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utterlyazriel · 3 days

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let me keep you company

a/n: a wee break from the doom & gloom of wtssf! it's unedited so i want no flack for that thank u <3 enjoy <3 wc: 5.1k whoops synopsis: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.

For the record, you had never met a Shadowsinger before.

You'd never even seen one. Sure, you’d read about them briefly in your studies and almost every Fae in Prythian had heard about them in whispers and rumours.

Rumours that increased more so when a Shadowsinger rose to become a hand for the Highlord, his own personal spy. Then became the spymaster of the entire Night Court for the next Highlord.

But beyond gossip and unfinished chapters within the scripts of your libraries, the knowledge of Shadowsingers is far limited. They’re rare. For all you know, Shadowsinger’s are a ghost— moving as a shadow, disappearing in and out of the darkness of the world.

You had never met a Shadowsinger before—so it makes sense that you hadn't an ounce of a clue what to expect.

Staring at him now, 6 feet something of pure muscle, you're a bit embarrassed at your own surprise.

Because he's probably— no definitely— the most beautiful Fae you've ever laid eyes on. His hair is tousled and dark, his glorious tan skin that's mostly hidden beneath the black of his fighter leathers, and his amber eyes that laid on you for only one long moment. Breathtaking is the only adequate word for him.

All that beauty and he's a Shadowsinger.

And it's not like you thought he wouldn't be like, well, any other Fae. But also... you kinda did? Mother, you should've known Freya was tricking you when she said they were all just shadow-y corporeal forms.

But she's also not entirely wrong there. There are dozens of wispy shadows that hover around him in constant motion, dipping and flying around his shoulders and if you look close enough, you can see how he seems to ripple at the edges. Shadows blur the edge of his very being.

You wonder if he can disappear into them all together, if that was one of the abilities granted with them. Does he control them? He must, you think, if the title is Shadowsinger.

But looking at him now, his beautiful face turned to face the Highlord you should definitely be listening to, they flit about almost absentmindedly, as though they have a mind of their own.

One curls up by his ear and you watch it, fascinated, more and more questions springing up in your mind— what do they feel like on skin? Do they make any noise? Is that what they're doing now? Talking to—

A sharp elbow jabs into your side, making you jump.

Your head whips to the side, an instinctive scowl almost overtaking your face before you plaster it over with a smile, realising your mistake. Your mentor, Sergei, clears his throat and smiles awkwardly ahead at Rhysand. You blink and take another moment to realise you've been asked a question.

"I'm— I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" You try not to sound as mousy as you feel but the question comes out as a squeak anyway. He is the Highlord of the Night Court after all. You suddenly feel very foolish for being so easily distracted.

Thankfully, Rhysand regards you with an easy smile. He's leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and his violet eyes dance with humour as he flicks his gaze over to where you had just been staring.

"That's alright. Azriel is a piece of eye candy, I can't blame you for staring," He all but purrs, a hint of mirth pulling at his lips as he casts another glance at his Spymaster. You're taken aback by the casualness of his words.

Rhysand continues. "I was only saying that for the duration of your stay, you'll be hosted in one of my homes, the House of Wind. You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

A smidge of fear pinches at your stomach because, honestly, you aren't overly keen on the idea. But you know better than to turn down the generosity of a Highlord.

You take another glance at the wings of his Spymaster and General and pray that it's not too high up.

"Not... much." You answer honestly.

There's a chuckle from the side of the room and your head swings around at the noise. It's not the Shadowsinger, though he looks as though he's politely trying not to smile, his chin ducked. It's the General, just as beautiful as his brother but in that more rugged way.

He flexes his wings out a bit, showing off their mighty wingspan. "We'll rid you of that fear in no time."

You try for a smile but it might be closer to a grimace.

"Fantastic." You say, not managing to put all your enthusiasm into the word like you hoped.

Another sharp jab of Sergei's elbow in your side. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, huffs a quiet laugh, his amber eyes flashing up to steal another look at you. You try your best not to fluster.

It's going to be a long two months.

—

As Sergei's apprentice, you're expected to shadow him through his allowed time within Velaris.

Which means if he goes to the library, you go to the library.

There's just one problem; the library is down in the city and your temporary home is up in the mountain. The quickest way down is with wings.

Rhysand— or just Rhys as he had told you to call him— had relayed the information that you could ask either Cassian or Azriel to escort you if you didn't wish to take the stairs.

Cassian, the General, had been the one to fly you down and back the first couple of times you had asked and you weren't in any particular hurry to relive the experience.

Cassian was nice and he was more than friendly but seemingly incapable of understanding any fear of heights. You weren't sure if that was just the only way to fly— swooping and dropping fast enough to make you shriek— but it certainly seemed to be Cassian's way.

Which leaves you with the option of either asking the Shadowsinger or taking the stairs.

You get down about two hundred steps before you start to regret your decision. But, also, how in the Cauldron were you supposed to ask him to take you? (Never mind that you had asked Cassian quite easily, albeit very nervously.)

Oh, hi Shadowsinger who I can't stop staring at for both your abilities and your handsome face—care to sweep me into your arms and carry me places?

As if, you snort to yourself.

You take the thousand stairs all the way to the bottom and trot towards the enormous library, pretending your thighs aren't aching with overuse or that you're out of breath. Thankfully, the library itself isn't too far from the House of Wind, carved into the same side of the mountain.

As expected, Sergei is less than pleased with your tardiness.

"Sorry," The word rushes out of you in a wheeze, probably too loud for the library, as you scuttle in the entrance. A few priestesses turn their heads to look at you and you cringe, raising your hands in apology. "Sorry, I'm sorry,"

You focus back on your mentor and try to catch your breath, all while you explain. "I took the stairs and it took—" You huff out a breath. "—way longer than I thought."

Sergei's face softens a bit at your explanation, his face taking on a pitiful smile. "Still not enjoying the flying?"

"You are?" You ask in response. The thought of Sergei, your old-Fae mentor, swept up in Cassian's arms as he dips and dives makes you chuckle just a bit.

Sergei shakes his head as if to change the topic of conversation, deciding you've wasted enough time already. He turns, beginning to head further into the library and you follow behind him closely, eager to brush over your early morning fumble. The cavernous structure within the mountain yawns out ahead of you and you get all of two moments to wonder just how deep down it goes, when—

"You did not ask for a ride this morning."

Azriel steps up beside you, seemingly from nowhere, his steps falling in time with yours with ease. You jump, startled, and your footsteps falter for a moment. You're relieved to say that you only make one embarrassing noise in your surprise.

"I— oh, it's— I mean, I just..." You trail off, feeling flustered. "...like to walk."

You chance a glance up at him. He's wearing that same polite expression from yesterday, as though he's trying not to laugh and you get too caught up in the swirlings of his shadows to remember to be properly embarrassed. Both of you walk in tandem behind Sergei, slowly descending into the lower levels of the library.

"If you insist," He says, his voice low. It sends something warm down your spine and you pray he doesn't notice how your body temperature is definitely climbing.

His amber eyes pin you with another look, his lips twitching into a small smile. "However, if Cassian is giving you trouble, I would be happy to provide a smoother ride."

You flounder for a moment. You don't want to get anyone in trouble.

"I— he's not giving me trouble," You stammer.

Azriel smiles a little wider as if he can tell how polite you're trying to be. He slows to a meander and you realise only after you walk past him, it's because Sergei has stopped himself, turning down one of the many aisles.

You skid yourself to a halt and turn back, praying your flaming face isn't as obvious as it feels. You're not entirely sure if Azriel is accompanying you today but you're sure that Sergei would've mentioned it if he was.

You dip your head in a strange, awkward bow motion. Then point to the aisle Sergei disappeared into.

"I'll be... going this way."

Azriel's smile grows, like you've told a joke, and he ducks his head. He peers up at you through his dark lashes and you wonder if anyone's ever told him how damn beautiful he is. Probably. You're probably the last in a long line of people. Mother, his eyes though.

"If you don't wish to make the hike the other way," He murmurs.

He extends one of his hands and you watch the dozen shadows swarm around it, one of them separating from the pack to dive to the ground. It shoots forward and spins around your ankle, almost happily. "Just let the shadow know. I would be happy to assist."

When you look back up, he’s already gone without a sound. You try not to look so surprised— you’ve seen someone winnow before but you’re almost certain that the way Azriel moved about silently was something else altogether.

“Y/n!” Sergei’s voice echoes down the shelves, reminding you that you’re still late. You throw a quick glance around to check but it's fruitless; you can’t see the Shadowsinger anywhere.

You turn and bustle down the aisle quickly, not wanting to keep Sergei any longer. It takes only a second to notice the sole, black shadow that dances along behind you.

Guess you have company.

—

Okay, so, the shadows are definitely their own little guys.

Mainly because you can’t imagine how Azriel would be controlling them when he’s nowhere in sight.

And this one shadow is being awfully helpful.

The first time you drop your quill, knocking it to the ground as you lean over one of the many intricately carved desks, trying to reach another book, you don’t even notice it fall to the ground.

In fact, you have no idea how many times it’s picked up your fallen quill that you’ve undoubtedly knocked over countless times— only that it had given you the fright of your life to have it hover before your face, gripped only by the wispy shadow Azriel left with you.

“Holy shit!” You gasp, your loud voice echoing in the quietness of the library.

Sergei's head whips up, his eyes narrowing at the intruding sound with evident disapproval. You quickly snatch the quill out of mid-air and sink down in your seat. Gods, the echoes in here were doing you no favours.

“Sorry,” You whisper. Your eyes dart down to the shadow that retreated to your side, flickering around your ankle more wildly. “Er, thanks.”

It feels a bit silly to give thanks to something you’re not sure can hear you. But you figure if it can pick up your quill, you're better off using your manners.

Sergei gives you a somewhat bewildered look and you try to appease him with an awkward smile. It works enough for him to continue his work but not without one more lingering glance of worry in your direction. Great. You're talking to shadows and your old-man mentor thinks you're a bit nuts.

The shadow continues its helpful endeavours, following you when you head down different aisles at Sergei's request. It dances across the shelves, dissolving occasionally just to puff back up somewhere else, pulling your attention this way and that. It's playful. Friendly.

You deduce by the end of the day that you know even less about Shadowsinger's than you had thought. The abilities and personality of just one shadow are uncanny; like a silent friend keeping you company. You imagine that Azriel rarely gets lonely with as many as he has. Maybe you'll ask him.

When Sergei and you wind back up the staircases and he dismisses you for the evening, heading into the city for his own further business, you stand at the mouth of the library and ponder if you'll be brave enough to summon the Shadowsinger.

The shadow is still with you, circling your wrist absently. You peer down at it and think of all those stairs. Somewhat nervously, you raise your hand and try to be as casual as possible about talking to a shadow on your hand.

"Hi." You start, trying not to feel foolish. "Um, well, I guess I'm done for the day. Could— could you, if he's not busy that is, uh, let Azriel know? I don't mind waiting if he is."

The shadow zips off barely before you can finish your sentence and your head swings to watch it go, disappearing somewhere to your left.

You can't help but be a little amazed at its speed—it must be an incredible networking system to have a thousand little spies running around for you. No wonder almost all Shadowsingers tend to end up in the same line of work, you think to yourself, still peering in the direction of the shadow when—

"Y/n."

Even though he's said your name soft and quiet, Azriel still manages to take you by surprise. You jump and turn, all in one motion.

"Mother!" Your hand holds over your chest, relief curling in at the sides as your fright ebbs away. "That was fast."

"You called," Azriel responds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. He gives you an almost shy smile.

It makes you fluster a bit and you gesture to the exit awkwardly and wordlessly, if only so you don't have to come up with a response to his intense and endearing answer.

Together, you wander out from the library and creep towards the edge of Velaris. It's a beautiful city and more than deserving of its title, especially when viewed from the House of Wind. You turn and cast your eyes up the mountainside, your familiar nervous fear pitching up from your stomach.

Then you look at the warrior beside you, tall enough that he's got what feels like more than a head's height on you, with his wings reaching above even his own head. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are already on you as your gaze trails up his face. Fuck. He's really pretty.

Now you're nervous for an entirely different reason.

"We can still take the stairs if you wish," He says, his hand sweeping back to the path you had followed along this morning. His shadows move with his hands, a black vortex that whirls around and around. "I'd be more than happy to keep you company."

Mother, he's not helping you in the slightest, being so perfectly nice to you. You regard the stairs and think back to how many hours it took before your thighs stopped aching—and that was on the way down.

"No, we can- we can try flying again." You say, nodding to yourself as if it'll help quell your fear. It takes another moment to realise that means you'll be bundled up in his strong arms, held against his broad chest and you feel a little shiver run through your body at the thought.

Azriel notices it too, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You're sure?" He checks.

You nod, not meeting his eyes, trying to keep your nerve. Flying is already something you're not keen on. Flying whilst being swept up in the arms of a Shadowsinger who you think is the most beautiful Fae you've ever seen? You send a silent prayer to the Mother that you don't do something embarrassing, like puking down his front.

"Let me know if you're uncomfortable at any time," He says softly and then he bends his knees slightly, one of his scarred hands resting on your lower back as the other scoops beneath your knees. He lifts you as though you weigh nothing.

It's impossible not to flush as you get nestled against his firm chest, your hands panicking for a moment as you try to think of a normal place to put them. Around his neck? On his chest? Either of them feels far too intimate for a man you've known only a week.

"You don't have to but I would suggest holding on," Azriel comments with a smile, his chest vibrating with the words. You nod, agreeing with him, but don't make a move to do so, only holding your hands out in front of you to indicate you're not sure where to put them.

The shadows adorning his shoulders move on their own, their friendly presence easing your nerves as they slither down to circle around your wrists. There's a gentle tug and you let them move your hands til they're wrapped around Azriel's neck, moving you much closer in the process.

Gods, your faces are close together. Another couple of inches and you could probably press your lips to his perfect ones—a thought that makes you fluster all over again. Was he getting prettier every time you saw him? For not the first time, you thank the Mother that it was Rhys with the daemaeti gift and not Azriel.

"Ready?" He checks, which is sweet. Cassian had just shot up into the sky the first time, without any warning.

You grip your arms around his neck a little tighter and then nod. "Ready," You say, quieter than intended.

You catch just a moment of Azriel's demure smile, your heart swooping at the sight, before you're both launched into the sky with one flap of his wings.

The noise that escapes you is one you're less than proud of, a squawky sound noise of panic that you bury into Azriel's neck. You expect him to laugh like Cassian had, not meanly but playfully, but instead Azriel's arms just tighten around you. As if he was assuring you that he would not let you fall.

By the time you're up at the House of Wind, Azriel making a far more graceful descent than his brother, you're less freaked out and more ready to point some accusatory fingers in the face of the Night Court's General.

That bastard had been fucking with you! The flight with Azriel proved as much, considering how much calmer and smoother it had been. You couldn't help but say as much as you were placed down from Azriel's hold, glad to be back on solid ground.

"I have some words for Cassian, Mother above," You ramble, straightening out your rumpled clothes from the flight. "Did he think I was kidding when I said I was afraid?"

Azriel smiles at your fieriness, his shadows calmer than they were in flight, moving about lazily. His eyes take a fleeting glance at the house behind you before focusing intently back on you.

"Cassian can have a strange sense of humour at times. He means well." He says. Then he grins. "I should like to see you tell him off— not enough people do."

You hmph. "Maybe I will."

You suddenly realise the closeness between you and Azriel, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. His scent of cedar and mist swirls around you, tantalizing and alluring in a way you've never known before. You take a step back to contain yourself.

"I—uh, well, thank you very much." You say, as sweet as you can. "For the ride."

Your eyes catch on one of his dozen shadows and you smile, observing them for a moment. "And the shadow. It was excellent company."

Azriel brightens, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he schools it away. He smiles, brazen and breathtaking. When he speaks, he sounds a little disbelieving. "You like them?"

You nod quickly, noticing how one of his shadows has snuck off again and circulates your ankle speedily. You laugh at the ticklish feeling of it against your skin.

"They're incredible." You breathe, meaning every word. "I imagine you must've ge—"

"Apologies, y/n." A smooth voice cuts in, Rhys stepping up somewhere behind you and stealing both of your attention. He dressed in more casual clothes than you last saw, but not quite Azriel's fighting leathers. "Azriel here is needed for some brief business. Do you mind if I borrow him?"

The way he poses the question, as if Azriel is yours, does something wonky to your heart. You flounder for a moment, stepping back and waving your hand in the direction of the Shadowsinger.

"Of- of course, by all means." You trip over the words and hope you don't sound too eager to escape his company. That couldn't be more untrue.

You turn back to Azriel and fix him with a smile, hoping it's not as nervous as you feel. "I'll... see you around?"

Azriel steals a glance to the side where Rhys awaits before he nods with another reserved smile. Hold on, is that pink on his cheeks?

"Let me know if you need any more help getting to and from the library. I'd be happy to assist."

And then with a quick nod to you, he walks off to join Rhys, his wings tucked in tight, careful to not nudge you. You watch them go, unable to stop yourself from letting your eyes wander down. Damn, all that training did wonders. What was that saying? Hate to watch 'em go, love to watch them leave.

Ahead, Rhys abruptly laughs and peers back over his shoulder, letting you exactly how well you had shielded those thoughts. You flush and scurry into the house as if it'll save you from the embarrassment of what's just happened. You only hope he won't pass the message on to Azriel.

—

It continues like that for the rest of the week.

Azriel carries you down the height of the mountain and leaves you with a promise that if you need anything, you can tell the shadow and he'll come to find you.

The shadow keeps its usual playful company. Beyond retrieving your dropped quills, it helpfully turns the pages of books for you. When you're focused on what you're writing, it nudges back any loose strands of hair. Once it even brings you a flower from Mother knows where. One single Lily of the Valley, left resting on your desk.

It makes you wonder; are all Shadowsinger's shadows like this? You can't help but imagine these niceties are shaped by Azriel's own soft nature.

Today, whilst you study in the vast caverns of the library, you get an unexpected visitor.

As you take your time scanning through the books in one of the vast aisles, you realise the Fae coming down from the other end of the aisle is none other than the Highlady herself.

"Feyre!" You greet warmly. The two of you had met before when she had taken duties in your home court and if it weren't too bold, you'd say you consider yourself good friends. Feyre smiles, glowing like moonlight, as she realises who it is.

"Y/n," She says your name sweetly and her hug is just as such. She pulls away, ready to inquire about your studies when she spots the trailing shadow behind you.

"Making friends, I see," She comments. Her eyebrows raise almost teasingly as if she's made a certain insinuation. You take a moment to notice what she's referencing.

"It's nice," You say, a defensive lilt to your tone. You hold out your hand and the shadow jumps at the opportunity to skitter around it playfully. "It's like a little friend."

Feyre smiles at your words but chuckles a little. "Except Azriel is anything but little."

You pause at her words, glancing down at the shadow and back up at Feyre. "What do you mean? I thought— they're not- I mean, aren't they...?”

You trail off, unsure of how to word the question you're trying to ask. Feyre smiles, her gray eyes glittering with mirth as she realises what you're figuring out.

"They're all his. Azriel's. He controls them." She tilts her head a bit, watching the shadow that drifts about your hand and wrist. "True, they roam a bit on their own but... Not like this."

"Oh," You murmur, thinking back to that first day in the library.

The playful shadow that lead you back and forth, picking up your quill and turning your pages. It was him, all along.

Something immeasurably warm starts to glow in your chest, a thread that loops through your heart and sends the valves into overdrive. Its warmth grows, something molten hot beginning to bleed in your chest— and it feels wonderful. It feels right.

"Oh," You gasp as you figure it out.

Feyre grins, watching you piece together what the rest of the inner circle has clued together from the very first day. She stands to the side and gestures to the entrance of the library with a tilt of her head.

"Go on then," She urges you.

For a moment, you think back to Sergei who sent you hunting for a certain manuscript Cauldron knows how long ago but the thought is washed away in an instant. You can feel it now, the strong tug in your chest. The connection that binds you to another.

You stride past Feyre, giving a quick thanks! and all but run up the spiral staircases, heading for the entrance. The shadow pings along with you and as you near the top, you look down at it and say through huffed breaths, "You better go get him."

He's waiting by the time you get there.

Against the setting sun, for a moment there's only the silhouette of him— a warrior with tall wings, the edges of him rippling like a mirage. He might just be one; an oasis in your life, the answer that you've been searching for for centuries. You can't believe you didn't notice.

Your footsteps echo on the marble as you march right up to him and Azriel watches you closely the whole time, his amber eyes soft but his expression hinting at his nervousness. Gods, he's wonderful. You can't believe he gets to be yours and you get to be his.

"How long have you known?" You ask because it's the first thing on your mind. You're nearly panting from the exhilaration of your sudden exercise, from the dawning future that's blooming right in front of you. He's your mate. Gods, how could you have missed it?

Azriel smiles, that same tentative one that's been driving you crazy all week. His wings give a little shake behind him, a giveaway of his nerves.

"I... suspected from the beginning." He chooses his words carefully, wary of how you might respond.

You can't help your little gasp, feeling even more of a fool. You curse, ducking your head before you glare back up at him, no real heat in your gaze. You have the urge to give him a little shove, just for keeping you in the dark.

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

One of his shadows spins up unexpectedly, dancing across your shoulders and tickling your cheeks gently. You startle in surprise but something sweeter curls up in your chest at the tenderness of its touch.

"Believe me," Azriel says with a quiet chuckle, his amber eyes darting over your face intensely. "I've been trying."

You melt. Eyes locked with his, you move slowly, letting your arms drift up to drape around his neck like they've done every morning and evening since he began flying you around. You realise acutely that Cassian's behaviour, his shoddy flying, had likely been on purpose. You laugh a little, eyes creasing shut in pure euphoria.

Azriel's hands find your waist and you can feel the slight tremble in them.

"In my defense," You murmur, pushing up on your toes. You're close, so close, your lips hovering just an inch from a kiss—his shadows go wild around you both. It makes you grin. "I had never met a Shadowsinger before."

"Yeah?" Azriel breathes shakily. "Disappointed?"

He says it like a joke but you can hear the note of sincerity in his tone. His hidden worry that he isn't all you dreamed of. It's nearly laughable how wrong he is.

This close you can see his long lashes and every shade of brown in his eyes. You wonder if you'll ever get used to how beautiful he is. Part of you hopes you never do.

"Not in the slightest," You say, nearly a whisper.

Then his lips are on yours, pillowy soft skin against yours, and it feels like coming home. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you til you're breathless and the glow in your chest could rival the sun in its warmth.

He kisses you and every atom in your body hums and fizzes and comes to life — and all you can do is hold him tight and kiss him back, just as fiercely.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you pant and grin brazenly at Azriel, at your mate, happier than you've ever been. Faintly, you realise that you won't be heading home when the two months of your study are up after all.

Not when you have a man who looks at you so reverently, who kisses you like there's oxygen hidden in the plush of your lips, who holds you like there's nothing more precious in the world.

Not when you know that home is right here, in front of you.

#YIPPEE! written in like... 3 days #no editing less go #love it or leave it #a break from all the doom and gloom of wtssf #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x you #sloane writes

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horanghaeluvsinniehae · 2 days

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BEST FRIEND!STRAY KIDS REACTION TO READER DYING OVER FAN MEETING PICTURES||hyung line/\maknae line||

Pairing: skz!hyung line x gn!reader

Disclaimer: mention of dying but not literally! I tried not to sexualise them I'm sorry if it comes off like that that really wasn't my intention and i hope it didnt turn out like that!!

Usual author's note and poll at the end pretty please read it!!

《masterlist》

A/n:Guess who's back! Hi guys thank you so much for waiting on me(intonationally or not) I'm thankful that you guys read my work and I hope it was good! I hope I got my spark back to writing!

If you want me to start that series comment the member you'd most like to read it with or suggest any ideas to it!!

Please give me feedbacks because they push me to motivation<3

And guys please request because I need ideas and I just want to write something!!

Please take care of yourself and be safe!!🫂❤️‍🩹

Taglist: @ihrtlix @justwonder113 @mon2sunjinsuver (if you want to get added/removed comment or write in asks)

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httpswritings · 2 days

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Postpartum Depression - Alexia Putellas x Reader

Warnings: self harm, depression, panic attack, mentions of wounds, bad pregnancy, death mentions and similar.

Word count: 1,7k

Summary: You experience a panic attack derived from postpartum depression.

A/N: -

Alexia had arrived home from training and some media duties. She was exhausted and only looked forward to seeing you and your daughter and getting some cuddles.

Little did she know what was happening.

She heard loud cries from your daughter Martina.

When she entered the living room, you were on the floor, with your baby in your arms, also crying without looking at her.

“Bebita, what's wrong?” Alexia rushed to get closer to you.

She looked at your daughter, who was shaking, not only because of the crying but because you were shaking too and proceeded to hold her delicately.

Your face had a reddish colour and your chest showed a rapid breathing pattern.

What scared Alexia the most was that you were crying without any tears.

It was a mixture of agony and rage.

Your girlfriend had never seen you in this state of distress, so she felt lost.

Alexia had her one-month-old baby in her arms, crying uncontrollably, while she had her girlfriend in front of her, almost collapsing in what probably was a panic attack.

“Amor? What happened?” She tried to sound as soft as possible, not wanting to scare you.

She thought that the baby had fallen, and that's why you were in that state of nervousness, but after looking in detail throughout your daughter's body, Alexia saw that there were no signs of harm.

“Make her stop, Ale. Please,” you begged almost silently, but in a split second, you snapped at your girlfriend, “Get away from me. You both. Out. Please.”

She didn't question yoir request, getting out of the living room rapidly as she tried to calm Martina down.

Alexia had been suspecting that you could be experiencing post-partum depression, but she didn't know how to address the situation.

You had lost your sparkle. You didn't look in the mirror anymore. Not only that, but you felt like a whole different person, and Alexia was aware.

She had left this go too far until your mind couldn't take it anymore.

Alexia called her mother and urged her to come to your flat.

Thankfully, Eli lived only 20 minutes far away from home.

For Alexia, it was probably the longest twenty minutes of her life.

She couldn't manage to calm Martina down and she was hearing how in pain you were.

Her mind was full of her daughter and her girlfriend's shouting and she felt her insides rip apart.

Finally, Eli entered the flat.

“I need you to take care of Martina. I need to take care of...” Alexia stopped talking when she noticed that you had stopped crying, which only made her worry more about your state.

She left your daughter in her mother's arms and entered abruptly into the living room.

She found you still on the floor with scratches all over your body.

Your hands were aggressively grabbing your hair, trying to pluck it.

“Bebita... Can I get closer to you?”

You looked at her. Alexia had a scared expression, and you broke down crying.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't do it anymore.”

“Amor... It's okay, bebé. I'm here. Let me hold you, sí?”

You nodded, and Alexia got closer to your body.

She held your hands, which were still grabbing aggressively your hair, but she didn't succeed in getting them to let go.

She caressed your hands, leaving soft kisses on them, as you continued crying.

“I've got you, mi amor. I'm right here.”

“I don't like her, Alexia. I'm so sorry but I can't see her as mine. I can't be her mother. I'm not her mother.” You repeated over and over.

Alexia couldn't deny that hearing you say those things hurt her, but she didn't let you go.

She didn't understand what you meant, and that scared her.

She looked at your scratches; most of them had a little blood coming out.

What led you to end up hurting yourself?

Still, Alexia kept holding you.

With you in her arms, you couldn't do anything that hurt you.

She knew that she'd do anything to protect you from yourself.

Eli entered the living room. She had left her granddaughter peacefully sleeping on the cot that was placed in your bedroom.

She placed herself in front of you, looking at your body, especially your arms.

After examining the situation and after asking you a few questions, Eli came to the conclusion of what seemed to be the cause.

“Listen, love. You may not see it now, but what you're experiencing is a common situation for many women. More than you know. It's normal to think that you don't love or don't feel a connection to your baby. But safety here is the priority. Not only the baby's but everyone's, including yourself. If you need professional help, you must ask for it. No one is going to shame you. We are all going to be by your side, taking care of you. Right, Ale?”

Alexia nodded, leaving a soft kiss on your head.

“You've experienced an episode common in women who are struggling after having given birth, and you've hurt yourself,” she said, looking at your wrists and your hands, which were still grabbing your hair.

“If it's not treated, the whole situation can get worse, not only towards you but towards Martina or Alexia. It's not a rational situation, so don't think you're a monster, because you're not. But I want you to be safe. And that implies asking for professional help.”

You cried as your mind showed you the worst scenarios you could think of. You didn't want to hurt anybody, not Alexia and especially not your one-month-old baby.

You remembered how excited you were when you told Alexia that you were carrying your daughter on your belly, feeling that you wouldn't be able to wait all those months until you had Alexia's little version in your arms.

Now, those memories seem so strange to you.

“Alexia, I want you to look for a psychologist specialized in maternity. I'm taking the baby with me tonight so you both can have some clarity. If this gets worse, I want you to go to the hospital or call an ambulance, and of course, call me or call your sister.”

You saw Eli exiting your home with your baby in her arms, making you cry again, and Alexia rushed to hold you.

“Ale, I don't feel anything. I'm seeing my baby leave my side, and I don't feel the need to go after her. I feel relieved. I'm a monster. I'm so sorry because neither you nor Martina deserve to be next to me.”

Alexia couldn't hold back her tears anymore. She hated herself for letting you end up in this state. She should've been more thoughtful, more caring, more empathetic.

“No, amor, that's not true. I deserve to have you as a partner, and our baby deserves to have you as a mother. If you need some time to get used to it, it'll be alright. Amor, you went through pregnancy and labor. There's no way I'm blaming you for feeling like this.”

“Giving birth was the most painful thing I've ever experienced, Alexia. I feel numb since that happened. It's like I'm not able to feel anything after feeling so much pain. I truly thought my body was going to rip apart.”

“See? It's not easy to experience motherhood the way you have experienced it. That's why you deserve us, your family, and we'll wait for you as long as you need. Let's do this, amor: you'll let me take care of your wounds, and then I'll prepare you a warm bath, and while you're taking it, I'll look up some educational stuff about everything related to this, just like my mother said. Is that alright?”

You impulsively kissed Alexia.

“You know, the only moment I wasn't scared when I was in labor was when you kissed me. The doctors were encouraging me to push. Martina was about to be born. Everything happened so fast and slowly at the same time. I felt my insides stretching, and then I started to cry in pain. You remember it, right? And then you kissed me so softly that you managed to stop the time for a few seconds. I felt safe even if I wasn't, even if I almost died while delivering our little girl. What was supposed to be the most beautiful day of my life was the most scary and horrible thing I've ever experienced. I looked at you after what I thought was going to be our last kiss, and I told you how much I loved you: “T'estimo molt.” It was my way of saying goodbye to you, amor. What mattered most to me at that moment was that whether I died or not, I wanted to make sure you knew how much I loved you.”

Alexia wasn't able to say a word.

Everything had gone so fast, that she didn't have time to process the fact that you almost died while giving birth.

It's as if her mind had blocked that memory out.

She didn't realize that you were saying goodbye, and the possibility of having lost you that day made her almost want to die.

She didn't imagine a life were you weren't by her side.

“I'm so sorry, mi amor. God... you almost died...” She said looking at the wall with a blank stare.

Alexia felt the impulse to hug you so tightly as if she was going to lose you, that you felt pain in your stomach.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Joder! I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“Ale, it's fine. I know it's been like one month but I'm still recovering from labor.”

“Let's go to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Ye—”

“Alexia, I said no.” Your response was harsher than you expected.

“Listen, Ale. I'm okay. I'd let you call an ambulance or drag me to the nearest hospital if I wasn't fine, but I'm good. My wounds are not, but they aren't anything that we cannot heal at home. I don't want to enter a hospital if it's not necessary. Not again. I don't feel prepared.”

“Okay. But...What about what my mother said? Do you feel comfortable with the idea of getting professional help?”

“No. But I guess—I know that I need to. So I'll do it. But no hospitals for the moment.”

“Okay, bebita. No hospitals for the moment.”

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader

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bunnyinfoxclothing · 2 days

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Hear me out: Vaggie's Wings

Okay, so we have all seen the head canons that Vaggie either loves or hates her wings. That maybe they are not extremely sensitive and that any unexpected touch sends her into a spiral.

Or that she keeps them hidden except for when she's with Charlie, or that she is just so happy to have her wings back, and preening with Charlie is one of the best things she has ever experienced.

But hear me out: Stretching.

Stretching. Everybody stretches out their back. There is the hands above your head stretch. The hands down low stretch. There is the bed stretch where your legs shake. There is the floor stretch, if you do a lot of flexibility stuff you know, cat/cow stretches, cobra stretch, downward dog.

All different kinds of stretches. Now add wings.

I imagine stretching wings is a lot like stretching out your arms. It's like arms coming out of your back instead of your sides. And just like everything else you stretch, you stretch it in every direction.

Now stay with me.

Vaggie's wings being really big, like I'm talking they look too big for her body, so when she stretches them out, they hit the walls and knows stuff off of shelves.

Everyone in the hotel thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. Charlie thinks it's so cute. Vaggie gets so annoyed 'cause now she has to walk across to opposite sides of the room to pick up the two different piles of objects she's knocked over.

Then one day it happens. She stretches her wings back behind her, trying to crack something after sleeping weird and she just freezes. 'Cause her body feels what her mind had forgotten. And suddenly she's back in the alley. Back on the floor and she's in so much pain and just vulnerable.

The hotel crew just watches as a big stretch suddenly makes her tense. Watch her freeze and her eyes widen.

Then Angel comes in at the wrong time and bumps her wings. It had been something playful they had going on. He would shove her out of his way and she would smack his extra arms out of her face. He would try and scoot past her and get a face full of feathers.

It was just instinct with how tactile they had become with each other, but his arm pushes at her wings and they collapse inward so fast that he jumps back in alarm. And Vaggie is on the floor smacked by her own wings hard enough to bruise.

They curl around her in an almost suffocating way and she wants to scream or cry or anything, but she is just frozen and for a moment nobody knows how to help.

Angel feels too guilty to move and Husk is by his side trying to tell him he didn't do anything wrong while simultaneously keeping Nifty from getting to Vaggie, with her muscle memory encouraging her to stab the vulnerable angel on the floor.

Charlie is panicking. She wants to pick up her girlfriend, bring her to bed, and keep everything bad away for the rest of the day, but she also knows that when Vaggie gets like this, she doesn't always like to be touched. Her wings almost always being a huge no no, even when she does want to be held. But her wings are covering all of her. Charlie can't pick her up without touching them.

So all she can do is watch as Vaggie becomes a victim to her own mind in the presence of all their friends.

If you thought this was going to be cute... I am so sorry, but you should know me better than that by now.

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 days

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Party Animal

Steve hated parties. And who could blame him? The infamous Halloween party of 1984 left more scars on his heart than he carried from all his other misadventures. Alcohol made people say thinks they buried deep inside, but then instead of owning up to them, they'd say "I was drunk", as if that was any excuse. So yes, Steve and parties didn't go together anymore.

And yet he stupidly decided to throw one anyway.

Look, they deserved it. All of them did - Eddie, Nancy, Robin, even Jonathan and Argyle, they all earned acting like actual teenagers for one evening. Steve wanted to see Eddie, now miraculously his boyfriend, just have fun, laugh, be silly. So a party it was.

It all went great - dancing, drinking, nibbling on mountains of Argyle's homemade pizza - but eventually they all got drunk. Not Steve, he just sipped one beer and kept an eye on everyone. Jonathan and Argyle were smoking outside, Nancy and Robin flirted in the most embarrassing way possible and Eddie...

Steve heard sniffling from the bathroom and his heart sank.

He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, that he pressured Eddie with his flirting, didn't want to hear he's bullshit again.

But no matter how terrified he was, he could never abandon Eddie. So he went in.

Eddie was leaning over the sink, wiping at his face and trying to control his breathing. "Shit..." he muttered and turned away from Steve. "Sorry, I...uh. I'll be there in a sec."

"Eddie..." It came out as a whisper. "Are...are you okay? Did I do something?"

Eddie just chuckled and pulled hair in front of his face. "Sure did," he mumbled.

And it made horrible sense to Steve. Of course he was the reason Eddie was crying. He couldn't help fucking up, he'd tried so hard to change but apparently it was 1984 all over again. So he took a deep breath and waited for the final blow.

"You're just perfect, Stevie."

Oh.

That wasn't what being broken up with sounded like. In fact, Eddie didn't seem angry at him at all. "...sorry?"

Eddie laughed, wet and high in his throat. "Like, you...you are too good to be true, you know? You throw a party for us and then you even don't drink so we're all cared for if anything happens? You...you give your best friend a green light to date your ex who shredded your heart to pieces? You invite the guy that your ex cheated on you with and his friend? You're just so good about it. And you're funny and so bitchy that I want to kiss you all the time. And I just...I love you so much, you know? And I've never felt that way about anyone and it's fucking scary, man."

Steve's racing thoughts came to a screching halt. Where he was too busy panicking and praying he'd still have time to fix whatever he did, now his brain settled on maybe I'm not getting broken up with? "So, uh..." he muttered as he watched Eddie try fix his eyeliner, "...there's, like, nothing wrong? Or maybe...do you want me to go slower? I know I can be a lot."

His boyfriend gave an incredulous laugh. There was no salvaging the eyeliner now, it was getting caught in Eddie's early crow feet, and Steve had never seen a more beautiful sight. "No, Steve. You're not a lot. In fact, you're just enough in every single way, but knowing that you're it for me, that good things can happen...it makes me terrified. I've never put all my drugs in a single lunchbox, or whatever metaphor you want to use for it, but with you I'm just throwing all the caution into the wind. And for the first time, I..." he stopped, chewing on his lip, "...I don't want to run away when I mess up. I want to stay, face the music and fix it. You're re-writing the Munson doctrine again and again and I just...I don't want you to settle for me, Steve. You are the whole package and I'm still cleaning all my messes. I guess today showed me that and I...yeah. Sorry about all this," he pointed at his tear-streaked face.

Eddie suddenly seemed so small, so insecure, and that wouldn't do. It woke Steve up from his frozen state and he took a step forward, cradling Eddie's face in his palms. "I'm not. Settling for you, that is." He was probably smudging the black even more, but Eddie would have been beautiful to him even fully covered in grime, and there were more important things to focus on. "Eddie, you keep talking about the Munson doctrine and being work in progress, but you don't see how you've thrown all the stuff I used to do out of the window, and I'm better for it. With you, I don't feel rushed, I don't have to perform or pretend. I can just live in the moment."

As he continued his speech, something strange started happening. Seeing people cry normally had a guaranteed effect on Steve - just one tear, quiet sob and he pushed his emotions down to be dealt with later or possibly never, someone needed him, and that was the priority. But now, staring at Eddie's wet eyes and shaky hands? He felt his own face crumbling and what better place to hide it than in Eddie's Metallica t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes, pizza and the cheap laundry detergent that had come to mean home to Steve. "Sorry," he choked out. "Shit. I was...sorry, I'm supposed to be...you know. Consoling you. But I heard you crying and I thought...I..."

Eddie shook his head and tightened his grip on Steve's waist. "Oh Stevie. Whatever that pretty head of yours thought of, it's not happening. Unless it's kissing me, which duh, that's happening, if you want to of course, and staying with me to the point that you're sick of me."

Steve just whimpered into Eddie's shoulder, something that suspiciously sounded like "Now who's perfect, huh?"

His boyfriend just chuckled. "I guess that in a way, we both are. Maybe for each other?" If he'd aimed for self-deprecating tone, he failed. Instead, it was hopeful.

Steve didn't answer, but his embrace said it all.

They remained wrapped around each other for a long while, until Eddie whispered in Steve's ear: "how about we let the others celebrate on their own, hm? They won't be driving, their stuff is already in the guest bedrooms, and I hear your bed is wonderful this time of the year."

There was a muffled "yes" coming from Eddie's shoulder, and a few adjustments and "Good night!"s later, they found themselves in Steve's bedroom. Eddie managed to remove most of the rogue eyeliner, which was lucky. The time in the bathroom wasn't the last time he shed a tear that day, because as they were falling asleep, Steve said:

"You might be the first person who is dating the real me, and I'd like you to be the last one as well."

Tomorrow, he'd hold a funeral for the Munson doctrine. But today, he was going to wrap himself around Steve like a cuddly octopus and know that even if he doesn't manage to hold on tight the whole night, Steve would be there in the morning.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie drabble #background ronance #fluff and fluff and FLUFF #the first WIP out of a fuckton has been finished #yay #also I can't sleep who would have thought?

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welldrawnfish · 3 days

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How do I know if I'm plural?

I recently started talking to myself as like, a way to reassure and encourage myself and stuff. Saying stuff like "you're fine, you didn't do anything wrong" or "Do you want to do X, Y, Z... Z? Alright, let's do Z then." And now I'm not sure if it's just a good coping strategy for me or if I might be plural?

Like I'm not sure sometimes if the person doing the reassuring and the person being reassured are the same person, y'know? And sometimes it feels almost like a kind of dialogue, but other times it just feels like I'm speaking into a void? Are we median? Am I only one gal? Dunno!

And idk what if I'm just trying to like. Appropriate plurality because I think it's neat or something. I know and see a lot of systems and genuinely do think plurality is rly cool so what if I'm just trying to be plural on some level. It always feels kinda deliberate when I talk to myself

Needless to say I am very lost and thinking about it is making my head hurt and my chest tighten. Sorry if this is a bit of a long ask you don't have to respond I'm just trying to find answers however I can

I'm a bit under the weather rn im sorry if this is loopy so I want to make a comic on this eventually, Im just no good at general infographics Plurality is vast, complex, and varied. So its hard to say yes or no based on this But heres the three rules I'll follow looking for plurality without typical DID/OSDD redflags 1. If you have opposing thoughts or morals appear in your thinking process, particularly after a stressful event. 2. If you have names, images, or other things associated with these reassuring voice 3. If people say you have different "modes" or literally say you act like a differnet person sometimes and its confusing. 4. If these voices in your head arent... yours. Its hard to explain, but I feel like those with plurality could explain. --- Ultimately if you want to find out if your plural, 1st.

Be ready if you are scared, might freakout, or are actively angry or upset at these thoughts, understand that if an alter can emerge, they wont if they are under threat. You have to be kind, ready to accept them, and most importantly ready to apologize the them if you were toxic before. They can tell if you are sincere. 2nd.

Look yourself in the mirror, ask to meet anybody in there, tell them Thank you for existing.

3rd.

Imagine yourself a headspace if you don't have one. This is an imaginary world that can be anything you want from vast universes to an empty void. But create a place to meet.

Meditate, create a place to see them, to meet them, to speak with them. Be patient, focus on breathing, focus on visualizing the space. Try to exist solely within that space. Invite them there, they might show 4. Be Ready. Plurality cannot be unseen once you see it, your life will never be the same. And ultimately it could be the best thing ever, but it can be incredibly hard, rocky, and bring up alot of trauma in your life. Be sure you want to explore this and are in a point of your life you are able to handle it.

-- If theres any advice from more educated systems let me know, im not the most educated here, these are just whats worked for me.

#plural system #actually plural #plurality #system stuff

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freelancearsonist · 2 days

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so scarlet, it was...

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader - 1.3k

➔ “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

➔ Rated MA for dark fic kinda, a/b/o themes (alpha joel, omega reader), established... situationship? i guess, pregnancy/contemplation of termination, contemplation of self harm, reader is not in a good headspace. one instance of vomiting, joel is not very nice, this fic in general is not very nice. takes place three years post outbreak. [please let me know if i missed any warnings so i can add them in :)]

➔ thank you so much to my darling @bitchwitch1981 for the prompt, i'm so sorry this is probably very much not what you wanted 🤣 extra special thank you to @perotovar for making this wonderful joel gif for me, if ur reading this ily <3

You’ve never actually used one of these things before. You’ve only read about them in books or seen them in movies from years ago, and they’ve only ever been an object of abject horror.

You understand why now, looking down at those two little lines on the stick cradled in your hand. You’ve never been quite so terrified in your life.

You never should’ve pocketed this test when you found it in that miraculously untouched drug store. You could’ve stayed blissfully unaware. Better yet, you should’ve been more careful. Three years of living like this has been more than enough to make you firm in your decision to never bring life into this broken world. This isn’t a place for a child, this is barely even a place for you. Every day is a fight, every waking moment is a nightmare. But you’ve been so careless with him and now it’s all crashing down, this blissful bubble where you can pretend that everything might be okay because you have the pack and, more importantly, him.

You won’t have him for much longer when he finds out about this.

You wonder what it’ll take to right this wrong before he finds out about it. It must be pretty early, so maybe it won’t take much to reverse it. Maybe all you’ll have to do is bump into something just right, or trip over the right log.

The thought makes you sick–more stomach bile than anything else coming up because you’ve hardly had more to eat than stale beef jerky and some precarious berries in the past few days. Resources have been so slim; another reason this can’t be happening. You hardly have enough to tide you over, much less a child. And it’ll be even worse once the pack abandons you.

You bury yourself into the haphazard nest of blankets and his worn clothes, letting the heavy, musky scent of him soothe your wracking sobs.

Maybe you should just accept your fate now, sacrifice yourself for the good of the pack. Everyone is going to die eventually, after all–sooner rather than later in this world. You’ve only been postponing the inevitable. They never have to know why you do it, and it’ll be one less mouth to feed. Two, technically, but they’ll never have to know that. He won’t even really miss you, it’ll be one less burden on his hands. On all of their hands.

You don’t hear them return early from scavenging–maybe because the volume of your own sobs drowns out any other noise. Or maybe because he can sense something is wrong as he enters the run-down little shack you’ve been holed up in for the past few weeks, and he softens his approach because of it.

Joel has never been quite as tender as he is when he takes you into his arms, pulling your face out of the pile of fabric to wipe at your tear-streaked cheeks.

“My omega, shhhh, I’m here. It’s okay,” he murmurs, wrapping you into his big, strong, safe arms. He doesn’t know. Maybe he thinks you had a nightmare, or you just missed him, or a million other things except the truth. But he doesn’t know, and you know he doesn’t know because you feel the moment he connects the dots. His eyes drop to the little white stick clutched tightly in your fist and his entire body stiffens like a board. Suddenly there’s no more warmth or comfort to his touch, nothing soothing about the pheromones drifting from him. He pulls away like you’re infected, and maybe you are. Maybe the thing that’s taken root in you is worse than cordyceps could ever hope to be.

You’ve never been terrified of him before. Joel is dark and brooding and imposing, but he’s only ever fought to protect you. His omega, who wormed their way under his skin despite him fighting it every step of the way. His omega, who’s been the only source of anything remotely close to comfort he’s had since outbreak day. His omega, who’s given him purpose in this dark world.

His omega, who’s betrayed him in such an unforgivable way.

“What the fuck.” There’s nothing but venom in his tone–he looks at you with pure disgust and your resolve crumbles.

Maybe there was a little, tiny, miniscule part of you that hoped it would be different. That he would be excited to be a father, or at least be understanding. But that hope dies so suddenly when you look up into his scowling face. He towers over you, dark eyes flashing with anger, and for the first time since you met him two long years ago you’re scared.

“You were supposed to be careful.” His voice rises further and further with each syllable, as if this isn’t partially his fault too. As if he wasn’t the one in such an uncontrollable rut last month that he kept you in bed all week, losing the willpower required to pull out with each powerful thrust of his hips. As if it isn’t his seed blooming in your womb as you speak.

“What do we do now, huh?” He growls, eyes darkening, fists clenching at his sides. “I’ve fucking marked you, I can’t turn you loose! And we barely make it by as we are! How the fuck are we supposed to handle this?”

He rants for what seems like hours and you flinch with every booming word, curling tighter around yourself in a desperate attempt to simply disappear; to not have to deal with this any more because your heart shatters with each irreversible word he throws at you. You shrink and shrink and shrink in hopes of vanishing because this is undoable. No matter what happens, nothing will ever go back to the way it was and that’s the knowledge that crushes you completely.

Your voice is so small when he finally quiets enough for you to speak. “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

Joel stops in his tracks, white knuckles unclenching for the first time in minutes. He sees the fear and regret in your eyes, and he almost lets it soften him. He loathes himself for this look on your face–for making you scared of him.

His omega. So small and fragile, curled in a pile of his clothes because his scent brings you comfort. He’s dedicated two years of his time and effort to keeping you safe and comfortable, if not happy. He’s supposed to protect you, not hurt you. He’s supposed to give you children and raise them with you, be a family with you. That’s what being your alpha means, and he has so sorely failed you.

But he knows he can never do that again. That’s never what this was supposed to be. He didn’t mark you out of anything but necessity–if he had let your uncontrolled scent waft every time you went into heat, every alpha in the country would be targeting your little pack of four. You’re his omega out of biological necessity–a warm hole to fill when his rut threatens to tear already strenuous ties with his brother and Tess. That’s what he tells himself because the alternative is so startlingly incomprehensible that he won’t allow himself to even consider the fact that he might care about you; that the urge to care for you and protect you is more than primal, biological instinct; that you mean more to him than anyone ever has.

Not just his omega now, but his mate. His unborn child is growing and growing and growing with each passing second inside your womb and he’s powerless to stop it.

“We’re thirty-seven miles from the Boston QZ,” he growls from somewhere deep in his chest. “We leave at first light.”

You don’t get a chance to argue or plead your case before the door slams shut behind him.

➔ beta: @beskarandblasters and @fhatbhabie; dividers: @saradika-graphics

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :) any feedback or comment is always greatly appreciated!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #alpha!joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #dark fic #the last of us #tlou #joel tlou #cece writes

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hyuuukais · 2 days

Text

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ gen, blood/injuries, depiction of (non graphic or very detailed) suicide, y/n doesn't like physical touch so much

MASTERLIST | NEXT

CH 1 ~ UNKNOWN NUMBER (2.3k, 8 screenshots)

"...hello? How'd you get this number?" You ask, very clearly confused.

No one should know your new number other than you, and now Changbin, so who...? There's no answer on the other line and you sigh, frustration rising as you continue to question the caller. Who is it, what do they want, again, how did they get this number, etc. Silence is all you get, about to hang up when you think you can hear someone's breath hitch.

Leaning into the phone, like that'll help you hear any better, you listen to a shaky breath. It sounds far off, like their phone is placed away from them. Maybe they didn't even know they called you. Turning your volume up, you still struggle to make out any other sounds over the breathing, not that it's all that loud. You're about to ask if they're okay, do they need you to get help, when the line cuts. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you can't hide the look of worry and bewilderment on your face.

Unplugging the charger from where it sits in the outlet under the table you're sitting at, you gather your things and get ready to leave. You agreed to meet at a café deeper in the city, somewhere with more traffic in case something happened. The seller had suggested it, saying this place had the best slices of chocolate cake you could have and even ordered you one when you arrived. All was going well, ignoring their unsteady hands and the sweat beading on their brow bone. Handing the phone over was a quick exchange as soon as your etransfer went through to them. That was when they broke the news; the phone doesn't turn on or charge, but here's both and you can figure it out yourself. They left in a hurry, not leaving you room to argue or demand your money back. You felt stupid.

As soon as you inserted the charging port into the phone, it turned on immediately and you smirked. The phone doesn't turn on? Sure, okay. After a few minutes of fiddling with settings, everything was ready. You texted Changbin, figuring you could give yourself some moments of peace before contacting anyone else you thought needed to know your new number.

You grab your bag and head to the door, keeping your phone out to text Changbin about the number that called you. When you open the door to go out, you're met with a hard wall and stumble back. Hands barely grab your arms as you nearly fall into another person, holding you upright and apologizing profusely. Looking up, you see a man around your age, eyes looking you up and down to check you're alright. His blond hair glows in the sunlight and he's wearing a smooth button-down, effortlessly gorgeous and somewhat familiar, but you can't quite pinpoint where you've seen him.

"I'm fine, sorry for bumping into you like that," you chuckle, moving his arms away from you. Physical touch has never been your thing. "Should have looked before I opened the door... shit, is that-? Sorry again!"

Moving past him, you run out to the crosswalk, stopping abruptly when the hand pops up. Down the road is the bus you need to catch, and you know the food truck parked beside you is blocking you from view. Sticking your arm out isn't an option like usual, risking being hit by a turning car if you do. The stop is empty save for a man facing away from you. As soon as your eyes lock onto him, his face turns to yours like he could feel your stare.

The side of his face is all scratched up and you notice blood dripping from his bruised nose down his split, chapped lips. His skin is pale, bordering blue with veins visible underneath. You can't tear your eyes away, not even when you're prompted to walk or when the hand starts flashing again. The man's mouth is moving, but you can't hear from where you are. Vehicles are rushing past you, wind in your hair, and you finally tear your eyes away when the bus you were supposed to take drives past the stop.

When you look away from the bus, now fading in the distance, the man is gone... but the bus never stopped to pick him up.

Having only you and Changbin working in the shop full time often has you both forgetting what normal work hours are, and soon enough it's nearly midnight.

"Holy shit, Bin," you rub your bleary eyes, taking another look at the time on your phone. "We have to stop. Go to bed."

"I'm almost done..." he drags the last word, carefully placing a few more blue flowers into a bouquet before standing back to marvel at his creation. "This bride is going to be so happy!"

"It's beautiful, but Bin, let's go." You head to the door and wave goodbye. "Lock up behind me, and promise you're heading up after I leave? We don't need a repeat of Sunday."

"Hey, to be fair, I thought we'd be closed," he laughs. "Not my fault you decided to show up on your birthday only to see me drooling all over the stem cuttings."

You give a light punch in his arm, laughing with him at the image conjured in your head of him hunched over the table in the back. He'd stayed up all night finishing a last minute request, not even realizing he fell asleep until you woke him up that morning. The flowers had wilted enough overnight to be deemed unsellable, having to remake each bouquet and wreath in that order. It was terrible.

You're about to say goodbye again when your phone rings in your hand; unknown number. Putting it on speaker, you sigh loudly.

"This is what I'm talking about," you whisper to Changbin, hand hovering over the microphone. Rolling your eyes, you move it away. "Who is this and what do you want? Seriously, this is getting annoying quick."

Like before, all you can hear is heavy breathing, although it's much louder this time like whoever is on the other end has the phone held up to their ear. It doesn't take long for them to hang up again.

"Block the number," Changbin shifts uncomfortably, hands on his hips. "That's creepy."

Taking his advice, you enter your call logs, but there's no sign of of anyone calling you just now. In fact, the only log is from when Changbin called about the new clients. There's nothing from before that either.

"Weird," you mumble, pocketing the device. "Okay, well. Goodnight."

"Y/n," Changbin grabs your arm lightly as you move through the doorway. "Stay safe, please."

"When don't I?" You give a weak smile, trying to be reassuring. "I'll be fine. Now go! I better find you somewhat well rested tomorrow morning."

You take the last bus of the night going your direction, kicking your shoes off as soon as you enter your house. It's a small, but cute and cozy bungalow you started renting not too long ago, having saved up from the flower shop. Business is good, and you're content with how your life is going at them moment. Before, when you were younger, you imagined a life on the go. Busy, busy, busy, lots of travelling for work and nonstop action. But then Changbin offered you a job and you never looked back, enjoying the lack of chaos you once yearned for.

Dim lights, fuzzy blankets; it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep with your lamp still on. Now you find yourself standing on a bridge you don't recognize, the air still, not a sound to be heard. Looking over the edge, you're met with a busy highway, but the traffic is absolutely silent. Dream logic always messed you up, especially when you finally realize you're in a dream. You haven't had a lucid dream for a long time, but you were certain that's what this is. A long day mixed with extreme exhaustion and a hint of stress? Definitely could have concocted this.

Looking down each side of the bridge, you spot a boy leaning over the edge further down. You try to call out, but find you have no voice. As you get closer, you notice something- he's the same guy you saw at the bus stop earlier that day. He's wearing the same clothes, a tattered blue sweater over a white shirt that peaks out from the bottom and black jeans. Dried blood cakes his face and hair, especially matted in the back, kind of like he hit his head really bad. One leg swings over the edge of the railing and you speed up, realizing what he's going to do as the other leg joins. You still can't yell for him, can't talk him off the edge or cry for help. All you can do is watch as he pushes off, the air breaking with the sound of glass crunching, a crash, and a car horn honking loudly.

When you gain the courage to look over where he fell- no, jumped- there's nothing there. A light breeze moves your hair and you realize you can't hear the horn anymore, only crickets in the dark night. As you straighten back up, you can feel a presence behind you.

"That's not what happened," they whisper in your ear and you startle, turning around.

Before you can fully turn to face who whispered, you're grabbed and thrown over the same spot the boy jumped from. Now, you can scream. As you're falling in slow motion, you scream. As you reach out to save yourself, you scream. And as you hit the ground, you scream.

And then you wake up.

You wake up in a cold sweat, sitting upright and clutching your chest, trying to learn to breathe again. There's a pain in the back of your head, dull and aching, and your whole body feels sore and stiff. Beside you your phone flashes on and you barely register an incoming call before it declines. Picking up the device, you see there have been 3 missed calls since you fell asleep nearly an hour ago. Wait, only an hour? It felt so much longer.

Finger hovering over the phone icon, you're about to see if they left any voicemails when another call comes in. Unknown number- you almost hang up, but something compels you to answer again. Is it the mystery of it all? Getting to the bottom of the odd breathing, being unable to call back? Or just plain curiosity?

"Hello? Who is-"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you hear the sound of a man's voice on the other line, hoarse and distant. "Are you there?"

'Yeah, I just-"

"Hello?"

"Stop interrupting me-"

"Please, please be there," he sobs, followed by a wet cough. "It's so dark in here... and my head is pounding, I think I'm hurt."

"Listen, you need to call the emergency line, not a random number of someone you don't know," you say quickly, starting to panic at the sudden silence. "Hello?"

"I think... I think im dead."

Nothing. The line does dead after he's uttered those final words, leaving you to stare at your wall in the dark with your phone still held up to your ear. Slowly, you put the device in your lap and reach over to flick the switch on your lamp, dim lighting filling the room. There's a faint ringing in your ears, and you notice the pain from when you woke is gone. Your legs are jelly when you stand, a hand against the wall to brace yourself as your vision blurs for a moment. Once it's back to normal, you move toward your bedroom door and exit, heading to the bathroom down the hall.

Slipping out of your pajamas, you turn the shower on as hot as you can bear, steam filling the room. Contact with the water makes you hiss, adjusting to the sudden change in temperature as you let it flow over your body from head to toe. It's nice, warm and reassuring. When you're satisfied with the comfort provided by the near boiling water, you step out and wrap a dark green towel around yourself. With the window closed, your mirror has fogged up entirely. You dry your body facing away from the mirror, fully intending to wipe it down after yourself, but when you turn back around you're met with a message written in the condensation.

Help me.

To say you're freaked out is a severe understatement, choosing to wipe the words away with your towel and ignore it until further notice. As you take the fabric away from the reflective surface, you choke back a scream, flipping around to find nothing there. Just a second ago, you saw a man standing behind you in the mirror, but there's only empty space. You're almost scared to turn back, forcing your eyes up, but there's nobody in the mirror now either. The only logical explanation you can find for this is that it's late, you're tired, you're seeing things. Go back to bed, go back to sleep. Everything will be back to normal in the morning.

Walking back to your room, you don't notice the other person in each reflection you pass. He's beside you as you leave the bathroom, when you enter your bedroom and get back under your blankets. Your bed provides a warm and safe feeling of comfort from the weird day you've had, leaning over to flick the lamp off. As soon as you do, the room lights up again as your phone gets a text notification.

notes ~ first chapter woooo!!! so excited to share this one with u guys :3

taglist ~ @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @bloomingstay @sona1800 @dollschan @defnotfertilizedtoesw @thisisnotjacinta @kayleigh-28 @kayleefriedchicken

reply or send an ask to be added (18+)^^^

#⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404 #skz #stray kids #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x fem reader #yang jeongin #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #yang jeongin fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz series #yang jeongin series #smau #partial smau #non idol au #i.n x reader #i.n x fem reader

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mcflymemes · 1 day

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AS SAID BY GARRUS VAKARIAN, updated version * assorted dialogue from the mass effect trilogy, adjust as necessary

i can't find any hard evidence.

good luck, [name]. maybe they'll listen to you.

i'm coming with you.

sometimes it feels like the rules are only there to stop me from doing my work.

i just couldn't take it anymore.

maybe i can get the job done my way for a change.

if you're wrong, we'll pay for it. but if you're right, and we did nothing, i think we'd regret it a whole lot more.

i thought you were dead.

it sure is good to see a friendly face.

at least it's not hard to find criminals here. all i have to do is point my gun and shoot.

my feelings got in the way of my better judgement.

i'll make you a deal. you get me out of here alive, and i'll tell you the whole damn thing.

nobody would give me a mirror. how bad is it?

don't make me laugh, damn it.

some women find facial scars attractive.

i'm fit for duty whenever you need me.

when i got to the meeting point, no one was there.

kill you? no. but i don't mind slowing you down a little.

what do you want from me, [name]?

i know you want to talk about this... but i don't. not yet.

it's so much easier to see the world in black and white. gray... i don't know what to do with gray.

my instincts are what got me into this mess.

never knew you had a weakness for men with scars.

well, why the hell not? there's nobody in this galaxy i respect more than you.

if we can figure out a way to make it work, then... yeah. definitely.

you're about the only friend i've got left in this screwed-up galaxy.

you don't ever have to worry about making me uncomfortable. nervous, yes... but never uncomfortable.

i brought wine.

your hair looks... good. and your waist is... very supportive.

hopefully that's not offensive in human culture.

i want something to go right. just once.

think you can win this thing, [name]?

i'm pretty sure we'll still need giant guns... and lots of them.

so... is this the part where we shake hands?

the scars are starting to fade. i remember they drove you wild.

i've been doing some more research on human customs.

glad to know my romantic skills made an impression.

let's not go there.

i can afford the good stuff.

what about you? i'm starting to see some wear and tear.

don't forget to come up for air. and not just because all these people need you. because i need you.

if you're suggesting i'm scared... game on.

still trying to make me blush, huh?

i'd be lying if i said i didn't hope it would inspire a certain... mood.

it seemed like you needed time to... figure us out.

the worst part about the galaxy going to hell would've been never getting to see you again.

not saying you don't know how to handle a gun. just saying some of us know how to make it dance.

i've actually seen you dance. no comment.

i know there are other things you're good at.

probably not a lot of air in here. an hour if we're lucky.

so tell me. think a girl would fall for that?

it gets even better when you try it in bed.

you don't lack for places to get lost.

did we break anything last night?

you'll find a way to win. and when this is over, i'll be waiting for you.

if this thing goes sideways and we both end up there... meet me at the bar. i'm buying.

forgive the insubordination, but your boyfriend has an order for you.

come back alive. it'd be an awfully empty galaxy without you.

we're in this 'til the end.

we didn’t kill these people. and we’re going to shut down the bastards who did.

looks like we’ve got a siege on our hand.

if anyone needs fresh clips or a bathroom break, now’s the time.

oh crap!

guess he didn’t like the food.

looks like we got the jump.

pretty extreme, but those were desperate times.

we won’t get a second chance.

that was me, sorry.

nothing like being stranded.

we’ll do more than that.

just the usual minor flesh wound.

what would these people have done if we hadn’t shown up?

i was there when you two had your thing, remember? just get a room and work it out.

stay angry. we’ll need it to get through this.

drinks will be on me.

one of my favorite places to fight!

i’m hard to kill. you should know that.

it’s gonna be bad all over.

for whatever it’s worth, i’m with you.

you’ve waited long enough for this day.

just wait ‘til this war is over.

you came along and warmed my heart with your winning personality.

maybe you’d like to go work for them instead?

how do i not have one of those?

surprise on our side for once. i like it.

brutal, but it makes a certain kind of sense.

#garrus vakarian #mass effect #mcflymemes #rp prompt #rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters

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jasonsbricky · 1 day

Text

Ok, I love my bsf, but sometimes he says stuff that just pisses me off for no reason, like after I came out to him as asexual, aromantic and transgender, he privately told our friend that "There's something wrong with Elliot, it's not normal to be like that" (the that he is referring to is asexual and aromantic, he's transgender as well so he understands that. then he has also said to me in a heated argument "Just stop Eli, you're acting like your parents"

he knows my parents are abusive and manipulative, but he still chose to say that.

he has also on numerous occasions told me I need to stop acting so feminine if I'm trans and to stop wearing makeup, even though he knows it makes me more comfortable and happy.

and he just always leaves me on read, and I get he's a very dry texter, but at least say something back, it makes me feel insecure and unhappy

he also doesn't understand autism and neurodivergences, and has once told our friend who just cant handle touching anything like fruitcake (we had to do an experiment on fruit cake for science, long story) to just suck it up, which made them so upset they cried.

he just doesn't understand in general, while also telling me to "see it from his perspective" if you are not taking the time to think about how your words and actions affect others, I will not take the time to view your perspective.

sorry about the long rant :)

and if you have any advice, please let me know, tysm :)

Edit:

ok, so i was checking out his quora account and i have ✨discovered✨ why hes like that

he had an ex and we always tease him about her, but i just read this really beautiful story that he said about her and now i feel awful and im a bad friend

hahahaha im dying inside :)

#transgender #asexual #aromantic #aroace #autism #actually autistic #neurodivergent

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levi-ackerman-ds · 3 days

Note

when you and Levi have an argument, it's all done without words until it's time to make up. lots of cutting glares, tongue clicks, and frustrated huffs. 🤔

How Levi Ackerman would silently argue: Modern AU - Domestic Life

You really hated this day—laundry day. Ever since you and Levi moved to the city, he has insisted that something was wrong with the water and that clothes were being ruined. To him, they felt stiff, and he asserted his favorite green button-down was fading. You just didn't see it. Everything looked and felt the same to you. Water was water, right? What's the difference between water in the countryside and the city? Levi demanded that you use this peculiar powder he had purchased at a local shop in the washing machine. It promised to make clothes cleaner! Complete snake oil, you had thought. Just another waste of money on the various cleaning products Levi wanted you to use. His need for everything to feel clean has clouded his judgment into believing in fake powders and liquids. Levi stands in front of the mirror, wearing the shirt that had just been retrieved from the laundry pile. His brows crease as his eyes narrow, and a scowl forms on his face as he glances at you while you are still sorting through the light-colored clothes. The silent argument has become routine, but Levi couldn't help himself from expressing his annoyance.

With a deep sigh, he walks over to you and snatches a pair of pants from the pile you are working on. Raising an eyebrow, he holds the fabric up to his face as if inspecting it for imperfections. A tongue click grates your nerves, his choice to express his disapproval seems petty and passive-aggressive. If there are any imperfections, you can't see them. They look completely fine to you. He tosses the pants back onto the pile. His eyes bore into you, silently conveying his frustration and disappointment. Shrugging off the shirt, it, too, joins the pile. Wearing only his boxers, he leaves the room starting his part of the chores today while completely ignoring you. You would appreciate the sight any other time, but today was a battle of wills over something as trivial as laundry. Deciding to put Levi's claims to the ultimate test, you make the next load of laundry, dark-colored clothes, and secretly use the mystery powder without informing Levi. Discreetly adding the power that has been sitting on the shelf Levi measured weeks ago to the washing machine, all you can do is wait for your gotcha moment.

.................

A surprised look crosses your face as you take the clothes out of the dryer. Something feels different. The fabric is noticeably softer as if it has gone through a transformation. You run your fingers through a freshly dried shirt, feeling the smoothness against your skin. It's undeniable. The clothes have a newfound softness that you never noticed was missing before. You must concede that he knows what he's talking about, even in something as mundane as laundry.

You take a deep breath, knowing that a simple "I'm sorry" won't mean anything to Levi. He needs to know you understand him. You set off to find Levi diligently working in the kitchen. Approaching him, you clear your throat to get his attention.

"So, do I use the same amount for the whites?" you ask, trying to keep your tone curious rather than confrontational. Your apology.

Levi pauses momentarily, appearing deep in thought, before motioning for you to follow him to the laundry room. Without saying a word, he goes to the shelf where he keeps the powder and measures out a slightly larger amount than what was used for the dark-colored clothes. Handing you the cup filled with the powder.

"Here," he replies.

His voice is noticeably softer, lacking the edge it usually held during your silent conflicts. Levi doesn't need to gloat or rub it in your face. He simply wants you to understand and accept his viewpoint, and that's enough to end the argument. Your apology is accepted.

(If you have hard water, washing soda, or sodium carbonate (not to be confused with sodium bicarbonate, which is baking soda), may help your clothes feel softer, fade slower, and last longer. I hope Levi's knowledge helps you with your laundry!)

#answered #levi ackerman #levi #captain levi #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk

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shygirl4991 · 15 hours

Text

Just a Dream

A fic inspired by a gmod animation @therabbitdemon did in the discord server we are in! Summary: It was finally the moment he has been waiting for, as he watches the sunset his dream finally comes true. He finally gets to confess his feelings for his ex rival after all this time. Tags: Love confessions, first kiss, two idiots in love, character death, angst with happy ending, fluff

SMG4 sighs walking back from a shopping trip, thanks to Mario experimenting making different kinds of spaghetti they ran out of food at the castle. He smiles seeing his home, as he enters his home something feels off. The castle was too silent, he looked around and saw no one was home. He was getting worried, hoping that Mario hadn't gone next door and set something on fire so he dashed out to see SMG3.

He runs into the cafe and lets out a sigh of relief seeing nothing was broken yet, looking around he was glad to see the snails have not damaged the cafe. He hears a ding from an elevator letting him know Three was approaching, he walks out from the back room and screams seeing four. “WHAT THE HELL!? SMG4, why are you here? The cafe is still closed!” SMG4 lets out a sheepish smile as he waves “Uh the sunset looks nice..thought you needed air?” Four wanted to facepalm at how terrible that was.

Three looked him up and down before relaxing, he rolled his eyes as he walked out the cafe “Whatever, I was going to take a walk anyways.” Four smiles as he follows three, the pair stop in front of the castle and look at the sunset together. It was relaxing, whatever troubles he was having felt as they were being washed away. Three takes a deep breath as he turns to the other man “Um..four?” turning he notices Three's face “Yeah?”

Three blushes the moment their eyes made contact, he had to do it. Three had been planning to confess to the other man for days, so watching the sunset was the perfect time. He looks down nervously “I um…” Four looks at him concerned “Are you okay?” in panic Three yells “YEAH!” realizing he yelled at his ex rival he looks down “I’m..sorry.”

What was wrong with him, he just had to say those magic words and face the music. Four smiles softly at Three, he lifts up his hand “It’s okay!” Three nods turning to Four “I just…” slowly he grabs Four’s hand causing the man's eyes to widen in surprise “I wanna tell you something..” Four looked at their hands intertwined, he felt his heart race “Wha-what is it?” his eyes slowly move looking into Three’s crimson red eyes. “SMG4 I-” without thinking they both slowly lean forward, Four knew exactly what Three wanted to say. And Three picked up on it as their lips connected.

Suddenly Four hears static, he pulls away to see Three has been frozen. He takes a step back. Confused, he runs to look for help. He runs out the showgrounds only to appear back at the grounds, he gasps seeing Three with another person. They kissed Three and the both of them giggled “I'm so glad you picked me over that idiot four, cause darling we were made for each other.” Four growled and was ready to approach them when he heard static again, then the showgrounds went dark.

“Four wake up! We can't lose you too!” He heard Meggy's voice from a distance.

That's when his memory returned to him, they were trapped in the TV world. Mario escaped and helped them get out of their brainwash. The crew were on their way to leave the castle, when the strange flesh tentacles approached them just like at peach's castle. They did their best to dodge and fight out the appendages only for Four to trip and hit his head. Disorientated he was unable to defend himself, that's when three jumped in front of him.

Four wakes up staring at the blue sky, slowly sitting up he sees the crew crying. Was that whole thing a dream?

Getting up the crew didn't hear him approach until he saw the reason for everyone's tears. There on the floor was SMG3 devoid of any life “I…what? This has to be a joke…” hearing four the crew run giving him a group hug. SMG3 was gone, after all they went through after learning his feelings through a dream, he lost any chance to tell the man his feelings. Mario looks down shaking “Mario failed to save you all…im sorry.”

Meggy shakes her head “This isn't your fault, it's that TV bastard fault!”

They hear laughter causing them to turn around “We can have this now can we?” the man of the hour arrives. They watch as Mr Puzzles smirks at them flashing a TV remote “We cant get those five star ratings with a favorite character dead, that just won't do!”

Seeing the remote, Four charges at the adware determine to get the remote to save Three. Mr Puzzles chuckles as he hits pause on them “You all really are idiots, hahaha don't worry i will fix this and then we will go back to making the perfect endless entertainment,”

Mr Puzzles hits rewind bringing the guardian to life, he quickly starts to tend to the wounds. Seeing this Four felt a strange energy flow through him, his eyes glow yellow as he starts breaking free. The moment he was able to move again he charged at Mr Puzzle, hearing movement he turned “HOW ARE YOU-” Four using the strange energy punches the screen smashing the TV. Mr puzzle falls to the ground as Four frees the others “WE NEED TO RUN NOW!”

Mario picks up the now living SMG3 and runs with the crew, as they run Four remembers one of Three’s old hideouts and leads everyone there. Now safe everyone decided to rest and plan in the morning. Four sits next to the unconscious SMG3, gently he runs his fingers through Three’s hair “I hope you wake up soon three, we have a lot to talk about.” He lets out a shaky laugh “I need to tell you..I'm sorry im such an idiot and that i love you.”

He breaks down crying not hearing someone moving next to him, he jumps when hands gently wipe his tears “You are an idiot, what dumbass confesses to a man near death?” Fours eyes go wide turning and seeing Three give him a weak smile, without a second thought Four makes his dream come true as he pulls Three in for a kiss. Mario, who was walking over to check on them, sees the kiss and smiles “About time,” he turns to let the others know the pair was okay. They don't know what the battle with the Adware will bring, but one thing was for sure, Four wont let Three go again.

gmod art by rabbitdemon

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #shygirl4991 #smg4 smg3 #smg43 #smg34 fanfiction #smg4 mr puzzles

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