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#I MADE MYSELF CRY
nootshell · 1 year
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HIGH NOON AT JULY
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astrered · 1 year
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Luz insisting so much, asking the Titan to please say something to King... Not only because she knows King would love it, but because she would have loved to have that chance with her own dad.
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steddiecameraroll · 8 days
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CW: mention of surgery and family member’s death
ao3
Eddie’s not paying attention to where he’s walking when he bumps into someone coming out of a coffee shop.
“Oh,” Eddie steps back and opens his mouth to apologize, when he looks up to see who he’d crashed into.
“You ok?” The man asks.
Eddie tries to respond, wants to respond, opens his mouth to respond but the quirk in the man’s smile is taunting him. It’s connected to a face that could make a man weak in the knees, in fact it’s doing just that right now.
“Ya good?” The man asks again this time putting his hand cautiously on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie can’t do anything but nod. “Alright, watch where you’re going, ok?”
There’s no frustration in his tone, no heat behind his words but Eddie feels like he should definitely do what he’s asking. Before Eddie can actually say anything the guy is walking away down the sidewalk in the opposite direction than Eddie needs to go.
Without thinking, Eddie turns on his heels and follows the man. He’s never done anything like this before in fact he doesn’t know why he’s doing it now, but something is pushing him to follow. He watches the soft bounce of hair on the man’s gorgeous head weave through the crowd but then suddenly disappear.
Eddie blinks a couple of times thinking his eyes have stopped working. He ducks around a few people trying to catch sight of the man but can’t find him anywhere. Maybe he’s losing his mind.
Eddie stops and puts his hands on his hips, swiveling around trying to find the guy. Where could he have gone?
Someone crashes into his back then yells at him for standing in the middle of the sidewalk, reminding him he’s going to be late for lunch with Chrissy.
He apologizes to the guy for standing, only partially sarcastically, then heads back in his original direction towards the diner he’s meeting his best friend at.
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“Who was he?” Chrissy asks around a fry.
“No clue, but it was like I had to follow him. I’ve never seen him before.”
“Was he hot?” She cocks her head like she’s figured him out.
“Uh, he- I, yes, but that wasn’t why I followed him.”
“Uh huh, and getting his number isn’t a motivator at all.” She rolls her eyes and tosses her balled up straw wrapper at his head.
“Hey,” Eddie swats her trash away. “I’m serious. That wasn’t it. I don’t know, it was something else.”
Chrissy inspects him from across the table. She knows him better than he knows himself, and she knows he wouldn’t follow some random guy without a reasonable excuse.
“Did he look like someone? Remind you of anyone, maybe?”
“I don’t think so, but- maybe?” He shrugs and wishes he could put his finger on it.
He’s spent the last 30 minutes trying to figure it out but coming up blank. He can’t stop thinking about the man’s gorgeous hazel eyes glinting back at him.
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Eddie slings his backpack over his shoulder and shuffles his way off the train. He’s lost in thought, like he’s been for the last several days since running into that coffee guy, and doesn’t clock the group of teenagers rushing towards the doors. They part around him, but one of them bumps into his backpack spinning him around and he stops moving just as they’re ushered into the train. The man reprimanding their behavior is standing just inside the door when Eddie realizes it’s the guy. THE guy. But before his brain sends a signal to his feet, the train door is closing and Eddie stands gawking instead.
When the train starts moving slowly, Eddie’s brain jump starts and he’s rushing toward the train. He can see the guy standing near the window so he starts waving his hands trying to get his attention. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if the guy happens to notice him, but he’s feeling a compulsive need to try.
The train starts speeding up and he still hasn’t noticed Eddie.
“Shit, excuse me. Excuse me! Sorry, shit, sorry!” He weaves around other passengers and races along the train continuing to wave his hands.
He runs out of platform a few feet later and just as he drops his arms he thinks he sees a flash of those hazel eyes peering through the glass. He’s panting hard, his side twinging slightly, when he runs his hand through his hair. That was the most physical activity he’s gotten in awhile, and that’s kind of embarrassing.
When he turns around he realizes he’s almost alone on the platform. Which also means he’s going to be late to work.
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“You saw him again? On the train?” Chrissy is munching on half of a banana nut muffin.
“No, yes, but I wasn’t on the train. I was getting off and he got on.”
“He didn’t see you?”
“No, I tried, too. I ran along the side of the train trying to get his attention.” Eddie swivels back and forth in his desk chair while chewing on his thumbnail.
“Ran? You, ran? Next to the train?”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighs and rolls his eyes slightly.
“What were you expecting to do if he did see you?”
“I hadn’t thought that far,” which was true.
“So then he sees you and what? Were you just going to wave? Stand there like a goober and wiggle your fingers at him? I mean, Eddie, you gotta think these things through.”
She has a point but she should know he’s more of an act first think about it later kinda guy. Plus, who knows maybe the guy has been thinking about Eddie just as much has he has. Maybe he would see Eddie and know exactly what to do. It’s possible. Not likely, but possible.
“No?” He lies because that’s exactly what he would’ve done.
“You’re pathetic. You gotta stop obsessing about this dude. You interacted with him for approximately 15 seconds.”
“I knoooooooww,” Eddie whines. “But I can’t explain it, Chris. Ugh. Do you think he’s someone I went to school with? Maybe elementary school so he looks different but there’s something that seems familiar?”
“Why are you asking me? I have no idea. I think you should ask your penis.” She tilts her head causing her ponytail to swish slightly.
“What!?” Eddie squeaks.
“Come on, you’re attracted to him, and I think little Eddie is driving this ridiculous obsession. That’s it.” She tosses her muffin wrapper in the trash can and slaps her palms on top of Eddie’s desk. “You’re getting laid. This weekend we’re going out and I don’t want to hear it.”
“I can’t get out of this can I?” He loves this woman, but he kinda wanted to stay home this weekend and get his one shot campaign finished.
“Nope,” she says with a giggle.
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“What about him?” Chrissy yells into Eddie’s ear while stealthily pointing across the bar.
Eddie turns to see where she’s pointing and she’s got to be kidding. “Do you know me at all? No.” He sighs and turns back to his beer.
“Come oooon, you’re not even trying. Ooh what about him?”
Eddie takes a quick glance before shaking his head. “I think this place is a dud tonight.”
“You’re just picky.” She swirls her drink aimlessly looking around the room.
The place is pretty packed for a Friday night, but they were able to grab a couple stools at the bar top, which Eddie is grateful for. Chrissy is spun around facing outward. Her foot is bouncing to the beat of the music playing overhead. She’s all dolled up, on the hunt herself but making sure to keep an eye out for Eddie.
“Ooh,” she gasps and Eddie tries to see what she’s looking at. “She’s pretty.”
“Where?”
“Over there, near the pole.”
Eddie cranes his neck and sees a taller woman with a short bob, wearing an oversized blazer, sleeves shoved to her elbows, and laughing at someone standing behind the pole.
“You should go talk to her.” Eddie nudges her foot.
“You think?” Chrissy keeps her eyes pointed on the woman. “Oh, she’s…hmm,” Chrissy bites her bottom lip and smiles shyly. “She looked at me. She did it again. Oh.”
Eddie hides a laugh behind his drink and risks a glance across the bar. He catches the woman nervously glancing at Chrissy and immediately thinks they’re a match made in heaven.
“Go, I’ll be fine.” Eddie nudges her again. “I’m gonna go smoke anyway.”
“Ok, be safe out there.”
She hates that he has to go out back to smoke. It’s a creepy alley behind a gay bar. The worst he’s ever run into back there are a few rushed blowjobs and some handies. People usually leave him alone, though. He doesn’t really give off a friendly vibe.
Eddie finishes off his beer and slides off his stool with a stretch of his arms.
“Good luck, Cunningham. Go get yourself a lesbian.” He shakes her shoulder gently and heads toward the back door.
He takes a deep breath when the night air hits him. It feels good after spending time in the stuffy bar. He shuffles his way down from the door, and finds a spot against the brick wall. He then pulls out his crinkled pack of Camels, plucks a cigarette out, and slots it between his lips.
While holding his lighter to the tip of his cigarette, the back door slides open and he turns to watch someone walk out.
Oh my god
It’s him
Eddie’s cigarette falls from his lips as his mouth gapes open. He’s moving on instinct towards the man he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for the past seven days. The man sees Eddie approaching and he gives him a nervous smile. Eddie realizes he doesn’t recognize him. That fact stings more than it should.
“You,” Eddie says with a shakey breath.
“Um, you ok, man?”
“Who are you?” Eddie scans over the man’s face trying to piece it together.
He sees two perfectly placed moles on the man’s cheek and two more along his neck. Nothing that is triggering a memory though.
“Uh, Steve? Do I know you?”
Eddie ducks his head and starts looking over other parts of the man’s body. More moles line the man’s arms and his exposed shoulders from under his tank top. Eddie’s eyes catch on a tattoo on the man’s pec through the gap in his shirt.
“What’s-what’s that? " Eddie cocks his head. "That date?”
The man, Steve, looks down noticing Eddie seeing the tattoo.
“It’s the day I was saved.”
“What?” Eddie’s eyes flick up to Steve’s before dropping back to the tattoo.
It’s the day Eddie’s mom died.
“I had a heart transplant.”
Eddie’s hands drop to his sides and his face slowly relaxes as he starts to wonder if it’s possible.
“Do you- uh, do you know who…? Who your donor was?”
Steve furrows his brows and cocks his head. “Uh, yeah?”
“Who? Who was it? I-I lost my mom that day.” Steve’s face softens and Eddie watches as the man looks him over.
“Elizabeth-“
“Munson?” Steve nods and Eddie gasps covering his mouth with his hand in shock. “Oh my god.”
“She saved my life.”
Tears well in Eddie’s eyes as he reaches his fingers toward Steve. He asks for silent permission to touch and Steve nods. Eddie huffs a heavy breath as he presses his hand to Steve’s chest. He lets his fingers spread out, pushing his palm against him. Before Eddie can take a deep breath he feels the pound of Steve’s heartbeat against his hand.
His mom’s heartbeat.
Eddie looks up with a wet chuckle and sees matching tears in Steve’s eyes.
“I wasn’t going to make it. I was on my last leg and then suddenly there was a viable heart.” Steve places his hands over Eddie’s and stares into his eyes. “Thank you.”
Eddie nods and swallows back the sob he wants to release. Steve runs his thumb comfortingly across Eddie’s knuckles and gives him a sad smile.
“I knew there was something.” Eddie shakes his head. “Since I saw you last week, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Last week?” Steve furrows his brows and then widens his eyes in realization. “The coffee shop. You bumped into me.” He smiles at Eddie fondly.
“Yeah,” Eddie says a little embarrassed. “Then again at the train station. You were with some kids.”
“That was you. I thought I saw you but wasn’t sure.”
“I might’ve chased the train a little.” Eddie shrugs.
“Chased the train? For me?”
“A little.” Eddie’s hand is still pressed against Steve’s chest so he can feel when the man’s pulse kicks up.
“And now you’re here. Somehow. It’s like the universe wanted us to meet.” Steve bites his bottom lip and Eddie suddenly wants to bite it too.
Now that he knows why he felt so pulled toward Steve, he can actually look at the man. It’s like a fog is lifted and he can see Steve in all his beautiful glory.
“Yeah,” Eddie whispers.
“Do you wanna get a drink? With me?” Steve asks nervously, and if he could read Eddie’s mind he wouldn’t be so nervous.
“Yes,” he nods quickly. “I’d love to.”
Steve keeps his grip on Eddie’s hand and laces their fingers together before pulling them toward the door.
“I’m here with my friend Robin, but she is getting hit on by the cutest little blonde, so she won’t bother us.”
“My friend Chrissy is a cute little blonde. Wouldn’t that be funny?”
coffee? ☕️🍩💕
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moonstainn · 9 months
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"Odasaku...what should I do?"
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buckttommy · 4 days
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Tommy and Buck went to a photobooth together and took some pictures. Thes almost didn't fit in together but they made it work. And one of those pictures is in tommys cockpit and another is on bucks dashboard in his car
NOOOOO THIS IS SO CUTE. because tommy is an absolute UNIT, you know, like, he's big as fuck so he could take up the whole damn booth himself, and buck's no little pixie either. so he's looking at the booth and he's looking at tommy in the booth and he looks like a stuffed pepper and buck's just like "tom, i don't think we're gonna fit" and tommy is like "no no it'll be fun come on!" and buck is absolutely fucking powerless in the face of that cute, scrunched nose grin. so he squeezes in there and the whole thing is absolutely fucking ridiculous because they don't fit and he has to bend his neck because otherwise his head would be brushing the ceiling and he's halfway in tommy's lap with tommy's arms wrapped around his waist but they're giggling and his boyfriend is warm and safe behind him and he's warm and safe and everything is fucking beautiful. buck loves life. so they take their pictures and tommy hands him some, buck takes some, and then that's it. but the first time he sees his picture in tommy's cockpit is the first time the idea that he could fall in love with this man feels less like a distant possibility and more like a hopeful inevitability. and he can't fucking wait.
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tenthrees · 1 year
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Ed surrounding himself with reminders of Stede
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hellfire--cult · 2 months
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You two were laughing as you ate pizza on Steve’s couch. You are feeding eachother as he kisses you with saucy lips while you giggle like crazy.
The TV is on in the background, the loud noises fade into nothingness as you two keep talking and laughing. There are other noises outside, but you two shut the blinds closed, and locked the doors, because you just needed to be with one another tonight, just you two.
Steve looks at the watch on his wrist and he shoots a smile your way.
“Wanna go to bed?”
And you eagerly get up from the couch, grabbing his hand as you lead the way upstairs towards his room. You two stumble in, wiping the remnants of pizza away, and you both get ready to bed, already too late despite the noises outside. Yelling, cheering, screaming, it was all a mix.
The bed is comfy as you two lay down, looking at one another, smiles still on your faces as the tears start forming in your eyes. The memories just fill your minds as the loud sirens start blasting, wanting to break the moment, but they won’t. It’s just the two of you right now.
The cheering stops, the screaming remains, the red light of the sky shines through the closed blinds, the expired pizza you two ate downstairs because that’s all you could find in an abandoned 7Eleven.
It was the only solution because the upside down filled through the gaps, all around the world, consuming it in monsters and darkness. It was the only solution…
And as the earth burns to the ground…
“I love you Stevie…” Your tears are already falling onto the pillow as the sirens start going into a countdown. He nods as he pulls you close by the waist, pressing a shaky kiss on your forehead.
“I love you too Baby…”
Oh boy it’s you, that I lie with.
You smile up at him as you press a soft kiss on his chin, causing him to chuckle through his wet sob. The screaming is barely audible as the siren becomes louder and louder, the screeching of monsters trying to get into the house so they could escape the sound.
As the atom bomb locks in, oh boy it’s you…
The TV downstairs shows a static transmission of the news, the reporter crying as she counts down the final seconds of the human race, extintion just a moment away.
I watch TV with… As the world…
You two look up as the final long siren goes off and the red light becomes brighter and brighter, the sound of a loud explosion echoing in the distance as it becomes louder as it reaches you two.
And your lips finally meet, smiling in between as the tears mix with your lips, tasting them. It was the perfect last kiss. The perfect moment. The perfect situation. It was perfect, and you spent it with him. For the last time.
As the world caves in.
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rubydubydoo122 · 4 months
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Teehee…
Definitely do not think of Bruce giving Jason a tire from the Batmobile for each of his birthdays.
Definitely do not think about Bruce telling Jason ‘you’ll get all four tires by the time you turn 16. Then we can build a car together.’
Definitely do not, under any circumstances, think about the fact that Jason was never able to get that fourth tire. Not when he was 12. Not when he was 16.
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When you want to tell a man that you love him but you're both soldiers surrounded by other soldiers, it's 1945 and he's dying in front of you
so instead you tenderly say his first name and look at him like this
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so that in a sea of unfriendly faces the last face he will ever see is the friendly face of the person he loves.
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You Promised
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TW: Major character death, canon typical violence I wrote this instead of working :3 enjoy Pairing: GhostxReader As always, not proof read, lemme know abt any mistakes/what you think. Also I quite literally wrote this right now so sorry if there's more than the usual amount of mess-ups.
There was a moment, when your eyes first met, that you knew this man would ruin you. It was a sudden burst of clarity, seeing him standing there, face covered, leaning against the wall. It’s like something was trying to tell you that getting involved with him would lead to disaster
Still, you decided to go for it. Those first few months were tense, full of anger and discomfort. It took years to get to where you are now. Years of patience, years of waiting, years of proving to Ghost he was worthy of love. 
The years had been wonderful. You remember the first time you saw his face, the first time your hands touched his hair. You remember the first time you went out, how his cheeks flushed and his eyes wouldn’t meet yours. You remember how it felt when it got down on one knee, both of you panting and bloody.
Yes, the years had been wonderful, but there had always been a sense of foreboding. Something terrible looming on the horizon.  And now, as you hold a cold body, as you card your hands through bloody blonde hair and cry, you know why.
“Stay with me.” You had cried. He had taken a shot meant for you, one bullet straight through his left shoulder and another embedded in his thigh. You had shot the man, emptying your magazine before falling, crashing to your knees beside Ghost’
“Price, I need a Medivac! Ghost is down, gunshot wound to the shoulder and thigh!” You yelled into your comm. Your hands moved to pressure the holes, one to his shoulder, one to his thigh. Just trying to stem the blood. His blood. His blood that bubbled up over your knuckles, thick, hot, and ruby red.
“ETA is 23 minutes.” Price's voice was garbled and broken over the radio, but you could still hear the despair in his voice. You sobbed harder as you realized help will not make it in time.
“Don’t,” Ghost had whispered to you, “I’m not making it out of this one.” His hands moved to your face, gloves shakily wiping tears from your face. 
“You’re coming home,” You had snapped at him, voice breaking, “You promised.” He shook his head softly, reaching up to pull his mask off. Blood leaked from his lips as he coughed. 
“Kiss me,” He had begged you, “Please.” You had shaken your head frantically, eyes blurring with tears, but you gave in. How could you not? Ghost never asked for anything. You could give him this. Your lips met in what was the most passionate, desperate kiss you had every had. You tasted his blood but didn't care, kissing him like it was last thing you'd ever do. You were kissing him when his body seized, and you cradled his head to your chest as he took his last, gasping breaths. You held him as you felt his body go limp and you held him as his body began growing cold. 
Your hand moved to your lips, where his blood was already drying. Tears leaked from your eyes, blurring your vision and soaking the collar of your jacket.
“Please.” You sob into his hair. There is no movement from the man in front of you. Blood seeps from his body, pooling under him, soaking your pant legs. Wind blows your hair around, tears sticking strands of it to your face.
“Simon please,” You practically beg him, “please, please, please.” Your world is breaking apart, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. The only thing that could pull you back from the brink was laying in you lap, unmoving.
Footsteps sound, but you don't go to reach for your gun. You could care less if it is friend or foe. At least you’d be with Ghost if you died.
You feel a hand on your shoulder, and see Soap appear in your blurry vision. The sight of the scot makes you sob harder, your fingers digging into Ghost's unyielding body.
“C’mon sweetheart, let's git him hame.” His Scottish accent fills your ears. His voice is thick, and you can know that the only reason he's not in tears over his best friend is because he's trying to be strong for you.
Your hands shakily trace Ghost’s face, his lips, his scars. You slip his dog tags off and pull them over your head.
“I love you,” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his cold lips, “I love you so fucking much. I love you, I love you, I love you. So wait for me, okay?” You squeeze his lifeless wrist 1,2,3 times. I love you.
Letting go of his body is the hardest thing you have ever done. Soap grabs your arm, helping you up. He lets you lean against him, leading you away as Price and Gaz take the body. You look back with blurry vision, watching them drape a sheet over the stretcher holding your world.
The wind blows across the battlefield, and with it you can hear the echoes of an unheeded warning, a promise of a life of ruin.
I made myself cry while writing this lmao.
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autistickhunsam · 1 year
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i have this headcanon that from time to time ava will be overwhelmed by the beauty of life and the fact that shes alive and experiencing it that she'll cry the way she did that night at the beach and beatrice will wordlessly gently hold her hand and they'll just stand there together while ava feels alive and full of love (for life, for her sister warriors, for beatrice, for herself)
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kexdosee · 1 year
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Quaritch thought he would never dream again...
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phoen1xr0se · 6 months
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Crowley and Fireworks
I wonder what Crowley made of the first ever fireworks display he saw.
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Do you think he remembered?
Do you think he looked up at the riot of colour and creativity in the sky and felt a vague sense of familiarity, that he'd seen this somewhere before?
Do you think he gasped along with the crowd, face turned up in wonder, filled with joy and making noises of delight?
Do you think after the display was over, he was consumed by a strange ache, a longing for something he would never be able to find the words for?
And do you think he turned to Aziraphale to try and tell him about it, only to see his angel staring at him, blue eyes glistening with tears?
Edit: I got distracted and turned it into a ficlet. Enjoy:
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Let me tell you now, you're the lucky one
(Enemies to Enemies Who Fuck)
(HaruKaku in Bonten timeline)
(some past-MuSan and past-KakuIza with a subtle RanOmi bc why not, it's my fic and I don't have self-restrain when it comes to multishipping)
(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)
Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat!
All of them. Bonten is their own warning. Substance abuse. Really unhealthy coping mechanisms. Depression. Mental health problems. Suicide. Major character death. (it's Bonten, they all want to kill themselves and some of them succeed, okay?) Mentions of unsafe sex, but there is no smut or graphic depiction of it.
I tried to not be too graphic with any of this topics, the focus is mostly on what the characters are thinking/feeling. But it's hard anyway, tbh the last scene was actually difficult and painful for me to write. So please, don't take the CW lightly and prioritize your mental health!
Angst and Hurt/No Comfort.
MANGA SPOILERS!!!!
Notes: HaruKaku came as an hilarious idea. Because they are hilarious, let's be real. Soulmates archnemesis, doomed to hate each other in every timeline. But then Bonten happened and of course, I ended up writing some angsty shit instead of focusing in all the other moments when they are hilarious. Kudos for me, yey! 🥲
This is canon complicit (again, is Bonten, beware!)
It alternates from Kakucho's POV to Sanzu's POV. I did that thing again of using "Haruchiyo" when he's in his most vulnerable state because for some reason I like playing with his name like this.
(English is not my first language, be nice please 🙈)
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(the art is from @just-sp-in-inginthevoid who is in part responsible for the archnemesis brain riot, but mostly the hilarious part, tbh)
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Is not that Kakucho enjoys Sanzu's company. Or that the pinkette gradually started to grow on him. Quite the opposite, to be honest. He hates him a little bit more every day, every shared mission, every time they had to spent hours together.
But with Sanzu, he feels. He feels intensely, he feels with passion. Even if it's twisted, at least he's not empty anymore. The void that threatens to devour him seems to disappear when he's around the other man. Sometimes, Kakucho wants to murder him, but he knows he can't. Others, he wonders what would happen to him if he also loses the only person that it's still able to provoke an intense emotion on him.
Hate is better than apathy, isn't it?
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They hate each other passionately. Sanzu finds his reactions too funny for stopping it, always willing to go a little further, to push Kakucho to the edge. It's too easy to pick on him, making him forget about his allegedly righteous patience.
It's disgusting, how Kakucho thinks of himself like he was better than the rest of them. So Sanzu enjoys to proves him wrong, to show him that they are the same (even if he can't stand that fact either, seeing that burning rage in those heterochromatic eyes makes it worth it).
Now that he thinks about it, it was probably a matter of time, considering that his king denied them the right to kill each other, they needed to find a way of releasing all that build up anger. That's probably why isn't that surprising when it finally happens.
It looked like a regular night. Sanzu was high as a kite, trying to forget every one of his lives. Kakucho just seemed to be there, he can't recall exactly why, some type of report, but he didn't pay any attention to it at the moment, too intoxicated for actually caring for something that could wait until tomorrow.
“Why are you still here? You like me that much or what?”
The pinkette man says, slurring his words.
“Are you that high? You know I hate you.”
Is the harsh answer that he earns. It's brutal, but real. Kakucho's honesty has something that grounds him to the present. It's sickening. It's exactly what he wants right now.
“I hate you too, don't worry.” He laughs, finding his own words amusing. “Think about it, me and you. Just us, hating each other all night long.”
“You're crazy.”
“And you didn't say no.”
(If he was more honest with himself, he would admit that he was trying to find another way of punishing his broken mind and his body. But he's not.)
And oh, it actually feels good. Kakucho fucks him with the same brutality that talks to him. He couldn't bear any type of gentle touch (specially not from someone that it's so linked to Mucho, but he isn't thinking in that, he promised himself to forget his old captain a long time ago).
There isn't any type of care between them, only spite. Both men are too broken for having the ability to love someone again. Indeed, this was precisely what he needed. This is perfect.
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The next day, Kakucho feels nauseated. How couldn't he? Sanzu was high as fuck, too intoxicated to give proper consent to do anything. So even if he was also a little drunk, even if it wasn't his idea, Kakucho feels guilty for what happened.
Until Sanzu just laughs at his poorly attempt of apologizing, mocking his morals once more. He was about to punch him in the face, but the lingering guilt doesn't allow him to do it. Not that one more bruise would make a difference, actually.
Both are covered in so many marks that more than sex, it looks like they tried to kill each other. Yeah, maybe he should stop feeling sorry for Sanzu, considering this. Maybe that was the best way to get rid of that not-so-pent-up hate.
And it works. At least for a while, it works. Until it happens again. And again.
Is not that they are lovers (Kakucho wants to puke with that idea). They just fuck from time to time. That's all. They hate each other, they wish they could kill the other. But they can't. So, sometimes, they fuck.
Their relationship is not pretty. At all. Or better. If Kakucho had to use only one word for describing it, he would say “real”. They don't lie to each other, what would be the point? Both are too able of seeing between the lies, they are too similar in so many ways. But that raw honesty only makes it worse.
Kakucho knows it's a mistake, that he shouldn't care about Sanzu's fate (he brought it on himself and he doesn't seem to have any complains). But Mikey is worse every day, the king is falling and his loyal dog is falling with him. Kakucho needs to do something, because the uneasiness he feels every time he sees them is now living rent-free in his mind.
That's why, one day, Kakucho tries. He's trying to find his clothes, dressing quickly, wanting to get out of this room that only makes him feel sick. Then, he looks at Sanzu, his pink hair scattered on the pillows, a lazy and satisfied smile than only appears after sex (and never lasts). There is some twisted vulnerability in how content the other man is while lighting up a joint, as if seeing these new swelling (all this pain) on his skin was something he wanted.
(Kakucho can't shake the feeling that Sanzu is using him as another way of hurting himself and that infuriates him so fucking much... Maybe that's the real reason why he decides against his best judgment and opens his big mouth.)
“Is not worth it.”
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“Uh?”
Sanzu looks at the other, not sure if he actually heard something. He just wants to smoke and relax, to feel the post-orgasmic satisfaction while it lasts, to enjoy the pain in his body (one more of his little punishments).
“I said is not worth it. Dying with Mikey.”
If it had been anyone else, Sanzu would shoot him in the face just for saying this. Thinking like that, talking like that about his king is treason. It should be. But it's difficult to pretend Kakucho's isn't right about this when, unfortunately, it's the only one Sanzu trusts with Mikey's well-being (It's the one he calls every time Mikey is being suicidal again).
“You wish you could be me, you wish you had died with Izana.”
Sanzu spits his words, burning with all the rage he feels every time he has to acknowledge the reality of how is Mikey.
“That's not what this is about-”
Kakucho is unable to finish his sentence, turning pale in anger when Sanzu cuts him. 'Good'.
“You're a selfish bastard, aren't you? You want me to be like you, stuck here with no purpose, jerking yourself with the memory of a ghost. Pretend it's because of your high morals, that you're worried about me or some other bullshit. But you're just another selfish bastard. And you envy me.”
If it had been anyone else, Sanzu would shoot him in the face. But he can't (he wants to, oh, he wants it so much, but he can't disobey Mikey's orders). So, instead of bullets, he uses his words.
“At least Izana cared about me.”
Is the last thing he hears before Kakucho slams the door. Sanzu laughs maniacally, throwing the first shit he can find to the place the other man was a few seconds a go. He's momentary satisfaction long forgotten, replaced only by hate (and pain, but one that he refuses to see).
The worst part is that in a sickening way, he trusts Kakucho. They don't lie to each other, that makes it so much worse, because both of them know that what the other said is true. He hates him, he hates him with every fiber of his body. He doesn't want this words to be true, he can't accept that. He needs to keep living in this denial, to pretend Mikey is fine (to pretend he doesn't keep mixing this Mikey with that in his nightmares, to pretend they don't look so alike).
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It's been three days. Three whole days since Mikey's death was splattered on the news (no one seems to care about Takemichi's death, even with all that footage of how the hero tried to save the most dangerous man in Japan). Kakucho cares, but he knows damn well that he wouldn't be welcomed within the hero's friends, so he would have to say goodbye in his own way (again).
During this days, Kakucho learned some things, like the fact that apparently everyone had some kind of contingency plan in case this happened (no, for when this happened, all of them could see that Mikey was more on the edge every day). But nobody spoke to him about it, keeping him in the darkness, the only idiot that didn't prepare himself for the end. Well, not the only, he knows that, of course he knows that.
(Sanzu would have killed them in the blink of an eye. Anyone who dared to imply that Bonten needed to be prepared to function without a king.)
Kakucho understands the need for secrets, of course he does. The idea of Mikey falling would be considered treason a few days ago, it was taboo to think like that. At the same time, none of them wanted to acknowledge it, like saying it out loud would make it more real. He can't even be mad when the Haitanis (obviously) thought about him on their own schemes, making sure Kakucho was also safe. Or as safe as any of them could be now that Bonten was crumbleling.
It's been three days. Bonten is crumbleling. Mikey is dead. And Sanzu disappeared the same day. Everyone knows he's dead, but they don't say it. Not in front of Takeomi, who's still desperately looking, going out in the rain for hours. Trying to find something, some clue that leads him to his little brother. Clinging to the hope that he's still alive somewhere. That he's going to find him, high as fuck, but alive (Kakucho thinks being able to find Sanzu's body at all would already be a miracle).
Only Ran is able to convince Takeomi to rest a little bit, promising that he and Rindou will help with the search as long as the older man gets a few hours of sleep. Takeomi just nods, mumbling “Today is his birthday, Ran. Is his fucking birthday and he's out there alone.” while Ran drags him softly, a concerned look plastered in those violet eyes.
Kakucho hates it, hates having to see all this sorrow around him (again). He doesn't lament the loss of Mikey and Sanzu, he's incapable of doing it. Grief took his heart for hostage a long time ago, there is nothing more for him to mourn.
More than anything, Kakucho hates himself, because he's jealous of Sanzu. He knows he shouldn't, but he hates that the pinkette man was right about him. He envies Sanzu, who had the privilege of dying with Mikey, of dying with his king.
Kakucho hates the Mad Dog even more right now. But he's aware that once this hate fades away, he would feel empty again. So he clings onto this feeling, he needs this rage as a motor to keep moving.
It doesn't matter if this energy is fulled with rage, he needs it. He can't fail his friends, what's left of his family. Kakucho has to keep living even if he can't remember how being alive felt anymore. Even if he's more dead inside every day.
So, over and over... Kakucho would keep living.
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The rain keeps pouring down without truce, Haruchiyo shrinks inside the leather jacket that was always too big for him. Now the only thing that makes him feel protected from that annoying rain (from the world). To be honest, he isn't completely aware how he managed to recover it from his penthouse, but it seemed important in that moment.
The jacket and the old picture that he's still clutching in his pocket, the only two things he cared enough to take. He doesn't even need to look at it to see the four happy smiles stained with watermelon juice. Two pink haired kids that could be confused by twins, one with a shy smile, the other with a cheerful one, happy to be included with his brother friends. Next, a fierce smile showing two small fangs, already a force of nature at his young age. In the middle, a blond kid with the most radiant smile Haruchiyo ever saw, capable of making everything shine just with his presence. Full of life, of dreams. Full of potential. Brighter than the sun, a true leader.
But that was a long time ago and, once again, Sanzu is the only one who remembers. The man staggering in the rain is now the only survivor from that photo. Only him, alone in this fuck up world where nothing and no one matters anymore. Not without Mikey. Even Bonten can burn from what he cares.
He keeps walking (it feels more like floating for him, floating in a cloud of pain and numbness at the same time). Until he finally reaches his destination, an abandoned bowling alley. Sanzu enters in some kind of trance, not sure if he's dissociating or too intoxicated. He doesn't care.
He sits down exactly in the same place his king sat down. How many days had passed since that moment? One? Two? Ages. It certainly feels like ages for him. Haruchiyo hugs himself, trying to make space for his legs inside the big comforting jacket. Completely curled up. And he cries, he cries like he hasn't allowed himself to do so in the last ten years.
He's starting to sober up, he can feel it. Because the flashbacks are coming back. Shinichiro jumping from that bridge. Mikey jumping from this exact building. Mikey falling from the stairs, that awful “clonk”. Mikey jumping again from this building.
Haruchiyo screams, holding his head with both hands, begging the images to stop, unable to continue reliving those memories. He needs everything to stop, to be quiet, his shattered mind can't take it anymore.
He takes out a small box from his pocket, looking at the content. Everything he needs is here, he knows how to do it, how to make sure he's not going to wake up from this trip. His stupid hands are shaking while he gets the syringe ready.
For some reason, he suddenly remembers Kakucho's words a few months ago. He hates it, he hates thinking in that fucker when he's about to die. But the other man was right, wasn't he? Mikey never cared about Sanzu, he spent years of his life trying to keep his king alive and it was all for nothing. Everything blew up in one night.
A manic laugh escapes between his whimpers. Of course is that, he's fucking jealous. Sanzu is fucking jealous because at least Kakucho got to held Izana's hand when he died, he got to comfort his king in his last moments. Sanzu didn't had that, Hanagaki was the one holding Mikey's hand. Always that cockroach, never him.
What did he expect anyway? Haruchiyo is just a failure. He never deserved to be the one making his king last moments less painful. Of course, he should had known. He failed everyone. He failed Shinichiro, unable to protect Mikey, to be the friend he promised he would be. He failed Mikey, watching him falling into the darkness, becoming the same empty shell he already saw in a past that never happened, and doing nothing about it.
Sanzu doesn't have anything left. He also killed his own chance of happiness a long time ago (he also failed his captain, didn't he?). The only thing left for him is to disappear, to follow his king. He's going with him, because he's being following Mikey for so long, that he doesn't see any other choice. He's going with him, because he doesn't deserve to keep living when he couldn't save Mikey.
But it's fine, the drug is already kicking in, his body feels more relaxed. Even his mind seems to be quiet, almost in peace. He looks at the old photo one last time, before drifting out of consciousness, looking for safety in the inner part of the leather, pretending it smells like cheesecake.
It's fine, because at the end of the day... Haruchiyo was just a failure.
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katewritesss · 3 months
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Imagine a song fic based on "For Good" from Wicked where all Slider can do, a few days after Ice's death, think about the message he received from his best friend that morning, and realising that it was a goodbye: "Let me say this, Sli; so much of me is what I've learned from you. And whatever way your story ends, I can say for a fact that you have rewritten mine, by being my friend. And I know it was for good."
And Slider feels the same way because he knows that he and Ice changed each other, permanently, inescapably. But he thinks that it was for the better; that it was for good.
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ivyllamauwu · 4 months
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I just know damn well that Lancelot is the one that carried Percival back to Zeldris and Gelda after he died, and that breaks my heart..
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