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yanderecookierunkingdom · 2 months

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Six becomes Five

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

You were going to crumble Shadow Milk Cookie.

You stood there beside Pure Vanilla Cookie, eyes shrunk as your eyes stared at the weak and dying Elder Faeire Cookie.

You were going to crumble Shadow Milk Cookie, going to crumble him, beat him so badly that his crumbs turned to dust-

A hand gently grabbed yours. Pure Vanilla Cookie looked up at you, eyes filled with concern. "Reader Cookie?" He whispered gently.

".. I regret ever thinking that Shadow Milk Cookie could see reason," you lamented softly. "This.. proves he can't."

You watched as White Lily Cookie accepted Elder Faerie Cookie's plea to become the new Guardian of the Silver Tree.

You closed your eyes.

"HA HA HA HA!!" Shadow Milk Cookie's mocking voice rang out. "No matter what you do, the ending stays the same! Looks like the show is over for our little Guardian!"

"HA HA HA HA HA!!!!"

"That voice!!!" Gingerbrave fumed, gripping his candycane.

"He's still here somewhere...!" Strawberry Cookie gasped.

"I cannot forgive this..." White Lily Cookie narrowed her eyes. "I will bring him down... no matter what it takes...!"

"We'll be right by your side as you do," you declared as you walked over. The Ancient's eyes light up in surprise. "Me especially. Shadow Milk Cookie will pay for this."

"Do you not hold any attachments to him, Sparkling Joy Cookie...?" Silverbell Cookie asked carefully.

"After this.. No." You placed a hand over your amulet. "It's time I finally face the music I've been ignoring for so long."

As White Lily Cookie smiled, and opened her mouth to thank you, but as if to interrupt the sweet moment..

The ground began to rumble, and the bark of the tree c r a c k e d.

"No...!" You and the new Guardian gasped.

Red magic began to consume everything.

"The power of the Beasts!" Your eyes went wide.

"KYAAA HA HA HA HA!!!"

"LET IT BUUUUURRN! LET IT ALL BUUUURN! AH HA HA HA HA!"

"What happened?!" Gingerbrave panicked, bumping into Strawberry Cookie.

As the group began to panic and discuss what needed to be done, a voice began to grow in Pure Vanilla Cookie's mind.

Pure Vanilla Cookie... Pure Vanilla Cookie...! Show me your strength...! The Silver Tree's strength is all gone, don't you see...?! All you need to do is cut it down for good...!

"No... This voice within me..." Pure Vanilla Cookie gripped his head.

"It isn't me...!!!" It isn't you!!!

Cut down the tree...

Don't listen to him, Pure Vanilla Cookie! You know this isn't you!

Cut it down with your own hands...

"No.."

"GET OUT OF MY/HIS HEAD!" The Ancient Cookie shouted, the Light of Compassion echoing with him.

(From his place, Shadow Milk Cookie couldn't help but stumble back. Don't tell him that..

Was the Light of Compassion manipulating you, too? Was it working with the damned Witches?

His anger boiled over, and he slammed his fist against a wall. It was fine! This was fine! He could find a way to make his darling Sparkling Joy Cookie a new Soul Jam.)

You grabbed Pure Vanilla Cookie's hands, and Shadow Milk Cookie could be heard shrieking with anger.

"KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF THEM! WHY WON'T YOU OBEY ME?!"

"Focus on me, Pure Vanilla Cookie," you spoke, pressing your forehead against his. "Me and the Light of Compassion. We're all here!"

"YOU! I'M GROWING TIRED OF YOUR PATHETIC CHARADES! THE GUARDIAN LIVES?! WHERE IS HE?!" Shadow Milk Cookie shouted. "WHY WILL PURE VANILLA COOKIE NOT OBEY ME?! WHY IS THE LIGHT OF COMPASSION BETRAYING SPARKLING JOY COOKIE?!"

White Lily Cookie schooled her face. Her staff's end gently hit against the ground as she stood in front of you and Pure Vanilla Cookie. "She." Her grip on her staff tightened. "For I, the Guardian of the Seal, stand right before you! Did you think it was going to be that easy?"

You helped Pure Vanilla Cookie up, refusing to listen to Shadow Milk Cookie's tirade. It didn't matter to you. Even if a new show was beginning.

Half Cookies, who the biggest liar was, and..

"NO!" You cried, watching as strings came and grabbed your helpless friends. "Shadow Milk Cookie, don't!"

"It's alright, Sparkling Joy Cookie!" Shadow Milk Cookie couldn't help a small laugh. He sounded deranged, more than you remember. "Once this little pest of a Guardian is done with, we can deal with these little things together!"

You didn't even think. Your scepter turned to a fork as you pointed it. You glared at him. "We'll see about that."

It was a pity. Once upon a time, you loved all the Beasts. You cared for them deeply. You loved them all in your own way. Your heart beated faster around each of them, but never usually in the way of Shadow Milk Cookie.

As you helped battle him, intentionally taking hits meant for White Lily Cookie, those memories come to the forefront. Times where you would participate in his plays and read stories with him.

A particularly nasty blow reveals some old scars. You keep on moving.

You remembered when you would come to visit him in his tower whenever you were feeling down. You'd cuddle up next to him as he read you some new books he was reading.

There's a nasty blow to your side, and you stumbled. You jam your fork into one of his shadows and fling it away.

You remembered the days and nights following your discovery of their corruption. How it stung and how it hurt. How you wept and wept, praying that it wasn't real. It couldn't be real. They couldn't be gone.

And yet you watched as they descended. As they became obsessed with you. You wished and hoped with all your might that you could save them, but Compassion can only go so far.

Your dance, their cries of anguish, were all so far away, but the memories always stayed. You were oh-so hesitant to connect with your new friends, the Ancients especially. But they proved virtuous, loving, and caring.

Pure Vanilla Cookie, who was practically a foil to Shadow Milk Cookie, gave you the courage to love again.

You'd never experienced pain, as the only ones who could ever hurt you were Cookies of equal power.

Out of the corner of your eye, Shadow Milk Cookie launches an attack towards White Lily Cookie. You don't even think.

You shoved her out of the way as the attack slammed into you.

There was a

CRACK

as the attack intended to crumble White Lily Cookie slammed into you and your Soul Jam. You were flung back, body shrinking as you slammed into the wall behind you, it cracking from the force of the impact.

You fell and hit the floor, your magic no longer able to keep up your Primordial form.

Shades of blue and black were the last thing you saw.

taglist: @snail-noodle @average-crk-enjoyer @looking4userthatworks @ori-stole-the-cheese-again @sqiddgie @justalittledumb @ax0lotly @ihatemyselffromthestart-blog @ravenkake @ohnoivefallen @craixe

HAVE ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER! But I also tried something a bit new for this. Tell me what you think!

This does have a happy ending! But I wanted to experiment with this, mostly in the sense of making SbF!Shadow Milk Cookie more delusional in his desire to have You/Sparkling Joy Cookie back. He'll definitely use this as an excuse to blame White Lily Cookie.

#crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader #yandere shadow milk cookie #series: six becomes five #cosmos constellations

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highladyandromeda · 26 days

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Shadows of the Heart

Part 5

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions.

WC: 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of blood, self-inflicted injury, a brief moment with unhealthy thoughts about body image (this is specifically marked with 1 star (*) at the start and 2 stars (**) at the end), unhealthy thoughts about pushing oneself too far

[Prologue], [Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 3], [Part 4]

Y/n was exhausted.

She could feel her muscles ache as she dipped deeper into the bath the house had drawn for her. The smell of tuberose and neroli drifted up from the bubbles surrounding her, the perfectly warm temperature adding to the pleasant atmosphere.

Yet she couldn’t get herself to relax a drop. Come to training, they said…it’ll be fun, they said…what liars, she thought.

Who invites an injured and recent coma patient to train, at dawn no less? Isn’t this the bloody Night Court? Y/n fumed, why do they all wake up so early now?

A glass of wine appeared by her side as if the house sensed her irritation as well.

Sighing she picked it up, and finished it immediately, a bottle appearing once she placed the glass down. She let out a laugh, wondering if she should feel offended that the house assumed her morale was so low. As if understanding her thoughts, a bottle of whiskey appeared and disappeared next to the wine, before a series of books dropped down. Judging by the titles and bits of conversation from last night, Y/n had a feeling the house was using a…tried and tested method of comforting raging females.

And speaking of rage, she was quickly losing the high of recusing Mor and returning to Velaris. Yes, she was exhilarated to see her family thriving, but the duties she had would quickly catch up to her. Counting down, it had been nearly 3 weeks since she disappeared from Vallahan and the magic tower must be getting frantic now. Not to mention, Demetrius, who’s sure to assign her so much work, that she’d not have a chance to leave the tower once she’d returned, or Ryder, who’s definitely praying that she’s dead in a ditch somewhere. Y/n knew she could use the investigation for the cult, the same cult she felt poisoned Mor, as her cover, but that excuse could only hold for so long.

Ugh. Stupid Rhys and his stupid bargains. She hoped Demetrius would receive her message fast enough, the only reason she forced herself to the training ring before sunrise. Her mediation session was a chance for her to send a holo projection to Demetrius’s office. The time-consuming aspect was not bypassing the wards of the house, which she should actually speak to Rhys about strengthening, but rather condensing her…situation and what she wanted him to do, as to expel the least amount of energy. Teleportation with blood meant her magic would take a longer time to recover. Besides, the last thing she needs is someone sensing her magical signature in the tower when she's been away for so long.

Luckily, she was able to mask her communications from the IC with her subsequent spar, which she convinced herself was necessary. It wasn’t because the moment she locked eyes with Azriel, she had this urge, this desperate desire to know what it would be like to go one-on-one with him.

No, she only offered because she knew she could last as the participant of a spar, rather than give up control for exercises or obstacles which would reveal her current weaknesses. She refused to think further on how beautifully he moved and met all her strikes, and how pretty he looked under her–No, think Vallahan, magic tower, angry masters….

Just recounting it all was giving her a headache, Y/n thought, dunking her head underneath the water. She almost wishes it could swallow her whole right there, and give her a reprieve from this.

She came back up gasping, water sloshing onto the floor.

*Y/n grabbed a towel, standing up and deciding that she might go too far should she stay in there any longer. She faced the mirror while drying herself off, looking closely at how prominent her collarbones were and how her ribs hit out. She looked away, trying to bury the simultaneous discomfort and pleasure she felt, the same as the morning when she changed into her leathers and needed to tighten them with her magic.

Y/n knew that she looked unhealthy and her magic could only take her so far if she let her body fail, but a voice at the back of her mind enjoyed the visuals, a lasting validation of her struggles. With her magic usually healing her immediately, Y/n rarely got the chance to convey her struggles, always pushing forward since it seemed the pain was never there in the first place. She briefly wondered if Azriel would understand, he seemed to know that sort of darkness, of both craving and despising it. **

Feeling a bit claustrophobic, she decided to step out onto a balcony before dinner, knowing that everyone would be there after she missed lunch. Though she could already feel her appetite disappearing at the thought of facing Amren and Nesta’s piercing gazes, not to mention Mor and Rhys’s overt concern. She raised a hand to her head, trying to rub away another impending headache before halting right at the balcony entrance.

Mother above, Y/n felt herself freeze in horror, unable to look away from the smeared and dried runes. All in blood, all in her blood. No wonder she slept for so long if she kept losing even more blood after this she thought, a cold dread settling in her bones.

Why is it still here…The thought that Rhys might hesitate to erase them, out of fear or respect, and that Amren and Nesta might see them as a curiosity to be studied, only deepened her sense of isolation. How could they not see the horror in what those runes represented?

The world began to tilt, a disorienting spiral that made her stomach churn. The vast sky above seemed to press down on her, the air growing thick and heavy, a physical force that threatened to crush her.

"Are you okay?" The concern in the question was palpable, but it only served to startle her further.

Cauldron boil me, Y/n thought, spinning around so quickly her knees gave way beneath her. But before she could fall, strong, calloused hands steadied her, the familiar touch of shadows wrapping around her with an almost protective embrace. She didn't need to see his face to know who it was—the shadows were a signature she'd come to recognize.

"Y/n, are you alright? You seem faint," the voice came again, soft and concerned, lifting her gently until she was forced to meet his eyes—hazel orbs filled with a depth of concern and understanding that momentarily stilled the chaos within her.

It was a connection, fragile and fleeting, but in that instant, Y/n realized she wasn't as alone as she had felt. The shadows that enveloped her, the hands that steadied her—they were a lifeline, pulling her back from the edge of her own darkness.

She swore time stopped for a moment before she felt the hands around her quiver, his gaze drifting to the runes behind before her actions caught up to her. It was then that reality snapped back into focus for Y/n, prompting her to instinctively step back and slip out of his gentle grasp.

In her quick withdrawal, an attempt to shield her sudden vulnerability, she missed the fleeting look of disappointment that crossed Azriel's features. Y/n hurriedly filled the silence that had grown between them.

"We shouldn't keep them waiting" she announced, her voice carrying a forced lightness that couldn't quite mask the disquiet lurking beneath. Her smile, tentative and fleeting, was an attempt to hide the depth of her unease from Azriel’s perceptive gaze.

Dinner was a silent affair, the burning stares and questions on Y/n waiting to reach the surface, especially after her display earlier that morning.

Each forkful of food echoed louder than usual until Amren, with her characteristic bluntness, pierced the quiet. "Y/n, the blood magic you used before...how did you know about it? "

Cassian, unable to resist adding to the conversation, jumped in with a grin. "Yeah, the teleportation was so cool! Are you part-witch?"

Amren's sharp glance cut him short. "She's a sorceress, you oaf. Obviously, she's mastered more than a few ancient tomes."

As Nesta voiced her curiosity, "Mastering tomes? What does that mean?" Cassian overlapped with, "How did you even find Mor?" The barrage of questions seemed to only spiral from then, with several of them wanting details on her magic and her discovery of Mor.

Amidst the several inquiries, Azriel, ever attuned to Y/n, noticed the tremble in her hands hidden under the table, a stark contrast to the calm facade she presented. His shadows stirred restlessly, a mirror to his growing concern.

Mor's complexion turned ashen as the fact dawned upon her—Y/n had ventured onto the balcony, the very place of their nightmarish ordeal. Attempts to steer the tide of questions fell on deaf ears, "Y/n, I... we didn't think..." Mor’s voice trailed off, her apologies swallowed by the growing fervor of curiosity.

Y/n took a deep breath, attempting to veil her frustration with patience, a task made increasingly difficult. They meant well, she repeated, she owed Rhys, she thought before the noise got to her. She hated being faced with curiosity and pity just as much as she hated being questioned–she had saved Mor and shown she wasn’t their enemy, wasn’t that enough?

With a huff that signaled her surrender to the inevitable, she pushed her chair back, its screech halting the interrogation, and drawing surprised glances from the table. Rising from her seat, she walked away, leaving a trail of astonishment in her wake.

Azriel reacted with swift concern, following her with a worry that mirrored the concern etched on Rhys, Mor, and even Feyre and Lucien's faces, while Cassian remained behind, a shadow of guilt tinging his features.

Y/n paused for a moment at the split between the staircase and the hallway to the balcony, debating the merits of locking herself in her room. She felt she deserved the right to scream into her pillow before rejoining them.

But the sound of footsteps behind her reminded her of the nosey nature of her friends here. If she tried to hide, there’d be no telling the lengths they’d go, she may as well just complete it now.

Upon reaching the balcony, Y/n summoned her magic, materializing a dagger in her hand. With a steady hand, she made a precise incision along her arm, her expression unflinching as crimson blossomed against her skin. She cast a fleeting glance at Azriel, her vibrant red eyes catching the light, mesmerizing him as her blood began its descent toward the magic circle below.

His shadows twitched uneasily at the sight; the others, having followed, stumbled into a collective pause, caught in a mix of awe and horror as they watched her blood reanimate the runes. Y/n commanded the runes to levitate, dripping and spinning around before she condensed them into a single, blood-diamond-like point, which then vanished within her grasp. Turning to face them with a smirk, she downplayed the gravity of her demonstration.

"See? Not a big deal," she stated, though her casual dismissal did little to ease the tension.

Azriel, moving with a purpose, reached for her, his shadows conjuring a cloth to softly wipe the blood, still dripping from her arm, away. The gentleness of his touch left Y/n taken aback, her heart skipping a beat at the care with which he wrapped her arm, his shadows having brought bandages as well. She couldn’t remember the last time someone else had treated her wounds, especially those so insignificant, so kindly.

Meeting his gaze, she was confused at his crossed expression, but before words could form, Mor enveloped her in an embrace, her apologies spilling out in a hurried flurry.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I should've—" Mor's voice cracked, the weight of her remorse tangible in the air between them.

"It wasn't your fault, Mor," Y/n reassured, her arms wrapping around her friend in a firm hug. "I would do it all over again for you," she whispered a vow that drew a fresh wave of tears from Mor, her embrace tightening in response.

As they finally parted, Lucien's voice cut through the momentary silence. "I must say, your control was impressive back there."

Y/n couldn't help but roll her eyes, a playful retort on her lips. "I've always been this good, Lucien. Maybe you just weren't paying attention."

His laughter echoed around them, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "Is that so? We should spar sometime then. Test out that control of yours."

Y/n pretended to be annoyed but she was grateful to him for changing the atmosphere. Lucien always knew how to put others at ease.

"Sure if you think you can keep up. Feyre, you're welcome to join his side. He'll need all the help he can get."

Rhys chimed in with feigned indignation, "And why am I excluded? My mate should be my partner."

Y/n's laughter mingled with theirs, and her spirits momentarily lifted. "Because I've beaten you too many times, Rhys. It wouldn't be fair." She teased, earning a gasp of mock indignation from him.

Their laughter was a balm, easing the tension that had settled over the dinner.

Walking back, Y/n glanced at Lucien with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Resting her hand lightly on his shoulder, she leaned closer, her voice laden with playful intent. "Looks like we're teaming up then" she teased.

A knowing smile danced across Lucien's lips, a silent agreement forged in the span of a heartbeat. Together, they proclaimed, "We'll scatter them like leaves in a storm!"

The statement, filled with the memory of past battles, echoed around them, their laughter a symphony of friendship and challenge.

Feyre, caught in the ripple of their amusement, couldn't help but interject with a wry smile. "Well, I guess I'm stuck with Rhys then." Her words, light and teasing, were accented with the unbreakable bond she shared with her mate, even as they prepared to face off in friendly competition.

All the while, Azriel's gaze lingered on the casual touch between Y/n and Lucien, their laughter and the seamless harmony of their declaration stirring an unfamiliar pang within him. His stare was intense and unyielding, as he watched the easy rapport they shared—a connection he found himself envying, as he stood silently on the fringes of their banter.

Azriel's desire to offer Y/n the same sense of belonging and ease was palpable, yet he chose the quiet acts that spoke volumes of his intentions. As they walked back to the dining room, he found an opportunity to express his support. With a gentle touch, he slid Y/n's chair out for her, a gesture of silent solidarity that sought to make her feel seen and valued in the way he knew best.

"Thank you," she whispered, her gratitude a soft note amidst the evening's chaos of emotions. Though her gaze briefly wandered back to Lucien, caught in a moment of quiet tension with Elain, it was Azriel's thoughtful action that anchored her.

Amren's voice drew her back. "I’m sure you created quite the spectacle, sorceress”

In response to Amren's observation, Y/n met her gaze firmly. "I don't owe anyone explanations, Amren…But out of gratitude for the welcome back," she paused, weighing her next words carefully, "I will tell you that yes, I am a sorceress. A highly ranked one, at least in Vallahan’s magic tower."

Her eyes flickered to Mor, a silent pact of trust between them. She wouldn't reveal the intricacies of their reunion—how a royal meeting had spiraled into chaos and Mor's dismissal of her warnings had nearly cost them both dearly.

"Part of my work has led me to investigate a cult revering Koschei, a dark sorcerer," Y/n continued, her voice steady despite the weight of her revelations. "It was through this that I found Mor in danger. The use of blood magic wasn't a choice made lightly. It was the only method swift and silent enough to ensure our immediate return without leaving traces of magic that could be tracked. And given Mor's poisoning, traditional portals I could open—with their elongated passage of time—weren't an option."

The table fell silent, the gravity of her words settling heavily upon them. Each member of the Inner Circle sat a little straighter, their expressions alight with a mixture of awe and deepened as she explained further about her work and magic. The dinner conversation, initially subdued, blossomed into a vibrant exchange of stories and insights.

Lucien, seizing the moment, shared his own adventures and the bond he'd formed with Vassa, expressing a hopeful desire to introduce them, perhaps as a means to unravel the curse that bound the queen.

It was then that Rhys saw an opening, his voice slicing through the conversation with a proposal for Y/n. "Y/n! This is the perfect opportunity, if you feel up to it, why don't you continue your research here?"

Before Rhys could elaborate, Mor chimed in, eager to offer the resources at their disposal. "Exactly, the House of Wind has a wealth of books that could aid in your research. I can ask the priestesses to help—"

"I can help. You." Azriel's voice, cutting through Mor's suggestion, carried an uncharacteristic nervousness. "I mean, in your research. I can help you with the research." The room fell into an unusual silence, all eyes turning to him as he attempted to clarify, "If you're conducting research, that is. I don't want to rush you, of course. You need time to recover. I'm just—uh—offering since I have experience with such investigations... not to say you need my help. I—I thought it might be... more efficient, yes..."

Azriel's voice tapered off, his gaze skirting around the table to avoid Cassian and Nesta's barely concealed smirks and Rhys's poorly disguised cough of amusement. The surprise etched on everyone else's faces spoke volumes, each one silently wondering if they had ever witnessed Azriel speak so awkwardly and at length.

"Oh, I'd appreciate the company, Azriel," Y/n finally responded, her tone warm.

"You would?" Azriel's gaze snapped to Y/n, a flicker of hope lighting his eyes, only to be momentarily dimmed by her stern look toward Rhys. "Since I'll be intruding for the foreseeable future, I might as well be productive."

"I—I wouldn't want to invade, though," Azriel hurried to add, the earnestness in his voice unmistakable.

Rhys couldn't hide a snicker, quickly masked by a sudden straightening in his chair, bouncing his right leg up.

Azriel’s shadows whispered something about a kick, but his attention was already captured by Y/n's soft smile. "I'd welcome the help," she reassured, her simple acceptance igniting a spark of anticipation in Azriel.

A/N: Hi everyone, sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, I was traveling and then dying with studies. But the plot thickens...Are we curious about Y/n's work as a sorceress? I planned out the next scenes on my flight so I should have the next few chapters up in a faster succession.

And thank you to everyone who's liked/commented/reblogged this story -- it means so much to have you all enjoy this!

For my tag list, I tagged everyone who asked and those who commented on the previous parts. If you'd like to be included, please just let me know. 💕

TAGLIST: @strangelygreat @enfppuff @trip-n-sal @inloveallthetime @annamariereads16 @mybestfriendmademe @mariahoedt @annblvd @ania-swissweet @yearninglustfully @sleepylunarwolf @quiettuba @gorlillaglue25 @lilah-asteria @naturakaashi @sillymercury @itsswritten @xlosttdreamss @kennedy-brooke @xyzmeh @lucky7rosie @copenhagenspirit @collide-with-the-music @starsinyourseyes @dianxiaxiexie @maybefoxysouls @golden-canyon @violet-potter @thisiskaylin @acphengene @katherinejess @sevikas-whore @kalulakunundrum @hibye02 @madscamp02 @willowpains @jaybarding @kalulakunundrum @sevikas-whore @katherinejess @acphengene @thisiskaylin

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #azriel x y/n #acotar series #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x oc #rhysand #morrigan #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #lucien vanserra

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nebulablakemurphy · 11 months

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 19)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Trigger warning: discussions of trauma surrounding ‘desirable’ victors.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

“Tell me about the stairs,” Dr. Aurelius says.

Y/N stares at him blankly, the stairs.

He waits a moment, tapping his pen to paper. “At the request of your husband, you will be issued a nightlock pill, to use in the event that you are captured.”

Y/N nods. One of the stipulations to Haymitch agreeing to her deployment, on this mission to rescue Peeta.

‘Show me you can reach it with your mouth.’ He tested the accessibility of her suit’s pill pocket, rigorously. ‘Show me you can still reach it with your hands behind your back.’

It isn’t something he wants her to use, but knowing that whatever Snow has planned for her would make Peeta’s captivity look like child’s play…

“By President Coin’s orders, I cannot release this… medication unless you are of sound mind.”

“You have reason to believe I’m not?” Y/N asks.

“One of your former guards told me you asked if anyone had ever jumped from the elevator.” Aurelius purses his lips.

“It was one time!” Y/N waves a hand, “and it was a joke.”

“You have a dark sense of humor.”

“You would too.”

The therapist affords her a soft smile, “you may be right. Even still, you are my patient. I need to act in your best interest. So please, tell me what happened on the stairs.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, “it’s kind of a blur. Everyone was pushing, yelling, especially after the upper levels were damaged and the rain started coming down.”

“How did you feel?”

“I felt…worried, I guess.”

“In what way?”

“About Haymitch, Madge and the kids. Worried about what was happening to Peeta. Worried about getting Katniss into the bunker.”

He jots this down.

“That was a normal response.” Y/N snaps.

“Very much so,” the doctor agrees, “not every note I make is a bad one.”

Y/N crosses her arms.

“Did you worry for yourself? Your own safety?”

You’re supposed to say yes.

“There is no right answer, Y/N.”

“There’s an answer that gets me to Peeta and one that doesn’t.”

“True,” he shrugs, “but I trust you not to lie.”

“You shouldn’t.” Y/N narrows her eyes. “I’m a good liar, I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen.”

“How do you feel about death? Is it something you long for, or run from?”

“If I die, my kids lose their mother, my husband loses his wife, my sister loses her sister. The list goes on. So it really doesn’t matter how I feel about death. All I know is that I cannot die.”

“Yet you think you could bite down on this pill?” He presents the dark purple capsule.

“As a last resort. If I have fought tooth and nail and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I can’t get free? I could.” Y/N decides.

Dr. Aurelius nods, holding the nightlock out to her. “Best of luck.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch curses Katniss’ name, as he shuffles through the crawl space she’s gone to hide in, after refusing to make the propo saying thirteen survived Snow’s attack.

Have kids, they said. It will be fun, they said.

Though none of his biological children have forced him to squeeze in such a tight space, parenthood is not for the faint of heart.

He plops down beside her with a sigh, “so this is the end, huh? I guess we’re just gonna hide down here forever.”

“I can’t be the mockingjay,” Katniss chokes out.

“Not the mockingjay,” Haymitch tosses a bit of hair away from her face, “just Katniss.”

She blinks at him, warily.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this pep talk stuff. That’s Y/N’s department.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Katniss understands.

“She spent the morning getting cleared by her shrink.”

“Cleared for what?”

“They’re going to rescue Peeta.” Haymitch tells her.

“What?”

“The dam went down in district five, took out most of the power to the Capitol. Knocked out their signal defense, Beetee’s inside their system, reeking all kinds of havoc. The window is open to us, for how much longer? I don’t know, I guess until the Capitol can get the power back on.” Haymitch explains.

“And Coin?”

“I can never fully support that woman. But Plutarch got word that Peeta and the others are in the tribute center. With the power out, Coin sees this as an opportunity. She knows that Peeta is the Capitol’s weapon, the same way you’re ours. And as opposed to having you two pointing at each other, she’s going to get him.”

“I have to go help them.” Katniss springs to life.

“Woah, hey,” Haymitch reaches out a hand to stop her. “What’re you just gonna jump out of the vent and go storm the Capitol? Besides it’s already underway. Six soldiers went in, volunteer only. Y/N, Gale, Boggs and three others.”

“You just let her go?” Katniss frowns.

Haymitch admits, “she’s not the type of person you ‘let’ do things. But you know how that is, sweetheart. Between the two of you,” he lets out a low whistle, “I’m exhausted.”

————————————————————————

Madge breaks her dinner roll in half. Splitting it between Everest and Arista, the same way she’s watched Y/N and Haymitch do since they got here. Making sure little bellies are full, before their own.

Pollux approaches, motioning to the seat across from Madge, at the metal mess hall table. He sets down his tray and pulls out his note pad, to jot a message down. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” Madge greets him, “please, sit.”

“Hi, I’m Pollux. You’re Y/N’s sister, right?”

Madge nods.

“She keeps your picture in her pocket.” Pollux smiles. “And them.” He points to the oldest children.

Everest’s eyes scan the page. “Our mom told us about you. What happened to you in the Capitol…I’m really sorry.”

“Honey,” Madge runs a hand over his hair.

“Thank you, Everest. It’s nice to meet you. Your mom talks about you all the time, she is so proud.” Pollux turns the page quickly, for more room. “Arista and Daisy too, of course. Your mom loves you all very much.”

With that the children turn back to their meals.

Madge smiles, stabbing at her food with one hand, while patting the baby in the sling. The tray moves and Pollux holds out a hand to stabilize it. “Oh, thank you. It’s ok though, you eat.”

He draws the hand back, long enough to scribble, “I’d offer to hold the baby instead, but I don’t think we’re there yet.”

Madge laughs, “funny.”

“It’s really no trouble.”

Madge shrugs, as he grips the edge of her tray, loosely. Managing his own dinner just fine.

Cressida calls him away, after a while, for Finnick’s live propo, to help jam the Capitol’s airwaves.

“I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you.”

————————————————————————

“This is Finnick Odair, winner of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games, coming to you from district thirteen, alive and well. We survived an attack by the Capitol, but I’m not here to give you recent news.”

“Why is Finnick doing a propo?” Katniss wonders, watching the split screen of the control room. The large, right panel is an image of Finnick. Just outside the rubble, where they asked her to film earlier, the sun has set and the lights are trained on him. The left hand side is home to six smaller panels, with the soldier’s helmet cam footage.

“It’s a lot more than that,” Haymitch informs her.

“Beetee’s commandeered the system,” Coin says, proudly.

“They’re down to generator power, so there’s a more limited range of frequencies available to them. I’m filling them all up with Y/N and Finnick. It looks like they’re both live.” Beetee assures Katniss.

“Snow will think she’s still here?” That’s brilliant.

“Not many will see it, but those who do will assume they’re just propos.”

“What they don’t know is that these broadcasts are jamming their entire system with noise. Early defense warnings, internal communications, everything. As long as one or both of the broadcasts are going through, our team should be able to get in and out without being detected.” Beetee assures her.

“You can survive the arena, but the moment you leave, you’re a slave.” Finnick narrates. “President Snow used to sell me, or my body, at least.”

“Mockingjay one, you are twenty seconds from perimeter defense.”

“I wasn’t the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward, or allows people to buy them. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” Finnick presses on, looking straight at camera.

“Ten seconds.” The hovercraft pilot begins counting down. “Nine, eight, seven, six.”

“Just because a victor is married doesn’t mean they’re safe.”

“Five, four, three…”

“The Capitol’s more generous patrons paid dearly to watch the wedding night, even more to witness the conception of the most beloved children in Panem.”

“Two, one.”

Katniss freezes, surely he doesn’t mean- it couldn’t be. The dress, that stupid dress they crammed her in. Why it upset Y/N so badly. Snow was taunting her.

“No response from perimeter defense, we’re inside Capitol airspace.”

“Yes,” Beetee rejoices.

Haymitch is watching the smaller screen, his jaw tense, doing his best to ignore the eyes that fall on him. Twisting his wedding band around and around. It doesn’t matter what secrets Finnick reveals, so long as he keeps jamming the signal. Keep Y/N safe.

“To make themselves feel better, patrons will offer presents of money or jewelry. But I found secrets to be a much more valuable form of payment.”

“Gear up,” Boggs orders the soldiers on the hovercraft. They are just seconds away from the tribute center. “Masks on.”

Their lenses are tinted for night vision, the red light inside makes Y/N’s heartbeat faster.

“Open the door.” Boggs says, his voice echoing through her headset. “Command, this is team leader, preparing to deploy gas. We will confirm once inside.”

“Such a young man when he rose to power, such a clever one to keep it. How, you may ask, did he do it?” Finnick is captivating, well spoken.

Katniss is hanging off every word.

“One word, poison.”

The timer for the gas grenadines finishes, on Bogg’s stop watch, “get ready to drop.”

Y/N secures her harness to the wire, giving it a firm tug. Descending through the open loading dock, releasing the wires as they reach ground.

“Clear.” Boggs, informs the team. “We’re inside, headed for target number one. Cell B forty-five, lower level two C.”

“So many deaths to well known adversaries, even allies who were deemed as threats.”

It’s dizzying, giving equal attention to Finnick’s message and the feed from inside the tribute center.

Haymitch is glued to that screen, her screen. Like he wants to reach through and bring her back with him.

Once Peeta’s holding cell is gassed, they are cleared to enter.

“Snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. But antidotes don’t always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. To help cover the scent of sores, in his mouth, that will never heal.”

Poison, Katniss shakes her head to clear it. He’s still talking about poison.

Inside the room is a lab, full of jars, experiments. Cages. Medical equipment, some with blood still visible.

“What the fuck?” Y/N whispers, reaching out to try and make sense of it.

“Abernathy, on me.” Boggs warns, they need to stay focused.

“What is this place?” Gale asks, venturing deeper.

Their screens lights up, all of them at once. Too bright to see.

“Ahh.”

There is a collective hiss, from those in the tribute center. The power’s back on.

“Beetee?” Katniss has a hand flat against her belly, where the worry eats her alive.

“Ma’am, the Capitol air defense is rebooting. It’s coming back online.”

“They must be diverting power from another source, filtering transmissions. Another sixty seconds and we’ll be cut off.” Beetee scowls, typing furiously at the control panel.

“Get them outta there,” Haymitch demands.

“Madame President, should we call back the hovercraft?”

“Broadcast me,” Katniss decides, “if Snow’s watching this, maybe he’ll let the signal in, if he sees me. Put me on the air so he can see me.”

“Yes,” Plutarch snaps a finger. “Yes.”

“Put her on,” Coin agrees.

“Can we still do this?” Haymitch’s hands are shaking as he positions the camera in front of her. “Can we still get in?” Can we still save her?

“Yes, for the moment,” Beetee replies. “The line’s open, he will only see you.”

“Ok, Katniss,” Haymitch steps away. “Go.”

“President Snow.” Katniss says, “President Snow, it’s Katniss.”

The static continues to crackle. No more Finnick, no more footage from the tribute center. Just her.

“President Snow, can you hear me?” Katniss repeats, hoping for a miracle. “I need to speak with you, are you there? President Snow.”

“Miss Everdeen,” his voice is distorted for a moment, until the signal hones in. “What an honor. I don’t imagine you’re calling to thank me for the roses.”

“I never asked for this. I never asked to be in the games.” Katniss reminds him. “I just wanted to save my sister and keep Peeta alive. Let him go and I will stop being the mockingjay. I will disappear and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“You couldn’t run from this anymore than you could’ve run from the games.”

“Please, you’ve won.” Katniss says, “release Peeta and take me instead.”

Snow shakes his head with a smirk. “We are long past the opportunity for noble sacrifice.”

“Then tell me what to do, I’ve always kept my promises. Haven’t I?”

“You said you didn’t want a war, and that’s just what happened. I told you what a fragile thing peace was and still, like a child, you took pleasure in breaking it. I know what you are, I know you can’t see past your narrowest concerns. But please, Miss Everdeen, I doubt you know what honesty is anymore.”

“You asked me to convince you that I was in love with Peeta,” Katniss challenges. “Haven’t I at least done that?”

Snow takes great pleasure in what he’s about to say, it’s written all over his twisted features. “It’s the things we love most that destroy us. I want you to remember I said that.” He pauses. “Don’t you think I know Y/N and your friends are in the tribute center?”

Katniss feels the floor fall out from under her.

“Cut them off.” Snow says, turning away from the screen. It returns to the static hum of nothing.

They had comms back, but now Beetee’s lost them again.

“What happened?” Katniss sobs.

“Boggs, do you read me? Boggs, come in.”

“He knows they’re in there,” Katniss calls to Haymitch. “It’s a trap.”

“Katniss, calm down.” Haymitch whispers.

“We have to get ahold of them, tell them to get out. He knows.”

“There’s no signal, we can’t contact them,” Plutarch sighs.

“No, Haymitch.” Katniss crumbles, “he knew the whole time, he was taunting me! No, Haymitch-”

“No, no, we don’t know that.” Haymitch hushes her, because he has to be strong. He has to be steady, even with his world falling to pieces.

“Did I lose them all tonight? Did I lose them all?”

Haymitch pulls her into a hug. “Shhh,” he smooths down her dark waves, the same way he would his other daughters.

She holds fast, allowing him to comfort her. “Did I lose them?” The cry is muffled against his shoulder.

“Shh,” he sways them, gently.

“No, no.”

“Katniss,” Haymitch breathes, “listen to me. I need you to listen.”

She nods, unable to calm her erratic breathing.

“If Y/N died, I would feel it. I would feel it in my heart, if she was gone and I don’t. If she’s alive, Peeta is alive, Gale is alive. All we have to do is wait.”

————————————————————————

“Systems are back online.” The pilot informs them.

There’s nothing they can do. Communication with thirteen is shut down, no way to get through to Beetee. They’ll either shoot them out of the sky or they won’t. The only way out is through.

Y/N doesn’t mean to, but she holds her breath. Waiting until they clear Capitol airspace to resume a normal pattern.

Of the five other soldiers on this rescue mission, there is one medic. She begins tending Annie, Johanna and Peeta in turn. Starting IV fluids, as they are all dehydrated; unconscious from the gas.

Annie looks like herself, maybe a bit gaunt, but recognizable. Peeta is thin, so thin and covered in bruises. Johanna’s head has been shaved, cheeks hollow and ribs showing. Y/N tosses off her helmet, running both hands over her face.

“Soldier.” Boggs puts a hand to her shoulder. “You did good. We accomplished our goal. Now we can all go home.”

Y/N nods, blinking away tears.

“Take a breather, there’s a separate compartment through there,” he motions to the rear doors. “He’ll need you when he comes to.”

Peeta does not wake for some time, beginning to struggle at his bindings. No, he realizes, it’s not a binding that holds him. It’s a hand. Just one wrapped loosely around his.

It feels familiar, soft. Someone he knew once, it smells of artificial air. She is warm, the space around her is warm, gentle and kind. A second hand strokes his hair, the way he once wished his mother would.

His eyelids begin to flutter open, daring to reveal that he is conscious. If he’s wrong…if it’s not her and they’ve tricked him again, it will be his own fault.

“Peeta,” Y/N says, staring down at him.

He blinks up at her, in the too bright light. His breathing heavy as she tries to move away, to give him space, but he holds her. Squeezing her fingers.

“Peeta, do you know who I am?”

His throat is sore, voice hoarse, from screaming. “Y-yes.”

“Good,” Y/N smiles.

“Where am I?”

“We’re in a hovercraft, on the way to district thirteen.”

Peeta studies her face. There was something…something is missing, something’s wrong. “What happened to the baby?”

“She’s fine.” Y/N assures him. “Keeping her siblings and Haymitch company.”

“You’re all ok?”

Y/N nods, “yeah, honey, we’re all ok. Now we focus on getting you healthy. Ok?”

He doesn’t flee from her touch, only the occasional flinch when he forgets where he is, until she reminds him that he is safe. “You came back for me.”

“Of course I did.”

Y/N leaves him briefly, with the doctors, upon arrival in thirteen. She needs to find Haymitch, tell him she’s ok. And she is running, searching, colliding into him, with such force that they are both sent off balance.

Down to the floor, the dirty, cold floor. But no place has ever felt better. To hold him, for him to hold her and inhale the scent at the crook of his neck.

“Never again.” He pleads, massaging the back of her scalp, like he does when she’s falling asleep. “Never do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, Haymitch.” She nuzzles the delicate skin of his throat.

“Don’t make me live in a world where you don’t exist.”

‘All I know is that I cannot die.’

Part 20

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch x y/n #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x yn #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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pascalsbby · 9 months

Text

The Devil & His Brother

Joel x Tommy x You

Prologue / Part I : 6.4K / Part II

Summary: The Devil was begging you to forgive him, and you wanted to. You wanted to bring your palms together and whisper his name through the cracks, hoping he would hear your silent prayer. “Let me stay here, with you.” He would get down on his knees and pray to your altar. He would bless it first, kiss it clean, before he would send two fingers to spread open your love.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, eventual smut. enemies to lovers, slow-burn, angst/comfort/sex, age gap, power imbalance, possessive tendencies, drugs/pills/alcohol, major daddy issues (that’s why you need BOTH miller brother’s instead of 1). talk of death, shit-talking god & the devil himself.

This was a labor of love, please comment, reblog, & let me know what you think <3

I will take a crowbar and pry out the broken pieces of God in me.

- Anne Carson

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

Your soul was given to another man before you had even yearned for the rage to scratch it back yourself- have a choice in the matter of your own eternity. Two eyes looking down upon you, gazing into the depth of your skull. Where the fuck was he, when his children were screaming on their knees for his forgiveness, for whatever they had done to deserve this?

You couldn’t remember your own baptism- despite seeing countless bodies pushed underwater, coming back anew. Later in life, not coming back up at all. Drowning sinfully sin-less. You were thankful now, that the hard stuff was done when you weren’t old enough to know it- or deny it. You wouldn’t have washed yourself clean for him, drown for him, now.

You were angry at him- you had every right to be. You were utterly alone in a world that was trying to devour you whole by sinking one tooth into any part of your tender flesh. Your eternal soul was saved (given) to a hand in the sky before you even knew what a God was, what he was capable of, what he would allow, and you had suffered for it during life. But now, when it mattered most, you didn’t have to do a goddamn thing but lay here and die. Yet he wasn’t doing his part. What a fucking surprise.

He never came like all the people said he would, like the Bible said. There was no reckoning. Even he was too scared of what he created.

“I ain’t no God, sweetheart.” The sound reverberated through his throat in a sickly Southern accent. He might as well have been. His thick arms were the ones holding you, warming you against the soft flannel. You haven’t been touched by another human in a long time, and the veins running through his arms were suddenly whispering love stories into your own running blood. His hands were so big.

They refused your pleas. “Please, if you don’t do it just hand me the gun.” Always met with a thickly harsh, “don’t think so,” from the one who shot you. The younger one is somehow quieter than the first. You had been full of anger for years, but it didn't seem as heavy as it normally would, despite barking, “You already tried once and failed, let me do it myself then.” He looked at you, surprised that you wasted your breath in such a manner, it had barely come out of the back of your throat to begin with. He huffed a laugh as he turned his head back to his brother before looking straight into the dark night again, focusing on something that wasn't even there. Focusing on anything that wasn’t you.

You were used to men not following through. Your father was the ‘savior’ (born-again post-outbreak pastor)(liar) of a small group, all now a couple of feet underground, frozen in the decomposing water of themselves- and whoever was lucky enough to be thrown in the dug-up hole on top of them. Baptized over and over as the ground warmed in the spring and froze again in the winter. Perpetually drowning until they become what they were trying to escape all along- food for the earth to devour.

We didn’t burn them, because that would have given us away, invited anyone near to pluck the last of us out, but fire would have been easier. But we don’t do easy, not here. We gather whoever is responsible for your already rotting body and make them throw you into the ground, all in the name of God. You had written a lot into your leather-bound notebook, at first not wanting to fill the pages, because once the paper was gone, there was nowhere else to rip the thoughts out of your head, let them bleed through the pages. You read that specific entry over and over, having memorized it by now, making crinkles in the dusty pages from how many times you turned back to it and prayed to a God that wasn’t there to save them- you.

He was never planning on it.

Your journal was the same color as the Devil’s eyes, darkened honey-brown, alive. You didn’t have many places to look whenever you did have enough spite in you to open your own, body swaying from side to side on a horse that wasn’t yours, in a man's lap that you didn’t know. He looked pretty, even from below, even more so leaning his chin downwards towards your face and gazing up your body. I guess anything safe looks heavenly amidst fire.

Why would they do that? Kill you and then take you along for the ride. They hadn't spoken much for however many days you had been dying, watching as the sun kissed the sky goodnight and welcomed the moon, at least three times. Maybe you were bait for something even bigger- a young woman goes a long way these days. Always has, really.

You had always harbored a deep fear of death. It wasn't exactly the physical suffering that frightened you, but rather the haunting notion of losing loved ones. The consequences of deviating from the life path thrown on you by your parents. There was always this looming presence of the ‘evil’. The Devil… Lucifer, Satan, whatever moniker you choose. In the narrative your parents scripted for you, he was cast as the villain. It was all too funny now, his thighs warming your skin, setting you ablaze.

Lucifer was a beautiful, Southern gentleman- one who spoke quickly and stern. And God sat right next to him, mouth shut, waiting for command. You were so tired of following orders from men but suddenly it’s as if you’ve known all along that his gaze would be the one you melted under. Sludge. Burning flesh. Maybe there was no God. Sure, the other man who sat next to him looked like one, but so does this one. He was an idea, the fear instilled in you, your parents' guilt. But you knew evil more than you knew true good, and the Devil was below you, only cementing that truth further. He was keeping you right here, draped across his lap, and despite your dying, he still caught glimpses of your naked flesh. And you didn’t know if it was eyes burning into you, or the gunshot wound he had so nicely gifted you. You almost wanted to thank him, if that’s what it took for him to wrap himself around you.

Romans 6:4 hung on a carved board in your parent's room after the first wave of death. After your father decided that the group needed someone to lead them, and that your mother wasn’t it, she sat back happily and carved words into worn wood. You had felt safe there, sixteen and under the guise of whatever your parents told you. Young, naive, pure.

‘We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. We’re now dead to the power of sin. Being raised from the water.’ It later hung in the main room of a run-down grocery store turned Church. The church itself was down the street, the rotten door holding in rotten bodies from whoever had come before. Maybe they had sat and awaited the way you all did at first, waiting for their savior. He never rang the doorbell, never knocked. He had just walked right on by, whistling his hymns and being grateful he was above it all.

A new life? If Jesus died for our sins, wouldn’t he be upset with you right now? Laying on your… death horse…. And still not bruising your knees for him? Why can’t he be angry enough to let you slip out of line and take the easier way? I guess suffering wasn’t his go-to, at least outwardly. Fear was more his thing, and fear would eat you alive and cement your veins before true sin ever could. Guilt is what gnaws at your ankles, whispering poetry into your hair. Fear had passed. Anger had too, momentarily. Rage was a common home.

He should have taken you by now, held your hand and kissed your forehead goodnight. But you knew that he wasn’t coming. He never came for your parents either, nor your brother. You waited each time by their bodies, but he never called, never even picked up the goddamn phone.

He promised resurrection to people who needed something to hang on to. Promises made to be broken. God was more comfortable than death. You repeated it over and over as a prayer to those who had lost someone. We all have. Your dads own voice booming through the quiet. Now, you are losing yourself.

But really, there was no more you, not really. Maybe the horse knew too, bucked you off, and laughed as you felt the thud of the ground under your shoulder blades, because suddenly there was no air left in the entire dwindling world. The snow that was kicked up into your face from the weight of your body wasn’t melting as it would have before. You were cold. There was no world. There was just endless pain before a bout of relief. Not even enough to fill your lungs in one breath in or out. Even the horse knew you were dead weight. Every animal fighting for its survival. That’s why you were shot, too.

You scared the Devil and he took it upon himself to punish you.

At least that’s what you convince yourself as you lay dying on the cold, unforgiving ground, the weight of your pain bore down on your frail body- words trying to come out in shallow gasps. He wasn’t coming.

“Please,” you begged.

You heard shuffling, and then a shadow covered the setting moon above you. The all-to-familiar sound of his boots gaining on your still body. You could still smell him, had been able to this entire time you had been on his horse, in his lap. You could feel the pressure of his fingers rapidly squeezing your cheeks, feeling for blood flow, then the burning of his fingers on your neck, looking for signs of life amidst the dark night. Finally, he was touching you again. Maybe now he would kill you, too. His final gift.

“Fuck,” he hissed. That muttered obscenity made you feel more alive. “Get the fuckin’ horse away from her Tommy.” You heard the reins of the animal you were sat upon being pulled, and the hooves cascading further into the night. He returned to you, the coolness of his rings stung against your face, the cool air keeping them cold despite the warmth of his body. The bullseye tattoo, the only indication of who was touching you besides his smell. You had seen it multiple times throughout the rising and falling of the sun. It had cupped your body against his. He holds your face, as he leans into you, bullseye sitting right beneath your chin.

Throw a dart and it would hit you right in the throat- where you wanted him. Where you wanted him to breathe life into you again.

“Please. Help me go home.” Home hasn’t existed in years. You’d been unconscious for days.

“Shhh. No point in talkin' baby. Hurts too much. We’re goin’ home.” You looked up at him and despite the hardness of his exterior, you saw the understanding in his eyes. Just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared back into his skull.

Almost how a lighter ignites, flickers, warms, almost unbearable but not quite. The wind blows the fire to your fingers, stings, then disappears. As did his burning gaze. The feeling of putting out a cigarette as it shoves its last bit of self out into the world, smoke followed by nothing, simultaneously.

That was him, you would come to find out, as his silhouette and his own warmth flees from your touch. As the brown from his eyes turns to black as your own close. He sighs.

The snow crunches under his weight as he assesses how to pick you back up.

“And you ain’t goin’ anywhere but where I take you. Got it?” A half-attempted nod before a sigh of pain.

You didn’t know where you were going- why, you were still alive… or whatever this in-between was. All you know is that you prayed to the Devil. And he answered.

He was the only one who ever answered.

The return to Jackson was painful, the remnants of a long-ago shattered world marred the landscape. As they neared home, the journey became colder, perhaps another reason why it remained a well-hidden place- not many people made it there alive. Joel and Tommy, ever vigilant, guided the two horses with unwavering resolve, constantly scanning the horizon for any indications of danger. Meanwhile, they carried the injured girl, whose body was only partially present after being thrown from the horse three days ago, blankets thrown atop. It had been five days since she was shot. Since Joel shot her.

The way you looked up at him every once in a while was breathtaking- it was too much of a painful reminder that he’d lost (or will lose) everything he’s ever cared about. He could see it in your eyes, the confusion of who and where you were. Watching life move through someone's body and out of their eyes used to be a victorious occasion. It meant he succeeded, that he was still alive regardless of the mangled bodies he left behind. But this felt different to him. You were so godamn young and he plays the scream ripping through your throat over and over an- he swears he didn’t pull the trigger. Joel's gruff voice broke through the haze of silence that had fallen upon them days ago and never left. He broke through his own circling thoughts. As he spoke to Tommy a mixture of concern and guilt for your being broke through, he felt it in his throat, his chest. He didn't want to be responsible for this death, but he sure as hell didn’t want to know you either. Because knowing someone only meant more pain.

“We've been carryin’ her for days, Tommy. How much longer can she hold on like this? No point in bringin’ a dead girl home.”

Denial was a motherfucker, wasn’t it?

Joel knew of death- he didn’t believe in shit besides such. He used to be a God-fearing man but knew if he ever had the chance to stand in front of him he’d rip him in two and gnaw on the pieces of his holiness.

Tommy knew of death too, even before the outbreak, but the difference was that he also believed in life. He knew exactly why Joel had that scar, even though they’d never talked about it. It was a quiet understanding, one he never pushed or even poked and prodded.

Tommy's response was laced with a fear, for what Joel had done, but empathy for what he knows he sees every single time he looks down upon you. "We're almost there, Joel. She's tough, you know that. She should have died from that wound but she’s still breathin’, that counts f’something. We'll get her to Jackson, n’ she'll have a chance." He kept looking into his brother's eyes before pulling away and looking ahead into the blinding white. If he said what he really wanted, he wouldn’t stop. “You fuckin’ shot her but now you want to save her? Make up your fuckin’ mind.” The least he could do is help him save someone, even if it’s just for Joel’s sake, especially after he couldn't save Sarah. ‘Least he could do is keep his mouth shut.

Joel was the last person he had- the only person. Ellie didn’t even love him like she loved Joel. It’s always the broken, harsh ones that receive the most attention. People spend so much time trying to put broken people back together that they don’t realize the others are teetering with one foot over the edge.

They’d gone outside the walls because funny enough, they thought it would be more safe this time of year, the dead of winter. Ellie had begged for months for the boys to take her out with them and show her this and that. She was getting homesick for a place she never truly loved. She was tired of sitting still inside walls of safety when everyone she had ever loved was buried outside of them. Tess came along too, providing an extra line of safety, ‘just in case’.

Tommy remembers Joel whispering, “There's somethin’ coming.” More so someone, you. A moment later, a gunshot, a thudding body. Joel was normally calm on the trigger, rifle in hand, looking down the barrel of the gun, aimed at his prey. But Ellie was there, Tommy, and Tess. His people. There was no time to fuck around, so he didn’t. Tommy understood. But that didn’t make it right in his head. His brother was never patient in the moments that mattered the most.

One evening, about ten hours from wherever the fuck they were taking you, the sun began to set, setting ablaze a warm glow over the frozen landscape. You had been awake, more so than the past couple of days, looking up at the moving clouds in the sky, watching as his chest moved and released more air into the sky, breathing visible and dancing in the cold. The horse beneath you abruptly stopped and the two men descended their spots atop of them, stretching their legs and gaining more control of their tired bodies.

“You’re awake,” the younger one let out, moving his focus from the soft mumbles he was giving to the other man. “‘Bout time we clean your wound again, see how it’s doing.” You let out a faint, “mm” and attempted to sit up. “No. We’ll get ya off the horse. Be still,” the other said. The Devil grabbed the water and reached up to you, his fingers moved across your face as he gathered your wandering hair and moved it away from your lips. He turned the canister upwards, slowly, letting you drink from it. “Thank you,” you managed. It was the first time he heard your voice not mangled with absolute fear. He stared, eyes roaming the silence, looking ever-so surprised that you had said anything at all, and so clearly at that.

The angel moved closer and reached out his hand, thinking now was a good time to introduce himself to you. “Tommy, Miller. This is my brother, Joel.” he looked toward him. Joel forced an upside-down grin and nodded his head toward you. “You…” pointing towards the one called Joel, “you shot me.” Silence followed, it was heavy, thick. “I didn- Thought you were dangerous, came around that corner too fast.”

“I wasn’t even armed, I-“

“Don’t wanna talk bout’ it.” he huffed, almost angrily. You opened your mouth again, wanting to rattle off one of three hundred questions that you had, but he looked you over once more, and then turned around and walked off. Tommy, with gentle hands, tenderly lifted your body off of the saddle and carried you towards the fire Joel was nursing. The crackling of a campfire and the scent of cooked food filled the air as they set to work, tending to your wounds with diligence that spoke to Tommy's belief that you would be okay (You had to be. He couldn’t fail Joel again. Couldn’t watch as his face fell with the realization that you were completely dead).

His fingers were deft as he cleaned your wounds, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He saw the goosebumps rise, and felt them, as the fire lit your skin. You caught glimpses of concern in his eyes, a silent reassurance that he was determined to see you through this. Joel's presence was a constant anchor, as he spoke into the fire, keeping it lit. They laid out blankets, far too many for just two people to be carrying alone, and sat you atop and below them.

The rest of the night had been filled with your echoing screams, Joel’s palm across your mouth, “Stop screamin’ or someone is gonna find us.” Sure, stop screaming while dirty, whiskey-cleaned fingers are prodding at your open wound. Not even a sorry moved past his lips.

Joel laid down on one side of you, Tommy on the other. “M’ sorry,” he whispered towards you. They both smelled of sweat and whiskey. Their chests rolled and fell at different times, Joel murmuring in his sleep once he finally stopped looking around the parameter. You could tell they were brothers.

It was night when the three of you arrived ‘home’. You heard a young girl's voice above the gathering crowd.

“Joel!” She parted the gathering crowd as the patter of quickening footsteps approached. His head whipped quickly, finding her immediately.

“What the fuck?”

“Ellie,” he warned.

“You can’t fucking do that Joel, I thought you…We made it home three days ago. Tess dragged me by my hair but I-”

“Good,” he huffed back, “Where is she?” Ellie blustered but gave up arguing.

Multiple men gathered around and took the blankets off your body, the air hissing through your torn clothes. You whimpered as they moved your body off of Joel’s horse. He didn’t say anything to you, instead he turned and followed Ellie out of the crowd, carrying the reins with him.

You were carefully carried to a bigger two-story home on the outskirts of the city. As the night turned towards the morning sun, you found yourself gaining strength. The length of the night had been blurry, chattering voices and hands, everywhere. Needles, bliss, whispers. Stripping you from the blood-ridden clothes and water pouring over your lips. Fingers, hands touching you, always caught in a delicate dance between stoic tenderness and warmth

‘Gonna be jus’ fine, baby.” Tommy had assured you, multiple times.

Suddenly it had been a week. They took turns caring for you, someone sleeping in the same room as you at all times in case you needed something. Always talking about “patrol shifts” and how Tommy was expected to be a leader of some sort. You had overheard a lot of conversations booming through the thin walls of the house. One hurting more than the others.

“Shouldn’t have fuckin’ brought her here in the first place. You know the whole town is gossipin’ about it right now. The Miller brothers bringing in another mouth to feed.”

“Stop it. Sh’can hear you Joel. You know that’s not how anyone thinks of it. She could help this place. Give her a chance.”

“She’s been practically fuckin’ unconscious for a week now, Tommy. You think she’s just gonna get right up n’ run the town?”

“Why did you take her in if you don’t even want to be responsible for her survival?” Tommy threw back at him. He regretted saying it immediately, watching as it hit Joel in the face before he closed his eyes and looked away. Joel was more so there to watch you and make sure you didn’t bleed into his wooden floor, while Tommy tried to provide as much comfort as possible. After realizing that this was Joel’s home, it made sense in what little you knew about him. There were few things on the wall, but there were remnants of him everywhere.

Ellie would come home and sit with you, read to you and then tuck you in after Joel carried you up the stairs and into his bed. You missed Tommy’s gentleness when it wasn’t there, but you missed the warmth from Joel's body, his lap, when he wasn’t there. His breathing, his nervous habit of cracking his fingers. Even though you could tell that every nerve ending in his body wanted you anywhere else but wherever he was- there was still a silent curiosity.

About a week and a half after your arrival, someone knocked on the front door of the tattered house and Joel called for Tommy up the stairs. He walked down them quickly, walking out of the front door with Joel.

He returned a few minutes later, looking at you sitting in the seat you hadn’t left in since you’d been there. He gave you a look, slowly looking towards the ground as he spoke up so you could hear him. “Gotta go for a couple of days. Heard there’s a group who probably followed us close to here, saw their smoke, gonna take care of them before they can make it any further.” You hadn’t spoken much, if at all, the past couple of days. You didn’t think you would make it this far, and now you were sitting with two strangers and a teenager in their house, rotting away. They had poked and prodded, trying to get any information out of you that they could, but you didn’t give in.

You stared out the window and answered meekly whenever spoken to, if at all. You should be ecstatic at the thought of finally being housed somewhere ‘safe’, somewhere with electricity and running water. Somewhere where they gathered the children and let them watch movies in the mess hall (all information coming from Tommy, telling you stories as he changed your bandages)- but you weren’t. You felt like you were still teetering on the edge of death. You felt like a burden to Joel.

You didn’t answer Tommy, just nodded. He packed up a few things and promised to ‘be back in no time, then maybe you can tell me your name.’ And then he was gone out of the termite-ridden front door.

You had fallen asleep, and awoken to Joel in another room somewhere, those same goddamn boots thudding against the creaking wooden floors. His presence was constant, every once in a while getting up from a creaking chair to come look at you. You slept, mostly. Ate the dinner he got from the dining hall. Your rage had returned. But baring your teeth in anger took energy you didn’t have.

Joel couldn’t look at you without feeling like he was looking straight through the blood and guts of you(r)(side). Tommy wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone about it before he left. How pretty you were, how there ‘weren’t many pretty faces left n’ you’re tryin’ to kill one?’ He watched as Tommy cooked you with his stare, warming his next meal only to put on his best-dressed suit and bail on the date before he could even pick up the tab. He was glad he was gone for a while, letting him forget about the fact that he had put the bullet in you. He loved his brother, but he knew his games. He knew his inability to stay.

Joel had nursed you back to… alive. At least. He hadn’t really thought about what that entailed after you were stable. He was surprised you were still breathing. He didn’t think about the feeding, changing, and bathing of you. Of hands touching flesh and natural bodily reactions to such.

You could tell he was the older brother. He held the normal stereotypes, sternly telling you what to do. The older one was always more serious, and stoic. The younger, who probably got away with more, but was the loneliest from eyes diverting. But his big brother was always there, begrudgingly present. And he was in this instance too.

Tommy had washed you multiple times before he left, but never your hair or the rest of you. He was more concerned that your stitches didn’t get infected.

Joel probably thought giving you a rag bath was wasting water, but did it anyway, probably tired of your stench in his bed. It’s cold until he heats the towel after noticing you shiver. “Let me draw you an actual bath. Think you can take one now.” He was softer at that moment, more gently with the way he wiped the towel across your chest. Those moments happened least expectedly. But when they did happen, it hurt even deeper. You felt something for him. And that just wouldn’t do. Rather it be lust, loneliness, or your raging fucking daddy issues.

Tommy likes the water cold, and Joel likes it burning to the skin. Of course, he does. He is all or nothing. Hot or cold. Soft or hard. He’s solitude but brings the same warmth of a front door opening to a sea of snow, chimney warm, lights warmer, hot chocolate, and bourbon- he is. In any other world but this one, he would probably be a good man; one to settle down with. One to hold you against himself, despite of raging night.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

a/n: Phew do I have plans for these three…

taglist: @worhols @sarap-77 @mishasminion360 @justagalwhowrites @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @romanarose @milla-frenchy @bandluvr97 @alwaysdjarin @basicoccult @hellfyreroz @northernbluess-blog @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pr0ximamidnight @bambydxll @morgaussy @n7cje @theywhowriteandknowthings @gracie7209 @pedritoferg @twirl731 @med494 @k-ra @gintheginger @obscurexsorrows @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @ours-is-a-strange-fate @megangovier20 @rayslittlekitten @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrotonin @bluetattoos @sscorpiiio

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marauders-peace · 7 months

Text

Dating?

Summary: "You know, who has you as friend doesn't need any enemies."

Pairing: Sirius black x hufflepuff!reader

Warnings: past toxic friendship, past toxic relationship (not with the reader), insecurities, self conscious , fake dating, This takes place after the game. In the next part I will write what happened before this. Wc: 0.9k(this is short i am sorry 😭

Masterlist

Prologue - - - Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

The atmosphere in the room was calm. After everything that had already happened today, I was incredibly excited about what Sirius wanted to show me. Maybe, just maybe, he actually liked me after all.

"Whisky, how are you?"

The voice was eerily calm, almost serene. Her eyes didn't look at me the way they used to. They didn't scrutinize me anymore. She stood before me with a drink in her hand, which she probably had to get for herself for the first time.

"I'm doing well, Seraph."

She smiled. Her face was relaxed, and it was actually quite nice. But I could see that it didn't reach her eyes. That's how she looked at the teachers when she had to talk her way out of something.

"I believe you. I'm still quite amazed by you, I admit it." She chuckled softly.

"I never expected that from you."

It was almost as if I heard Sirius' voice. As if I heard him saying to me as he did earlier today: Don't listen to them.

Why couldn't I just do that?

"What do you mean?"

The smile that followed sent a cold shiver down my spine.

"Your little charade with Sirius."

Now, everything was over.

~~~

"Hey are you ready to be blown away?!" Sirius smile was shining brightly but I couldn't look him in the eyes. It was to much. I almost forgot... How this overwhelming guilt felt.

His hand reached out for mine but it all felt so wrong... So played.

"Sirius-"

"I promise you, you will absolutely love it! My friends helped me, even though Remus was complaining... But it was all worth it!"

I regretted every single decision I made, as I saw his smile fell as i pulled my hand away.

The silence was overwhelming and the pressure his gaze held unbearable. He took a step back and only then I realized how close he was before.

"Is... Something wrong?"

I couldn't quite place the feeling I was feeling. Guilt could try to describe it but it was much worse.

"I.. Was just thinking and I thought that maybe..."

He almost took a step to come closer but he kept his distance as he watched me stutter.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"What?! No, no you didn't do anything wrong! I was just thinking that maybe we should stop with this fake dating stuff..."

Silence.

I heard the little screams from the party. I heard the exciting bubbling of the lake. I heard the drunk singing from the common room.

And still.

It was still so damn quiet.

Why aren't you saying anything? Why are you just standing there? Why do you keep this distance to me? Why-

"What did this snake say to you?"

His voice was sharp nothing compared to his excited voice before.

"What-?"

Now he took a step towards me and for the first time of this whole act, of this week he was intimidating.

"What in the GODDAMM HELL did she say to you this time?! Did she say of how bad of a boyfriend I was? Did she talk about the times I didn't give her my full attention? Did she talk about how all of this is just an act for me to make her jealous?"

"I- what are you saying?"

He held me in my place and almost stared me down.

"Y/n, be honest with me, okay?"

I couldn't say no to those eyes. I nodded slowly almost frightened if I didn't.

"Seraph talked to you, didn't she?"

You're a horrible liar, you know?

"Why do you think that?"

He chuckled and his grip became more stiff. Why was this so scary? Why was he so scary?

"Do you think I am dumb?" Sirius eyes were cold. They reminded me of the evening my hair lost it's natural color. How he stared seraph down.

"I know the girl I dated. She wasn't just your friend, you know, I was in a RELATIONSHIP with this little devil!" He was almost forcing me to look at him.

"I know her smile when she wants something from me. I know the face she makes when she isn't satisfied with the people around her. And I know how she thinks she is in power of everyone. She likes to mess with others especially for revenge."

"But that's not-"

"And I know the girl I am dating right now."

Dating?

"Do you really think I don't know you? I know how you act when you want something but you are scared to ask. I know when you think you don't deserve to be with anyone around you. And I know how you shut everything down, when you are with seraph.

I have seen that for YEARS. "

"Sirius, you know me for like a week! You don't know..."

"I HAVE KNOWN YOU FOR YEARS, GODDAMMIT!"

I didn't know what to say so I just shut my mouth. His grip on my loosened. He laughed bitterly.

"Do you really think I never remembered you beside Seraph? We talked lots of times, hell we even had to work in a transformation project together!"

"I didn't think you would..." Remember that.

"Tell me, darling..."

He let me go and looked me in my eyes. And I saw something glittering in those eyes.

"Why do you believe her words more than my actions?"

She didn't even see the pile of roses that were hiding behind the boy with the black hair.

Taglist: @theofficialmadman@fanboyluvr@fjdjsiskcjfj@starsval@olkathedestroyer@helloitsmeeeeeee@xamapolax@maripositanoctruna@ancientimes@cloudlst@marina468@regulus-black-223048@loving-and-dreaming@tarzanathetumblingwarrior

#marauders era #marauders #the marauders #dead gay wizards #harry potter #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black angst #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black fic #toxic friends

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ash5monster01 · 4 months

Text

Goes On Prologue

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

Word Count: 1.6k

→ One

Masterlist

Ridge Academy, NY

1/3/60

The craziest part for Charlie was that standing outside this new building it felt the same. He knew it shouldn’t since Welton was the only school he had ever attended his whole life. Yet standing here, looking at the walls and hearing the chatter of students from the dorm floor, he was saddened because it felt the same. It didn’t matter that it didn’t look the same, held different students, different teachers, different experiences. It was a sad reminder that every preparatory school was the same. That this one would be no different with its insane amount of school work and harsh teachers. It would be another constant reminder that creativity was wrong, creativity didn’t keep jobs.

The only hope Charlie had left about a new school being good for him had been crushed. Here in front of him was just another mindless building full of prisoners beat into not becoming free thinkers. If you made it out with your spirit still alive you were lucky. One of the few survivors not tainted by the ugliness of the cruel world. Charlie wished he was one of those survivors but instead he had been beaten by the system worse than them all and in the end still had a whole year and half left of their torture.

“Well son, what do you think?” Charlie took a moment to respond to his father, hands clenching over the handles of his suitcases. After all he wasn’t sure how to respond. Over Holiday break he had been punished enough for his behavior and beat back into remembering he had no right to indulge in the good things in life.

“I think it’s another school, no different than the last” he finally responded, refusing to look his father in the eye and see the smug look he wore. Charlie didn’t need another reminder that he was to listen to the man and do as he was told. If all went well they’ll have turned him into an obedient money making machine by the time he was done.

“Well it better be different than the last. We can’t afford another incident like last time. If you’re to get into an ivy league school you will do your best here” his father responded with a harsh and cold tone, no longer in the mood to deal with his attitude.

“The chances of me getting into an ivy league after expulsion are low” Charlie muttered as he stepped through the doors to the boys dorms. He had been provided a tour of campus over the break to avoid any mixups. He hated that he already knew the school, it gave his father something to hold against him.

“Well if you had just signed that paper maybe you wouldn’t be in this predicament” his father dropped the suitcases he held, them clambering to the floor outside his new dorm room. Charlie watched as his mother jumped slightly, learning over break to let the arguments take their course.

“I already told you signing that paper would’ve made me a liar and I’m many things Dad, but dishonest isn’t one of them” Charlie bit back, tired of defending his honor. If he could put his whole foot down Cameron’s throat he would. Same for Neil’s father. If he was being honest, if he had a do over he still would’ve never signed that paper, and definitely still would’ve hit Cameron.

“I’m not having this argument again. Just try to keep your nose clean while you’re here. I’m tired of having a disappointment for a son” Mr. Dalton turned on his heel and down the hallway. Charlie wasn’t given the chance to say goodbye, his father’s words being final. So all he could do was watch him walk away and be thankful he won’t have to see him in person for another few months. His mother who never usually had an opportunity to speak stepped forward, hoping to leave her son with a better good bye.

“Give him time dear. He just wants what’s best for you” she smiled, reaching up to hold his cheeks. Charlie had been taller than her since puberty and seeing your baby grow bigger than you made you feel like you could no longer protect him from the world. That was proven true when he lost his best friend at seventeen and there was nothing she could do to cure his heartbreak. Death so young can change a person.

“Well leaving that fraud school is a step in the right direction” Charlie sneered but his heart clenched as he thought of his friends. Welton may have been hell but it was also the same place him and Neil would run the halls when they were 12 and it was the same place he spent some of his last moments with him.

“Well prove that to him, you’re strong my boy. I believe in you” she smiled and Charlie sighed as he set the suitcases he held down and wrapped his arms around his mother. After all he was still just seventeen and the safest place in the world would always be her arms.

“I love you Mom. Thanks for dropping me off” Charlie told her after a beat and Mrs. Dalton smiled, proud from knowing she had a well mannered boy. She knew her husband was proud too but two strong willed men were designed to clash against one another.

“I love you too baby. Be good, I’d prefer to not know your Dean by name for at least a month” Charlie chuckled as she let him go, leaving a soft kiss on the side of his head.

“I’ll try” he told her and she smiled before sending him a wink and rushing off to find her husband who more than likely had the car started and facing the direction of the exit. Charlie took a few moments to collect himself and his thoughts before facing his dorm door and giving it a knock.

“Come in” a muffled voice came through the door and Charlie quickly turned the handle as he pushed it open.

“Hey, I’m your new roommate Charlie” he reached a hand out, the boy sitting leisurely on his bed with a book in his hands. Over the winter break Charlie had tried to picture what his roommate would look like, a face that matched the personal items left behind in the room. He wasn’t too far off, a bit taller than expected but shaggy brown hair and green eyes matched what Charlie had pictured.

“Oh yeah, nice to meet you. I’m Nathan” the boy adjusted so he could give his hand a firm shake. A soft smile on his face. Charlie realized quickly he was kind.

“I apologize if this is weird. I know it’s not normal to get roommates halfway through the year” Charlie was never the type to roll over for someone else but in just the past month the entire world rolled over him and he didn’t have a lot of fight left in him.

“No it’s fine. Might be nice to have a roommate for once. My parents always thought it would interrupt with my studies but they can’t have any say when there is no more rooms left for the new student” Nate told him because it sucked knowing some people got to share a room with their best friend and got to know each other on a deeper level when he was used to spending his nights alone.

“Well I’ll try my best at being a good one then” Charlie said as he brought his suitcases in and shut the door. He never cared about being a decent roommate especially when his roommate was Cameron but now he just wanted some peace.

“You transferred from Welton right?” Nate asked as Charlie started to unpack. He hated how used he was to the feeling of moving into these small shared rooms. He hated even more his room mate already knew this about him.

“Yeah” Charlie muttered back, not in much mood to discuss the school. It was still on the fence how he felt about it when he looked back on life. It being the only place he felt he belonged and hated all at the same time.

“Man that’s so cool. I always wanted to go but my parents just couldn’t afford it. That school is for the best of the best” Nate looked at him eagerly, amazed to know he was now sharing a room with someone who knew exactly what it was like.

“And by best of the best you mean boys who are trained into mindless working men” Charlie snipped unintentionally and Nate sensed the tension as the hateful words rolled off Charlie’s tongue and he eased his excitement back. After all you didn’t leave a school like that for any old reason.

“Well I hope Ridge is a better fit for you” Nate muttered, understanding the boy more than likely just needed to be alone with his thoughts. He had already heard a muffled argument through the door. Charlie sighed as his fingertips brushed against the cool edge of the frame in his suitcase. Pulling it free he couldn’t quite find an emotion to place with it as he stared at the faces of him and his friends sitting on a rock outside of the cave. His finger covered Neil’s face that sat just above his own and he sighed. Tomorrow he would start classes for the first time without his best friend. He never thought there’d be a day.

“Yeah, me too”

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maes-flowers · 1 year

Text

For them, For us [6] (Obi-wan x Reader)

Summary: Following the Kenobi series, two former Jedi masters Obi-wan Kenobi and Y/n Marilla are grieving the lost of Anakin, Padme, and the jedi purge. After pledging to watch over Luke Skywalker and spending ten years in exile and making a life together, what will happen when the mistakes they made in their past come back as a new threat?

Warnings: Canon typical violence but that should be it

Authors note: IM ALIVE AND BACK BITCHES ive been working on this on and off for the last few months that its gotten way longer than i was planning and I still have 14 pages that I spilt off from this for the final part and maybe a epilogue as well but I've missed this series so much and if you enjoyed this very overdue update please let me know down below!

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

You and Obi-wan watched Leia comfort people with Lola as the explosions grew closer together, the small droid beeping happily at a little boy and his mother. She must've sensed your presence because she turned around and smiled as you waved her over.

Obi-wan kneeled on the ground as you stood behind him, when Leia walked over clutching Lola.

“They're scared.” she said, another explosion boomed outside. “She keeps their mind off of it.”

“Maybe I should borrow her too.” Obi-wan suggested.

Leia looked at him confused.

“Why?”

You sighed and placed a nervous hand on Obi-wan's shoulder.

“Leia, Ben and I…” you swallowed nervously, this was harder than you thought it would be, Leia watched you with big eyes as you sucked in a deep breath.

“We’re going to go after Vader, but you're going to stay here.”

Leia's eyes grew wide and she shook her head in protest.

“No! No way! You can’t just leave me here!” she shouted.

“We’re the ones Vader wants. If we go he will follow.” Obi-wan explained gently.

“No, I'm not letting you!”

“Leia, please.” you begged.

Everyone was looking now, worry and fear as they heard what the two of you were planning to do. The woman who Leia was talking to moments ago now stood up and looked at you and Obi-wan confused.

“Wait, what happened to all of us staying together?!”

Another explosion went off, making you run a frustrated hand over your face before you looked at her with an exasperated look.

“Roken needs more time to fix the ship, this will give him that time!” you sighed, clasping your hands together like you were begging. “You have spent ten years protecting the Jedi, this is our chance to return the favor.”

“But we're so close!” Roken argued.

“Roken, you know this plan makes sense!” you replied grimly.

“No, we need you!” Sully now chimed in.

“It’ll buy you the time you need! You must get these people out of here, you are all the future!” Obi-wan exclaimed looking down at Leia. “You are the future! You're what's needed to survive.”

Leia looked away from his piercing gaze, you could've sworn you saw her eyes watering with tears but before you could get a decent look at her she turned around and ran away.

“No!” she shouted and ran around the corner.

“Leia!” you went to go after her but Haja intercepted and placed his hands on your shoulders to stop you.

“She needs to be given space.” Haja suggested.

“You must promise us that you'll get her home, Haja.” Obi-wan begged. “As soon as we’re in the clear.”

Haja’s gaze flickered between yours and Obi-wan's faces, and it was the most serious you've ever seen the man in the short time you knew him.

“You have my word,” he promised. “Although, I know the words of a liar and a fake jedi may not mean much to you.”

“It means everything to us,” You placed a hand on his chest and you watched as Haja’s face softened at your words.

“Go get your things, I'll go talk to Leia.”

🖾

You were putting medical supplies in your bag when Roken walked in, holding something brown in his hands as he walked up to you and Obi-wan. There were no words spoken as he handed Obi-wan the object he was holding, once you could see the line of dashes you sniffled and gently ran your hands over the holster Tala had used in her final moments. The leather wasn't too damaged, just some scuff marks and scratches that could be repaired. You glanced up at Roken and mouthed a silent thank you, not wanting to break the moment of silence for the person you all lost. Roken pursed his lips in acknowledgment before he left the two of you alone.

Looking back down at the holster you sighed, you don't have a blaster anymore and quite frankly didn't like using one but you didn't want it to go to waste if you had brought it with you and ended up dying tonight if things went the worst way possible.

“Can you teach me how to shoot?” Leia's question to Tala coming back from the depths of your memory.

“I think we should go talk to Leia now.” you whispered looking up at Obi-wan

“I agree.”

It didn't take too long to find Leia, a perk for the smaller ship you were thankful for since there weren't many places for her to hide which led you to find her in a corner with Haja kneeling in front of her, whispering in her ear while Leia looked down at her lap. You grabbed Obi-wan's hand and placed Tala’s holester in it.

“I think you should give it to her.” Obi-wan looked slightly surprised but he clutched it tight in his hand, a silent gesture that showed you he was thankful for the opportunity. Haja heard you talking and said one more thing before he stood up and left the three of you alone.

“Thank you Haja.” you said gratefully as he walked out.

You and Obi-wan walked slowly to Leia, who stubbornly kept her gaze on the floor as she refused to even look at the both of you.

“You said you'd take me home.” she said, bitterly.

“I wish that we could, Leia.” Obi-wan said regretfully. “Really I do.”

Obi-wan thought for a moment before he spoke again.

“Please tell your father we tried.”

Obi-wan kneeled on the ground and held out Talas' holster, handing it to Leia. she ran her small hands over the material slowly.

“Roken found it before we got out, she would have wanted you to have it.”

“It's empty.” she observed and you held back the urge to laugh as Obi-wan rolled his eyes.

“Well, I wasn't gonna give you a blaster, Leia. you're ten years old.”

He sighed.

“But you won't always be.”

You kneeled down next to Obi-wan and put your hand on Leia's leg and squeezed it gently to grab her attention. When she finally looked up at you, and you ignored the slight sting behind your eyes as you stared at her. The reality of leaving her alone and this being possibly the last time you saw your niece crashing down at you at once. Your mouth opening and closing repeatedly trying to find the words to explain what you wanted to say to her but your mind came up short. You stopped trying to talk when she jumped down from where she was sitting and came to hug you, freezing for a moment before you melted into the touch and wrapping your arms around her small frame tightly, your cheek resting on the top of her head as you sighed.

You wanted to remember every feeling of this hug, just in case it was your last. After a few more moments you forced yourself to pull away from her strong grip, and kissed her forehead.

You watched bittersweetly as she jumped into Obi-wan's arms next, his arms wound tight around her just like you did moments ago and closed his eyes for a second. When she pulled away from him she looked at both of you with pleading eyes.

“Come back…Please.” she whispered.

You and Obi-wan hesitated, it was unfair of you to promise something like that when you were so unsure on how this was going to play out, you didn't want to give her false hope.

But you couldn't say no to her, no matter how hard you tried.

“I promise.” You and Obi-wan said together.

You prayed desperately you would be able to keep that promise.

🖾

You and Obi-wan split off from each other, going to one side of the medium sized hangar below the ship as Roken prepared the dropship. You wanted to meditate to clear your mind before you left while Obi-wan attempted to speak to Qui-jon.

Obi-wan was prepared to die if it came to it, giving his life to fix a wrong he had a part in to do what he could to fix a trail of death and destruction that has been carved in the large expanse of the galaxy over the last ten years. However, you were not prepared to lose Obi-wan or die at the hands of someone you knew long ago. No, not at all.

You were terrified.

You never questioned the Jedi when you were in the temple. the training, the robes, the almost dehumanizing set of rules in place that have been embroidered so deeply into you it could've been visible on your skin. You always believed you were the one that needed to change, the Jedi had this practice in place because they were good and if you messed up then you deserved punishment from the council themselves, and you as well as Obi-wan stood by as they broke Anakin down and manipulated him as they told him the same rhetoric they told you and Obi-wan and hundreds before you.

Flashes of memories came to mind as you stood in the hangar of the ship, chances to make a difference, to stand up for a kid who was claimed to be the chosen one but was never given any choices of his own. A basic human right stripped away in the name of protecting peace and bringing balance to the force.

Anakin, Obi-wan, as well as yourself lost a freedom you never got to experience due to the jedi order, and even when it crumbled to the ground like a pile of sand facing a gust of wind the reprecisions of the choices you've made and the jedi order played a direct hand into giving the galactic empire its power which led you hiding away for ten years as you were hunted down for something you didn't ask to be apart of. The fear of being found and the unhealed trauma you and Obi-wan experienced held you back from truly living for yourselves and for each other.

You wanted to live in peace with him. You wanted to love Obi-wan to the point he would feel suffocated in the best way possible, to kiss him, to hug him, to bicker, to give him a part of you no one else would receive and vice versa.

You wanted to heal.

And now that the chance to do any of those things were at stake and you were scared for what is going to come next, scared to face the result of many regrets.

“You okay?”

You turned around and saw Roken, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Nodding as you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes as if you could force the tears back into your tear ducts, clearing your throat you looked back at him.

“Yeah, I will be.” a lie filled with hope slipped out. “The dropship ready?”

Roken nodded.

“I'm about to let Obi-wan know, figured I'd grab you first.”

“Lead the way then.”

You followed Roken to the otherside of the hangar where Obi-wan was in silence, hoping once you saw him his presence would calm you down enough for you to be able to support Obi-wan in any way he needed.

He was sitting on a supply crate, holding his lightsaber in his hands as he inspected it with unease, Most likely trapped in his own thoughts just as you were moments ago.

“Are you ready?” Roken asked him as you walked over to him, your body gravitating to his side like an unknown force was pulling you. “The dropships ready.” Obi-wan stood up, clipping his lightsaber to his belt.

“You don't have to do this, you know.” Roken said, giving one more shot at convincing the two of you to stay. “We can still fix the drive!”

“I have to go.” Obi-wan said.

Roken shook his head and stared at him for a moment.

“It's not about us, is it?” he asked. “You want to do it, it's about you and him.”

A larger explosion shook the ship hard, making you grab Obi-wan's shoulder to balance, you looked at Roken with pleading eyes.

“Keep them safe.”

“Keep yourselves safe too.”

“Roken,” Obi-wan called out. “There are not many leaders left, but people follow you…don't stop.”

Roken smirked and shook his head.

“I'm just getting started.”

🖾

Obi-wan set a path to the nearest planet in the outer rim, not wanting to risk going back to Jabiim where the possibility of imperials were still there. Even now he expertly avoided the shots aimed at your ship, dogging and rolling with ease. You watched out the window as the large imperial ship stopped following Rokens transport.

“Entering the atmosphere.” Obi-wan said.

Your hands curled around the armrests of the co-pilot's chair as the ship rattled roughly as you approached the planet. The next minute of rough turbulence made you hold your breath before it smoothed out and you could make out the terrain of the planet below you. The sky held a dark bluish tint above you with murky gray clouds casted out making it darker than it already was, all around were pillars of rocks tall enough they reminded you of the tall buildings of Coruscant.

Obi-wan landed the ship in a small circle of clear land and powered down the ship, his fingers moving quickly across the control pad turning off the engine. You unbuckle your seatbelt and stand up and look over your shoulder at Obi-wan. He stood up and shrugged off his robe, a loud chirping noise came from his pocket as he pulled out the object and held it up to his face.

Lola beeped excitedly at him and you and Obi-wan looked up at each other and smiled, of course Leia would find a way to comfort you both even without her being present. Obi-wan handled the small droid with care and gently placed her on the dashboard, placed his robe on the pilot's chair, and took a calming breath and opened the door.

“Obi-wan.” you called out quickly, he turned to look at you with concern. “I love you.”

You watched his face soften and he reached his hand out and rested it on your cheek.

“I love you too, starlight.”

Nothing else had to be said, you will be happy if your final words to him were those.

A warm breeze hit your skin as the hatch door lowered, your eyes held a hard gaze at the tall rocks surrounding you as you focused your mind on the target of the soon to be fight and not your emotions. It didn’t matter if it was Anakin or Vader, only one side will make it off this planet tonight.

And you will fight until there is nothing left to ensure it was the two of you.

But you could still feel the anger, fear, and sorrow building inside of you. The control of your darkest emotions had lessened greatly since the fight on mapuzo and the fear of slipping even deeper scared you.

You weren't sure if you could stay in the light and fight Anakin at the same time.

Reaching for Obi-wan’s hand you gripped it tightly, the force of it making him look over at you in worry. He squeezed back with even more force than you did and for a moment everything else drained away.

Then you saw a ship enter the atmosphere and you were dragged back to reality.

Sucking in a deep breath you allowed Obi-wan to drop your hand as the two of you walked down the ramp and far away from the ship to prevent any potential damage. Your boots crunched loudly on the rocky terrain below you as a cold wind swept up your gray vest. You watched in silence as his ship grew closer and closer until it landed in front of you.

The hatch to Anakins ship opened and your hand went to the hilt of your lightsaber as a cacophony of modulated breathing filled the air as he descended down the ramp, a silhouette of black slowly coming toward you like a reaper.

Planting your feet firmly in the ground, you rolled your shoulders, hoping your false confident stance will turn into real confidence. Your eyes flickered to Obi-wan, his blue orbs looking like a stormy gray under the dark sky as you watched his jaw tighten under the weight of his teeth as Anakin began coming towards you. You gripped your lightsaber hard enough you felt the stinging bite of the groves in the metal go into the skin of your hand as the man in black stopped a mere couple feet in front of you.

“Have you come to destroy me Obi-wan?

The blue light from Obi-wan's saber then quickly illuminated the air around you a rich blue as Obi-wan raised his arm in position.

“I will do what I must.”

“Then you will die!” Anakin's modulated voice bellowed as the crimson red light from his lightsaber tainted the air around you, as he moved quickly to jam his blade into Obi-wan's jugular. You parried the blow and swung up from under and knocked your saber against his and rolled to avoid Obi-wan's strike the kickup of dust getting in your eyes as you stood and spun your saber in your hands before changing your grip to stab him in the back, the heat of your blade burned a hole into his cape before Anakin sidestepped away from you and grabbed the back of Obi-wan's neck, lighting him off the ground before throwing him at your feet.

Obi-wan recovered swiftly and rolled onto his feet and yanked you behind him and blocked the attack as he went for both of your heads.

You and Obi-wan knew how Anakin fought and he knew how the both of you fought which created a repetitive game of attacks that forced the three of your further into the rocky terrain of pillars and gravel below your boots leaving you unsteady as lightsaber created a rainfall of sparks as the grinding of mineral surrounding you as Obi-wan shoved Anakin back until Obi-wan raised his hand and used the force to try to throw a rock down on Anakin's head.

Anakin easily caught the rock's weight as the two fought for control before he forced pushed the rock over your heads making shatter on impact once it landed on the ground.

“Your strength has returned.” Anakin mocked before his helmet turned to you. “But the weakness remains!” he shouted before picking up a boulder and throwing it at you, you sliced through the rock and covered your head as the pieces landed behind you.

You watched as Anakin slammed his forearm into Obi-wan's nose and the loud crack that followed, the quick blight of pain allowed him to sweep rocks under Obi-wan making him land on his back. You ran for but went stiff as he used one hand to keep you back as Obi-wan scrambled to get footing Anakin slammed his other hand on the ground, quickly quaking and cracking before a sinkhole formed, swallowing Obi-wan.

“That is why you'll always lose!”

“No!” you screamed.

You watched in horror as boulder after boulder was thrown in after Obi-wan until the sound of his screams were buried under the rocks. Suddenly you felt your legs get pulled to the ground and your back hit the gravel beneath you as he began to drag you with the force. Shards of rock and dirt tore the fabric of your tunic and went into your back as you dug your nails into the solid earth below you to hold yourself back.

Once you were at Anakin's feet you felt the tip of his boot slam into your stomach, you gagged at the force of air leaving you as dark spots filled your vision. You didn't have time to think before you were dragged up a rock and shoved against it, your skull bouncing off the hard matter as you and Anakin's helmet were just a few mere inches apart.

“Did you truly think you two could defeat me?” the modulated voice hissed with detest.

You gasped and struggled in the tight grasp of his robotic hand, the warmth of blood ran down the back of your neck.

“You have failed.” he pointed out

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you moving, the wheeze’s from your throat loud as the pressure around your throat grew.

“I have seen your potential, Y/n” He said. “Join me and you will no longer be a failure to people. You can be powerful and feared.”

You let out a weak laugh and shook your head.

“I would much rather be a failure trying to do the right thing than to be feared by doing something wrong.” you choked out.

Lifting your leg as high as you could, you planted your foot on the chest plate of the suit and pushed him back causing him to stumble and lose his grip on you, you fell to your feet.

It's been too long since you had to actually calculate and analyze someone in combat and it showed. You were reacting and not thinking through your next moves. If Master Stass had seen it you would have been ripped a new one.

“Focus Y/N, what is his weakness?” you asked yourself. Stumbling forward you truly looked at Vader for the first time, not as the man you once knew but who he was now.

And he was Large

That meant he was slow, his prosthetic limbs also didn't help with that either. All you had to do was be quicker and be relentless, give him no room to breathe let alone react.

Grabbing your lightsaber you began to sprint, pumping your legs as fast as they could go you jumped and landed on Vader's back. You slammed the hilt of your lightsaber over and over into his helmet. Forcing your anger and sorrow into every hit and not stopping when you heard a crack.

Vader's gloved hand reached up and yanked you over his shoulders by your wrist and threw you into the ground below. You activated your lightsaber and slashed at a boulder, and quickly used the force to slam it into his chest making him stumble back. Shooting your hand out, you force pulled him back to you and spun your saber and shoved the hilt into the underside of his jaw, Vader grunted in pain as you slammed your boot into his stomach.

You were enjoying it, your anger growing and fueling your muscles to slam hit after hit into him and you grinned when you were able to slash a cut across his armored chest. It was service level but the heat from it alone had to burn the already charred flesh underneath.

But Vader grew tired of your attacks and was able to grab ahold of the nape of your neck he pushed you face first into one of the large boulders and then hauled you backwards before he shoved you forward again. You face smacking the rocks until you hear a crack in your nose.

You let out a pained shout and when he went to smack you into the rock a third time the ground below began to rumble and shift beneath you.

The ground crumbled as an explosion of rocks exploded from the ground revealing Obi-wan climbing out of the hole he was buried in and going straight to Anakin. Taking advantage of Obi-wan reemergence you swung up and slammed your fist into his throat. Anakin choked for a moment before he refocused on Obi-wan, His lightsaber lighting up the determined look on his face as he slashed his weapon at his former best friend, you watched in amazement as Obi-wan maneuvered quickly around Anakin and parried every attack sent down on him. The clashes of light turned the air around them a bright purple luminating the fight better than the natural glum sky above them ever could.

Obi-wan forced pushed Anakin into a rock a few feet away and you flinched at the pained shout he let out as he fell to his knees. Obi-wan raised his arms above his head and rocks lifted in the air and began to plummet them at him. Anakin slowly worked himself up from the constant blows and threw himself at Obi-wan, tackling him to the ground.

You ignored the rubble that was embedded into the skin of your back and sprinted towards the two of them, the limp in your step slowing you down more than you wanted to admit as you made your way to Obi-wan who recovered quickly from his fall and was standing again. His gaze shifted to you for a moment, eyes wide in adrenaline and Anakin followed his gaze that soon landed on you. Flinching when he raised his hand to use the force you waited for the pressure around your throat, you were too tired and too injured to focus on putting up a mental block from him but the crushing pain never came.

Opening your eyes you saw Obi-wan interlinked their hands and was shoving the hilt of his lightsaber into the box that rested on Anakin's chest repeatedly.You heard Anakin's desperate wheezes as he tired to fight back but more and more sparks shot out as he rammed it harder and harder into his chest before force pushing him backwards and using a bolder to knock him down on his knees, Obi-wan panted before he sprinted and sliced his helmet. The metal burned orange near his head as Anakin kneeled to the ground, Obi-wan stumbled back away from him. Sweat and blood dried to his skin and beard.

Where Obi-wan saw the moment to stop you couldn't, you could end this nightmare right here and the bloodshed would be over.

You reached your hand toward Obi-wans and force pulled his lightsaber out of his hands and into yours, Obi-wan snapped his head towards you as you walked right up to Anakin's kneeling form, his head was tilted down so you couldn't see his face.

Your chest heaved as you held both lightsabers in front of his neck, the blades crossed over each other.

One move, and he would be dead.

“Y/n!” Obi-wan warned, but despite knowing you should listen to your husband you couldn't bring yourself to care.

“Was it worth it?” you seethed. “Losing everyone you loved, everything you were, for this?”

Anakin just wheezed.

The lack of response had you kick him, the force of him bringing him closer to the ground as his wheezing grew louder. You felt like you couldn't breathe, the pain was beginning to choke you and you blinked back tears and out of the corner of your eye you could see his lightsaber a couple feet away from him and you blinked.

He was unarmed.

Suddenly it was like your consciousness had gained the reins of your mind again and you realized what you were doing.

“There's still good in him.”

You've lost too much thanks to Anakin. Your freedom, your friends, your family, and your home.

You refused to lose yourself to him as well.

Deactivating the light sabers, you looked over at Obi-wan with tears in your eyes as he stepped forward and pulled you away from his former Padawan and took back his lightsaber from your shaking hands.

Then Anakin began to laugh, weak and almost breathless as he kept his head hung low.

Until he looked up at the both of you.

“Weak and pathetic.” he seethed. “Coward!”

You and Obi-wan watched in horror as half of his charred face came into the light, burned to the point his skin looked like leather leaving him almost unrecognizable.

Obi-wan lowered his lightsaber in shock at the state of his former brother.

“Anakin” Obi-wan called out softly.

You watched as Anakin stood up and you froze as bright yellow eyes burned into you like the fires on Mustafar.

You couldn't believe those eyes are the same one that held childlike wonder the first time he saw rain.

“Anakin is gone.” he said, his voice distorted from the modulator being damaged. “I am what remains.”

You watched Obi-wans teared up and let out a shaky sigh, his face crumbling in guilt.

“I'm sorry, Anakin.” Obi-wan cried. “For all of it.”

“I am not your failure Obi-wan.” Anakin said. “You didn't kill Anakin Skywalker.”

A twisted grin pulled at the burnt skin of Anakin's cheeks.

“I did. The same way I will destroy you and her.” he spat.

You ignored the tears that burned at your eyes, threatening to fall as Obi-wan shook his head.

“Then our friend is truly dead.”

You watched the man in front of you sway as he held his lightsaber, ready to fight again.

Obi-wan put away his lightsaber and you quickly follow suit, this fight was over. And the truth was the man in front of them both now was someone who deserved to die but despite everything you or Obi-wan couldn't bring yourself to do it.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked at the man who used to be Anakin Skywalker, the little boy you held at night, helped train, cooked for, and loved like he was your own blood.

That little boy was gone and what remained in front of you was a stranger you resented.

“Goodbye…Darth.” Obi-wan said before he turned and looked at you and without a single word he put your shoulder around him and supported your weight as you both walked away together.

Beaten, bloody, and exhausted.

Together.

Taglist:

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#star wars #obi wan star wars #obi-wan x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n #Obi-Wan Kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #anakin and obi wan #ewan mcgregor x reader #Ewan McGregor #sw fandom #SW Fanfic #obi wan fic #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars prequels #star wars angst #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi

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kickingitwithkirk · 6 months

Text

Restless Man -Pt 1

Summary: Beau Arlen finds himself in the middle of a case with more twists than a country road.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reina Cetanwakuwa-Stanley

Word Count: 1357

Warnings: cursing, show level violence, derogatory remarks (some in native languages)

Square Filled: @jacklesversebingo -Escaping Their Fate

A/N: The inklings for this started the first time I heard Jensen singing Restless Man. This work is partially from historical information and canon elements from the Big Sky series.

*Set after the series finally 3:13 That Old Feeling.

A/N II: All Native American words/sentences in this part are Lakota resourced from freelang.net and glosbe.com *some algorithmically generated on these sites.

*Translation: lala -grandfather Cetanwakuwa -attacking hawk or to hunt and chase

*divider by @firefly-graphics *no beta -all mistakes are mine

prologue masterlist

“Hoyt slow down!” Arlen grabs the dashboard as the vehicle rounds a sharp curve too fast. “You good? Where’s your head at?”

“Nowhere. I’m all good.”

“All good my ass. You’re still a bad liar, Hoyt, can’t help noticing you white-knuckling that wheel over there. You know I’m here to listen if you want to talk about whatever it is between you and this Rihanna...”

“Her name is Reina and I told you there’s nothing to talk about.” He gives her a look. “Jesus, Beau, you're like a dog with a goddamn bone. Drop it!” The blonde snaps at the handsome man in her passenger seat making him laugh. “Not the first time I've been told that. Okay, I’ll let it go for now. But the offer stands.” Arlen changes the subject yammerin on about his latest video chat with his daughter, reminding Hoyt of their first meeting.

***

Hoyt walked into the Sheriff’s Department already put out before meeting Walter Tubbs' temporary replacement and Cassie’s warning that Arlen was very Texan proved true. Not to mention the man was a never-ending chatterbox. Eventually, as she constantly reminded everyone, the temporary acting sheriff allowed some of that veneer to peel back, exposing a little of the man underneath.

A man who loved too hard and had too many ghosts clinging to him, something Jenny Hoyt was way too familiar with. Her feelings shifted after a few months of working together and she began contemplating what a relationship with the transplanted Texan would be like.

Then things went sideways when Cassie was hired to find a missing hiker.

Her inquiries led to a glamping excursion run by Sunny and Buck Barnes, where coincidentally Arlen's daughter Emily and her stepfather were staying. The case also reopens a decades old unsolved murder and the discovery of fifteen million in stolen Crypto. They all became intertwined revealing Buck as a serial killer who kidnapped Emily and Denise and ended with his, and several others, deaths.

Arlen paid a surprise visit to Hoyt's home in a quandary the night after their rescue tells her that his ex-wife Carla had taken their daughter back to Texas leaving him unsure about staying in Montana. After a few beers, things started getting close to crossing the professional/private line between them. He left saying neither was clear-headed enough to make any rational decisions that would change them from colleagues and occasional confidants.

A week later, Arlen was served court papers stating that he’d allowed their daughter to remain in a place of known danger and Carla was granted primary custody with all communication between them monitored by a court-appointed third party.

Arlen had what Cassie calls his tantrum then sought legal counsel from a lawyer he knew back in Houston. The lawyer advised with his checkered history in law enforcement and at home, to follow the stipulations to the letter if he hoped for a chance in hell of regaining his parental rights before Emily turned eighteen.

***

Arlen felt Hoyt’s skeptical side-eye before she asked. “So how much did Denise tell you?”

“That Reina is the black sheep for not going into family business. And something about the Stanleys being descendants of the Four Georgies?”

“The Four Georgians,” she corrected, pulling into the Jefferson City First National Bank’s Park lot. “In 1864, four prospectors found gold in Last Chance Gulch and agreed to keep it quiet. But a few months later, more miners started arriving.” She finished summarizing Helena’s origins as they entered the bank and were assailed by a harassed-looking bank manager.

Several hours later

Lewis & Clark County Sheriff's Department

Sergeant Madge Crowder greeted the returning duo with, “Got a visitor, sheriff.”

Arlen gestures around the empty waiting area, “There's no one out here,” and she comments, “Was a minute ago.” Before he could ask, Deputy Mo Poppernack popped up nervously glancing between Hoyt and Arlen. “Everything okay, Popcorn? You seem kinda,” Arlen says waving his hand.

“No sir, I mean yes sir...Beau, I’m good. Someone is waiting in your office to see you.” Still eyeing the fidgety deputy, Arlen addresses both, “Let me know if we get anything on the getaway car,” and heads off to meet his mystery guest.

***

Entering his office, Arlen spies the Stetson from that morning sitting upside down on his desk.

“Hello, I’m Sheriff Arlen. What can I,” and something that rarely happens happens when its owner turns, and Arlen loses his voice. The partially open blinds cast his visitor in light and shadow as his chartreuse eyes drink in every accentuated detail, bone structure hinting of being descended from the indigenous peoples but other ancestries contributing to the lighter hueing of skin, eyes, and hair.

“You must be the infamous Reina Stanley.”

“I see my reputation proceeds me,” her voice has the distinctive native Montanan drawl held out her hand, "I would appreciate it if we could keep this matter between us for now Sheriff.” Arlen shakes the offered hand surprised at the firmness of her grip.

“Call me Beau. Please,” he gestures for her to sit as he settles into his chair, “I assume this has to do with earlier?” She raises an eyebrow and he elaborates. “A friend and I caught some of that public performance this morning and said they thought it was you.” An amused smile graces her lush lips reminding him of pink beautyberry fruit.

“I see Denise Brisbane is still the town gossip.” Arlen chuckled, “She does have her ear to the ground. Denise didn’t go into details but mentioned your family has substantial influence in this state.”

“You’re mama brought you up right. Most people aren’t so polite about saying the Stanleys are not to be fucked with.” Arlen couldn’t stop the flash of surprise crossing his features. “Okay then. I'm guessing your visit has something to do with that brouhaha this morning?”

“Yes and no. I’m here on behalf of lala; my grandfather, who requested I give you this,” she handed him a sealed envelope. “I don’t recall meeting any of your kin.” Arlen remarks pulling out a letter with a small key taped to it reads it out loud. “I had a safety deposit box put in your name Beau Arlen and ask you to take my granddaughter with you when examining its contents. You will understand why I had to take these precautions and do what is necessary with the information enclosed. Gerald Centanwakuwa-Stanley” He looked up in surprise.

“Hold on, Gerald was your grandfather? The same Gerald I’d go trout fishing with?”

“Walter Tubb’s said you were quick on the uptake. Lala Gerald chose to use his given name outside of business.” The sheriff tipped his head. “Right, you're a transplant. The Stanley descendent who settled here left a will stipulating that all direct descendants maintain the family surname to keep their inheritance, including any man marrying in.” Reina paused scrutinizing him giving Arlen a fluttering he hadn't felt in years.

“Tubb also said you have a set of huevos for taking the job even after getting an earful about the undersheriff.” Arlen chuckled, “Yeah, Tubb had a few things to say about Hoyt. But she knows to stay between the lines, I’ll have her back.”

“Jenny Hoyt doesn’t know the meaning of staying between the lines. Excuse me,” she fishes out her phone and frowns, “Fuc...fraken lawyers, ‘cuse my language. When will you be free to check out that box?” There was a knock on the door and Poppernack stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt sir. We got a call that the First National getaway cars been spotted headin' down I-15.”

“And that's my cue to leave.” Reina gestures to his phone, "May I?” Arlen nodded, “I’m leaving you my personal number,” she hands it back, “Text me when you’re free to deal with that matter for lala.”

Several officers, along with Arlen and Poppernack, appreciatively watch her retreating form. “Please tell me all female Rangers as good looking as her?” Poppernack asks, “‘Cause if they are, I’m booking my next vacation in Texas.” Arlen turns and says...

“I’m sorry..she’s a what?!”

tbc

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

@deans-spinster-witch

#beau arlen #sheriff beau arlen #beau arlen x ofc #jenny hoyt #cassie dewell #densie brisbane #mo poppernack #big sky #jensen ackles

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luvring · 9 months

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Niaaaa //wailing, heaving, rolling around on the floor

I cannot stress enough how much I adore your works and love rereading all of them from time to time

Am here to ask if you have any more touchstarved hcs,, or thoughts,, im dying over here

Literally starved for content

gn!reader | REG!!! //waving both hands, jumping up and down giggling. Thank U. this is an honour and incredible compliment. scary bc my old works are...old... but Thank u. U mean the world 2 Me. i didn't thoroughly check what hcs i've already said so sorry there's repeats orz

i'm not saying the LIs would all go to the barbie movie but if someone does make art of that please let me know and tag me especially if it has the i am kenough shirt

they ruined my life saying kuras doesn't eat how is he going to join my girl dinners now. /j but i'll continue to believe he can appreciate how good a meal looks! & he can still sit with you and try to get his hands on your favourite meals for you to enjoy :-)

that thing where they do push-ups and kiss you when they come down with...leander was the first one i thought of tbh. but if you aren't able to lie underneath him he'd just ask for the same amount once he's done!

leander doing the thing he did in the prologue where he took his glove off with his teeth every so often just to see your reaction. like if you react in an amusing flustered staring at him kind of way. i couldn't relate personally (lying) (liar) (huge lie)

i'm sorry for my leander bias but if one of his favourite things is MASQUERADES and we don't see him at a MASQUERADE well it's so joever like him in a suit and mask and showing off how he knows how to fit in because of his past and also he can waltz now or something I'm dizzy i can't breathe

ais using 0.5 camera on people while they're caught off guard. him asking you to take a video of the fight For him because he's going to be part of it. vere selfie folder. mhin 5 followers no icon no posts gc lurker.

mhin would stick to enough of a routine that they'd have a specific spot to sit at different places,,, like a cafe or the library or bus... corner. it's one of the corners. and when someone's taken the spot they're thrown off then have to walk around for a new one (not happy about this) but take it back once they leave. you spend enough time together and they start keeping the spot next to them open for you

^ also they'd always order the exact same thing at restaurants. wouldn't like going to a new place because now they have to find a new default order. just like me fr

is no one going to talk about the idea that vere doesn't like snow because he's chained outside and it's cold . to be fair it could Totally be for a less sad reason like how it gets his Fur Wet (valid) but i've been thinking about that possible angst

also his gloves are just. like. ? odd. inverse drawing gloves. claws... but why only the 3 fingers.... btw his outfit means a constant thigh holding opportunity

kuras and mhin having long conversations about alchemy and sharing their findings with each other ;; mhin at some point getting just a Little excited about something and kuras choosing not to comment on it but being happy to see them let their walls down a little ;; o(-(

ais coming into your room and wordlessly lying next to you in bed and when asked if he needs something he says no? with a smile. he was just feeling lonely and wanted to find you

saying "you look like you can't swim" or "you are an odd individual" to any and all of them . something about it is amusing to me

if you celebrate christmas or like the idea of kissing underneath some mistletoe,, i think it's a good thought that you hold one over your head and wait for a kiss Or that Some of the LIs would Definitely do that themselves.

who do you guys think has the saddest birthday celebration (/no celebration at all.) who's relating to girls who spend their birthday alone and crying and be honest with me

rambling but i just want to say kuras's monster form looks sick as FUCK and i'm so excited for it. it looks like whatever left the scar on his hand seems to be there.. in his monster form...? i thought it was a claw but the positioning is under/through the hand so like??. do i have to bring up the significance of that if true

also is his outfit (minus his jacket)...like a jumpsuit... or can i just not tell because of his three (?) belts. that's not how you wear belts btw /lh. and is the sheer part Part of the top or is he wearing something sheer underneath the white. his sleeves are also sheer but the neckline means his shoulders are out . take off ur jacket

also mhin !! i want to know how big they get and if the transformation is sickening to watch and if they're still aware of everything around them and !!! THERE IS A SPINE(?) COMING OUT FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE SILHOUETTE THAT I NEED TO SEE NOW! & i'm assuming the senobium is Shit so even if we do get in there and get 'help' there would be another shitty price to pay. possible bad ending...??

scenes with all their monster forms where you're asked if you're scared and you say no / yes but you care about them and they falter because they didn't expect that

true good ending is everyone meeting at the wet wick and making a toast and laughing and saying this truly was our touchstarved before the credits roll

#touchstarved #touchstarved ais #touchstarved leander #touchstarved kuras #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved vere #redspring pls continue to drop lore. gimme. GImemeeme...#not a single one of these birthdays sound good to me btw. closest to happy is how leander would say all drinks on him for the night #but it doesnt change the fact he has no close friends 💀💀#Im serious about the masquerade scene bc i need to see him in a formal setting. how hes different but still charming/the same in a way etc

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mjjune · 10 months

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10 Songs 10 People

Thanks for the tag @macabremoons !

Rules: put a wip/character/etc. playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that come up. describe how they relate to your WIPs or worldbuilding.

So I shuffled two playlists, first 5 are from my generic twtr playlist, and last 5 are from my generic avof playlist <3

Human by Of Monsters & Men – i use this to symbolize the part in twtr where the woodsman and the wolf meet for the first time. re: the woodsman realized the wolf is not a beast, but sentient and ancient, and wants something more than just food.

Liar by The Arcadian Wild – i consider this to be the woodsman's theme song! it describes a "lying man" hiding in plain sight, having manipulated and convinced everyone around him he's something he's not. this is a huge part of the woodsman's arc in my story.

The Culling by Chelsea Wolf – a very dark song that's used in my ~torture~ part of the playlist. can't really give you more info without spoilers lmao

In the Woods Somewhere by Hozier – i have this in the playlist essentially standing in for the prologue. pretty self-explanatory.

Throne by Saint Mesa – a badass song for the buildup to the climax, when shit hits the fan and they literally face off against the throne >:3

Rage and Romance by Bressie – pretty self-explanatory i think lol, a standard enemies to lovers song for danny and helio.

SING by My Chemical Romance – a protest/rebellion song that i sort of see as a general song capturing the vibes of lara and her arc.

Apocalíptico by Residente – the only some i've ever found that is spanish and chinese language combined! so i couldn't resist putting it on here for danny/helio being asian/hispanic <3 also it's literally describing an apocalypse, so appropriate.

Oblivion by Royal Blood – another song related to lara, and how she's entwined with a prophecy of, well, oblivion lmao

在 by hue – one of my fav songs of all time, and one i relate a lot of danny. it's a song very much about just... wanting to simply exist and have connection.

tagging 10 people: @jamieanovels @moondust-bard @isabellebissonrouthier @kayedium-writes @regalserpent @sentfromwolves @verba-writing @vsnotresponding @writingforevren @mjparkerwriting and anyone who sees this that wants to!

below are my taglists for avof and twtr! since i figured you'd be curious about the playlists <3

COMBINED TAGLISTS: (ask or comment below to be +/-) @aritany @artbyeloquent @bebewrites @ceph-the-ghost-writer @cljordan-imperium @elijahrichardwrites @eventideintrigue @faithfire @flowerprose @frenchywrites @garthcelyn @ghafasinej @jezifster @knosium @lexiklecksiks @little-mouse-gardens @mr-writes @thyroidhormones @vacantgodling @wildswrites @wip-nook @aether-wasteland-s @annetilney @dogmomwrites @forthesanityofstorytellers @helioscenic @perasperaadastrawriting @phantomnations @verba-writing @vsnotresponding

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hyperfigations · 8 months

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A Nightingale's Song: A Nice And Not-So-Accurate Season 3

Summary:

“How long are you going to brood today? Because we have about thirty minutes until I gotta close up shop,” A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed the coffee shop owner had sat down at his table. Crowley rolled his eyes from underneath dark lenses. “M’not brooding,” He mumbled, attempting to take a sip of his coffee without wincing at the bad taste it left in his mouth. Nina knew better, especially after having to put up with him for the past six months. She gave him a knowing look. “I’d say all liars go to hell but ya know,” ♡♡♡ Two months after Aziraphale had accepted the Metatron's offer, the Second Coming is finally put into motion. Aziraphale and Crowley must get over their personal issues to do what they do best: Stop Heaven and Hell from destroying Earth.

Prologue: The angels fall and Aziraphale makes a new friend on the Eastern Gate.

Word Count: 2,382

TW: None! I don't think! Let me know if there is though!

Author's Note: Hello! First fic in a year or so! So I am VERYYY rusty 😭 I apologize for that! And first Good Omens fic I've ever written! I'm pretty excited! I hope you like it!!

Also Disclaimer: This fic is just for entertainment purposes! I'm not really trying to predict Season 3 or anything, this is all just for fun!!!

Please enjoy! And if you have any constructive criticism, please let me know! I always aim to write better! Thank you!!

God had once said the days leading to the Sin of Eden had all been nice.

But God lied.

The day the angels had fallen was indeed not nice. Though many were ready for this two-day war to be over, the end was not what they had in mind. It was a sour, bitter victory. They had watched their Lord cast out their once dear friends from their home, the very home they had helped build. The crowds of angels who were just battling their brothers and sisters now stared blankly down from Heaven through the parted clouds. Grief and horror had not existed before that moment, but it was written all over their faces.

God was never thought of as being cruel, at least not in those first few days of the world being made. But it was hard to think of Her as anything else as She made a point to let all those who were left see the Fall. It was like She wanted them to know the cost of disobedience.

The sight of all those who opposed Her dropping from the sky was… well, it was terrifying. If there were humans on Earth -which at this point in time, there weren’t- they would look up at the sky and see one of the most beautiful meteor showers they had ever laid eyes on. But there weren't any people on Earth. Not yet. And what the angels saw was anything but beautiful. They did look like stars falling from the dark blanket of a sky, the last of their grace being stripped away by gravity as it pulled them downward. The soft glow of their holy light was now replaced with a raging fire that outlined their bodies.

The Fall felt slow. Agonizing. Many tried to fly back upward, begging for their Creator to help them like a crying child reaching toward their mother. But God hadn’t even flinched. She watched Her creations tumble downward with no remorse. Their white wings set ablaze with just a blink of Her eyes and from the heavens, they could hear them screaming.

The Fallen’s descent from their old home was broken by boiling pools of sulfur. Thousands of disobedient angels splashed into these pools, and the heat did not comfort their already burning bodies.

They were all sobbing, screaming out to God. God was listening, but She didn’t answer.

The Fallen climbed their way out of the thick liquid, not looking quite the same as they were. Their once clear skin was now riddled with scales or warts or anything deemed unholy. They had features that looked quite similar to the animal prototypes that were still in beta back in Heaven, and the love they had once felt from God Herself was gone. They were left feeling unloved, unholy, and ugly.

They wanted to go back home.

But one Fallen Angel, a little more determined than the others to crawl out of boiling black sulfur pits, made his way to the edge of the bubbling pool. He forced himself up and out, his dark auburn curls matted down with black-like tar. His robes were now darkened, his wings still ablaze. His soft eyes were now sharp and yellow and filled with malice. They were burning and wet, not just from tears but from the chemicals that forced its way through his lids. He didn’t know if he was staring at his maker. But he did know She was listening. He could feel Her listening to all of their suffering. That in itself made him more livid.

“Why,” he screamed to Her. And all the angels who stayed above could hear him clearly over the cries of the damned. One angel was more interested in listening than the others. The fluffy-haired cherub stepped forward to get a better view of the ripped-open earth below where the Fallen had landed.

“You’re punishing us? And for what? You made us like this! You gave us the freedom to ask questions! To choose! Why punish us for how you made us?! Why should we pay for your mistake?!”

The one angel in the crowd cringed, as he looked down through the clouds. It was dawn now and the sun, the very sun that was made by that particular fallen angel, was shining against the Fallen. And the exiled angels were far easier to see now. The fallen angel, glaring at God, had in fact been the angel he saw create gorgeous star systems and beautiful nebulas. He never did catch his name… Not that it matters now. But even so, his heart hurt for him. The cherub whose name is Aziraphale, admired how passionate he had been while cranking up the engine to start the universe. Oh, how his eyes shined brightly, almost mimicking the stars he had just created. But that angel questioned God… He denied Her plan. Even now, he was still asking questions. The very same kind of questions that had led him to be punished. So why did Aziraphale feel so bad for him?

To Aziraphale’s horror, he found himself wondering the same thing. She created them. She gifted them with freedom of choice, but when some angels exercised that freedom, they were punished. What was the point of giving someone the right to choose if they can’t choose? the angel found himself pondering, but then his eyes met with the being that was God, and his thoughts were replaced with terror. She was all-knowing. She could probably hear every single doubt that crossed his mind. He didn’t want to fall… Falling was horrible… It wasn’t too long ago when angels would look to God and feel a warm comfort. She was supposed to be a beacon of hope. But She was radiating anything but. It was clear from the authority on Her face now that She wanted to be feared. And She was feared.

Angels were terrified to even speak, lest they say something that would displease Her. Nobody - not even the mightiest of archangels- dared to speak up.

They all stared at Her in silence… A deep, tense silence.

God decided She was quite finished with the Fallen. She had made her point loud and clear to her children. With the wave of Her hand, God closed the clouds so no one could see the Fallen any longer. The screams had ceased. Well, the screams continued but they just couldn't be heard by the angels anymore. Her head turned to look at all Her remaining soldiers and smiled a sickening, sweet grin. She glanced at the angel who stood next to Her, and he nodded. His white wings spread wide, his voice carrying across what was once a battlefield, “We've already wasted too much time, don't you all think? Let’s get back to work.”

With that, God left them to do Her work. The Metatron, the mouthpiece of God, reminded the angels that She wouldn’t punish them if She hadn’t cared. That she loved all of them dearly. But the word love didn’t feel right. How was what they saw love? But Aziraphale shook his head, eager to be rid of the doubt that began to riddle his mind.

Who were they to question God?

Even if it was clear that Her love was one of her many lies.

♡♡

Aziraphale didn’t feel like he earned his promotion, but when the Supreme Archangel tells you that you’re no longer a cherub but a principality, then you don’t argue. You just nod, and ask what to do next. The past few days had been busy since then. He had been put in charge of God's special little place on Earth that they had settled on calling the Garden of Eden. He was to look after it, protect it from the Fallen Angels, who (according to the Metatron) were to be called demons now. Aziraphale didn't get why, to be honest. Why would the Fallen Angels… or "demons" want to hurt what they helped create. Then again, nothing made sense anymore. Everyone in Heaven used to be so sure of themselves; of their work. But nowadays, since the end of the Great Battle, everyone felt like they were walking on eggshells. As if any minute mistake would cause any of them to join their estranged peers down in Hell.

Aziraphale stood on the Eastern Gate, mindlessly playing with the flaming sword that was given to him. He was told to use said sword if anyone threatened Eden, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t know if he would ever use it. Not even on a demon. Even with the stories that Michael was telling the Cherubs about them, how evil they were. No, we wouldn’t dare… even so, he still held onto the sword dutifully, as if he would use it. He turned from the gigantic, beige dunes outside of the walls to look at the luscious, green beauty of God’s newest creation. Eden at the moment, was bountiful with hard-working angels, trying to get everything ready for tomorrow, which was going to be a big day, so they were told. Word upstairs was that God was ready to let loose Her newest invention: humans. This day was the day that all angels have been waiting for since God Herself presented the plan she had for Earth.

His face brightened slightly at the sight of some angels tending to the plants in the garden, laughing amongst themselves as they worked. For the first time in a few days, they seemed relaxed. Like they were Before.

It was nice.

A low hissing noise sounded near his feet. The principality let out an involuntary yelp, jumping back. His white wings spread above as if to make him seem bigger than whatever had startled him. His grip on the hilt of the sword tightened as he looked down at the end of his white robes only to see a long line of black and red scales. The angel’s eyes narrowed as he stepped forward to take a closer look. He was a bit surprised to see the black and red line staring straight back up at him, with gleaming yellow eyes. Aziraphale had seen prototypes back in Heaven of a creature like this, though at the moment the name of such a beast slipped his mind. He glanced down at the group of angels to see if they had heard him, but thank the Lord, they did not. How embarrassing would that be? To be frightened so easily by a creation of God? Aziraphale’s face flushed red, letting out a flustered giggle.

“Oh dear,” He said. “You gave me quite the scare.”He bent down, the bottom of his wings laying gently on the warm, gray stone of the wall behind him. He beamed bashfully at the beast, who was still watching him curiously. “What are you doing up here?” He asked, inquisitively. “I do rather think you’re supposed to be down in the garden with the other animals.” Aziraphale watched the beast as if it was supposed to answer him. “I suppose you’re just being curious. I don’t blame you, truthfully.” The angel stood up straight just to sit down on the edge of the wall, watching the others work once again, his legs dangling over the edge. The beast didn’t move, he still just watched the guardian. It almost carried a nervous energy to it and turned its attention to the flaming sword in his hand. Realization dawns upon the angel's face and without hesitation, he set the sword on his side away from the creature. "Oh no, don't worry, my dear," he whispered sweetly. "You're safe here." Aziraphale's face grew brighter as the beast slithered its way up next to him. It kept its golden eyes fixed on him, cautiously. "I bet all you creatures are very confused with what's going on down there," He told it. "Tomorrow is a big day. A happy one at that! Everything we've worked on… fought for will all be clear tomorrow." The beast gave him a look of doubt. Aziraphale could feel it wash over him, "Well… at least I hope it will be clear." He glanced at it, his lips creasing down on his face but quickly shook it off. "No, no. It will be. God has a plan, and we angels have the easy part. We just follow it." For the first time since it had got here, the beast stared away from the angel and out into the garden. It was thinking. "Well then," Aziraphale sighed, startling the beast out of its thoughts. It let out a small hiss, moving away from the angel as he scrambled up to his feet, snatching up the flaming sword on his way up. Aziraphale didn't pay any mind to the creature, it was obviously just afraid, and though he didn't understand why, he knew better than to pry into its business. Not that he could actually talk to it anyway. The other animals weren't up to conversation, and he assumed that this one wasn't any different. This one was different however in the way it did seem to respond. Maybe not in words but he could feel that it understood him. He'd never come across such a clever creature. "I should return to my duties before Archangel Gabriel catches me lounging around. You see, he doesn’t take kind to being lazy on the job. You should get back with the other animals, my dear." The beast glanced his way and then back at the garden, almost looking a bit hesitant to go in. Aziraphale waved his hands dismissively, "Not that I don't enjoy your company. Because I do! But I'm sure the angels down there will notice you gone, and everything must be in tip-top condition for tomorrow. So off you go!" The beast's forked tongue tested the air before it slipped its way down the stone and into Eden. The Guardian of the Eastern Gate grinned proudly to himself as if to say ‘Good job me! Making sure tomorrow goes as smoothly as possible!’ He now was ready (if not far more ready than before) to continue his duty of making sure no pesky demons make their way into the garden.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #good omens fanfiction #crowley x aziraphale #crowley good omens #aziraphale good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable spouses #ineffable idiots #ineffable partners #fake season 3 because I don't wanna wait for one #i am so impatient #fanfiction #A Nightingale's Song #A Nice and Not-So-Accurate Season 3

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