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heartpascal · 6 months

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fight the tide

▹— joel miller x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you face the consequences of going to seattle

▹— a/n: hello, this ended up being different to what i had planned. i hope yall enjoy anyway. its very angsty. very sad. at least to me. be careful with what you read. mind the warnings. love you.

▹— warnings: MAJOR TLOU 2 SPOILERS, suicidal ideation, or thinking about dying, almost hoping to die, major character death (referenced), canon-typical violence, eg murder, descriptions of blood / being covered in blood, kinda religious imagery / talks of divinity (no explicit religion mentioned), hints at a possible romance with jesse

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything!) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being (pedro)

MASTERLIST

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Setting off from Jackson was a distant memory, by now. It was hazed over, an image in your mind that didn’t seem to fit into reality, no matter how you tried it.

The past few weeks didn’t seem real to you, either.

More than once, you had found yourself waiting to wake up. As if all of this could be some sort of bad dream. A nightmare that you couldn’t escape, no matter how many times you pinched and clawed at yourself, trying to figure out how to prove that this wasn’t real.

Because, really, how could it be? This world, this city, it didn’t feel like it could be true. You didn’t feel like you, and this certainly didn’t feel like it was your life. Wherever you looked, the terrain showed the aftermath of a rampage.

Bodies strewn across the ground, puddles of red dripping down curbs, down cars, down buildings, down your hands. It was beneath your fingernails, caked into your hair, drying on your clothes. For a moment, you thought it was yours. It was the only plausible reason for why you were feeling so empty, wasn’t it? The only explanation for why your heart felt as if it would burst at any given moment.

This rampage was an act of such violence, such rage, it seemed unfathomable to you. You couldn’t remember a time where you had felt something so deeply that it presented as destruction. As a massacre.

That was the word for this, too. Massacre. All of these bodies were once people, once held love and life and the ability to hurt and kill others, just as you did. And when you looked closer, when you looked at their guns and their knives, the bows and the arrows, you knew they had been trying to kill you.

It made sense.

You didn’t want it to, but it did.

These people had tried to kill you, had tried to slaughter you, and they had ended up dead for it. It wasn’t the first time that had happened, either. Joel had killed more people than you could count, just for the crime of trying to bring you harm. It made sense that he would do it again.

“Joel?” You called, your voice echoing in the empty surroundings, bouncing off of bodies and weapons, off of the tangible feeling of death that hung in the air.

Your chest was heaving, breath entering and leaving your lungs so rapidly that it didn’t have time to supply the oxygen you so desperately needed. You hadn’t noticed how unsteady your breathing was, until you had spoken, until you had called out for Joel. It made you feel dizzy, all of a sudden, like everything was hitting you all at once.

For a moment, you didn’t notice that he hadn’t answered you.

But his silence lingered, and the only thing you could hear through it was the sound of your own panicking breaths.

That feeling from earlier — the one of your heart, which had been feeling as if it would burst at any given moment, revealed itself as a choked sob. It jumped out of your throat when you opened your mouth to call for Joel again.

Your devastation didn’t register, for more than a moment. Until you remembered why you were here, why there was a gun in your hand, empty of ammunition. When you looked around, you didn't find Joel. Instead, all you found was blood and death and your machete lay on the ground, a dent in the grass, covered in blood and gore.

There was something hanging over your head, something which felt as if it was holding your head underwater. It felt like the water was forcing its way down your throat, into your lungs, filling them up until all you could do was choke, heave on the lack of breath. Your head was exploding, pressure against the sides of your skull, pushing out, out, out, like a fungus was bursting through you. Only the vague feeling of your hand pressing against your head reassured you that you weren’t Infected.

The memories flashed before your eyes, distorting the image of destruction ahead of you, filling your mind with reality. Joel. Cracked skull, insides out. The unrelenting taste of iron on your tongue, your teeth. Getting on a horse in Jackson, and leaving. Fighting your way through Infected, people, even past Tommy. All in your search for vengeance, for Abby.

And all it had led you to was before you, laid out in death.

Did this make you a monster? Was it evil? You’re not sure if you believe in such a thing anymore, but if you did, you think it would look like a woman, braided hair, golf club raised in the air. But there’s this nagging feeling at the base of your skull, asking you, are you better?

You don’t know what it means. Are you better? Than what? Because of this? You want to ask Joel, but when you turn, he’s still there. Still lay out on concrete, skull scattered around the room, blood staining your skin.

It’s all you can think of. It’s all you can see. Even in the bodies around you, the people that you killed, you see a flash of white, a splatter of blood, and it’s all Joel. There’s the imprint of his boot in the grass, the sound of his voice in the wind, but the only heartbeat you can hear is your own.

Your knees press into the grass, and you stain your jeans with blood, but it feels soft. Softer than the concrete in that basement, softer than the frozen dirt in front of his gravestone. It’s welcoming, or something like it, and your heart aches with it.

A sound breaks through the air, pierces through the air that carries Joel’s voice, and it takes you more than a moment of your throat aching to realise it’s you. And there’s disappointment in that, you realise, that the only person here is you. Nobody is here to kill you, and nobody is here to protect you.

The sound coming from you doesn’t sound like your voice, doesn’t have any familiarity to you. It doesn’t convey words, but rather something harsher, something deeper, a sound which traverses language and time. It breaks these barriers, and empties the chest of something ancient, something eternal.

It wavers as time passes, it comes and goes, much like your recognition. Sometimes, you’re here, belting out something that doesn’t fit into words, and then you’re there, screaming out for mercy that never comes. And all you can hear is Joel, and he’s yelling at you, to you, but you can’t tell what he’s saying.

All you can see is his lips spelling something that he couldn’t say, that you couldn’t translate. You want to tell him you love him. You want to scream at him for going down there. You want him to pull you away from these corpses, but he can’t, and neither can you.

No matter how hard you try, there’s nothing you can do to pull yourself up, to overcome that weight that continues to drown you. It presses down on you until your nose is against the grass, and all you can smell is iron and dirt.

You stay there, one palm pressed against the machete that had been resting on the ground, the other gripping the dirt, for what seems like eternity. There’s no escape from it, nowhere you can turn to pull yourself from this mourning, this hell. And you know that nobody is coming to save you.

It sends a chill down your spine — tingling and bringing feeling back to limbs that had long-since turned numb, the realisation that you are going to end up just like Joel.

Here, against the ground, reduced to something less than human.

And — like Joel — there’s no fighting it.

If Abby approached, golf club raised to the heavens, you would accept it. You would welcome it.

Because surely, whatever would be waiting you, it would be better than this. This endless moment of suffering, of pain and grief so deep it encompasses your whole being. You wonder—hope that Joel would be waiting for you.

You feel guilty, a moment later, because you know that Joel deserves to rest—whatever that meant. And you also know that he had never done that, when he was around you. It was selfish to hope for him to be waiting for you, to hope that he would put whatever was awaiting him on hold, all for you.

Joel had been waiting to die for a long, long time.

Ever since Sarah.

And that fact sends a fresh wave of guilt through you, as if you could hold on to any more emotion, because Sarah was his daughter. She was everything he had wanted, since the moment she was born. And he had been waiting to join her. He had waited for Tommy, for Tess, and then for you and Ellie.

Maybe, Sarah sent Abby for him.

Maybe she got tired of waiting for her dad, whilst he feigned dad for two orphans, left alone in the bitter end of the world.

You try to think of her like that. Some sort of angel, a gift sent from Sarah, all to give Joel the mercy of death. To give him the easy way out. Because Joel didn’t have a choice about dying, Abby had made sure of that, so he couldn’t feel an ounce of guilt for leaving you and Ellie and Tommy to pick up the pieces, to carry his body home to an empty house, a dip in the earth.

It made sense to you, somehow.

Abby seemed so… unmovable.

She was like the force of nature. Nothing you, or Joel, or anyone, had done would’ve stopped her from doing what she did.

If you thought of her like this, as something divine, something above yourself, it was easier. It was easier to forgive yourself for failing to stop her, and now, for failing to end her.

But it also makes the guilt so much heavier.

And you don’t know how you can carry it, anymore.

Because if she was that, if she was something like a divine intervention, then you were doing everything that Joel had never wanted, for nothing. This, right here, this explosion of death, this blood, staining your hands, was what Joel had tried to steer you away from.

He didn’t want you to turn out like him.

Angry, burned, covered in blood.

Monstrous.

He was covered in the scent of stale blood, of death so old it had decayed to nothing, to earth and ash and life reborn. He was stained with it. Distorted by it. It had made his vision red, for as long as he could remember.

Joel didn’t want that for you.

Joel didn’t want you to end up here, knelt in the grass, drenched in blood and sweat, in guts and gore and everything wrong with this world.

And there’s even more guilt in that knowledge. You’re disappointing him. You can practically hear his voice ringing through the air, asking you what you were doing, why you were doing it. You could hear him telling you that he’s not worth all of this. It hurts that you can’t tell him otherwise. If he was here, you could have screamed at him, told him he was worth everything. But he’s not.

How do you carry that around with you? How can you? Are you supposed to drag the weight of Joel’s dead body behind you for the rest of your life?

He would tell you to let him go. He would tell you to live your life. But Joel had never really understood just what he meant to you, to everybody. He could never quite grasp the concept that he was loved, that he was one of the reasons you got up in the morning, one of the reasons you always fought to go home.

The problem is—you don’t want to let him go.

Your hand curls around the grass beneath it, sticky with blood, as if you could physically hold on to him. More than anything, you’re worried about losing the memories. If you let go of Joel, if you let his death fade to the back of your mind, would his life follow? Would you start to forget everything he had done for you? Everything he had meant to you?

Would you forget the sound of his laughter? The smile that only appeared on occasions, which lit up his entire face? The hug he greeted you with when you came home after a particularly hard day? The embarrassing talk he gave you about liking people your age? The feeling of having a father?

If you could, you would stay in those memories forever.

A ghost in your own past, haunting the man who had gone somewhere you couldn’t quite bring yourself to follow. You would go through all of that, the good and the bad, all over again, if it meant you could stay with Joel. Because despite everything, all of the things you had lived through, Joel Miller had become your home.

How could he expect you to let go of that? How could you be okay with that? After the life that you had led, you deserved to go home. It was hard not to resent Joel for expecting you to be okay with letting him go—divine intervention or not.

And you know, that if the tables were turned, if it were you who had been buried, if it was Joel who was here right now, he wouldn’t let you go. He would hunt Abby down, and he would make her suffer for what she had done, because Joel Miller was a force of nature, too.

Either way, he would have to find her.

So, shouldn’t you?

You think that you need to know. You have to find out if she’s this unearthly being that you have made her out to be. You need to know if you could’ve stopped her. If Joel could be alive, right here, right now.

There’s something so poetic about it all, you think.

Maybe, if you were in a better headspace, you could’ve figured it out. But really, what use was poetry in this world?

You’re working up the courage, the ability, to move, when you hear the footsteps crunching gravel just behind you. They’re heavy, purposeful, and you realise you’re still weeping, still screaming out for someone who can’t come. You think—hope—that this is Abby, here to put an end to this suffering. To these unending questions.

But there’s a warm hand against your back, a moment later, and no golf club swung at your skull.

“I’ve got ya, kiddo.” A voice says to you, hands grasping your shoulders, the twang of an accent so familiar that you’re reaching out, eyes closed, waiting for the person to reach back. When they do, your eyes open, but it’s not who you thought it was. You hadn’t died on this grass, and Joel wasn’t here to get you. Instead, Tommy stood in his place, his hands cleaner than your own.

When you look around, you wonder if you’re the monster that people will tell their children about. The person who ripped people to shreds, who tore them apart for no reason other than a quest for vengeance, one that wasn’t even fulfilled. Maybe, you think, you will become a cautionary tale. A warning for others. An example of what not to become, even in the apocalypse.

This was senseless. It was a slaughter.

All of these people are dead, and you don’t even know their names. They fought to protect themselves and the people around them, something of a team, maybe even a family, all because you are angry, and you are hurt, and you miss your dad. How many of these people have families at home? Families who will never see them again, because of you.

You know you’re not a divine being.

There was no otherworldly reason for your massacre. There was nobody behind a curtain, choosing your actions. No—there was just you.

What right did you have to decide these people should die? What right did you have to end their lives? Was one man—one dead man—truly worth this? Did he deserve to be the reason for your murderous rampage? Would he have wanted this? Would he be proud?

“C‘mere.” Tommy says, kneeling on the ground beside you, and shifting you until he could hold you tightly in his arms. If you don’t focus so much, if you let your mind wander, this could be Joel. It could be your dad hugging you, staining his clothes with the blood you’re drowning in. They’re similar enough, brothers, that you can imagine it is.

He’s holding you together.

“We need to get you out of here.” Tommy tells you, breaking the illusion you had been hoping to live in forever. You know he’s being patient with you — you can tell with every gust of wind that rustles the grass below you. Each one could bring more people, more bodies, yet Tommy refuses to rush you. Instead, he holds you tightly, like the cracks in your surface may lead to you bursting.

You suppose he’s right to worry.

His brother is dead. Joel is dead. And here he is, holding you in one piece, as if that wind could shatter you.

Selfishly, you don’t want him to be patient, or gentle, or kind. You want Tommy to show you some kind of mercy, to bring you peace of mind, of soul. But he can’t, unless he has some kind of insight that you don’t, unless he has ripped Abby apart and seen the divinity in her creation.

“C’mon,” Jesse says then, appearing out of seemingly nowhere. You hadn’t realised he was even nearby. Didn’t hear him approaching, though that could’ve been because of the unearthly wailing that had surrounded you. “I’m sorry,” He says, hand wiping at your face where it rests against Tommy’s shoulder. “We have to go. We have to go now. I’m sorry.”

And he does sound sorry—god, he sounds more apologetic than you had ever heard him.

You don’t know if he’s sorry for making you get up, for making you face the world again, or if he’s sorry that you’re even here, sorry that Joel is dead. You don’t know which you would prefer. You try to decide, and realise not long after that the two of them had pulled you to your feet, hands gripping you, waiting for you to hold yourself up.

“Jesse,” You choke out, reaching for him, as if seeing him for the first time. His hands are holding your own before you can even get out another word, uncaring of the blood that covers them. He squeezes once, twice, thrice, before he lets go to press his hands to your cheeks, grounding you, almost.

“It’s okay.” He says, and you can see in his eyes that he knows it’s a lie.

He takes your hand, pats your cheek, his forehead against your own for no more than a moment, before he’s letting Tommy take over, letting the man soothe his fatherly instincts. Uncle Tommy. You imagine a life where you would have called him that.

Tommy leads you away.

Away from the bodies, the gore, the guilt, hopefully. He grips onto you the whole way, pulls you along every time you stumble, holds you up whenever you long to fall. All the way until you reach a theatre, where Ellie and Dina have been bunkered, one of them tells you. We’re going home.

You wonder if they’re going to bury you in the ground, beside Joel. Home. You think it sounds nice.

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shadowtriovibes · 11 months

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before the origin of love

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Blood, Major Hogwarts Legacy Spoilers, Canon Divergence, Ancient Magic Theory

Summary: request [paraphrased]: "You know the part during the game when MC visits Ollivander's alone and Rookwood Apparates her away? Can I request an angsty version of this where Sebastian is with f!MC? Rookwood is angry they killed all his men and casts Imperio on Sebastian to force him to attack her. Even though she’s expecting to die by Sebastian’s hand, he eventually fights the curse off because love is more powerful than dark magic."

a.k.a. y'all thought lily potter was the only one with ancient love magic? think again!!!

“Show your face, Rookwood!” you shout into the darkness. “Come out and fight me!” “My dear, why should I fight you?” Rookwood laughs from high above you, still unseen. “This is child’s play, after all…” You feel like time stops as you see a bright green curse rocket through the air toward Sebastian, who is powerless to do anything to stop it. The curse hits him in the chest with such force that he’s knocked backward, his head tipping forward as he lets out a sickening groan. But instead of watching your friend die while you stood by helplessly, you watch in abject horror as he tilts his head up and locks eyes with you – smoky-green, soulless eyes.

The moment you and Sebastian step outside Ollivander’s shop, you realize that the typically bustling streets of Hogsmeade are disquietingly empty. It’s nearly sundown now, and instead of seeing a friendly mix of witches and wizards doing their holiday shopping or stocking up on supplies for the winter months, you find yourselves all alone.

“Take out your wand,” you murmur to Sebastian. “Something’s not right.”

Wordlessly Sebastian draws his wand and takes a step closer to you, warily glancing up and down the empty streets.

Then in the blink of an eye, a well-dressed figure Apparates into view just across the way – Victor Rookwood, you realize, complete with that infuriating hat of his.

“Rookwood,” Sebastian boldly calls out. “So we meet again. Didn’t you get enough of a telling-off last time?”

You silently aim your wand at him, daring him to take one step closer.

“Well, well… looks like your friend Sirona isn’t here to stick up for you little menaces this time,” Rookwood says with a sneer. “I’m afraid you two are on your own. In fact, I’ve ensured that we have a moment to ourselves.”

Sebastian quickly lifts his wand and aims it squarely at the man’s face. “What do you want, Rookwood?”

“Oh, come, come, no need for such theatrics,” the man drawls, slowly creeping closer to you both. “In light of what Ranrok now knows, you must agree that our interests are aligned.”

Sparks crackle at the tip of your wand as you lift it toward Rookwood.

“Our interests will never be aligned,” you murmur.

Rookwood glances significantly at Sebastian before he challenges you.

“My dear, you would let goblins take what is rightfully ours? The final repository belongs to wizardkind. We would be fools not to work together.”

Beside you, you observe the slightest falter in Sebastian’s aim. You should have known that someone like Rookwood would immediately be able to pinpoint and exploit his biggest weakness – his resentment toward goblinkind, his uncompromising belief that only they carry the blame for his sister’s curse.

You imagine him thinking, Could he be right? Are we fools to allow Ranrok’s goblins to continue ransacking Isadora’s Repositories? Could we instead be using them to cure Anne?

But before Sebastian says a word, Rookwood’s eyes land on the long, thin box in your hands.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” he demands.

Quickly, you slip the box safely inside your robes. You shake your head only slightly, but Rookwood easily detects its significance.

Rookwood continues, “Might this sudden visit to the wandmaker have something to do with our… mutual pursuit?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say softly.

Suddenly, you see Rookwood’s countenance shift as his true motives become clear.

“That repository is my birthright!” he shouts, stepping toward you with a hand outstretched.

Instantly Sebastian steps in front of you and points his wand at Rookwood once more. “I know one thing for certain, and that’s that Charles Rookwood wouldn’t have wanted you anywhere near it!”

Rookwood laughs darkly as he takes a step back.

“The arrogance,” he murmurs, gaze fixed on Sebastian’s determined expression. “I should have known better than to try to reason with a Sallow, after all – you’re no better than your sister, you simpering fool.”

In a frighteningly low voice, Sebastian asks, “What would you know about my sister?”

“Nothing, of course,” Rookwood sneers. “I only meant that I’ve always thought that children should be seen and not heard.”

You inhale sharply, absently lowering your wand as you process Rookwood’s words – the very same that Sebastian had told you were the last words Anne had heard before she was hit with her curse.

Sebastian understands the implication a split second before you do, and you can see bolts of green light shooting down the length of his wand before you even understand what he’s doing.

“Avada–”

Before he can finish his spell, you feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly you’re hurtling through time and space as you’re forcibly Apparated away from Hogsmeade, landing in a crumpled heap in the snowy grass. You’re smack in the middle of a desolate bandit camp somewhere in the Highlands.

Beside you, Sebastian is catching his breath while his hands tremble with rage.

“Where did he go?” Sebastian demands. “Where did the bloody coward go?!”

“Careful, Sallow,” Rookwood’s voice calls out from the darkness. “Wouldn’t want to get yourself into a bind!”

Sebastian suddenly shouts as thick lengths of rope appear out of thin air and wrap themselves around his body, forcing him to his knees.

“Sebastian!” you yell. “Finite!”

Your spell deflects right off the enchanted ropes, and Sebastian grits his teeth.

“I’m okay,” he insists. “It’ll be alright, just – just get him, you can do this.”

Desperate, you find yourself alone while Sebastian struggles against his ropes. You’re keenly aware of the dozen or so fully-grown wizards Apparting into the camp with their wands drawn. You’ll have to take on every single one of them by yourself, you realize, with nothing but your own wand and the ancient magic coursing through your veins to defend yourself.

It feels endless. Simply deflecting their spells takes nearly all of your focus, even if you try to spare some for Sebastian while he struggles uselessly against his bindings. You toss curse after curse at Rookwood’s men and eventually you’re forced to start tossing actual barrels and crates at them as well, until finally you pare down the lot of them to the last executioner with his wand trained squarely at your heart.

“Bomarba!” you holler, and across the field, the burly executioner goes flying into a pile of rubble and melts away into smoke, the last to abandon his mission and surrender.

“Show your face, Rookwood!” you shout into the darkness. “Come out and fight me!”

“My dear, why should I fight you?” Rookwood laughs from high above you, still unseen. “This is child’s play, after all…”

You feel like time stops as you see a bright green curse rocket through the air toward Sebastian, who is powerless to do anything to stop it. The curse hits him in the chest with such force that he’s knocked backward, his head tipping forward as he lets out a sickening groan. But instead of watching your friend die while you stood by helplessly, you watch in abject horror as he tilts his head up and locks eyes with you – smoky-green, soulless eyes.

Imperio.

“So go on, then,” Rockwood demands. “Play!”

The ropes that had bound Sebastian’s arms to his side quickly fall away, and before you can even react he lifts his wand and rounds on you.

“Confringo!” he shouts, and a blaze of fire soars just past your ear.

“Sebastian,” you call out. “Can you hear me? Don’t do this, please!”

You know it’s fruitless. Sebastian himself had taught you that the Imperius curse cannot be fought off, even by the most powerful wizards who have ever been trained to resist its impenetrable influence. Despite his dueling skills and his broad knowledge of the Dark Arts, you have to assume that Sebastian doesn’t stand a chance against Rookwood’s voice in his ear.

“Levioso!” you counter, hoping to merely hold him off long enough to get to Rookwood and force him to free Sebastian.

But to your chagrin, the Sebastian you’ve known and loved since your first days at Hogwarts is indeed one of the most disciplined and talented duelers you’ve ever fought, and even though he doesn’t want to, he’ll surely give you a run for your money.

“Diffindo!” he growls, and the edge of his curse just barely nicks the side of your calf. You cry out in pain and collapse to the ground as you press a hand to the bleeding wound.

“Want me to release your little friend?” Rookwood calls out. “It’s simple, darling. Join me against Ranrok and I’ll let him live!”

You know deep down that you can’t ally yourself with Rookwood. Despite Sebastian’s initial hesitance, you have to imagine that if he were able to understand your position, he’d do the very same thing that you’re about to do.

It wasn’t the goblins after all, it was him, you can hear him say. We can never join him, not after what he did to Anne. There’s only one way out of this.

Merlin, you think. This is it.

Without your ability to wield ancient magic or the wand made of the Pensieve artifacts, Ranrok may never gain access to the final repository, you convince yourself – especially if he splinters from Rookwood. Sebastian can give the wand to Fig after you’re gone, he can hide it somewhere Ranrok will never find it…

It could all work out, you reckon, if you die.

“Never!” you call out to Rookwood. “I’ll never join you!”

“Then you’ve made your choice,” Rookwood’s voice echoes back. “I’ll let the Sallow boy show you what happens to anyone who says no to me.”

Rockwood’s twisted laughter rings out all around you as Sebastian’s opalescent eyes look you up and down. He lifts his wand and aims it at your heart, and you close your eyes with your own wand at your side.

“Avada Kedavra!”

…

…You’re still breathing.

How are you still breathing?

When you open your eyes, Sebastian is standing before you looking entirely drained, his eyelids drooping as he sways from pure exhaustion. However, just before he collapses you catch a glimpse of his eyes – his usual warm brown ones, the same magnificent eyes you’ll never tire of seeing after all this.

“Sebastian!” you shout, running over to support him as he tumbles to the ground. “Wh-what just happened?”

“Did I get him?” he asks in a whisper. “Rookwood?”

Stunned, you cast Lumos and peer across the empty field until you notice a figure lying in the snow far at the other end – Rockwood, you assume. He isn’t moving, and his legs are bent in a sick, absurd way as if he’d fallen from the watchtower that he now lays below.

“Yes,” you breathe. “You did, b-but… Sebastian, how did you–”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. He’s clinging to your arm as you help him to sit up and rest his head between his knees. “I have no idea, I just… I couldn’t do it.”

“He wanted you to kill me,” you surmise.

“I wouldn’t,” he says hollowly. “It… felt like my head was being split open right down the middle, with one half of me forcing my body to move and aim my wand and the other half knowing that I’d rather die than use that curse on you.”

“Oh, Seb,” you whisper.

You’re both quiet for several long moments while Sebastian takes deep breaths, his face still hidden between his knees. You slowly rub his back through his cloak and wait for him to sit up. He looks haunted when he finally does – even more so than he usually looks.

“I hurt you,” he mumbles. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, love,” you say softly, the pet name slipping out so easily that you barely even register at first. “I’m okay, it’s just a cut. Some Wiggenweld will fix me right up when we get back to the castle.”

“Can I?” he asks hesitantly, and you reluctantly let him pull your cloak to the slide so he can see the gash on your calf.

It isn’t deep, and it isn’t even bleeding anymore, but the ripped trouser leg and drying blood stains make Sebastian curse under his breath nonetheless.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers. “Why did I do that?”

“You have no choice,” you remind him desperately. “No witch or wizard has ever fought off the Imperius curse like that before, Sebastian, and you spared me my life. I don’t care about a bloody cut when I should be dead.”

“Never,” he chants mindlessly. “Never, I wouldn’t.”

That’s when a thought occurs to you.

“Sebastian…” you say softly. “It’s possible that there are… other types of ancient magic in addition to mine.”

He frowns. “What are you saying?”

“Maybe there’s something… something primeval, something elemental to our magic that you accessed,” you wonder aloud. “Professor Fig told me that his wife Miriam had spent years studying ancient magic, and it can’t only be that which I have the power to wield. Perhaps you were able to defy Rookwood’s will because you – you connected with a magic that’s more powerful than even an Unforgivable.”

“More powerful than that kind of darkness?” he asks softly. “...That type of magic exists?”

“Of course, it must,” you say simply. “Darkness can’t be more powerful than light, can it?”

He considers your supposition as if it’s the first time the thought has ever occurred to him.

“So… so what, the power of ‘friendship,’ something like that?” he asks, a corner of his mouth quirking up into the first thing resembling a smile that he’s shown since you entered Hogsmeade hours ago.

“Something like that,” you tease him. “Maybe the power of ‘love.’”

You’d meant it entirely in a platonic way, but as soon as the words are out of your mouth, Sebastian goes red and ducks his face.

“That’s – that’s ridiculous,” he mumbles. “I mean, love, that’s… Who said anything about love?”

You’re quiet while you watch Sebastian try and fail to gather his thoughts. He’s flailing, and all of a sudden you realize something clear as day that you can’t quite believe you never recognized before.

“Sebastian,” you murmur. “...Do you suppose you broke through an Imperius curse because you’re in love with me?”

“Wh-what?!” he laughs.

“Because if you did, that would be probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, in all the books I’ve ever read,” you continue. “And if that were the case, I would have to tell you that I’m madly in love with you, too.”

Sebastian is stunned into silence.

“You love me?” he eventually whispers.

“I do,” you tell him. “And… and I never really thought about it before, because it doesn’t really feel all that different from being friends with you, except – except I would have let you kill me rather than kill you, even though I know what’s at stake.”

“I still think you should’ve,” Sebastian jokes quietly. “You’re much more important than I am.”

“Regardless, we couldn’t have let Rookwood find out about the last Repository, and I would have taken the Killing Curse to stop him,” you sigh. “I trusted you would have taken the Pensieve wand back to Fig.”

“I would’ve turned my wand on myself first,” Sebastian says plainly. “Without a second thought.”

Merlin, you can’t believe he actually says things like that.

Rather than continuing to dwell on what could have been, you offer him a hand up and support him by the elbow while he shakily makes his way to his feet. He still looks pale and rattled, but he’s able to start to walk toward the exit of the crumbling ruins – still clinging to your hand.

“Come on,” you murmur. “When we get back to the castle you can rest.”

“What about the Repository?” he asks weakly.

“Let me and Fig worry about that,” you murmur. “You’ve already done more than enough for me today, love. You need to recover.”

“M’not even hurt,” he protests, but he sounds utterly depleted.

“Hush,” you whisper. “Just keep holding onto me, alright?”

It’s not easy getting Sebastian back to the castle; he keeps pitching to the side on the back of your broom as he fights to stay conscious, but you manage to keep him from falling off. Despite his protests, you take him straight to Nurse Blainey so he can get some proper rest (and so someone will be forced to keep an eye on him for you).

“Be safe,” he murmurs while you squeeze his hand in his infirmary bed. “Please.”

“I promise, Seb,” you tell him, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Just be here waiting for me when I get back.”

“You’ve made sure of that,” he grumbles, but he offers you an encouraging smile before you leave for the Map Room one final time.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #victor rookwood #ANON I AM SO SORRY THIS IS MY OLDEST REQUEST I FINALLY DID IT #YOU ARE A REAL ONE IF YOU READ THIS #title is a reference to 'the origin of love' from hedwig and the angry inch

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sundrop-writes · 5 months

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Your First Kiss With Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

The Titans have faced a lot together, but never something quite as troubling as the possible return of an inter-dimensional demon that shreds apart worlds and leaves nothing standing in its wake.

You hate to admit it, but even standing with your team - you're afraid. Dick tries his best to comfort you, but for once during his career as noble, selfless team leader - he takes a moment to be selfish, and does something that he has been avoiding doing for years.

Dick Grayson x Gender Neutral Reader. Childhood Friends to Lovers. Angst and Fluff. Set during Season 4, Episode 6.

Word Count: 2,900

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this one is a bit more on the angsty side; this fic features major spoilers for season 4 (and for the majority of the show) - so if you're watching it for the first time or you haven't seen it yet and you want to watch it spoiler free, then avoid this fic for now; the reader character is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; the reader is one of the original Titans; the reader and Dick are childhood friends through the Justice League - the reader is the adoptive child of Oliver Queen/Green Arrow (the reader is a talented marksman and trained in combat); the reader is mentioned to be an orphan (again, aren't all good superheroes); major pining from Dick - he has had a crush on the reader since they were kids (most of this is from his POV, so it's not specified if the reader has returned his feelings for just as long); mentions of canon character deaths; a lot of this is from Dick's POV so - warnings for Dick being emotionally constipated and referring to romantic feelings as a 'disease'; this is an AU where Dickkory never happened; mentions of canon violence - not described in graphic detail; mentions of the apocalypse/the world ending (and the anxiety this can cause); the reader is feeling extreme fear/anxiety due to the possible end of the world; technically - unresolved pining. I believe that's it.

A/N: The second part of the First Kiss series! I had a lot of fun with this one. This is the first really romantic fic I have written for Dick, and I enjoyed it so much omg. I was so tempted to write an enemies to lovers version with him, because he annoys me so much in the canon, and I feel like 'kissing in the middle of a heated argument' would work so well with his character - but maybe we'll save that one for Jason (or Hank, idk). instead, I went with emotionally constipated Dick Grayson, because that is sooo canon. he would not admit his feelings for someone if he had a gun to his head. and I had a lot of fun writing this mostly from his POV. I feel like he is such an interesting POV character to work with, so I might do more from him in the future. anyway, please enjoy!!

...

Stress.

There were few other words to describe the horrible feeling that was dense in the air around them.

Everyone was looking to Dick for answers, and unfortunately, he had none. Sebastian was missing, likely kidnapped by Mother Mayhem in order to complete a ritual that would likely mean the end of the world. Rachel had lost her powers and the Titans needed her unique form of magic now more than ever. Tim was impatient, annoyed because Dick wasn’t letting him use the minimal training that he had. But of course, Dick was hesitant to let the next would-be Robin off the bench after what had happened to Jason.

(Dick could barely bring himself to think about Jason these days.)

Kory was having difficulty controlling her newfound powers, and so was Gar. Which left the team weakened on all sides. Jinx was helpful on the magic front, but she was far from easy to control when it came to executing plans and corralling her rather wild personality.

And Dick didn’t even want to think about what was happening with Conner. He just had to pray that this whole shaved-head, Lex Luthor impression was part of his mourning for his would-be father, and hopefully - it would be temporary.

All of the chaos among the team left Dick leaning on you. As usual, you were likely the only person on the team who wasn’t experiencing any extreme drama. You were the only Titan with some true stability.

And you were the person on the team with the most experience. Even more than Dick himself. Beyond being part of the original Titans team that had helped to found The Tower, you had been trained under Oliver Queen, who was part of the Justice League as Green Arrow. Ollie had taken you on as his own child when your parents died and left him as your carer in their will. Naturally, early into your childhood, he had started training you in the art of combat and marksmanship - so you grew up with intense skill.

You and Dick met soon after he was adopted by Bruce. And much like Donna, you were a kind face and a wise voice that kept him mentally grounded well into adulthood. But you were also someone mischievous that made him smile; someone he could always turn to for a well timed laugh.

You always kept him sane.

And very much unlike Donna - soon after he met you, Dick started to develop feelings for you.

Of course, back then, it was just a silly crush. When he told Donna about it at the time, she laughed. And when he had hidden his face in embarrassment, she then told him that it was ‘cute’. She told him that you two would be good together when you got older. So naturally, Dick took her words as biblically concrete advice.

He decided that he should wait for you. That the two of you would be good together when you got older.

So he waited.

And he waited. And eventually - life got in the way.

He had a huge falling out with Bruce, things at the Tower went south. It was never the right time to tell you. How the hell could he tell his best friend that he had those big, terrifying feelings mounting inside of him, worsening each year like a disease?

It was never the right time to tell you because he was dodging disasters left and right and he needed you more as a friend than as a lover. He needed you as a brick wall to lean on. He needed you as that voice of common sense in his ear - the leader’s loyal first mate, giving him advice behind the curtain and keeping his head on straight.

He didn’t need to tell you about his awful, festering feelings and have you gone from his life too.

When Garth died, and then Jericho died and the Tower shuddered, it still didn't feel like the right time. Wounds were tender and even if you were never downright angry at him like everyone else was - you needed your space. Dick respected that.

That day, you stood at the mouth of the elevator, about to leave for Star City to go and lick your emotional wounds at Ollie’s for a while, and you looked at Dick with tears in your eyes - looked at him like you were waiting for him to say it. But it wasn’t the right time.

He still thought about you every single day when he was in Detroit. And then - he showed up at your door with a scared little girl, needing more advice, needing that brick wall again. It was only natural that when chaos found him, he needed your help.

He hated that your advice was to call in Dawn and Hank. He relied on you, and you relied on family. And he hated that they were waiting at your apartment, called against his will once he had left to do some more sleuthing.

But he found that you were right when he saw how Dawn bonded with Rachel, when Hank put up a vicious fight against those strangers who came to collect her in the name of her father.

Watching you get thrown off that roof sent Dick’s heart through his stomach. As he clung onto the rooftop with his fingers and the muscles of his arm burned, all he could think about was you. As you sputtered out blood and he cradled your head, unsure of how to help you, terror gripped him in a way that it never had before in his life, because he realized that he might actually lose the most important person in his life.

As you lay in the hospital, a set of machines barely keeping you alive, with Dawn loyally holding your hand in comfort and Hank seething to get revenge on the people who had hurt you - Dick ached with regret and not having told you.

Still, when you showed up at that house in Ohio, somehow magically awakened from your near death by Rachel's powers - Dick felt that it just wasn't the right time. He swallowed his regrets like ash in his mouth when he reunited with you, hugged you tight. He didn’t even consider telling you about his feelings to be on the radar of possibility.

When you came back to the Tower to help bring in Doctor Light - it just wasn't the right time. When you showed up in Gotham to help bring down Red Hood - it just wasn't the right time.

Even when Dick died and was brought back to life by some strange magical pit, a pool of waters that brought him dreams of a far off life with you - it still wasn’t the right time.

You were there to Dick's call, loyal and waiting, every single time. You looked at him with as much love and longing in your eyes as he needed (at least, according to Dawn and Donna you did) - but still, it never felt like the right time.

It never felt like the right time to destabilize his entire life by uprooting the one good friendship he had. It never felt like the right time to truly fuck things up with you.

Now, because of some cult that Dick believed to be long gone and a stupid blood ritual, the world was ending, and it still didn't feel like the right time.

He wasn't the son of a demon from another dimension, but he still felt cursed.

When Dick saw you slip out of the room, clearly trying to sneak away from the group, his stomach twisted with nerves. It was rare that you of all people cracked under the pressure. It was rare that you needed to escape from the madness for a breath. He mumbled an excuse to Kory and then chased after you, knowing that it wouldn't be hard to tell where he was truly going - but truthfully, he didn’t care.

He easily caught you in one of the late night deserted halls of STAR Labs.

The many glass walls overlooked the city - a collection of bright lights that made up Metropolis. Thousands of people that you never knew, that you had never met before. People that all seemed too important now as you contemplated their lives; thought about the fact that you might not be able to save them.

Dick saw the sickly look on your face, the glassy sheen of guilt in your eyes even from far off as you leaned on the polished titanium railing that separated the upper floors from the atrium. His footsteps echoed in the empty hall and you heard him approaching from far off. He made no effort to sneak up on you or conceal himself, not wanting to startle you when you were already in such a distressed state.

The minute you looked over your shoulder and saw him, your face broke from that dark, doomed frown into a haste smile, and you reached up to wipe away your tears, attempting to be subtle with that motion. You were trying to hide yourself from him.

Dick came to stand beside you, resisting the urge to pull you into his arms. He desperately wanted to shelter you away from any fear you might be feeling. Maybe it was selfish; wanting to hold you, wanting to protect you from anything in the world that could possibly harm you. Maybe it was downright idiotic - because realistically, he knew that couldn't protect you from this kind of harm. He couldn’t protect you from the world ending.

“Y/N-” Dick murmured your name gently, clutching a fist tightly by his side to resist the urge to reach out and soothe a hand over the trembling muscles of your jaw.

You were holding in a sob, and it came out as a harsh, sarcastic laugh instead.

“I know.” You said. “I know. You're doing that Team Leader Guy Thing.”

You tried to make it sound playful and joking, but with your voice wet and soaked with worry and fear, it came off as a pathetic bid to deflect.

Dick wasn’t sure how to reply. Because yes, he was doing that ‘Team Leader Guy Thing’. He was trying his best to, anyway.

“You're gonna ask ‘are you okay?’ and I'm gonna lie and say ‘I'm fine, boss. All good.’” You continued.

At least you were being straightforward about it being a lie.

Dick wished that he had something genuinely helpful to say, but his throat stalled with dryness and his chest ached at seeing you so distraught. It really wasn’t something that he was used to.

“I mean, it's not like it's the end of the world.” You let out another dry, sarcastic laugh.

Then, there was a moment of silence - a beat of realization as your chin quivered and more thick tears rimmed your eyes.

“It's - it's only the end of the world.” You spoke these words heavier, dropping any false laughter in your tone - it truly hit you. Any further jokes you could make left you.

Dick choked on his own tears when he heard the aborted sob in your chest - something that came out as a whimper when you reached up to clutch at your heart.

You were genuinely terrified. Terrified that the Titans wouldn’t be able to find a solution in time. Terrified that everyone was going to die. Not just the people you loved, but - everyone.

“Hey, come on.” Dick said, his leader instincts, his natural caring for you kicking in. “We've been through worse.”

Working with the Titans, you had been through a lot. Drug busts, battling against costumed psychopaths, the loss of a dear friend to a dangerous assassin. But you weren’t sure that you had been through something worse than this. Everything the Titans had been through had never affected the world on such a large scale.

“Have we?” You argued gently.

Perhaps not. Maybe the only time the team had been in such dire straits was the first time Trigon attempted to come to earth. But that had been when Rachel had been armed with her powers and had been prepared to take him down. But Dick wasn't going to voice those thoughts to you.

You waited in agony for him to say something, and your tears finally breached - rolling down your face in hot tracks, laying marks of the true fear you were feeling, laying it all bare for the first time. Dick knew that his own eyes reflected that same glossy hurt now, if only for the pain he felt in seeing you cry - something that was so incredibly rare over the time he had known you.

Dick reached out and gently cupped the side of your cheek, running his thumb across your face and wiping some of those tears away. You were so startled by the tenderness of the touch that you couldn't help but to let out a whimper, and you felt frozen as Dick spoke his next words.

“It's gonna be okay.” He told you, trying his hardest to sound confident in the words. “We're gonna get through this. I know we will.”

This time, unlike many before, you couldn't be inspired by his confidence.

“Have you - have you considered what happens if we don't?” Your voice barely reached above a whisper, barely daring to tempt fate with this possibility.

Honestly, Dick had not. In these kinds of situations, he didn't allow himself to focus too much on the negative. As the team leader, he did have to take all the possibilities into account. It was something he had to do in order to keep everyone safe. But if he focused too much on death and darkness, much like Bruce did, then he knew that paranoia would overtake him and his team would get caught in the crossfire.

He had to spend his time coming up with solutions to fix the problem rather than spending his time caught up in knots, worrying about what would happen if he fumbled and didn't actually fix things after all.

The literal end of the world? It just wasn't a possibility in this mind.

But right now, standing there, staring into your big eyes, glossed over with fear as you looked to him for answers - there was only one thing that Dick could think of.

And it was so incredibly selfish. It didn’t have anything to do with the team or being a good leader. It didn’t have anything to do with helping the others.

Dick brushed his thumb over your cheek again, an incredibly tentative touch that had your skin tingling. You let out a small sigh, and the world froze around you when he leaned in - slowly, moving toward you at a pace that more than gave you time to escape if you wanted to. But you found that you didn’t want to. You found his closeness to be an incredible comfort in these moments of mental chaos.

And so, he gently planted his lips on yours.

It should have come as a shock - your childhood best friend kissing you. But in that moment, it just felt right. All you could do was shut your eyes and lean into the kiss, reaching up to grip his wrist, keeping him close to you as you leaned into his smothering heat. His lips were surprisingly soft, and he tasted like coffee - using caffeine to keep himself awake for days, trying to marathon a solution against the impending doom.

His kiss was firm but so giving - a touch that easily swallowed you up with heat from the top of your head all the way down to your toes. It was a sensation that pushed out the rest of the world, smothered any worries about who or what might bring an end to it.

It was the most tender, but most wonderfully passionate kiss that you had ever experienced in your life.

When he pulled away, you sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling incomplete without his lips on yours. The shock then began to set in, like pulling the knife from a stab wound and feeling the blood rush out of you freely. It created a dizzying mixture with the heat that was now boiling under your skin.

Why? Your brain screamed out as you stared at him. When? How long had he wanted to kiss you? How long had you been missing out on Dick Grayson?

Dick could see all those questions bubbling beneath your surface as the fear in your eyes shifted to confusion, and he finally decided to speak.

“I'm sorry.” He said quietly. “But if the world does end, I couldn't die without knowing what kissing you is like.”

“Dick-” You sighed, about to go on a long rant about how he could have done that years ago, about how he should have - and the end of the world was a shitty excuse.

But you abruptly cut off your own words when more footsteps squeaked down the hall - the rubber soles of sneakers scuffing against the polished floor.

Dick jumped away from you as though he had been burned, clearly wanting to keep the interaction private. Both of you tuned to see Gar approaching.

“Dick?” He posed. Gar had a look of confusion, clearly wondering if he should question what was going on between the two of you but swallowing it.

“Yeah?” Dick replied.

“Um - Conner's missing.” He announced this in a nervous, meek tone, not wanting to bring the team leader any more bad news.

“What?” Dick gaped.

There was no time to further discuss what Dick had said to you. With the end of the world in your hands, it easily fell to the back of your mind.

...

If you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans x reader #titans fanfiction #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x gender neutral reader #dick grayson x gn reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x you #titans hbo #dc titans fanfiction

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definitelynotshouting · 24 days

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Idk if this is Hunger AU canon or my own personal fanon but

one of the "calling cards" that the Watchers used in Evo was bedrock

bedrock is unbreakable by a player

perfect for trapping the player you're using as a Watcher incubator

and the texture looks rough af

when you get desperate you often try to do stuff to escape even if it's impossible, right

so what I'm saying is

probably one of the last things player!Grian did was tearing his hands to shreds trying to break bedrock out of sheer desperation

which makes all the passages in your fic where he's staring at his hands even more *gestures vaguely*

(idk why I typed this out in this format but it felt right so I'm going with it)

MAN OKAY THIS IS SUPER COOL i especially adore how youve connected it with the way i keep having Grian stare at his own hands???? which ftr is smth ive only just now realized i do all the time AKDBWKDJKSSJ this is JUST like the scarian jaw kisses thing HELPPPP 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 but thats such a cool thought!!! And utterly angsty i love it >:]

Its also made me realize i dont think ive ever actually told yall what did happen during that interim where Grian was captive as a Player before he died and became a Watcher, so buckle in i guess as i try to explain this one to yall (obligatory cws for captivity, parasitism, violated autonomy, body horror, and major character death discussion)

Yknow the world borders the life series has?? It was like that, but tiny. Maybe a couple chunks' worth of space to move around in. He spawned into a savannah biome and the Watchers specifically in charge of keeping an eye on him (pun intended) penned him in with the borders, implanted the specially-coded larva, and then retreated back just outside the server's barrier code to, well. To Watch.

So post Evo dragon fight the Watchers convinced Grian to join them without telling him what that entailed. They then proceeded to whisk him away to the server cluster's dev crystal, which is where the remnants of this Watcher colony made their semi-permanent home. There, held together basically only by the Watchers' ability to manipulate code, they had Grian make a brand new server.... and immediately trapped him in it.

He spent a year there slowly dying, eaten from the inside out by a parasite that was collecting his memories, copying over his stats and personality, with very limited space and resources to get by with. I know he built a tiny house out of acacia, but it never got any bigger than a starter base. He lived off of mostly bread and the meat from a few animals that spawned in with him; he primarily used stone tools, because those were what was most readily available. It was a very terrifying and lonely year, where all access to the outside world was cut off, and he was meticulously watched over to keep from dying while the larva inside him continued to grow and destroy him.

The Watchers were mostly hands-off in terms of interaction, but they did do regular check-ins to ensure the larva was alive and that there was no danger present to its host. Hostile mobs were carefully warded off, and Grian spent most of his time alternating between begging them to let him go (they never responded), trying to figure out ways to escape (it never worked), and tending to baseless chores just to keep from going out of his mind as his body grew weaker and weaker and more unstable around him.

I have a lot of feelings about this tbh, bc its just such a bleak scenario to think about-- trapped in a tiny cage with something killing you from the inside out, and your captors wont even talk to you about it properly. Being left otherwise to your own devices, with the terrible, lingering knowledge that, even if it was under duress, you still agreed to this. The fact that, after a certain point, after your questions and pleas are summarily ignored and brushed aside, you finally realize: you aren't meant to survive this. You are going to die.

A juvenile Watcher's first meal are the emotions during their host's last few moments. Grian was no exception; he cracked his way out of his own ribcage, and, without meaning to, amplified and feasted on Player!Grian's agony and terror as he died. With their memory codes finally disconnected, Grian had to watch himself through the eyes of a stranger as his terrified consciousness dissolved and his body fell apart into nothing more than loose strings of code.

Only then, still weak and flailing and helpless, was he was brought into the colony proper, in order to teach him how to be a Watcher. It wouldnt be for another few years before Grian gained the strength, control, and insight required to make his desperate escape. In total, i wanna say he spent somewhere between.... 4-6 years??? with the colony against his will. It would take another 4 for him to finally scrape together the courage to contact Mumbo and finally ask him for an invite into the Hermitcraft proper

One of these days i do plan to write that reunion, actually, which i'll add to the series as another prequel just like all the words that i forgot to say, which takes place roughly 6-8 months after Grian finally joins Hermitcraft. And if yall want to read an absolutely fantastic fic that deals with the moment Watcher!Grian was born and Player!Grian died, you should absolutely check out my friend @raichett 's fic Divergency, which ive pretty much canonized bc it REALLY hits the nail on the head for that situation.

Okay this got a lot longer than i meant it to sidhskdjej also those timeframes are a little squiggly bc i havent fully settled on where they fall on the general timeline. I wanna say Grian had been a Watcher for abt a decade by the time Mumbo got him onto Hermitcraft, though, so thats the loose timeline im working off of when i talk abt this :] anyway thanks for giving me an excuse to write this all out!!! while your idea about the bedrock isnt necessarily canon, i absolutely ADORE it and can totally see Grian just tearing up his hands while scrabbling against the world border.... utterly heartbreaking we fucking LOVE to see it. Thanks for sending in your ask!!! I always love seeing what you have to say about hunger au!!! :DDD

#shouting speaks #asks #hunger au #grian #watcher grian #evo watchers #UHM. LORE AHOY???? ITS A DARK ONE THO GUYS IM NGL #txt

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ethereal-night-fairy · 10 months

Text

Forgotten sorrows

Chapter 1

A Fae!AU story including COD characters

Fae!Soap X Female Reader

Your sister meets a mysterious man with an odd name and things just spiral downhill from there.

Warnings: MDNI, suggestive language, one use of the word fuck, dark themes , minor character death, attempted SA (not by soap),

This story was completely inspired by @ghouljams Fae!Au of COD MW. This won't make much sense if you don't read their blog. But I promise you won't be disappointed their an amazing writing so you should definitely check out their jaw dropping work. I hope I could do this au some justice. It's been a really long time since I've written a story. Sorry for any spelling mistakes in advance I did proof read when I was editing this chapter but I could've missed something. I'm halfway through the second chapter which will be extra angsty and hopefully in the third you'll enjoy Soap's Pov. Other COD characters will make appearances later on if I decide I want to continue writing.

Forgotten Sorrows Masterlist

Masterlist

Words: 7k

The Renaissance festival was beginning to take life, like a dragon awakening from its long slumber. Majority of stalls were set up with a numerous array of artwork, jewellery and knick knacks on display, while the main stage for theatrical performances was receiving its final touch ups. Food stalls were made to look like tavern bars and the arena for jousting was getting rowdy with fans cheering for their favourite 'knights'.

Groups of people were beginning to pile in dressed in their finest mythical attire, their excitement creating a buzz and ripple through the air, it was almost electrifying. Some costumes were eerily realistic causing you some discomfort if you stared too long. Your own excitement was settling in as you finished setting up your stall with your work. You liked dabbling in a number of different creative hobbies hence why your stall looked like the inside of a pawn shop but at least your products all matched an aesthetic making it look somewhat cohesive.

The place was getting increasingly crowded as the festival went into full swing. People had bumped past your stall in a hurry causing things to tumble to the ground. You rush to pick them up as people brush past you. Looking up you catch the eye of a strange man who just stares at you while you tidy things away. You try to ignore him as his eyes roam your body but you can practically feel his eyes on you. Suddenly a hand settles on your shoulder as you finish fixing your display causing you to jump.

Turning around you see your younger sister, smiling ear to ear. You sigh with relief as you looked around to find that the odd man had disappeared. She had just come from the stage with her binder in hand, obviously excited to tell me something with the way she was bouncing. She was dressed as a pink fairy-like creature more on the costume side rather than aiming for accuracy, but she looked beautiful nonetheless.

"Well? Go on, tell me what's gotten you so jittery", You smirk holding her shoulders swaying her back and forth jokingly.

She smiles and begins her monologue as if she's talking to an audience. She goes on and on about a guy she had just met, how kind and sweet he was, how he really liked the short play she had written. How he couldn't stop complimenting her writing. How he was exited to watch her play later on today. You had already watched it multiple times at your local theater. You always went to support her, this would be no different. At this point you had zoned out from her monologue since all she was doing was fawning over said dude. You still caught small details here and there as she talked while you worked and dealt with customers. Boyish charm, rugged ensemble, electrifying green eyes, strong biceps was what you had learned about this oh so charming man. She was a writer through and through you laughed silently at her antics.

"Oh and you wouldn't believe what he did next", she screeches

"Let me guess he grabbed your hand, kissed it like a knight devoting himself to you, while confessing his undying love!", You joked

She gasped with theatrics "How did you know!?" "He did actually kiss my hand though, there will be plenty of time for him to confess his undying love later" she laughed. "I'm so full of inspiration I feel like I could write for days, who knew a compliment could get me so worked up", she giggled.

"Oh! Before I forget I wanted to show you a job offer I received to write another play, this could be my big break!! My plays could reach Broadway!", She explained excitedly.

You look at her skeptically considering her history with scams. But took a look at the contract anyway. While you read the contract you don't initially find anything suspicious until you get to ownership clause, and lo and behold in the terms and conditions in very fine print you find out once someone publishes their work the company claims to own that intellectual property as the writer has 'voluntarily' given over their rights to their own work by agreeing to work for them. And thereby are entitled to sell or distribute their work accordingly without consulting or needing to pay additional compensation towards the writers. You feel yourself seething from the audacity of this company.

You look at your sister with tired eyes "Please tell me you haven't signed anything yet", I plead

"Oh no I wouldn't have, especially since the last incident that happened", she looks down sheepishly.

"Oh thank god... this company just wants to steal your work, they don't actually want to help you so don't accept the offer", You let out a long breath while showing her the terms and conditions of the contract and telling her to read them next time. You look at her with pity, for someone so talented she was extremely naive when it came to things that required common sense, probably because she was always in her head but it was hard to stay upset with for the same reasons. You smile at her and let her know she did a good job telling you before deciding to do anything. Your sister smiles proudly at your compliment. You give her some advice about stalls that sell cheap manufactured products to pass them off as homemade. And to be careful talking to strangers before she goes around the festival while you continue working telling her you'll see her later on in the day.

You were hoping to enjoy the festival once you finish up with your stall but for the time being you happily engaging with customers and other artists that came for a chat. One of the products you offered was small paintings on thick ornate card roughly the size of a palm. They resembled the aesthetic of renaissance paintings. They were selling pretty well, by late afternoon you had sold majority of your products. Things weren't as busy around the stalls anymore since the theater performances had begun. You met some odd customers here and there and tried your best not to stare at their life like costumes. They were almost ethereal in the way they held themselves but you put on your best smile and treated them like anyone else. Their appearances often inspired you to paint more. But you didn't want to be rude and do it without their consent.

Time went on and things began to quieten. The jousting seemed to be going well, with the cheering as any indicator. You hoped to finish up soon. You wanted to explore a bit before the plays started. As your waiting around for customer you suddenly feel a dark pressure on your chest as if someone had placed a rock on your heart while you were tidying your display. You look up at your new customer and feel a shiver run down your spine. There was a dark looming presence about this.…this man? He wore a mask with a skull on it, which you supposed wasn't too uncommon especially with the way everyone was dressed here, but what you found odd was that you could feel fear seeping into your bones by just his appearance, you could almost see smoke or some sort of shadow emanating from him. You didn't even notice his partner until she spoke to you breaking the weird hold you had just felt. You grazed your woven rowan bark choker unconsciously, it had a small shield knot pendant on it. It brought you some peace as you subconsciously thank your best friend for gifting it to you years ago.

You put on your best smile while greeting them, you were back into your professional mode hoping not to offend them for staring. His girlfriend or wife was super kind and sweet, a really big contrast to the hulking figure behind her. She asked about the portrait paintings, you told her the price and rough time it would take to complete. The man didn't want to be in the painting so his partner who he affectionately called 'Love' was the one you painted. You were compelled to put extra effort to make it even better than your previous paintings for some reason, maybe out of guilt for judging them. You finish the painting, signing it on the back with your nickname and spray the sealant on it so it would last.

'Love' was overjoyed how it had turned out and eagerly handed it to their boyfriend, who stared at it for a while before turning and looking at another odd couple standing off to the side, he specifically stared at the very tall man with a full head and face covering which funnily enough looked like a t-shirt with eyeholes. You didn't quite understand what he meant to be, maybe an executioner? He had a menacing aura about him as well, something you definitely didn't want to deal with. Once he had caught his eye he proudly showed off the painting before sliding it into his chest pocket with a smirk you think with the way his mask moved upward slightly. You show your appreciation to them as they leave still terrified trying to control your trembling. They walk around while the other couple approached your stand. You really were low on your luck today. It seemed like the girlfriend wasn't all that interested in a self portrait but took her time browsing some of the jewellery pieces you had made. While her very large and very intimidating boyfriend whimpers at them so he could get a painting too, "But that beast got one Liebling, why can't I" "Don't you love me anymore?" He sulked. After a while she sighs and finally relents not wanting to deal with his whining for the rest of the festival.

You get to work immediately not wanting to stay in this awkward and nerve wracking situation. You put the same amount of effort into their painting as you had done to the previous one through a very compelling feeling. You chalk it up to guilt again for judging them. As you finish, you sign and seal the painting before handing it to them. This giant of a man is overjoyed when he receives the painting and you see him hold his darling close while staring at the painting. You watch them leave after paying, confused as to what you had just witnessed. But you decide to ignore it and continue working for another hour or so, before closing and packing up your stand with the little products you had left.

You look everywhere for sister but can't seem to find her even after numerous calls and text messages. An odd feeling of dread settles into your stomach. It almost felt as if you were being watched which put you on edge. You look around one last time hoping to catch a glimpse of her somewhere. Then suddenly you see her pink fairy hair at the edge of the crowd going towards the outdoor theater. You hurriedly make your way towards her incase she disappears again. Finally catching up you see a man clearly flirting with her. You roll your eyes thinking this is the likely reason why she hasn't checked her phone. You wave to get her attention and she looks and smiles at you while you make your way towards them not knowing what to expect from this guy.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you for so long" you pant slightly from your jog. "Where have you been?"

"Oh Soap here has been keeping me quite busy", she laughs playfully introducing him

The first thing you notice is his eyes… his overwhelming green/blue eyes, you felt like you'd drown in them if you didn't look away. Next came his perfect white smile, a little too perfect. With his boyish smirk to follow, you stare for a second too long earning you a toothy grin. Making you look away in embarrassment. You find yourself drawn to him in a weird inhumane way which unnerved you since you usually had great control over your emotions. You felt almost tied to him in a sense, like he was reeling in a fish with bait. But right now all you could think about was his lips devouring yours, stealing your breath away, then breathing life back into you when you'd clutched onto him desperately. His hands around your waist, holding you against a wall, his fingers touching…..You snap out of it quickly while holding the pendant on your choker. You feel guilt and shame enclosing around your heart making it hard to breathe but managed to calm down. While your sister continued her conversation, oblivious to your reaction to him. Your never had such a physical reaction to anyone before, paired with the feeling of being watched you were at your wits end today.

You introduce yourself as "Faoi Rún" or just "Rún" (pronounced as fae ruin or just ruin), before your sister can give him your government name when trying to introduce you. Knowing she has a tendency to forget you don't like your name given out.

"Oh? rún eh? That yer real name?" He asks intrigued

"Wouldn't you like to know" you say laughing tensely trying to avoid his beautiful eyes almost afraid he'll look too deep into your psyche. Afraid he'll figure out what was going on in your dirty mind.

"She's particular on strangers knowing her name, sorry, she might tell you if you get to know her better", she laughs playfully lightening the mood.

"Ye two don't look like sisters" he says "Did one o' ye get switched at the hospital by mistake? he joked

"We grew up in the same orphanage, we're sisters by choice not by blood", you state plainly indicating you didn't want to delve deeper into this topic.

"Come, both of you my play is about to start, I want you both there with me", your sister says trying to lighten the mood. In the short amount of time she knew him you couldn't understand how they had gotten so buddy buddy so quickly. This was extremely concerning for many reasons.

You weren't one to believe in the supernatural or faeries per say. But growing up with your witch best friend who lived near the orphanage you had certain habits instilled in you. With how often she'd visit you those habits just became second nature at some point. You were thankful for the knowledge you received on the unseen, though not always believing it.

People were tricky. You'd meet odd people here and there but you'd never think they weren't human per say though you were told otherwise. Maybe they were just odd or maybe you were desperate to deny their existence for your own sanity. Not wanting to complicate your life. Deciding to live in ignorant bliss. But the current situation had it becoming near impossible. Things you wanted to suppress were starting to bubble up. Especially since your encounter with this strangely charming but terrifying man.

Your sister had many friends in the orphanage when she first arrived. Who were closer to her age to play with so she didn't see the need to tag along when you went to see your best friend. Who lived nearby and had her grandmother's house just down the road to the orphanage.

You were often left to your own devices being among some of the older kids that weren't adopted. Even though you were only one or two years older, what made playing awkward with Daisy was how much you matured at a young age due to unreliable guardians. Where the orphanage caretakers lacked you would pick up the slack and care for the younger children especially your sister who relied on you more as her friends slowly started leaving. She felt hurt and alone thinking something was wrong with her for not being adopted like her friends. You often had to remind her she had you and you weren't planning on leaving her. Among the other unadopted children you two stuck together and took care of one another even after leaving and becoming adults. While the rest moved on and started new lives trying to forget their time in that orphanage.

You're snapped out of your thoughts as you arrive at a decent stop to sit on the grass as the performance begins playing. The whole time through the play you watched your sister swoon over this ethereal man in an extremely concerning manner even for her. She didn't really acknowledge you much, too busy hanging on to every sweet word this man had to say. There was something off about him you just couldn't place your finger on it. Every fiber in your being was telling you to grab your sister and run far far away. You didn't know what to do but you tried desperately to keep your composure, deciding to have a talk with her once he left. He caught you staring while you were deep in thought thinking about how you could warn her. He smirks almost knowingly as if he could read your mind and gives you a wink as he continues to flatter your sister who was weak to compliments.

The play ends and you stand up to applaud with everyone else then you ask to go grab something to eat with her alone but she quickly states that Soap wanted to treat her to dinner. You glare inwardly at his boldness. While he returns a smirk. You think about his odd name that you brushed past the first time you heard it, why did you ignore it the first time? You were usually very attentive to details and information.

You sigh knowing full well that you won't be able to dissuade her now he has his claws in her. So you relent for now thinking of an action plan to get rid of this leach even though you knew very little about him. He just gave you bad vibes and didn't quite understand it. Still trying to convince yourself he was just an odd human, someone you definitely didn't like. Someone who you should never get involved with. But you had to protect your sister. You just had too, something sinister was brewing. You could feel it and you needed help.

One month had passed since the incident, your sister had left with…with, what was his name again?.... Whatever it doesn't matter she had left with him to go to dinner while you tried enjoying the rest of the festival. But you couldn't calm your nerves for some reason and ended up leaving soon after. Just to make sure she was ok you sent her a text asking if she had gotten home safe later that evening. You were relieved when she responded by telling you all about the date they went on afterwards. Although you were happy for her there was a boulder in the pit of your stomach telling you to keep this man away from your dangerously naive sister. She's been a bit slow to respond since then for some reason causing you some anxiety, but try to rationalise and chalk it up to her being busy at work. Even though you would usually meet a couple times each month. She hasn't said anything else about that man….why can't you remember his name?....His features are difficult to recall now too…. You usually pride yourself about your retention of details. But it feels like a fog enters your brain when you try to think about him, how odd… But the one thing that hasn't left is your desire to protect your sister. Something isn't right with this situation. But considering she hasn't texted you fawning over him you might be paranoid for no reason. She probably decided she didn't like him all that much after all.

You put down your painting brush even before your alarm went off signaling you to take a break. It's been something you've been working on after your hospital incident. You weren't planning on working yourself into the ground. There needed to be a balance. Growing up an orphan you didn't have many people to care for you apart from your sister, your best friend and her grandmother that you visited often. So you would overwork yourself in academics and in your career to gain some sense of worth. Years of neglect had taken its toll on you, ending you up in the hospital in the intensive care unit for months. Only then did you realise the people you worked so hard for didn't give a flying fuck about you, you were so easily replaceable to them that they gave your projects to someone else who took credit for all your hard work. Not once did they come to see you, the only thing you received on your return was an office full of paperwork and a deadline to complete them by. You quit there and then only keeping in contact with the people who genuinely cared to visit you on your near death bed. Which were few and far between. From there after getting encouragement from your best friend and sister you decided to pursue your painting career again. And a bunch of others craft related hobbies.

It wasn't too hard considering you had a art college degree as well as having a couple years of work experience as a gallery curator. You had connections in the industry which you definitely used to further your career. Painting was your main focus from then on but you dabbled in other crafts including metalwork and pottery.

You found joy in the variety of work you could produce. This path in life felt more fulfilling and worthwhile in the long run. You enjoyed the spontaneity of your daily inspiration spikes. It kept things new and fresh to keep you engaged for longer periods of time without burning out or getting bored. You never forced yourself to work on something you didn't enjoy doing even if that meant stopping halfway because you know once you were up for it again the piece would be completed. So you had many unfinished projects just waiting patiently for you to come back to them, and eventually you will but you were never in a rush.

You stand up from your craft desk putting away your brushes and paints after cleaning them, glancing one last time at the large paintings you were commissioned to paint by the community council for the local library. Your back was stiff due to the prolonged sitting position you were in. You stretch on your way to the kitchen about to make yourself some herbal tea. You browse through your phone deciding to send your sister a text saying you'll be coming over to check in on her with dinner. She had a tendency to neglect herself when engrossed in work which you could relate to. You go to grab the jar with the tea only to realize it's empty. You let out a groan, jotting down on a piece of paper to visit your best friend with baked goods to buy more tea from her, not that she ever really lets you pay in cash so have to get creative. You stick it to the fridge while you go about preparing dinner and some snacks to bring her.

Everything was cooked and packed tightly you placed the food in your tote bag as you grabbed your phone, wallet and keys. Glancing one last time to see if you received a text back from your sister, which you hadn't. But that wasn't too unusual either. You had made her favourite dishes, hoping she would like them. You lock up as you leave, adjusting your Rowan tree branch hanging from the door of your condo.

Once you get to your sister's apartment you get buzzed in by the front desk since you visit so often. You knew the security guard and receptionists by name. They were very kind and sweet, just a bit odd at times but harmless.

"Evening Aodhán", you smile handing him a two wrapped homemade cookie,

"For your trouble, for looking out for my sister", you laugh jokingly "Ones for Ilayda"

Aodhán: "It's not raining Ilayda won't be working today", he says greeting you back

"Oh? I hadn't realised she only works on rainy days", you say confused

"Is Migina here? You can give it to her"

Aodhán: "Oh yeah she'll be here soon I'll let her know you left something nice to eat"

You say your farewells as you make your way up the stairs finding her apartment on the first floor. You knock and wait. Nothing happens, there's no noise from inside the apartment. You knock again harder this time checking your phone hoping you didn't just arrive when she wasn't home. You could always leave the food with Aobhán to give to your sister but that wasn't the problem, you had a nagging feeling you needed to get into her apartment right away. So you ring her number as you knock much harder this time probably disturbing her neighbors as you call out her name, not her real name of course. You use her childhood nickname 'Daisy'. Because she loved asking you for daisy crowns in summer.

Finally the door creaks but you aren't greeted by your sister, something with captivating ocean eyes has taken residence in her home. You look at him with your mouth agape confused as to why he's here.

"You!? Why are you here? Where is she!! What have you done to her!", panic sets in, your mind is racing with the worst possible scenarios. You push past him into the apartment frantically looking for her. Your arm is grabbed preventing you from going further in.

"Calm yer horses, ah haven't done anythin tae her lass", he says with an eerie calmness. "She's sleeping in her bed after writing all day. Ye should calm down, she needs her rest" he says in such a gentle voice it almost had you convinced he cared…. almost but you caught an insidious glint in his eyes for a quarter of second which sent your mind reeling.

You yank back your arms wondering what he's thinking. You don't bother responding to him as you eye him with skepticism. One glance around the place you can see she hasn't been taking care of herself. The apartment is messy, the dishes have piled up and papers are thrown everywhere. You go to look into the fridge and find it empty. You level this infuriating man with your worst glare. You place down your bag on the counter.

"Why are you here?" You say seething at him

"What dae ye mean? cannae ah come see mah lassie?", He says matter of factly. "Ah dinnae appreciate ye hissing at me. Ah haven't done anythin' tae ye…", It felt like he was about to say 'yet' but stopped himself. He looked at me like a fly who had come in to ruin his day by buzzing around his head.

"Since when? When did you two become so close? She hasn't said a word about you since the festival", You say trying to keep your voice calm and level not wanting to wake her up. Looking at him like he's some parasite, as you begin to tidy up the kitchen quietly.

"She's a grown lassie she doesn't need tae consult ye tae see someone, ye seem awfully nosy if ye ask me" he says losing his gentle voice completely to adopt a more rugged sound. Something that sits deep in his chest, causing your insides to churn for odd reasons. Your eyes meet his and for a second as you look back, you're very much frozen while the soapy dishes sit in your hands. You feel your blood run cold as his eyes flicker downwards towards your body. What was this man thinking!?

"Good thing I wasn't asking you then", you clap back trying to snap him out of whatever hedonistic thoughts he was having, praying you yourself wouldn't fall down that rabbit hole with how easily he could charm someone. But then again your sister was a bad example considering how gullible she could be. You continue to tidy up while deciding not to engage in a conversation with him anymore than necessary.

"How long has she been sleeping for?", you ask as you pick up her pages while setting them aside.

"Couldn't say, a while?" he shrugs nonchalantly leaning against the wall while watching you, no devouring your figure as it moves around cleaning.

You fix him to a glare not understanding why he was here, what purpose could he possibly serve doing nothing in your sister's apartment while it's in this sorry state, he didn't even offer to help you seethe.

You were more upset she kept it a secret that she was seeing him. Because if she had told you, you would have come over the same day to explain why that would be a very very bad idea. You just decide to ignore him for the rest of the cleaning which takes an hour before you decide to wake your sister up to get refreshed as you heat the food up for everyone.

Knocking on her bedroom door you enter to find her flopped onto her bed , sheets thrown around. You approach her gently as you call out her nickname to wake her up. Her face had dark circles and she looked exhausted, you've never seen her look so exhausted and overworked. After many attempts she finally wakes up groaning.

"Sis? What are you doing here?", she says rubbing her eyes

"I came to check in on you, you haven't been replying back to me properly I got worried and came here to drop off some food" you say kindly as she just nods saying she had gotten caught up in a new project and forgot to do much else apart from writing.

"Freshen up I'll get the food ready for us" ,you say before leaving the room to do just that. Not realising Soap was listening the whole time.

You set the table for three as Soap watches from the wall looking like a statue not saying anything too busy in his own thoughts, probably plotting something you think.

You reheat the food and refill the water jug, placing it on the table as your sister enters. Soaps demeanor changes drastically as she approaches. He goes towards her to show his concern for her wellbeing as she reassures him that she's okay, that she's just tired from overworking and that she's sorry she fell asleep while he was here to spend time with her. Where was this concern when the house needed cleaning? or when her fridge was empty? or when she hadn't probably eaten in days? You looked at him with venom which my sister noticed as she sat down beside me while soap stood by her side.

"It's not what it looks like", she whispers to you. "He was just here to help with my writing, I'll explain later". You just nod as you pour food for her and go to do the same for soap but he stops you.

"Oh ah wouldn't wantae intrude, ye twa enjoy yer meal", he says with sad voice kinda implying you had said something to upset him or make him feel unwelcome. Your sister looks at you for answers. While you just shake your head ignoring her look.

"It's not intruding at all, you've been such a great help to me for this past month, I couldn't even thank you enough even if I tried. Please sit down and have a meal with us. My sister is a wonderful cook. I'm sure she doesn't mind you joining, she even set you a place on the table" she says in her sweetest tone.

"Are ye sure, a'm feelin like I might owe ye later," he says sitting down beside her

"You don't owe me anything, this meal is given freely without strings attached", you say plainly trying to keep your hate at bay.

"Consider it a repayment for helping my sister for the past month", you quip while smiling innocently while you pour him the food. Your sister was too busy inhaling her meal to notice your comment. Which concerned you further, she looked starved.

You make small talk asking about what your sister has been doing that caused her apartment to be in the state you found it in. You reprimand her lightly telling her she needs to take care of herself better. Which she agreed to but said it was extremely difficult when she was in her 'writing zone' but promised to do better.

You tell her you'll go grocery shopping with her tomorrow since it was sunday and her kitchen was barren and she agreed. She complimented 'Soap' who's name you kept forgetting for some reason but tried desperately to remember it this time. She said he was a huge help since he worked as theater stage director at a point in his life and knew what looked good on stage and what didn't. He often came over to help her adjust her scenes or to just hang out which was why he was here today not for any other nefarious reasons she insisted. You simply nod along not saying much.

"My sister is just a little overprotective", she says smiling at him. "But she has my best intentions at heart" you smile slightly at her words while continuing to eat, not happy at this new friendship that was blooming between the two when you were certain he had ulterior motives.

"Hmm I can see that", he laughs while eating his food. He looked up at you as looked at him wondering if he was enjoying the food. You feel a blush creep up your neck as you look away quickly, your heart hammering as he chuckles at your odd bashfulness. You didn't understand why you were so drawn to him but you hated the fact you couldn't control your thoughts. Why did you care so much if he was enjoying your food or not!? You weren't usually like this…

"Ye weren't kidding when ye said she could cook", he complimented. "Ah haven't had such a crakin' meal in a while" he winks at you smiling which you ignore and say you appreciate it.

You tried many times to get to know Soap throughout the dinner but he gave vague answers that angered you further but you kept it within. He seemed to be enjoying your frustration. It almost seemed like he was trying to get a reaction out of you that wasn't complete hatred and mistrust. Your sister was oblivious to his antics which concerned you further. It seemed like she was in a daze and not her usual daydreaming daze. This felt different. But you couldn't explain how. You cleaned up the dishes after everyone was finished while thinking of a way to talk to your sister today or tomorrow about cutting off her new friendship. You had to do it in a way that wouldn't upset her since you knew she had trauma relating to losing friends. The last thing you wanted to do was upset her. You laid out the snacks for later if she wanted them and decided to put the rest of the food in the fridge. You start getting ready to leave since It was getting late and you'd be back tomorrow anyway to help with her groceries, you look at Soap to see if he was leaving too.

Maybe he felt your stare and decided to call it a day not wanting to face your wrath. He said his goodbyes and left before you did saying he greatly enjoyed the meal you provided. Your sister thanked him for all his help recently and apologized for falling asleep while talking to him. You tell your sister to take care of herself and to rest up and try to be more careful who she lets into her home so easily after Soap had left. She says she'll be more careful before giving you a tight hug as you make your way out of the apartment. You put a reminder on your phone to go grocery shopping tomorrow with your sister and to bake some desserts to bring to your best friend later that day. You write down a quick list of things you'll need as you walk down the stairs.

You say your farewells to Aobhán and Migina as you make your way out of the building towards your car in the moonlight parking lot. The air was chilly and there was an odd mist in the air. Wanting to get home as soon as possible you hasten your pace feeling the heat of your breath on your face. As you get to your car a cold ice hand grips you from behind pushing you against the car door. You feel a large body behind you as you begin to struggle but it wasn't producing any heat which was odd. But that was the least of your worries, you were pressed harder into the door until your movements stopped and you began to shout only for your mouth to be covered by a rugged hand. You felt disgusted by the man grinding his body on yours

You continue to put 110% of your energy into fighting off this attacker while trying to stay calm and collected. You put your keys between your knuckles and try to stab them backwards hoping to hit something which you do. He lets out a grunt beside your ear as he steps back slightly to gain his ground again. In that little time to turn around with your keys ready to attack again, your heart hammering thinking you might die here. The attacker grips his side where you had hurt him still growling as he knocks the keys out of your hands as he pins himself against you again. You finally get a glimpse at his moon lit face.

It was no one you recognised, his face was hard to describe as it seemed like it didn't have a consistent state. Every time you look away briefly while fighting him off if face slightly changed or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you in the dark. The face started contorting into a vile form the longer you stared, resembling a beast more than a man. It had large bulging eyes, thin hair balding on its head and warts forming on its face. You managed to throw him to the ground in blind rage as he tried to grab you more intimately. It almost felt you were drawing strength from somewhere other than yourself. You felt utterly disgusted, you kicked him hard in the groin for good measure. While backing up to call the police with your taser out now. But before you could do anything else, another figure stepped from the shadows and stepped on the man's neck as he struggled on the ground to breathe.

You look up to see smoke coming out of Soap's mouth as he flicks his cigarette at the man on the ground without saying anything. You were too shocked to move or do anything as you saw the pure unfiltered rage emanating from his body. His eyes once a beautiful ocean blue were almost black in comparison now. You see him step harder on the man's neck while saying something in a language you didn't understand, it sounded ancient. Like a forgotten battle song sung by your ancestors in times of turmoil. You watched in horror as you heard a snap and pop as the man's body goes limp on the ground before disintegrating before your very eyes. Everything you tried suppressing about the unseen, everything you tried so desperately to deny was crumbling.

You watch Soap approach you and your mind tells you to run, to get away. You might me next! But you couldn't move your legs, all you could do was clutch your heart for dear life. You close your eyes and wait…. The first thing you feel is his breath on your face, warm and bitter due to the tobacco. Next his rough hand on your chin tilting your head back gently.

"Look at me lass", he growls. You whimper and shake your head afraid of what you'll see.

"Come now, ah just wantae make sure yer alright", he changes tactics acting sweet but you could still feel his anger radiating off him.

You open your eyes slowly not wanting him to direct his rage toward you. His blue ones meet your teary ones and you see him smile.

"Ah there she is", he massages the side of your neck trying to comfort you, while you tremble under his touch.

"He didnae hurt ye noo did he? ", You shake your head at his question still afraid of what he was about to do.

"Good…good, ah wasn't expecting someone tae get tae ye first", his words cause your blood to run cold.

"Althoogh all ah was thinking about doin' was havin a word with ye", he smirked at your discomfort

"Ye see ah dinnae appreciate ye interfering with me prey especially one that was sae easy tae catch. Usually isolating thaim is fairly simple bit fur some reason ah cannae git ye tae comply. Ah might fin' ye a wee bit interesting but that doesn't mean ah will let ye ruin mah hard wirk"

You look at him shocked. You didn't expect him to just come out right and say he was planning to do something horrible to your sister. Suddenly all your fear dissipated and anger takes its place. You push him away roughly, while looking at him venomously before you speak.

"You stay away from my sister, or else" you hiss

"Or else what?", he laughs "What can a wee lassie like ye dae?"

"You don't want to see what lengths I would go to, to protect my family. I'll make you regret ever coming into my sister's life", you say with conviction.

"Let's see about that. Ah wonder if ye'll be able tae dae much when ye cannae remember anythin' ", before you could react you felt a tap to your forehead as everything faded into black.

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utilitycaster · 11 months

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I've gotten a couple replies of "and that's terrifying" on this post about the more stable members of Bells Hells, and, to be honest, hate that, so let's talk about it.

There's a couple reasons. The first that I still don't know who the fuck thought the Issylra half of the party split would be Team Levelheaded and not Team Abandonment Issues, because, well, it's the latter. The second is that there's been a near constant undercurrent from quite early in the campaign of "oh Orym...he's going to break...he's a powder keg" and while he's decidedly not a powder keg, we did get him finally breaking a bit, and suddenly everyone's like "HORRIFYING that the guy I kept claiming was uniquely angsty is now having a harder time with the party split than the other characters whose equally tragic backstories I've consistently ignored, diminished, and dismissed."

All three of the Bells Hells characters in Team Issylra have issues related to loneliness and being left behind, which is a common thread through the party, but notably, Fearne, FCG, and Chetney being more stable should not be surprising nor scary. Resilience isn't tied to whether or not you're somewhat chaotic, or have mechanically-induced loss of control, and that's what we're talking about here. The reason why Team Issylra is having a rough time of it - and specifically why Laudna and Orym are falling apart whereas Ashton is doing comparatively well - is because they've been constantly pretending things are okay. Chetney, meanwhile, genuinely does think the worst thing that happened to him fucking rules, and has the age and perspective and sheer survival instincts to pull through; FCG has, within the story, had to face some horrifying realizations about himself and so has some tools for this kind of situation; and Fearne is to be honest still learning that consequences are a thing that happens, but she has dealt with a few profound disappointments and is sitting with them - she openly admitted she's not terribly impressed by her parents.

On the other hand, I think Orym has worked through the earlier stages of grief, to be sure, but he's put a brave face on over it and tried to look at the bright side. Which isn't the worst idea, but it means when the things he's built that idea of a bright side upon - Keyleth's infallibility, his relationships within the Crown Keepers - are nowhere to be found, he doesn't have anything to take hold of. He adjusted to one devastating change by clinging to the constants, and now that many of the constants are gone too, he has no mechanism to process the change in their absence.

And this is Laudna's whole deal, right? I do in fact agree that her initial death was still the worst thing that's happened to her so far, but that doesn't mean she can't still be incredibly upset by major events. It's comforting to know you've survived worse, but it doesn't necessarily help you actually get through a slightly less terrible (but still pretty terrible) situation. She says she can't stop compartmentalizing or she'll cry - but like, she'd probably feel better if she'd just spent the second watch crying. Like Orym, Laudna's developed this idea that she can will things into being okay, and in the end, she can't. Leaning into the "Today SUCKS" attitude would, honestly, help her, and I'm hoping she does so.

Ashton meanwhile doesn't have healthy coping mechanisms, but they do have coping mechanisms that work in this situation (namely, drinking and hitting things). He also, more importantly, has no investment in pretending things are okay. Ashton thinks the world is full of utter bullshit that will fuck you over, and the point is to get through it, and sure, it's a very cynical mindset, but there's a reason why toxic positivity is, well, toxic.

As a sidebar, I also think that Ashton has, fascinatingly and despite their drunken talk with Laudna on the skyship, put their abandonment issues into perspective. Ashton is able to handle the current situation because, logically, they were teleported to a random location beyond their control and with no capacity to contact other people, so it's reasonable to assume the other half of the party is in the same position. No one abandoned anyone. To quote Ashton themself, actually, from episode 25, "Sometimes shit's just fucked up, and the only thing you can do because you didn't do anything fucking wrong, is get the fuck back up and do the exact same thing all over again knowing that there was nothing to learn." On the other hand, the fact that Milo saved Ashton makes that particular situation worse. If Ashton had been left to die in the street and a random uninvolved stranger picked him up? Then you can at least imagine the Nobodies had to leave, or couldn't pick them up for whatever reason, or even perished themselves. The fact that Milo was able to make this choice means the Nobodies also had the ability to make a choice, and the choice was to leave them behind, and that's what stings, and that's the unique loneliness, and that's why this situation isn't comparable.

So anyway, in summary, it's unsurprising the two people who have handled grief and tragedy by trying to quietly (in Orym's case) and not-so-quietly (in Laudna's) smooth it over are finding themselves completely unable to do so and barely holding together, whereas the people who allow themselves to be upset or, frankly, just go apeshit, are doing much better.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #bells hells #Ashton (and Deni$e) are honestly reminding me of the Yasha pit fight in C2 rn #like was that a healthy coping mechanism no but Yasha honestly did feel much better after it and her recovery trajectory went up from there #and ashton has the other dimension of like. he has chronic pain. it's unfair and serves no purpose. shit happens.#it's very they should invent a way out that isn't through but unfortunately they didn't so fuck it i'm smashing the wall #i mean barbarian rage as catharsis isn't a new idea by any stretch but. the thing about a reckless attack is it feels good as hell

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flight-of-the-sacred-eagle · 10 months

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So, I’m still yelling about Sonic Prime season 2. It’s. So fucking good?

And not just because someone on the writing team 100% ships Sonadow because, holy crap, so much of that episode feels shippy.

So, full disclosure. Shadow is my favorite Sonic character. Ever since I saw him in Heroes I loved him. As a kid I didn’t notice the real “constantly shifting character” thing. Now, having played almost every major 3d Sonic game (I didn’t play Forces and refused to play Boom), having watched shows like Sonic X and Sonic Prime (again, I stayed away from Boom but I’ve heard it’s amazing), I think it’s obvious that he gets wildly mischaracterized.

He’s angsty, yes. I mean, he watched his child best friend/sister get shot to death in front of him when he was… five (Look, he’s simultaneously Sonic’s age, over 50, and like five- his age is an enigma), that would make anyone angsty. But he’s also genuinely caring, even if he rarely shows it.

Look no further than 06 when he accidentally releases Mephelis because he picks up Rogue to move her away, or when he intercepts Silver so Sonic can go save Elise. He’s actively saved the world three times- SA2, Shadow the Hedgehog, and 06, with him sacrificing his life in his first appearance. And let’s not forget how he genuinely seemed upset in 06 when Sonic died.

Actually, 06 is the best characterization of Shadow since his introduction. And it can basically all be summed up in his own words. “If the whole world chooses to turn against me, then I’ll fight like I always have.”

He’s brooding. He’s harsh. He’s proud and independent. But by god will he fight to the death for what is right. He cares about people, but he uses actions not words.

Now, what does this have to do with Sonic Prime? Well, this is probably the best characterization of Shadow they’ve ever done. He’s still broody and much more reserved, but everything he’s doing is selfless. He’s not beating up Sonic just because.

He’s beating up Sonic because he, rightfully in my mind, sees Sonic as a threat to his world. He isn’t trying to prevent Sonic from saving the world, he’s basically trying to put him in time out for ruining the world.

This is more than proven when he not only realizes that he can’t do something, but he also realizes that the only way to fix everything is to work together. And he actively admit that. Reluctantly, yes, but he says they need to work together.

He’s still angry and is currently furious at Sonic, but… he kind of has the right to be. Interestingly, he actually spoke to Sonic before fighting him (which, side note, was animated amazingly).

And let’s not forget his cockiness. It’s done perfectly. He’s not taking it too far like Sonic tends to do, but him being a smug little shit is great. And I think it really helps to show the dynamic he and Sonic have because he’s just. Not like that around other characters.

Without using words, they managed to show that, despite the fighting that’s happening, there’s a bond between Sonic and Shadow. One that can only be forged by fighting to save the world side by side.

I think it’s also important to mention that Shadow clearly was enjoying his fight with Sonic. Probably because it’s the most normal thing he’s experienced in forever. His friends are gone. Green Hill is gone. The chaos emerald is gone (though I have a suspicion that it’s going to come back at some point. It fell into the void for a reason and that void was shown for a reason. My bet is that they’re going to need to enter the void at some point). He’s trapped in limbo.

Fighting Sonic is a constant. One he desperately needs.

I know I’ve been rambling but for the first time in over a decade, they’ve gotten Shadow’s personality perfectly. Makes me wonder if the writers, or at least some of them, played SA2 growing up. After all… it’s been long enough since he was introduced that the target audience for SA2 when it was released would be old enough to work for the SEGA team.

It also makes me crazy excited for the third Sonic movie. I know they’re different writers, but they have hit the nail on the head with each character, and if a different show can characterize Shadow that well… maybe Sega is relaxing their iron grip on him and allowing him to actively shine.

Also that scene with Shadow falling to the void and Sonic sounding genuinely panicked was amazing. You can tell he was getting SA2 flashbacks. Someone likened the scene to Andrew Garfield’s Spider-Man watching MJ fall in No Way Home and catching her when he couldn’t catch Gwen, and yeah. The emotional impact seems to be the same.

Sonic couldn’t save Shadow then, but he can save him now.

Just… go watch Prime if you haven’t. Sonic fans have been treated well these past few years and I can’t wait to see what comes next.

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonic prime #Sonic #shadow #sonadow #sonic prime spoilers

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mirkwoodshewolf · 9 months

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First heartache is hard; Jack Kline x reader

*Author's note*

Well this only took me two days to write which I do like when I can easily write a story that fast hehehe so @gabrielasilva1510 here is your ANGSTY Jack Kline request.

Warning: MAJOR ANGST, Character death, NO FLUFF AT ALL ONLY HURT, blood, violence (this is supernatural afterall so SPN level of violence). Basically get your tissues ready cause this is a sad one.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

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Jack stood outside in the cold night after a long training session with Bobby. Now that his grace was gone, he had to build up his strength mortally, which meant getting punched and falling down a lot, and getting hurt whilst getting beaten down. He thought he had felt powerless before, but his mind always went back to what happened that night at the church. The moment he truly felt powerless.

The night he had lost you.

*Flashback*

Bobby, Mary and (Y/n) stood in the main lobby of the bunker still debating about who in the world would wanna kill Maggie. After questioning all the hunters from the apocalypse world, they decided that none of them had any motive to hurt her, and that maybe it was just some creep or psycho looking to murder and innocent girl in the woods.

“I mean it’s not uncommon. That’s what happened to my mom’s sister once when they were younger. Some bastard slit her throat, raped her, and dumped her body over the bridge. That’s when I learned that there are more monsters in humanity than there are in the supernatural sense.” (Y/n) said.

“She’s not wrong.” Mary said supporting (Y/n’s) statement. As Bobby nodded, they soon heard footsteps and that’s when they saw Jack.

“Oh Jack.” (Y/n) sighed with relief but before she could race up to hug him, they were horrified to see Lucifer coming up behind him.

“Hey~” Lucifer greeted with a small wave.

“Kid, what in the sam hell is—?!” demanded Bobby but Jack interrupted him.

“It’s okay. He’s here to help.”

“Him!?” (Y/n) asked exasperatedly.

“Yeah tigress, me.” Lucifer said booping her nose to which she cringed and slapped his arm away from her. “Okay touchy-touchy Ms. Temper pants.” He said walking away following his son to where Maggie lay dead.

“Call Sam now!” Mary whispered urgently to Bobby as she and (Y/n) followed Lucifer and Jack while Bobby made a call to the boys.

“So you’re leaving dead bodies on tables now? Nice.” questioned Lucifer.

“We were waiting to give her a hunter’s funeral.” (Y/n) said.

“You won’t have to. My father he’s going to bring Maggie back to life.”

“Jack what are you doing?” asked Mary.

“What I have to do. This is my second chance.” Jack answered.

“Jack,” (Y/n) started. “What happened to Maggie was a horrible thing that never should’ve happened. But it was beyond your control. You couldn’t have known when or where she’d be attacked and murdered.”

“But I promised her I’d keep her safe. All of them.”

“There are some things that you can’t prevent Jack.”

“I’d listen to your little girlfriend son. Plus this whole resurrection thing is kinda tricky. People don’t often come back as themselves.”

“Sam didn’t.” Said Jack.

“Yeah well Sam’s always been a little—in the head to begin with.”

“And like you’re not?” sassed (Y/n). Lucifer snide at her comment.

“You said you’d do anything.” Jack told him. The intense look in his eyes soon made Lucifer relent and he did what Jack said he’d do. Placing his hand on Maggie’s forehead, his eyes glowed red and suddenly Maggie shot up gasping for air. Immediately, (Y/n) grabbed Jack’s hand and took him out of the room and they came into the kitchen.

“(Y/n) what—”

“What deal did he offer you?” she interrupted him.

“What?”

“Back there, when you told him that he’d do anything you’d ask. What was the deal he offered you?” Jack looked at the harsh stare of her (e/c) eyes and told her.

“We’re gonna see the galaxy together. Like in Star Wars. But I said I’d only go if he helped bring Maggie back.” (Y/n) looked at Jack in shock.

“What? You’re going with him?”

“Well not just me,” Jack stepped forward and took both of her hands into his, gently stroking the back of her knuckles. “I also said I wanted you to come along too. You always said you wanted to see the stars up close.”

“Jack I—” (Y/n) was a mixture of emotions. Horror, shock, perplexed, torn, and upset. “Lucifer he’s…..I can’t.”

“Why not?” Jack asked.

“Jack, there’s nothing in this world that I would like more than to explore the galaxy with you, but with Lucifer tagging along. Something doesn’t sit right with me.”

“He’s changed. He really wants to try (Y/n). Would the old Lucifer have offered you to come along with us?”

“I know that no matter old or new Lucifer, whatever he claims to be now, he’s always gets something out of his deals. And if he doesn’t, he’ll take it anyways.” Jack dropped (Y/n)’s hands, his chest rising and falling as he tried to control his anger.

“Why can’t you be happy for me for once?!”

“Jack I have always been happy for you! Looking out for you! Besides Cas and Sam, I’ve always been the one that’s always in your corner! But you can’t trust what Lucifer says! Believe me I know.”

“Oooo, did I come at a bad time?” Lucifer’s voice spoke out as he peeked his head from the kitchen door before walking inside.

“Get out!” demanded (Y/n).

“I’ll admit son, you at least picked one with fire in her.”

“How the hell did you get back here!?” snapped (Y/n).

“Does it really matter?”

“Let me think, yes it does! Now quit stalling and tell him what you’re really here for!”

“What I’m—listen (n/n) I already told him. I want to take my son to see the galaxies, the stars, hell the entire universe itself. I’m done playing second fiddle to pops and his game. I wanna be removed from the chess board completely and not have to worry about anything than showing my son the wonders of the universe. With you of course by his side if you choose to go.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere with you if my life depended on it!” (Y/n) snarled with a sneer. Lucifer shrugged.

“Alright well, there’s no changing your mind. Let’s bounce son.” Jack slowly walked towards him but (Y/n) grabbed his hand and pleaded to him.

“Jack please, don’t go with him. He’s using you.”

“Would you mind stop gaslighting my own son against me? Geez that’s the thing with you women sometimes, especially teenage girls.”

“Jack. Jack please.” Jack turned to her and said.

“He’s my father.” (Y/n) stood there stunned and released his hand and watched hopelessly as the two of them vanished from the kitchen.

“(Y/n)!? (Y/n)!!” soon Bobby came in and he looked around and asked, “Where’s the kid?” (Y/n) buried her face into her hands and wept. Bobby then walked up and awkwardly wrapped his arms around the weeping girl before bringing her back to rejoin Mary and the newly resurrected Maggie.

When the brothers and Cas returned, they had told that Michael had also somehow managed to come into this world along with Lucifer. That to (Y/n) struck a chord in how Lucifer must surely been planning something. There’s absolutely no chance that those two archangels would willingly team-up to escape apocalypse world. And with Maggie’s death it—it can’t be a coincidence. She stood up and walked off.

“Uhh (Y/n) where are you going?” asked Dean.

“To talk to Maggie.” Sam immediately took off and stopped her and he said to her, “Hey, hey relax okay? Look mom told us what happened and to interrogate her now while she’s still trying to wrap her mind about being resurrected it—”

“I know Sam. You Winchesters aren’t the only ones to have been resurrected. But I have to know just who killed her. This all is one too big coincidence for them to have come back and Maggie ends up dead the same day they both come through their own rift.”

“You think it was one of them that killed Maggie?”

“Like I said, it’s a hunch but it’s too big of one to ignore.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“You just want to keep an eye on me because of my impatience.” She snapped accusingly.

“That and I also want to find out the truth. Hey,” Sam could sense the anxiety running through (Y/n)’s body about Jack. “We’re gonna find him.”

“He’s…..” (Y/n) trailed off before confessing her deep secret. “He’s my best friend. I—I can’t lose him.”

“We won’t. We’ve got everyone looking for them. Now let’s go see about your hunch.” Sam and her walked to where Maggie was sitting in the library trying to process everything that had just happened. “Maggie?” Sam broke her silence as she slightly jumped and turned her attention to Sam who sat down beside her at the table that was once her deathbed. “Hey, sorry. You okay?”

“I’m alive so…..yes.” she replied.

“Right. So listen, we know this is all weird right now but uhh…..before you died, do you remember anything about the person that killed you?”

“Does it really matter? I mean don’t you guys have a lot bigger Satan-y stuff to deal with right now?”

“Yes but it’s getting handled. For now, just answer Sam’s question.” (Y/n) said. Maggie took a deep breath in before saying.

“I—never saw his face. But…..I saw his eyes.”

“His eyes?” asked Sam. Maggie nodded.

“They were—unlike anything I had seen before. Those bleeding red, glowing eyes.” Once they heard that, both Sam and (Y/n) looked at each other in shock.

“I knew it!” (Y/n) muttered under her breath but at that moment, a sudden loud boom sounded off from outside. It almost sounded like a firework or a bomb had went off close by, then the lights began flickering on and off. The three of them went to rejoin Dean and the others as the front doors of the bunker began to jostle and bang loudly, like someone was trying to break in. “Ahhh shit.” (Y/n) said under her breath.

“Mom, Bobby, take Maggie out of here through the garage.” Sam said.

“We’ll buy you some time.” Dean said.

“What no!?” Mary said but Sam told her not to argue and soon Bobby had to drag her and Maggie out of the room to make their escape. (Y/n) came and stood beside Cas who put an arm around her as the doors continue to jostle and the banging grew louder. The two of them took out their blades as Sam and Dean readied their guns.

After what felt like an eternity, the door finally caved in and fell with a bang as a bright light shone through the bunker. And soon walking in with his head held high was Michael. Immediately Sam and Dean began to open fire at the archangel but being what Michael was, the bullets had absolutely no affect on him. The archangel slowly levitated himself down to the floor from the catwalk entrance and Cas made the first attack with his angel blade.

But Michael easily overpowered Cas and had him flying over the table and across the room, knocking him unconscious. (Y/n) took out her curved scythes and slashed at Michael. He dodged each attack until he grabbed (Y/n)’s left wrist and disarmed her before breaking her arm. She let out an agonizing scream before Michael palm-strike her straight at her chest, sending her flying and slamming into the wall.

“You really thought you could run from me?” sneered Michael. Sam immediately went on the attack after (Y/n) had been injured but Michael easily overpowered him as well as Dean who more than anyone, put up a fight towards Michael. But the archangel soon had Dean by the throat.

“How did you—” Dean started to say but Michael interrupted him.

“Get here? Easy. I made a deal. And now this world is mine, I can save it, purge it of sin.”

“Yeah cause that really worked out on your rock.”

“Well I’m not perfect. And yes I made mistakes, but hey second times the charm.” As (Y/n) cradled her broken arm she muttered under her breath in prayer.

“Jack. Jack I don’t know if you’ll even hear this prayer but—we need you. He’s here……Michael is here. Please, help us. He’s gonna kill us.” As Michael and Dean continued to talk back and forth of each other until Michael squeezed Dean’s throat even harder almost to the point where his bones could be heard snapping (but not enough to kill him).

As Dean was starting to slip away under Michael’s grip, the archangel was suddenly thrown back against a pillar by a familiar golden aura of power. Dean let out a loud intake of air and coughed harshly. Everyone looked up to see that Jack had come back.

“Jack.” Sam said as he was finally able to stand up.

“I heard your prayers.” Jack only turned to look at (Y/n) and when he had seen the woman he secretly loved hurt, rage slowly began to simmer within him.

“Yeah it’s me, yay. Uhh we done yet buddy?” Lucifer also said as he had appeared behind Jack. He then tried to get Jack to leave now that Michael had been subdued, but it wasn’t enough for Jack.

First thing he did was walk up to (Y/n), knelt down beside her and healed her broken arm thanks to the teaching he learned from Cas.

“You okay?” he softly asked as he cupped her left cheek.

“For now.” Jack softly smiled but his soft side melted away as anger and rage now consumed him as he turned his attention to Michael. His eyes glowed as he raised his hand up and slowly walked towards Michael and said angrily.

“You hurt my friends.” Michael let out a pained groan as he hunched forward, almost as if something were burning him from the inside out. “You hurt my family!” Jack soon yelled as Michael screamed and felt his insides being crushed. “You hurt (Y/N)!!” as he clenched his hand into a fist now, Michael’s vessel started to bleed from his eyes and his ears.

Everyone, including Lucifer stood there in shock at just how much power Jack held.

“LUCIFER WE HAD A DEAL!!” Michael exclaimed as he slid down to the ground in pain.

“Okay, game over. Hey buddy let’s….let’s split.” Lucifer said with a snap of his fingers wanting to lead Jack away.

“What does he mean?” Jack asked as he turned to his father. Lucifer began stammering almost trying to play dumb but Dean soon said.

“They had a deal.” Jack then turned to Dean as he continued, “Lucifer gets you, and Michael gets everything else. He’s gonna nuke our world, Jack. Just like he did his.”

“Is this true?” Jack asked his father.

“No! It’s not.”

“Is that why you wanted us to leave? And why you knew (Y/n) wouldn’t come with?”

“Leave? (Y/n) what do you know about this?” Sam asked her.

“Lucifer told him they were going to see the stars. Then Jack said he’d only go with his dad if I got to go with them. But I refused because Lucifer would be the main tag along.”

“What you were just gonna leave the rest of us to burn?” Cas said as he was finally able to stand up after his fight with Michael.

“Okay, okay let’s slow down for a second. Are we forgetting who the real bad guy is?”

“Yeah trying telling that to Maggie dumbass.” (Y/n) snapped.

“What about Maggie?” Jack asked with a crack in his voice.

“You know you’ve done some dumb things Lucifer but even you must’ve known this would turn and bite you in the ass. Jack, Maggie saw the eyes of her killer. The glowing red eyes. Which angel amongst us has eyes like that?”

“Oh come on! Jack are you really gonna believe this girl!? (Y/n) is a hater she’d say anything to get you on their side!” Lucifer tried to point (Y/n) as the bad guy but Jack wouldn’t believe his father over her again, not after the brief pain it had caused him after they had left her behind.

“Tell me the truth!” Jack demanded as his eyes glowed and he held out his hand towards his own father. Using his powers, he controlled Lucifer’s mind and made him verbally confess how and why he killed Maggie. He also admitted to how much he enjoyed it. When Jack released him, he shook his head before saying, “You’re not my father, you’re a monster.”

Lucifer’s impatience was boiling to a head until he finally let out his rage in a powerful scream as he revealed his glowing red eyes. The scream of the devil shook the entire bunker and the Winchesters and (Y/n) had no choice but to cover their ears less their eardrums explode out of their ears.

“Okay…..I tried with you. I really, really tried with you.”

“Everything you told me was a lie.”

“Because I told you what you wanted to hear man! So what I killed the girl? Big deal! She’s just a human she doesn’t matter!”

“So am I!” Jack snapped.

“Yeah, and that’s your problem. You’re too much like your mother.”

“Jack.” Cas said as he, Sam and (Y/n) started to surround the two of them ready to attack, but Jack told them to stand back and that he’ll handle him.

“Oh yeah? Oh buddy, we could’ve been something you and me. We could’ve remade the universe. We could’ve been better Gods than dad. And I really wanted pal, I wanted that but now—if I can’t have it with you well….I don’t need you. I just need your power.” Suddenly Lucifer used an archangel blade and sliced a small cut on Jack’s throat and began absorbing his grace.

“NO!!!” Cas and (Y/n) cried out. Once Lucifer had absorbed all of Jack’s grace, he healed the cut on his son’s neck and felt ultimate power surging through him. Lucifer’s eyes briefly glowed the golden color of Jack’s powers and immediately (Y/n) leapt towards them and with a flash of light, the three of them were gone.

The next thing (Y/n) knew, she fell down to the floor and looked around to see that they had appeared at a small church.

“Really (Y/n)? Hitching a ride, you know you’re taking the term ‘clingy girlfriend’ to a whole new level.”

“Go to fucking hell!” she snarled through her teeth.

“Yeah, yeah been there done that.” Lucifer released his grip on his son and kicked (Y/n) square in the face sending her on her back to the floor. She briefly rolled across the floor and as she tried to sit up, Lucifer kicked her hard in the ribs. She let out a groan as she went for her scythe then just as Lucifer was about to stomp on her chest, she slashed his leg.

Being that the material was made of melted angel blades, it managed to cause him pain but not enough to kill him. She backward rolled and twirled the scythe in her hand as she glared up at the devil.

“I’ll admit, you always were the more fearsome fighter out of the brothers.”

“Growing up alone on the streets of West Philly teaches you a thing or two.” She spat out some blood as she took out her other scythe. She then charged at the devil, slashing at any chance she got but Lucifer was toying with her as he dodged every single attack that came her way. After toying with her, he grabbed her wrist and twisted it forcing her to drop her left one first before punching her in the face repeatedly.

Every blow sounded off a broken bone on her face or nose until her mouth and nose were covered in blood. He then took her by the throat and lifted her up.

“But you’re still human. And humans break easily. Shame though, you could’ve made at least a slightly decent daughter-in-law. But you know, I can always make more and there might be another one like you out there somewhere.” Lucifer then took her right scythe out of her hand and admired it. “Been nice knowing you tigress.” Then he swung the scythe across her stomach.

Jack who had slowly regained consciousness after losing his grace, woke up to see the woman he loved being held by the throat and saw as his own father kill her with her own weapon.

“NOOOOO!!!” Jack cried out. Lucifer turned and said.

“Oh good you’re awake.” He then dropped (Y/n) like a ragdoll and as she began to bleed profusely all across her stomach, her body already going into shock at the amount of blood that was already seeping out of her body.

“You—you killed her?”

“Like I said, she’s just a human. There’s dozens more out there like her, but if you’d like, I can let you join her. Classic Romeo and Juliet fashion.” But before Lucifer could do anything, a bright angelic light shone throughout the church and standing there was Dean with Sam close behind him. The shadow of angel wings coming out from Dean who had accepted Michael as his vessel.

While Dean and Lucifer talked and fought each other, Sam quickly raced over to (Y/n) after seeing her on the ground in her own blood.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)? Hey, just hang on, keep your eyes open for me okay sweetheart?” Jack came beside her and grabbed her hands.

“I’m sorry (Y/n). I’m so, so, so sorry. I should’ve believed you this is all my fault I-I’m so sorry.”

“Not…….your……f-fa…..” (Y/n) choked out but Sam interrupted her.

“Hey, hey shhh save your strength okay? Jack, take off your jacket and put it on her stomach okay? We have to keep pressure on her wound.”

“It’s—it’s too……” weakly (Y/n) stopped Jack who looked down at her with tears in his eyes.

“No. (Y/n) we’re going to save you. Please let me save you!!”

“You—already…..did.” soon a bright light and a cry of pain echoed throughout the church and as Dean fell to the ground, they watched as Lucifer’s light was extinguished and he lay there dead.

Lucifer was finally dead.

“Is he?” Sam started to ask, almost not believing it to be true.

“He’s dead.” Jack said. The brothers and Jack couldn’t believe it, finally after all this time Lucifer was finally dead. Not sealed in the cage, truly dead.

“Dean, you did it.” Sam said.

“No. No man we did it.”

“(Y/n). (Y/n) did you hear that he’s really….” Jack said as he looked down, but something wasn’t right. Her eyes were still open but there was no life to them, the soft smile was still upon her face but she was as stiff as a board. “(Y/n)? (Y/n)?” tears began to fill his eyes. “No, no, no, no, no, no please no!”

“Dean!” Knowing he had Michael’s power, he thought for sure he could heal the wound but just before Dean could make a step, he lurched forward in pain groaning. “DEAN!!”

“WE HAD A DEAL!!!” Dean cried out before he too went still for a moment.

“Dean?” Sam called his brother again. Dean rose up but his posture and the look in his eyes were different. Dean looked around before saying.

“Thanks for the suit.” And then he disappeared, leaving Sam and Jack alone with (Y/n)’s corpse.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n) please wake up! Don’t go please you can’t die!” Jack cried out.

“Jack…..” Sam trailed off.

“There’s hospitals. Human doctors can save her right!? Sam please call them!”

“It wouldn’t do any good. I’m sorry Jack, she’s gone.”

“No she can’t be gone!” Jack picked up (Y/n)’s body and wept into her neck, pleading and begging to anyone above to save her as he wept into her cold neck.

After sending a prayer to Cas about what had happened, Cas found them and brought them back to the bunker so that they could give (Y/n) a proper hunter’s funeral. As she lay there on the table moments before she would be wrapped up, Jack stood over her utterly broken and lost.

The only thing he could do was lean down and kiss her cold blue lips. Deep down he had hoped that true love’s kiss would awaken her, just like all those Disney movies and fairytales she had shown him could do. But this was no fairytale, nor was there a happy ending for them.

“Jack,” Cas voice spoke gently to the grieving young man. “It’s time.” Jack sniffled and he said.

“I’ll prepare her.” Cas nodded and left Jack to do all the prepping alone. Once he was done, he carried the wrapped up body of the woman he loved in his arms towards her funeral pyre. He set the body down on the wood and watched brokenly as the hunters doused her body in gasoline before Sam was the one to light the fuse and burn her body.

As they all watched (Y/n)’s clothed body burst into flames, Jack had no more tears left to spent, but his heart continued to ache him and he would soon be the only one to remain at her pyre even after all the other hunters went back to work to search for Michael.

*End of flashback*

“Jack?” he heard Sam’s voice say. He felt as Sam came up and stood beside him. “You okay?”

“As fine as I can be.” Jack said monotonously.

“Look Jack, I know it’s difficult without your grace. But Bobby said you’re really improving and soon you’ll—”

“It’s not that.” Sam looked perplexed for a moment but then realized what he meant.

“Oh.” Jack nodded softly and turned to look back up at the stars. “Yeah, I miss her too.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“Jack, you can’t blame yourself for what happened. And (Y/n) would sure as hell wouldn’t want you thinking like that.”

“But I—”

“She wouldn’t have done what she did, if you weren’t worth saving. She’s had a rough life before we found her. Trust me.” Jack sniffled and wiped away his tears.

“It hurts so much Sam. My heart it—it’s like…..a werewolf had taken it, tore it apart slowly and then put it back in my chest with no way to fix it. Why? Why does it hurt so much?!” Jack gripped his chest as he lowered his head and sobbed. Sam cautiously reached out and brought the young Nephilim to his chest, resting his head on top of his.

“I know what you mean Jack. Long ago when I thought I had finally gotten out of the hunter’s life, I found a girl I had fallen for. Jessica, oh she was a force of nature. And—I was gonna eventually ask her to marry me. Once I had finished law school and everything. But when I came back she—it tore me apart too. I went through the exact same heartache you’re going through now. It’s tough losing the woman you love.”

“I never—even got to tell her.” Jack whimpered.

“She knows. Believe me, women like her and Jess, they always know. And it’s also probably why she did what she did.”

“How do you do it Sam?” the two of them looked at each other as Jack whimpered brokenly as a few tears slipped down his face, “How do you continue to live when they’re gone?”

“One day at a time Jack. One day at a time.” Sam brought Jack’s head back over his heart and rocked the young man comfortingly as Sam let a few tears of his own slip out, also mourning for the loss of the young woman whom he called sister for so many years.

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slytherinshua · 16 days

Text

DEATH OF A BROKEN HEART

genre. angst. soulmate au. warnings. heartbreak and major character death. pairing. leehan x fem!reader. wc. 524. request. requested by @hyunhanie: could you pleaseee do an angsty fic with Leehan?? Like idk about what in particular,but please something dramatic!! a/n. sry for this being so late but i hope you like it!! ik its not very long-- originally i was going to write a leehan hanahaki au but that kind of got forgotten in my drafts for a bit :( i just whipped this up cause i had angsty ideas from the trailer film that i still can't stop rewatching skdjks lol. original gif by @/foamofyouth and i just put the text over <3

Donghyun let a string of curses leave his mouth when he heard the robotic tone of the voice message rejecting his call for the 10th time that night. He wasn’t sure what else to do. Cry, shout, scream? All those options had already been expended. And so he let foul words slip from his pretty lips into the cool air of the bathroom; words he would never ever have imagined being directed towards you.

You were so precious to him. Or, at least, you had been.

72 hours. 28 missed calls. 2 broken promises. 1 burning soul mark.

Donghyun had been lied to by the whole world. He sunk to the floor as the weight of it all hit him, the sting on his wrist getting more extreme the farther you were from him. He pressed down on it with one hand, dropping his phone as he curled into a tighter ball from the pain. No amount of pressure would ever relieve it. There was no medication he could take. He just had to wait.

If you were his soulmate then how did it go wrong? It wasn’t supposed to be able to go wrong. Soulmates were supposed to be perfect for each other.

But you had switched faster than Donghyun could blink. 4 days ago you had been planning your future together, and now here he was abandoned by the only person he had ever trusted.

You were running away from him, he knew that much. There was no other explanation for why it burned so much. Soul marks only hurt when your soulmate left you for good. It was a pain that you were only supposed to feel when they died.

You weren’t dead.

You weren’t supposed to leave.

Donghyun knew that he would never get the answers to his millions of questions. He had no way to reach you, no way to demand an explanation from your lips. Not that he would last 1 second in your presence again. He broke so easily, wrapped tightly around your finger even when you had left his heart broken and bleeding on the cold tile floor.

He would never get you back, and by virtue of it, he would never love again. No one would love someone abandoned by their own soulmate, especially when he had no defense.

Donghyun let his eyes flutter closed, breathing a few soft breaths of fresh air as he let his mind wander over memories one last time. The grips of death fingered at his clothes, creeping ever closer, trying to grab hold of his heart.

And he let it.

There was no reason to resist anymore; no motive for prolonging the inevitable.

A shaky breath left his soft lips, and one final tear formed on his lash line. It wasn’t out of anger or hatred for you and your actions, but full of regret and longing for one more chance. If he could restart time and do it all over again, he would in a heartbeat.

That was his weakness. That was what made him all the more vulnerable to the soulmate phenomenon; death of a broken heart.

↳ boynextdoor taglist: @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @eternalgyu,, @metalchick529,, @schmocolateschmchip,, @kpoprhia,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @snowflakemoon3,, @lovialy,, @lecheugo,, @okshu,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore

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lottie150209 · 3 months

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅𝐼𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝒹𝓊𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 ⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅

hello!! my name is lottie, i’m an 18+ (in my 20s) writer from the uk!!

i don’t really have a schedule for my uploads or anything and i’m relatively new to this app!! however i have published works on sites such as ao3 and wattpad in the past so i shouldn’t have any issue posting on here!!

most of my works will be majority afab x readers with she/her pronouns however i have no issue writing for anyone with other pronouns if you have a suggestion!! i try my best to keep the readers in mind while writing so everyone can feel included regardless of skin colour or body type ect!!

most of my works will contain nsfw topics but i’ll always include a content warning/ trigger warning for any subject that requires them!!

i’ll gladly write for any fandom i’m in (check them below)!! however most of my works are call of duty related!! i write for any character regardless of gender but the main character i write for is Ghost!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ‧₊˚⋅𝐹𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓂𝓈 ⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅

tv programs: the walking dead

anime: my hero academia, death note (though i tend to not write much anime content)

games: call of duty, resident evil 2, grand theft auto v, red dead redemption 2, the last of us, life is strange, undertale, the walking dead telltale series

there may be others that i haven’t thought to add so don’t be shy to ask for anything!!

the main characters i will write are Simon Ghost Riley, Johnny Soap Mactavish, Kyle Gaz Garrick, Captain John Price, Phillip Graves and Arthur Morgan!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ‧₊˚⋅𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅

i will write anything in terms of angsty content, nsfw content or just regular fluffy stuff!! so if you have any suggestions or prompts on what it is you’d me to write let me know!!

occasionally i will upload things that have more than one part however most of my work will be small x readers or head cannons!!

in terms of nsfw topics i will write pretty much anything in terms of kinks ect!! however i do have some restrictions such as pedophillia, incest (step relations are okay!!), scat and vomit!!

in terms of nsfw topics do not mind writing about more than one character either!! whether that’s threesomes or orgys i don’t care at all!! however in terms of writing about a polyamorous relationship it may be a little difficult since i don’t have any personal experience with that topic!! (that doesn’t mean i won’t try my best and write it if it’s something you’d like to read!!)

i’ll always add content warnings and trigger warnings for anything i write and if you do not like it just scroll away!!

like i’ve probably repeated ten times already my requests will always be open and i will always try my best to write about whatever it is you’re looking for!! and don’t be shy to add detail!!

criticism is very welcome and i’m always looking for new ways to improve my writing!! i know many creators dislike getting criticism and can take it in the wrong way but for me i don’t mind it at all and i take all criticism in a positive manner!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ‧₊˚⋅𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓀𝓈 ⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅

here’s a list of my works so far!! (i will try to update this as i post more content!!)

cod masterlist

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auroracalisto · 1 year

Text

good enough

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x gn!reader, 8k words tw: MAJOR MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE. divorce, cussing (lots of f bombs at some point), lots of arguing, angst, at one point, reader is said to have had depression before. the reader and bradley are both idiots and neither one of them can properly deal with shit. macho man rooster ends up letting fear gets the best of him and he literally ruins his own life bc of it LMAO, possibly ooc if you squint, possibly questionable actions when it comes to friends, this is dramatic as hell (and i loved every minute of it), self-doubt, angry characters, regret is strong here, rooster fears death and makes it a personality trait™ a/n: based on the song "good enough" by maisie peters. sorry for all of the tws, but i just wanted to try and mark all the boxes. but fr i love bradley. this is purely a play on the song i named, and is just a piece of fiction. a dramatic piece of fiction. like literally take rooster and place him in some angsty romance novel, but cut out the smut. that's this. i am also so sorry for the length of this. i just... started going and i couldn't stop. LMAO

Your heart lurched to your throat as you stood there, his head turned away from your lips—he was avoiding your touch. He didn’t have to say it for you to realize it.

You hesitantly smiled, backing down. Maybe he just had a bad day. It happened pretty often, so taking it personally wouldn’t have benefited you in any way.

He was your favorite person, and you knew you were his. You two were best friends until the end of time. That’s how it had been since even before you two got married—that’s how it would stay.

The television that sat in the living room had long since been turned off. The fan perched in the corner of the room silently hummed along, providing little relief to the California heat that plagued your home.

"Rooster," you began, rubbing the back of your neck. Sweat stuck to the palm of your hand, and you grimaced as you quickly wiped your hand off on the seat of your pants. "How was your day? I know it's been busy—"

"—we need to talk," he said, cutting you off.

He didn't even give you a chance to question things as he walked past you, sitting down on the sofa in your shared condominium. You blinked slowly at your husband, but you gave a small nod. Your feet moved on their own accord as you sat beside him. You placed a hand on his knee, and he only pulled himself away from you.

You swallowed thickly, nerves getting the best of you. Had you done something to offend him recently? Did something happen with Maverick again? You had thought they were doing well—the videos Natasha had sent you were proof enough of that. It warmed your heart to know that he was finally finding himself in this crazy world.

Maybe it was just hot. Yes, that’s it. The heat was getting to him. It had been getting to everyone on base, and at work. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was the same thing here.

"Bradley…?" You said nothing more than his name, watching him with nothing but pure adoration behind your eyes. He meant the world to you. There was nothing he could say or do to change this, even if he was avoiding you.

The man looked at anything but you. His dark brown eyes stared at the black television, and then they moved to the grey carpet just beneath his boot-clad feet.

You must have just vacuumed. He could see the indentations, and that’s what he chose to focus on as he searched for the right words to say. But they never came.

"I want a divorce," he said.

It was so simple. Those four words.

And just like that, your world came crashing around you.

Where was this coming from? Did you do something to upset him?

The words swirled around in your brain, repeating over and over until it hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your chest. He wants a divorce.

You sat on the edge of the black sofa, eyes fluttering shut as you took in a deep breath. Your hands rested in fists on top of your thighs as you wracked your mind for an explanation. You couldn't find one.

There was nothing that could justify whatever this was.

How long had he been thinking about this?

"Where… where is this coming from?" you asked. You just had to know.

"I don't want to talk about it. Just… please."

"What?" You looked up at him in disbelief. "You—you want to divorce me but you won't even give me a reason?" you asked. Your eyes burned as you held back your tears. You couldn't cry. Not now. If you cried that first tear, then surely, they would never stop.

"I have never asked you for anything, Y/n. Please, just say yes.”

"I don't understand where this is coming from, Bradley," you said, reaching forward to take ahold of his hand. "Please. Talk to me. I want to understand what's going on."

Rooster clenched his jaw, looking down at your hands. Your wedding band glinted in the soft glow of the light overhead. The beautiful piece glared at him as he fought to find the right words to say—but nothing he could say would make this better. Not now.

The words left him without a second thought.

"I don't love you."

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, no, no. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be telling you the truth right now. He did love you. He married you! Why would he ever ask you to marry him if he didn't love you?

Why would you plan your life together if he didn’t love you?

But even though you could create more and more questions in your mind, trying to placate every emotion coursing through your veins, nothing made sense.

You pulled your hand away as your tears finally began to fall. If he didn't love you, you wouldn't force him to be with you any more than he wanted.

Rooster inwardly grimaced, but he wasn’t about to let you see that. He needed to be strong—he needed to save face and keep on digging in the same grave he had started.

"Just… just tell me when."

"When what?"

"When did this happen? When did you fall out of love? I—I thought you loved me, Bradley. I love you."

He pursed his lips. He seemed to hesitate as he allowed his eyes to meet yours. Rooster's blood rushed to his ears, and his fingers itched to grab onto something. To grab onto you. But he couldn’t. He couldn't even look at you properly when you looked so sad, but he forced himself to do so anyway. You deserved that, at least. You deserved to be looked at when he was ending the relationship you fought so hard to keep.

"I don't know. It just… happened."

He was lying. He had to be lying. There was no way he was being honest—he loves you. He loves you, and this was all just some bad dream. Some bad joke that Hangman put him up to. Maybe Fanboy was in on it, too. Surely, someone put him up to this. They had money in a bowl somewhere, waiting for your reaction so they would know who won. He’d whip out his phone soon and text them the result.

But the way he looked at you… you knew he was telling you the truth. He wanted a divorce. This was happening, whether you wanted it to or not. There was no cruel bet, no ulterior motive.

This was happening.

Every moment of the past three years pierced your brain—Bradley asking you out in the middle of the Hard Deck. Meeting his friends. Picking out your wedding rings. Becoming Y/n Bradshaw. The kisses you shared. The whispered conversations, the happy smiles, the—

He was your life. He is your life. You love him more than life itself.

But he loved you.

Loved. Past-tense.

He did love you. Something changed. What had changed?

You abruptly stood up, roughly wiping your tears away. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be near him right now. Your heart was far too heavy, weighed down by the immense burden of his confession.

"Alright," you said. "I… I won't force you to stay with me. I would never do that to you, Bradley. I would… I would never, ever want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” You held back a sob, fists balled at your sides. “We can get a divorce."

Relief spread across his face. He couldn't smile, though. This ended up being a lot harder than he expected it to be.

"Thank you," he said. He stood up, towering over you like usual. "I appreciate it."

You gave a curt nod, averting your gaze. Your tongue poked out, nervously wetting your lips as you cleared your throat. He appreciated it.

Were you just a joke to him?

"I will… I will make arrangements. I will leave by next week."

"What? You don't have to do that. There's no rush—"

"—I'll leave by next week," you cut him off, no longer looking at him.

What was he doing? You didn’t need this. You didn’t need him. As you took a step forward, the tears began to fall. Your husband forced himself to stay put as you rushed off to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

You found little comfort in the blankets that now surrounded you, tears wetting the pillow on which you rested your head night after night. You found little comfort in the place you spent with your husband, time after time, lamenting how much you loved each other. Planning the future of your life—of your family. Of your relationship that should have only grown in love.

The memories of this bed burned in the back of your mind. You could hardly breathe as the sobs plowed through your body.

This wasn’t fair.

This couldn’t be real.

Rooster slowly sat back down, burying his face in his hands. His elbows dug into his thighs, a choked sob catching in the back of his throat. He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to say that to you. It was far from the truth. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

This was for the best.

This would keep you safe.

As the sun peered through the grey curtains, setting just beyond the horizon, Rooster stood up. He wiped his tears away, instantly hardening. He had done this time and time again. He would hide, folding back into himself like a metal chair—he’d be there for people when he was needed, but he would be just out of the way until then. He wouldn’t bother you any longer than he needed to.

This was for the best—you wouldn’t have to live your life wondering what could have been.

If he died, that was that. You would move on, and he could rest peacefully in the afterlife.

His father hadn’t ever given his mother a chance to do something like that. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake.

Three years had passed.

Three, long and grueling years had inched by, taking your misery along with you. The New Year would pass over and over, and the only thing you would write on your resolution list was: Move on.

But you never could. That list ended up in the garbage only weeks after drafting it up.

How could you when the love of your life left as he did? How could you when you knew he was the only thing that kept you going, even if you were hundreds of miles away?

They would never say it out loud, but your friends never quite said anything about why he divorced you—why he fell out of love. But why would he tell them something like that? Rooster generally kept to himself. It wasn't something that he would have been very honest about, to begin with.

You knew they knew something more, but they never said anything. You never expected them to, either. They were your friends as much as they were his, and they had been his friend for far longer. You couldn't blame them. Whatever they knew—that was his business. But you kept silent, allowing yourself to wallow in self-pity for more than you should have.

But just like you couldn't blame them for keeping his secrets… who could blame you?

You had your own life before Rooster, yes, you did. You didn’t depend on him. You were independent, and you had your own interests and everything. You didn’t need him. But with his confession, it was as if everything you had ever known had been tossed out of the window of a speeding car in an instant, shattering against the run-down pavement. Pieces flew everywhere—you'd never be able to find them again, let alone put them back together.

You'd never have enough glue for something like that.

You would never be able to repair the gaping hole that was in your heart.

And you knew it was silly. You shouldn’t have ever let yourself trust someone so completely. But you never thought something like that would happen. Rooster was so easy to love.

He was such a happy person—he exuded confidence. He was the epitome of an amazing human being. And yet, he still fell out of love with you.

You never believed someone could just fall out of love so easily.

So, instead of remaining in the very place you felt like you were sinking in, you did what you thought was best. You packed your things and moved to Virginia. At least there, you'd be far enough away that he'd never find you. The mileage did little to comfort you, but it was something.

At least here, you felt like you could breathe.

Changing from the west coast to the east coast was drastic—but you adapted. You had to. You couldn't continue living in the very place that was threatening you at every given minute. You couldn’t continue on in a place where at every corner, something reminded you of him. It was driving you into a familiar depression—one that you had known before Rooster, and one that you would now know after Rooster.

When you left, Phoenix was devastated. Other than Bob, you were her closest friend. She never stopped talking to you—she never stopped being friends with you, even when you moved across the country. When Phoenix asked you to come in to visit, you hesitated. But then she promised you that Rooster wouldn't be there. That he would be visiting some family he had up north—his girlfriend's family. He would be using this free time to get to know them better.

You wouldn't say you were happy for him. Hell, that was far from the truth. Despite the fact you no longer wore your ring on your finger, it was always on a chain around your neck. Your heart still beats for him, no matter how many times you had tried to move on. And you did it all. You tried everything that Google said to do. One night stands, going out with strangers, having people set you up, hell, you even tried therapy. But it never worked.

Why would it? Rooster was the love of your life. He was the one you had seen yourself dying with—he was the one you wanted to grow old with. And he didn't want that in you. He didn't see the same things.

He didn’t see your relationship as a rising sun just beyond the mountain tops. He was already there with the setting sun, disappearing beyond the horizon. He had been there, at the end of your relationship, far before you even had a chance to find the middle. He had made peace with the end. You couldn’t even find peace in the beginning.

After much pestering and a FaceTime call from both Phoenix and Bob, you were convinced to join them back in California for a week. But your only condition was that Phoenix would be paying half for your plane ticket. She agreed in a heartbeat.

So that's why you stood here now, in front of the old dormitory in which you used to visit your friends in. You had already been to the hotel you'd be staying at, and you took a taxi to the base.

The grey building towered over you, making you feel far smaller than you actually were. Memories sat behind those walls, waiting for you to relive them, even if you didn’t want to.

It only took one text message to Natasha before she came barreling down the sidewalk, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Bob was not far behind, and Hangman was taking his sweet ole time. You didn't know he'd be around, but you felt better knowing he was—you had been close before Rooster sent in the papers. He helped you pack and get your things to Virginia.

You hugged Phoenix tightly, smiling up at her.

"It's been too long!" she nearly shouted, excitement running through her body. As she pulled away, Bob pulled you into a hug. He greeted you as he had so many times, with a hug and a simple ‘hello.’

Last but not least, Hangman sent you a smile. He pulled you into a hug, despite the fact he used to be one of the last people you would expect it from. You melted into the hug, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"It's… it's good to be back. I'm glad to see you guys."

"Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy are already at the bar. Said they'd just meet us there. You ready?" Phoenix grinned.

You were as ready as you would ever be. You gave a small nod to your friend, and before you knew it, you were on your way to the very place you met your ex-husband. The Hard Deck.

It was suffocating, standing in that corner all alone. Your friends played pool, and you watched as the different colored balls sunk into the pockets that lined the edge. Hangman stood off to the side, beating some stranger in darts.

Rooster had always been good at that.

Lost in your mind like you had been so many times before, the sound of a glass falling at the bar made you jump.

And then you saw him. Your own glass slipped through your fingertips, crashing onto the floor. Shards littered the wood floor. Phoenix yelped your name in surprise, coming to your side immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, placing a hand on your arm to try and comfort you. You continued to stare, and she eventually looked in the direction of your gaze. Her eyes widened in surprise, lips parting as she tried to find something to say.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near you.

And he was looking right at you.

"Y/n, it's okay, he's not—"

You pulled your arm away from Phoenix, taking a couple of steps back before you took off running in the direction of the restrooms. It was as good of a hiding spot as anywhere, and you'd be able to collect yourself before going back out there. You couldn’t possibly run past him—he’d stop you. Or at least, try to follow you. Phoenix would make him leave. Surely, she wouldn't just let him stay.

You locked yourself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet seat. You took in a deep, releasing a shaky breath as tears clouded your vision. A hand pressed to your mouth, elbows digging into the meat of your thighs as you tried to keep yourself calm.

This wasn't happening! She promised he wasn't here. Why would she lie?

Maybe she didn't know.

The bright light in the bathroom was far too much.

The dripping water from the sink struck the porcelain—plip, plip, plip.

The noise from the bar was deafening as you sat there, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Loud voices echoed through the building, striking your ears in an instant. But the more you cried, the more your sobs became the only thing you heard.

It had been ages since you cried over him, so why now? Why were you so triggered by just seeing him?

You tried to calm yourself down but to no avail.

You loved him. You love him. You never stopped. You couldn't just stop.

You tried so hard. You spent years trying to forget the man who ripped your heart in two with four simple words.

But the universe had a funny way of working. It seemed to work against you in every way possible, no matter what.

You could never win.

You would never win.

No matter what, you were never good enough.

You hadn't been good enough in school. You weren't good enough at work. And you hadn't been good enough for Rooster, even when you were married. You weren't good enough for him, now, either.

There was a knock at the bathroom door before you heard it creak open. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to keep quiet, choked sobs caught in your chest.

Worn shoes popped up underneath the stall door you found refuge in. Those same damn shoes you bought him once for Christmas, four years ago. He had been so excited—they were almost the exact same pair his mother had bought him one year for his birthday. His father's favorite brand—his favorite style of shoe.

God, you searched everywhere for those damn shoes.

And he kept them.

Silence enveloped the bathroom, save for your stifled sobs. You rested your shoulder against the old paneled walls, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore him. But he knew you were there. It was far too late, now.

Rooster stood there, fist raised to knock on the stall door. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. What would he even say? What would have been good enough?

Three years had come and gone without you. Three long years in which he felt as if he was drowning, just existing. He would have been better off launching himself into that ocean, the same as his father. His wedding band was stuffed away in some kind of pocket, always near him or on his person in some way. He tried to get over you—one-night stands, blind dates, even going as far as asking Hangman to find him a girl.

It worked, for a while.

He started dating Kristie—a sweet woman who worked as a nurse on base. But she saw right through him. She knew who he was, and what was going on in that head of his.

She wasn't mad—a bit disappointed, yes, but it didn't stop her from breaking up with him and canceling their planned vacation up north together.

She wasn’t you. She would never be you.

And he didn’t think he would ever see you again.

Rooster found himself in the middle of the Hard Deck, never once expecting you to be there. None of the Dagger Squad had said anything about you. He didn't know you were even going to be in town.

He felt like he couldn't breathe when he laid eyes on you.

The yellow lighting cast a soft glow on your skin. You were beautiful. You had always been beautiful, but damn, you looked even more beautiful now. Maybe it was just the years that had passed him by.

The walls of his small corner of the world couldn’t fall on him sooner.

The glass that crunched under your shoes became the only thing he heard until he watched as you ran back into the hallway.

In a split second, Hangman was beside him, obviously pissed.

"What the hell, man? Why aren't you with Kristie?"

"She broke it off."

Hangman clenched his jaw. He couldn't believe this was happening, but then again, Rooster had his head far up his ass more often than not. Hangman punched him in the arm, just enough for it to hurt.

"You need to leave," he said, watching as Rooster recoiled in pain.

"What?" Rooster looked at him in surprise. "No."

"Yes!" he exclaimed. Was this idiot really that much of an asshole?

This time, Phoenix spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest. "We promised you wouldn't be here. You're supposed to be up north. You're supposed to be far away from here!"

"You promised?" Rooster stared her down.

"Well, yeah, you asshole! You broke their heart. They didn't even want to come here in the first place. God, I should've just gone to see them instead of dragging them out here," Phoenix groaned, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.

Rooster hesitantly took a step forward.

"Rooster, get out," Hangman said, voice low.

He shook his head. He needed to talk to you.

"Rooster!"

He broke out into a run, and before Hangman could follow, Phoenix grabbed his arm.

"What the hell?" he stared at her in disbelief.

"Just let it happen," she said.

"Let what happen? Watch Y/n get their heart stepped on all over again?"

"Just… just let it happen."

Phoenix would wait for you to berate her, later. But for now, she could only wish her friends would try to make up. She could only wish that Rooster would gain a pair and grow up. Her heart ached for you as she watched Rooster run back to the bathrooms, knowing that she couldn’t ever take the pain away from you. The only one who could do that was Rooster, himself, and even then, she wasn’t sure if that would happen.

And now, he found himself standing there, the silence deafening in the small space. The light was bright in the enclosure—brighter than he remembered. His hand was still hovering, his arm growing heavy as he debated on knocking.

Should he just leave? Should he do as Hangman said and walk out? But he couldn't just leave. Not now. Not when he knew he made the biggest mistake of his life, telling you all that bullshit.

You used your sleeves to wipe your tears away as you shakily got to your feet. Your fingers struggled to even unlock the stall door, but when you did, you swung it open. Rooster had to back up just to avoid being hit with the metal.

The two of you just stood there, bright light casting shadows onto the old tile floor. Not a word was said as Rooster stared at you.

You were exactly as he remembered, if not better. You had changed your hair since the last time he saw you. He kept the mustache, and his hair was still cut the same. You kept the same style and the same makeup (or lack thereof).

You still looked at him the same… even if it quickly changed into one of anger.

You were still so beautiful.

His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to talk to you, but he couldn’t think of anything to say to you. Nothing he could say would make things better.

He was such an idiot.

You stepped forward, walking to the stark white sink. You grabbed a few paper towels and wet them before carefully wiping the remnants of your tears. You stared at your reflection in the rounded mirror, your lip caught between your teeth as you hiccuped.

"Y/n?" Rooster tentatively began. He raised a hand to touch your shoulder.

You immediately moved away from his touch, glaring in his direction.

His fist clenched beside him as he watched you.

You tossed the paper towels in the trash and pushed past him, quickly leaving the bathroom.

"Y/n," he repeated.

As you walked, he followed.

Your friends stood in their respective corner, knowing they should intervene. Yet they stayed, hoping that somehow, Rooster would fix his fuck up. They couldn’t keep watching the two of you fight some imaginary battle—they couldn’t watch the two of you wish your life away for something that was quite literally at the tips of your fingers.

Phoenix wasn't too sure if he'd be able to fix this. Hangman honestly wanted to hang a man.

You shoved the doors open, walking into the cool California night. It wasn’t like the cold in Virginia. Virginia’s winters were unforgiving—the snow that would fall would chill you to your very core. Virginia winters would put southern California to shame in an instant. At this very moment, you wished you were there, standing in the chilling wind, begging for some kind of relief—at least then, your body would become numb even if your mind was still running a mile a minute.

Nothing could have prepared you for what had transpired. Nothing could have prepared you for seeing the man you fought so hard to forget.

With no car, you continued walking. You'd call a taxi at some point. Right now, you just needed to breathe.

But you had yet to realize Rooster was still following you.

The man grabbed ahold of your wrist, making you stop in the middle of the damn parking lot. Cars and trucks alike littered the parking spots. A few people walked past you as they went into the bar, ignoring the tension that stood in the middle of it all.

You whipped around, jerking your arm away from him with wide eyes. "What's your fucking problem?!"

Rooster paused, body going rigid as he waited for you to continue.

You had never yelled at him, even when he asked for a divorce.

"Why the fuck are you even here? You're not supposed to be here! You have a fucking girlfriend. Get away from me. I don't ever want to see you again."

Tears sprung to your eyes once more. You tilted your head back, wishing they would just stop. The stars stared down at you, mocking you where you stood. The sky was so close, and yet so far away.

God, would this man ever make you stop crying?

"Y/n—"

"—just go away! I don't want you here!"

"Please," he began, "I need to talk to you. I need to apologize."

"Apologize?! Oh, that's rich! Just leave me alone. You did enough damage when you asked for a divorce. Just leave me alone."

"Y/n, please," he continued. "You… please just hear me out."

"I heard you out once, and it was the worst fucking time of my life," you said. "I'm not listening to you ever again."

You turned back around, set on leaving—this time a bit faster. But his words grounded you in your spot, heart leaping to your throat once more.

"It was a mistake!"

You stared at the gravel that crunched underneath your feet. You could feel your pulse rushing through your body, fast and unsteady.

Nothing could have prepared you for that.

"It was a mistake, Y/n," he said, his voice far quieter this time. "I never should have asked for a divorce. I never should have said anything. I should—I should have just—"

"—what, toughed it out? Let me realize you stopped loving me when you started cheating on me or some shit?"

His eyes widened in surprise.

"What? No. No, Y/n… I… I never should have said anything. I never stopped loving you."

What?

You couldn't breathe—your lungs constricted in your chest, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Your body burned as you looked up at the night sky, stars littering the vast ocean of darkness. They still mocked you, but this time, dark clouds rolled in. Perhaps the sky knew just how you felt. The moon cast a soft glow on everything in its path.

Tears blurred your vision once more.

He never stopped loving you.

You let out a sob, turning to face him.

"What?"

"I never stopped loving you," Rooster lamented. "I… still love you."

"Then… then… why?"

"I couldn't do it to you."

"What? Do what?"

"I couldn't die! I couldn't die and leave you a widow. I couldn't end up with the same fate my dad had, leaving you just the same as my mom," he said.

"Well you're not fucking dead, are you?!"

Rooster paused, lips parting to speak.

"You're not dead. You're standing right in front of me, telling me that the reason you fucking divorced me was because you didn't want me to be a widow?! I would have been less upset if you had fucking died!" You took in a deep breath, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You did not have to do that. You did not have to make me miserable. You did not have to make me feel like the one person who loved me was an entire lie!”

Rooster winced. Your words pierced his soul like a sharp bullet, ricocheting off the crevices of his very soul.

"Fuck off, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, fists clenched at your sides. "I never want to see you again."

"But Y/n—"

"—no! No, I'm over you, you bastard! I don't love you anymore. I haven't in years. You're still in love with me? That's great. Fucking deal with it. You deserve to feel the pain of not knowing. You deserve to lose yourself in everything you thought was yours.”

Bradley Bradshaw had never felt as if he wasn't good enough. When he was faced with adversity, he worked harder. When he felt bad about something, he did more to try and overcome that. He had never felt as if anything he did wasn't good enough. But in this very moment, he stood there, wondering how in the world he could have fucked up so badly.

He wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough, for you. That much was evident as he watched you once again walk away from him, disappearing into the night.

His eyes fluttered shut and he held back his tears as he stood there, waiting for lightning to strike him where he stood. Surely, it'd be better than having to go back into the Hard Deck after a screaming match like that.

He deserved it.

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch. He opened his eyes, head darting in the person's direction. Hangman watched him for a moment before he patted his back.

"You fucked up, man," he began, averting his gaze. "Now you've gotta fix it."

"But how?"

"For fucks sake, Rooster," he groaned. He ran a hand through his perfect hair, musing it from the stress of his friend. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought Rooster might actually be a pretty smart guy. This dude was dumber than a box of rocks, and this just proved it.

"They still love you, you know," Bob said, arms crossed over his chest. "We heard what they said, but they're just hurt. You really did a number on them."

He glanced over his shoulder. The Dagger Squad stood there, all watching him as he stood there, in the middle of the parking lot.

This… was all his fault.

Those four simple words should have never left his mouth. He should have been spending the last three years with you, not trying to forget you. Because if he were to have died in that time, it would have at least been with you and not with the overwhelming ghost of you haunting his every waking move. He could have at least left you behind knowing you were loved instead of wondering if he ever truly loved you at all.

Time passed slowly in the month it took you to finally calm down from the emotional rollercoaster Rooster had you on. You were back in your apartment, the east coast calling your name (even though the west coast screamed for your return; the sandy beaches and the salty water just weren’t the same, here).

Your heart ached—every romantic thing you saw made you want to cry. It all reminded you of your ex-husband, and now, there was no changing things. In your anger, you had told him you never wanted to see him again—that you didn't love him. You made sure he knew that when you left him standing in the middle of that damned parking lot.

What a lie that was.

But if he could tell lies, why couldn't you? Why couldn't you force him to live with the idea that you didn't love him, just the way he did that to you?

Regret became you.

You wondered if that’s how he felt all this time—regretful.

Did Rooster even have a bone in his body that was capable of feeling anything other than pride?

Maverick would know.

Did he know about all of this? He had been Rooster’s best man at the wedding. Surely, he knew something.

Your arm rested over your eyes, blocking out the sunlight that peaked through your curtains. Saturday mornings never got easier for you. Hell, no morning did. Getting up was a constant chore. You had already gotten ready for the morning, but you slipped right back into bed, not wanting to deal with the idea of being a live, somewhat functioning adult at the moment.

Your phone began to ring, loud and in your ear as you lay in bed, staring at the back of your arm. With a groan, you rolled over and picked it up.

Phoenix was calling you.

You answered after a moment of your fingers hovering over the bright buttons. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone.

"Hello?"

"Y/n? Hey! So, uh, quick thing, and I promise you I didn't know about it until Bagman just said something, but he gave Rooster your address."

Silence enveloped your bedroom as you processed what she had just said.

"What?!" You immediately sat up in your bed, gripping your phone with unforgiving strength. "What the hell!"

"I know," she continued, voice laced with worry—she didn’t know how you were going to take this. "I know, and I'm sorry. But, uh, he said that Rooster is probably gonna show up within the next hour or so. He caught the earliest flight out there."

"Why?"

"Why?" Natasha echoed. "Y/n, why do you think?"

You fell silent. You stared down at the blankets that pooled at your feet.

Day after day, you wondered if Rooster would show up, begging you to take him back. But the sun continued to set, day in and day out, and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed.

"Y/n, I know he's an asshole,” Natasha said. “I know he broke your heart. But… Rooster's been through a lot. He might not have realized how bad of an idea it was until he went through with it. He’s… he’s done nothing but regret it ever since.”

"I know he's been through a lot," you said, voice far quieter than it had been. "I know he has. But… but that's no excuse. We were married. I was his partner. He took that away… he took that all away.”

"There's no excuse for him," Phoenix said. "I’m not making one. You’re… you’re my very best friend. But if he shows up and you don't know what to do, you have two options. Turn him away, or… hear him out. Whatever you do, I’m here one hundred percent of the way.”

You swallowed thickly. Without saying anything else, you hung up the phone, tossing it onto your bed. You buried your face in your hands—it seemed to be the only thing you could do recently that would actually allow you to catch your breath.

And then, your doorbell rang.

That was far less than an hour.

The shrill ding of the bell resounded in your brain. You would have to get that changed to something less annoying.

Getting out of your bed and walking down the hallway was the easy part. It was opening the front door that made you want to die as your hand slowly grabbed onto the knob.

You can just turn him away. It'll be okay, you told yourself. He will leave if you want him to.

With much hesitation, you opened the door.

Rooster stood there, worried he had gotten the wrong door and Hangman had given him some shit directions. But as you appeared in the doorway, relief spread across his features. He was dressed in those same shoes you had given him. He wore a pair of jeans, and he wore one of those stupid Hawaiian shirts that he loved so much.

You still had the pink and yellow one you had stolen before you left him in the top left drawer of your dresser. It still smelled like Rooster… but the laundry detergent you had was the same exact one you had used when you were married to him.

Everything you owned reminded you of him.

"Y/n?"

"Bradley."

His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. He nervously wrung his hands together as his eyes looked anywhere but you. This wasn’t that confident, macho man you knew. This wasn’t Rooster.

This was Bradley Bradshaw, in the flesh.

His heart was on the line, and he could only hope that the universe would grant him one last wish—let you believe him. Let you understand him.

He would understand if you turned him away. He would leave, and he would never bother you again. But he hoped that you’d accept him for who he is—for everything he has been.

Again.

Even though it took him so long to realize his mistake. Even though he made so many mistakes just to find himself trying to take it all back.

Rooster never thought he was perfect, but hell. The universe really didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, did it?

"Listen, I know you said you didn't want to see me," he began. "But I can't… I can't keep doing this."

You stayed silent.

Bradley was a lot of things. Stupid, funny, a great, flaming ball of firey anxiety. And still, the love of your life, even now.

Nothing would ever stop that from happening, even if he shoved his hand in your chest, pulled out your heart, and crushed it right in front of you.

Even now, after all this time, you knew you loved him.

He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

"I love you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never stopped. I just… fucked up. God, Y/n, I fucked up so bad. I never should have asked you for a divorce. I never should have said any of that shit. I thought I was protecting you. But the only thing I ended up doing was hurting you more, and I never wanted that to happen.

"I love you, so much, Y/n. I never stopped. I… you are the love of my life. But… but even if I loved you, it wouldn't stop life from standing in the way. My dad died. He left my mom all alone. I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering, all alone, wondering what the hell you could have done to make things different. I couldn't let you have the same fate as my mom."

You stared at him, hands gripping the door.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

"I… I know I should have."

"So why didn't you?"

"I had already made up my mind…"

And once Bradley Bradshaw made up his mind, that was that. Most of the time, anyway.

Silence enveloped the two of you once more. Birds chirped in the background, cars honking in the backed-up traffic on the interstate not too far from your home. Life was still going on, just like it always would. Life would continue to find a way, even if someone left it behind—even if someone felt as if their world was crashing to an end.

Three years ago, if Bradley Bradshaw had shown up at your door, telling you he had made a mistake, you would have believed him. But watching him as he stood at your door this very moment, you weren't sure. You had every right to slam the door in his face, burning the image of his scared self in the back of your mind. But as you stood here, hands dangling down by your thighs, you knew you couldn't.

Were you stupid for what you were about to do?

Maybe.

But so was Bradley.

"I've started seeing a therapist," Bradley spoke, breaking the silence. "He said it would be good for me to at least… try to tell you why."

"Why you left me?"

He gave a small nod. "Yes. And… he made me realize it never should have happened. It was my fault. It was never yours."

You rubbed your eyes out of frustration, unable to stop yourself from sniffling. A groan escaped you, and he frowned in response.

"Y/n, I… words can't even begin to describe how sorry I am. I can't take back what I said. I can't change the fact that I asked you for a divorce because I was terrified of dying and leaving you alone. But… but I can do this," he said, licking his lips as he watched you.

You tilted your head in confusion, not sure where he was going with this.

Time moved slowly—just as slowly as it had when your world came to a startling halt.

He suddenly held out his hand, locking eyes with you once more. Dark brown eyes peered into yours; those same brown eyes you used to watch until you fell asleep in his arms. Those same brown eyes you stared into when you first said, “I do.” Those same brown eyes you looked into when he asked you for a divorce.

"Hi," the man said, a small smile appearing on his mustache-clad lips. "I'm Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw."

Your eyes widened, your heart leaping to your chest once more, but not because you were scared to face him. But because you couldn't believe this was really happening.

He… was starting over.

You were starting over.

Hesitantly, you took his hand, firmly grasping it before you shook it.

"It's so nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw," you said. Your eyes were still red from your tears, but you began to smile, pushing down the pain and regret of the last three years. It wasn’t worth it. The utter buffoon standing in front of you was worth it. "I'm Y/n Bradshaw," you continued with a grin. "Quite a coincidence, huh?"

Bradley just smiled, tilting his head to the side. You had never changed your name. In fact, you stayed the same, despite the icy shield around your heart. Not that he could blame you.

You were his Y/n. The love of his life—the reason he continued on, and the reason he believed in love, despite the fear that sucked the rational thinking out of him.

Because even when death knocked at his door, he knew you would be there. You would be there, just like his mom was for his dad.

Nothing could change that.

Not the divorce, not his lie that lasted for years. Not the untimely “confession” that left the two of you reeling for each other.

Nothing could change how he felt for you.

And with one instant, you knew your world was mending itself. You'd have problems—that you were sure. You’d have to work on communication; on both sides. But as you moved out of the way for Rooster to come in, you knew it would be worth it.

Love, no matter how much it hurt, was worth it.

Good enough or not.

"Why don't you come in, Mr. Bradshaw? I think we have a lot to catch up on."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, taking ahold of your hand.

"Only if you'll have me."

"Of course, I will."

This was a start. A new start.

A good start.

You were both starting over. And although you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, a part of you was starting to realize that you may have always been good enough—sometimes, fear was stronger than anyone’s resolve. Fear could make even the bravest people pause; it could cause stupid decisions and brash opinions that change everything a person knows. Minds were a powerful tool that could hurt everyone in its path.

You lived it.

You were still living it.

But like any great thing, sometimes starting over is the best way to go. Sometimes, opening your heart back up is the only thing you can do to move on.

Those same brown eyes you fell in love with peered down at yours, and for once in the past three years, you finally felt at peace. You were good enough. You always had been.

And Bradley Bradshaw was a good man. A great man, even. But even great men can fall short. Even great men can make mistakes. It takes an even greater person to face those mistakes head-on, and an equally great person to forgive and continue on loving, even if they never stopped, to begin with.

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