenched them, heaving breaths through her nose desperately as she crumbled but suddenly unwilling to give up.

But it was too late, wasn’t it? Her arms shook, her mouth watered sickeningly. And- and-

Her vision was growing bright, so bright! She could barely see through the blinding light now. She was supposed to stay AWAY from the light, right? She stumbled back, not realizing that her vision had suddenly cleared, her limbs quickly regaining control.

“Be not afraid.” The voice sounded amused, and comforting. Vet could taste a spring breeze, despite the dusty crumbling walls of some mist castle around her. The light started to recede, and finally Vet realized that she wasn’t going to die, actually.

She looked up at the being of light, and it caused a weird feeling to squirm through her. Vet was kneeling, she realized, looking up at this angel (what else could it be?) with teary eyes. The Angel extended a hand down to her, the limb solidifying within the fluctuating light.

Unthinking, Vet blinked away her tears as she reached up, took the hand, and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

Reconstruction

“You want to leave this place.” Hearing Angel’s voice wasn’t always a common thing. Even now that they had learned some of their bond, Angel usually spoke through impressions of emotions or flashes of images in Vet’s mind.

Vet faltered. Much time had passed now, Vet was positive. She wasn’t a cub anymore. After Angel saved her, the two had just seemed to be entwined. Their bond wasn’t an instant thing after that, but it grew quickly as Angel followed and watched over Vet. The two grew together, and it was...nice, despite it all, Vet thought at least. She’d had a lot of growing to do, she’d realized.

Vet hadn’t had a home in a long time, but this place still wasn’t it. If Angel had asked before now, the fear of facing reality might have driven Vet to deny the statement, but intuitive as their connection was now she must have sensed that Vet was ready to face these issues.

Acceptance and Hope

Vet didn’t vocally accept, but Angel’s presence brightened at the responding emotion of agreement and acceptance reflected from Vetrius. And excitement, even.

A part of Vetrius felt terrified, as Angel steered her towards a portal that would spit her back out into Tyria after so long. But it was overpowered by the thrill of hope running through her.

She’d gone through so much, but she’d also learned so much. She was ready to accept the pain she’d been through: in her childhood, in the mists, the pain she may yet be to face. As long as she keeps growing, she’ll be okay.

#gw2 #c: vet #and theres vet's backstory! for the most part

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