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hard-core-super-star · 8 months

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Hi, may I please request Reader is Australian and is a judge on the Voice, Australia. Hailee (Steinfeld obviously), with the other judges help to surprise Reader by 'auditioning'. (Reader obviously turns her chair. They've been dating for a couple of years.)

keep on coming back for more [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x musician!reader

summary: you don't really like surprises...unless they involve a certain brunette and your favorite song.

warnings: none, just fluff; me pretending like i know what i'm talking about when i really don't; R is technically a guitar player but that's not expanded upon; like two seconds of nervous hailee

wordcount: 1k

a/n: messed around with the pov on this one again so...yeet. i also did the most scuffed research on the voice, australia so forgive me if it sucks/if things are too vague. this fic was also just an excuse for me to scream into the void about rock bottom because it's one of hailee's best songs, argue with the wall. [but not the version with dnce because...men. do i have to say anything else?] hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

Hailee knows being nervous about this is ridiculous but that doesn’t stop her heart from thundering in her chest or her hands from growing clammy. Usually, those things are a sign of excitement but today, the butterflies in her stomach feel a little more uneasy than usual.

It’s been more than a few years since the last time she performed this song live and, if she’s being completely honest with herself, she’s worried about what you’ll think.

Surprises aren’t her strong suit, especially not when they involve your work but it’s been a few months since you left L.A to start working on The Voice, Australia and she hasn’t had a chance to come see you until now.

She was originally just going to visit you on set and let that be the surprise but she may have texted Rita Ora about her idea to fly to Sidney to see you and then one thing led to another and now she’s here. Minutes away from pretending to be yet another blind audition for the show.

Everyone had agreed it would be a great way to get more people to watch the show, or at the very least the clip that would be posted on YouTube later, but she didn’t care about any of that. She just cared about getting to see your smile again.

“You’re on in five.”

The brunette nods in response, practically counting down the seconds until the two of you are finally reunited. Dramatic, sure, but also sweet in a way that makes you melt every time.

While Hailee’s getting ready for her surprise performance, you are doing your best to act like you’re paying complete attention to whatever ‘argument’ Rita and Jessica are having to convince the most recent auditioner to join their team.

You’ve been a witness to these ‘arguments’ a couple of times since filming started but you always stay out of them. Mainly because they’re fun to watch but also because you’re technically the new kid on the block and you have some massive shoes to fill. Keith Urban-sized shoes to be specific.

You still don’t know how you went from playing the guitar in your room to being a professional musician to being a judge on The Voice but you’re not about to complain. That doesn’t mean the job isn’t tiring but you can’t afford to look like you don’t know what you’re doing.

The young singer ends up choosing Rita’s team and you’re given a quick break as the crew gets everything ready for the next contestant. You resist the urge to check your phone, knowing all it will do is make you miss your girlfriend. This wasn’t the first time the two of you were doing long distance but it never gets easier.

You don’t get the chance to dwell on your thoughts too long since filming resumes. You straighten your back in the surprisingly comfortable chair and prepare yourself for the next blind audition.

A few seconds go by before you hear the beginning notes of a song you know like the back of your hand. The smile on your face gives away your growing excitement at getting to hear someone cover a song you love so much.

You're honestly a little surprised it's taken so long for someone to audition using one of Hailee’s songs. It’s a shock but a welcome one for sure. Just because they're using one of your girlfriend’s songs doesn't mean you'll go easy on them, though. You’re easygoing but extremely picky when you want to be. And you’ll be extra picky just to honor the one you love more than anything else.

“What are we fighting for? Seems like we do it just for fun…”

Your eyes widen at the sound of that voice.

For a second you think you’re imagining things but there’s no possible way you could be wrong. You could be underwater with a bag over your head and still manage to recognize your girlfriend’s voice.

“Breathe deep, bottle it up…”

You don’t waste another second in pressing the red button that allows you to turn around and see Hailee in all her glory. Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight of her and suddenly, everything else around you disappears. The lights, the audience, even your fellow judges, all you can see and hear is her.

Her brown eyes are trained on you and you have no doubt she’s feeling exactly what you’re feeling. The smile on her face tells you all you need to know about where her mind is. “Oh, we’re on the right side of rock bottom…”

She can’t hold herself back any longer and she takes a few long strides, walking down the stage steps and reaching your chair with a smile so bright it rivals every star you’ve ever seen. Her hand reaches out toward you and you take it without hesitation, allowing her to pull you toward her.

The moment might go viral later but neither of you is focused on anything except the other.

“You’re the best kind of bad something,” she sings, her face mere inches away from yours. “‘Cause we keep on coming back for more.”

This time, you’re the one who can’t hold back. You wait for her to pull her microphone away before you lean in and capture her lips in a kiss filled with all the love you’ve had to keep inside since you left L.A.

You have no doubt the studio probably wanted more words exchanged and overly dramatic shocked expressions but all those complaints will come later. Hell, you’ll even reshoot the whole thing if it means getting to spend time with Hailee on set. But all of that can wait until later.

“Warn a person next time,” you whisper with a grin once the two of you part for air.

“Where’s the fun in that, babe?”

You playfully roll your eyes at her, pretending to be annoyed when you’re truly overjoyed to hear her teasing remarks in person again. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me,” she replies with a shrug.

She starts to move away but you pull her back in for another quick kiss before she can get too far.

You hear the commotion that comes with getting ready for filming to resume but you’re too busy giving Hailee all your attention to care. You’re incredibly grateful for the opportunity to be here, and you absolutely love your job, but your girlfriend will always come first.

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

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snarkylinda · 10 months

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I’m very glad you’re talking about spencer being parentified because it feels like people sometimes gloss over it a bit? or maybe I’m just looking in the wrong places. if this isn’t something you do in you’re blog feel free to just. not respond but do you have any more thoughts or. idk headcanons on how that might have affected him as an adult?

Hi anon! To be honest I have no idea what is essentially discussed alot on the fandom other that a tiny fraction of it I expose myself to because 1#I am too tired and old to deal with fandom discourse about my blorbo, and based on my previous experience with fandoms I KNOW that the most popular the character, the bigger the discourse so haha no- 2# I joined in late lmao literally a couple of months ago, so I am super out of the loop just screaming to the void in desperate needs for someone to scream back 🤲🏼 do this kind of asks actually made me so happy agahagaha 🥰🥰 Buckle up bois this is LONG-

Ok now to those that might come across this and ask themselves what the hell does being parentified means, it's a broad term used for the phenomenon of (at best) a child sharing parental responsibilities due to x circumstance, or (at worst) downright having the parent/child dynamic completely swapped, with the child being the caretaker for the parent and household. You don't have to know deep CM lore knowledge to realize the latter is Spencer Reid to a T. Hell, they aren't even subtle about it lmao:

Btw parentification is often mixed in with abandonment and while they share the "child being forced to grown up" too quickly, the former is often distinguished by the fact that, more often that not as is this case, the parent still cares for them but are unable to do so how it should be (tho there are several cases where parentefication is an part of willing neglect, sadly) and added to the fact that they have to look after themselves- they have to look after another.

This is a really complicated, broad topic and I just mentioned this to go full disclaimer and that I don't blame Diana at all for how messed her son ended up since she can't help it- and to make a joke about how Spencer was abandoned and parentified. Also harassed. Guys he wasn't even 18-

Anyways but back to your question, how do I think that affected Spencer growing up....well in everything basically lmao

But I will take on two instances that had stood up to me the most: emotional management and hiding secrets.

The second one is easier: you would catch this man dead before he vents to you over something other than his shitty dad (that I find very funny tbh) and when he does is because he is at his limit and about to fucking cry.

Now don't get me wrong: we all are entiltde to our privacy. These are grown ass adults and they have lives outside of their working circle....

Right?

Haha we have an problem-

So yeah, Spencer kind of actually needs to rely on his co-workers because he has literally nobody else to rely on-

And yet

Oh here is the thing- Spencer is one polite boi but he is also blunt, if he doesn't want someone on his business he says so (look back when Alex discovered him and Maeve) this is literally "I wanted to tell you but I feel like I shouldn't"- this is not season 1 mind you, this is season 11, and yet here he was one of his oldest friends literally grabbing him by the arm and having to tell him it's never a bother- I am the only one fucking crying at this?

Excuses seems to come to Spencer like it's second nature- "sorry a tube on my apparment broke" "Oh I....I tripped!" "There was a lot of traffic so..." "I was watching an movie" and I am not am expert on USA's history or some shit, but Child Protection Services had been a thing since at least the 60s, so I don't think that a 10yo living alone with his mentally ill mother would have flown well- you get the idea.

I think this scene summarizes the whole thing perfectly

Get it? it's irony. (I love how Spencer is about to say something like dismissive "thank you" but because this shit hit too close to home to comfort he just gave a polite smile and walked away. That silence was LOUD) Because Spencer had always had done the former but the latter er.... :D

And it's not only when it concern Diane btw, any problem whatsoever Spencer would rather lock himself up (literally lmao) that sit down and talk about it- it's only when his bs is exposed and he can't refutage (like that little scene after Gideon's death when Rossi asks him if he had been there all night- he points out the fact he is wearing the same cardigan as the day before) that he opens up....or he runs away, which leads me to the second big point that I think shows how much Parentification fucked him up:

Spencer has the emotional maturity of a teenager.

I talk about this literally all the time so I'll be shorter lmao basically Spencer... has an issue- ok he has lot of issues- and that is the way he dislikes direct confrontation, so whenever he is hurt or angry he would rather be dismissive and passive-agressive that talk it out with the person- even going as far as turning away and storming out of the room.

(Here is the part where I put the screencaps but him storming off would be out of focus so lmao er.... Elephant Memory, Memoriam, Proof, a little part in 15x2 and The Gathering)

Now... I do think that a grown-ass man doing this shit is hilarious, like I love Spencer's bratty side so much lmao but it's an clear sign of someone that never learned how to deal with his emotions on a healthy way, someone that 6 out of 7 days of the week had to interiorize everything in and because of that holds on so much....resement, so much repressed anger but also without an stable force on his life to help him manage that- so we are left with an teenager trapped in an adult's body, loss at how to handle shit like he always did.

....And want to know the worst part about an Parentified boy onto adulthood?

That they don't know better.

#criminal minds #spencer reid

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saltygilmores · 1 year

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 13 ("A Tisket A Tasket") Part 4 of ????

You can find all previous commentary including for this episode in my Pinned Post. When we last left off, Jess had just uttered four of the most iconic words in Gilmore Girls history: "Dean is an idiot." So true Besty. So true. 90% of this post will be me screaming into the void about how horrible Dean and Lorelai are, they honestly just ruin everything. Jackson: I think we should get married. Soon. Sookie, stammering: But, uhhhh, ummm... are you pregnant? I chuckled. Sookie says yes to the sudden quasi-proposal and all I can think is well, that was certainly much nicer than all the times Christopher and Max tried proposing to Lorelai to end an argument or get into her pants. Lorelai: Your burgers taste better outside. Luke (clearly so in love with her that he would literally do this) Well next time there's a leak in the roof of the diner I'll just tear the thing off for you. I smiled.

Absolutely an iconic line, and as a fellow Stubborn Person I salute you, Lorelai.

Oh this oughta be juicy. Lorelai's inner monologue: Don't say Dean Forrester, don't say Dean Forrester...

Lorelai says that last year she tried using the Line Taylor Doose's Pockets Auction to snag a teenage boy to unclog her rain gutters, but when Rory offers up Jess to do the same thing for her later (I think in two more episodes, KILL ME NOW 😞) and end her dilemma, Lorelai needs convincing from Rory that Jess was worthy enough to slop the muck out of her gutters. I NEVER FORGET, LORELAI GILMORE. NEVER NEVER. Lorelai: "It's a nice concept. Having someone you love or have some crazy crush on bid on your basket and share a romantic lunch. “ Luke: (clearly so fucking in love with her there is an ache in his heart that keeps him awake at night like a ticking clock): "Well, I'm sure one day you'll manage to find the right guy and drag him out to this thing and make him buy your stupid basket and then you'll be sitting out here with him."

Yeah. I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD!!!!!!!

YOU ARE THE SOLE REASON WHY I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO FULLY ENJOY THIS SHOW. Once again, The DALA (Dean and Lorelai Affair) throws a cold bucket of water on a tender scene and viciously murders my Warm and Fuzzies. Dean is an insecure little pissbaby and his attempts to manipulate and emotionally abuse Rory into declining the picnic with Jess didn't give him his desired outcome, so instead he COMPLAINS TO LORELAI. WHO DOES THIS? WHO I ASK YOU? WHO VOLUNTARILY TRIES TO GET THEIR GIRLFRIEND'S MOTHER TO MEDDLE IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP? ON PURPOSE? WELL WHEN YOU'RE IN THE FUCKING DALA I GUESS IT MAKES SENSE HUH.

Lorelai Looking at Dean: 🥹🥹🥹🥰🥰🥰🥰🥹🥹🥹❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 Listen, I had yet another long-ass rant about how Lorelai lacks any sense of awareness and does backflips over these glaring red flags that Dean serves to her on a silver platter, day after day, month after month, year after year. I lost it when I accidentally shut off my laptop. But it’s no big loss, we’ve been here before and we will be here again…I am so tired. Dean rudely interrupts Lorelai to which she demurrs and submits to his Man Authority by doing something she does for no other man: instantly shutting up. Lorelai if Jess rudely interrupts her:

Excuse me? What a weird thing to say about a child you barely know. ARGGHH! The more I watch this show the more I'm willing to die on the hill that Lorelai, not Rory, is the "bad" main character that should be broadly disliked and villainized (or at least split the fandom) and I really have to apologize to Rory for how I used to speak about her before I opened my eyes. I have seen the darkness. Now, if you want to understand Dean Language, you have to learn how to speak in vague generalties about people with absolutely no evidence to back it up. Let's begin:

Time to play my favorite game, ripping Deano's logic to shreds:

We're on season 2, episode 13. Dean and Jess have only met a few times. Jess has been mostly a background character from episodes 6-12. Their interactions have included the time they were first introduced (Jess did nothing wrong), the Bracebridge Dinner (Jess was on his best behavior at the dinner) and today, when Jess asked Dean for some glue and Dean was jealous of how witty and intelligent and sharp Jess is, and for that Dean said he should lose the right to breathe. Alright, maybe you can count that time they scrapped in the yard at school before the BBD, but I digresss. I am Jess Mariano's defense attorney and I am also the judge and jury and your case has no legs and I'm ejecting you from my coutrtoom. I find the defendant Jess Mariano not guilty and also that Dean Forrester is a putz. Dismissed.

Why does it matter to you if he gets in fights at school and doesn't show up. Did Lorelai and Dean run out of sex games to play so they're roleplaying Jess Mariano's Therapist and Guidance Counselor today? Why does this Little Guy live in their heads rent free?

I’m sorry, what is he supposed to do, sequester in his castle like the Beast in Beauty and the Beast, never allowed to interact with the public or else they'll come after him with pitchforks? is that the goal? (I think it is tbh)

How does he stop being "around"? He has more ties to this town than you do, Also A Boy Who Recently Moved Here From Another State.

YA THINK?!

He just what?

She's even nice to your stupid worthless ass and you still treat her like garbage. I don't get his point. She's only being nice to Jess because she's nice to everyone? It's better than her being nice to you because she's terrified of you.

I’M

SORRY

BUT

WHERE DO YOU GET THE FUCKING AUDACITY

Okay Miss Cleo, you can go do me a big favor and drown. Lorelai lowers her voice to her soft and gentle Talking to Dean Voice.

I just want to remind everyone once more that this conversation is occuring between a teenage boy and his girlfriend's mother.

Maybe he needs like, a gay best friend to dish to or something. Or therapy. Because this is not normal.

"Get you what you want"=my daughter. This is the unholy alliance I mentioned in the previous post. It feels like they're teaming up with each other to defeat Jess or something. It's weird as hell and gives me the creeps. I'm tired, still 14 minutes left in the episode, will continue with part 5 somewhere down the line when I feel like it.

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #gilmore girls season 2 #a tisket a tasket #a-tisket a-tasket #DALA #Lorelai ruins everything #Dean ruins Everything #ARGH #Luke Danes

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s1lent-thunderr132 · 1 year

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the forgotten year - anhane

a/n- author's note if i'm being honest, i haven't uploaded a fanfic since 8th grade so bare with me on this. This story is based off of my 8th grade/freshman year, the last time i actually felt happy. This is very OOC i know, this takes plane in an AU where they all go to school together. I hope you enjoy this, this is only the prologue. The rest will be uploaded on AO3. Also, sorry if the names were swapped around in the middle since this was originally written in the perspective of Kohane. But during the middle of it, I realized that An would be more like me than Kohane so I had to switch around the names by hand. Oh yeah btw, 8th grade/freshman year is COVID hit me

word count: 1,327

(the italic words are An's monologue btw, don't get confused)

prolouge

It was a somber March afternoon in yakakawa middle school. The smell of rain filled the air. An was staring into the outside window, looking out into the field of clouds, trying to avoid the burning feeling inside her. There was a burning feeling that was keeping her warm in the cool weather, that feeling was the student that transferred a few months ago, Kohane Azusawa. Kohane was a student that moved in January, just as winter break ended and the new semester started.

When Kohane first sat down on the empty desk, An felt something in her, as if they met in another life. Kohane looked oddly familiar to her. An dug through her old memories and then realized that Kohane was the random kid they met in the playground during elementary school. “Hey, didn’t you go to chairomori elementary school?!” Tsukasa screamed at her when she was in the room. Kohane wanted to leave, but she did not like the amount of attention when she got. Kohane disliked how rowdy Tsukasa was, and the fact that the girl that sat next to her was Haruka. Haruka kept teasing Kohane for some reason, maybe because She wanted to get Kohane out of her shell since she was the new girl in school. But, it’s whatever. Throughout the weeks, Kohane got used to Haruka and Tsukasa messing around.

An sat from the other side of the room, quietly observing Kohane. She wanted to go and maybe talk to her since she didn’t know anyone at the school. Kohane always sat alone during snack and lunch breaks, playing on her computer or eating her food. She looks like she needs a hug. An was curious about Kohane’s behavior in class too, she’d always fall asleep or look into the void instead of listening to the teacher. One time, Kohane fell asleep in class. The teacher whistled to wake her up, An died laughing. The kid next to her, Shiho, could read An like an open book. Shiho looked at An with a smug expression. “Hey An, do you like Kohane?” An’s heart was a soda bottle getting ready to explode. Her face was painted scarlet, and her dictionary became an alphabet soup. An felt naked when Shiho asked that, it was almost like she knew what was going on in An’s mind. “Yeah An, don’t be shy to shoot your shot!” Ichika yelled. An was stuck in carbonite, there was no excuse for this behavior she’s had for the past month, staring at Kohane instead of listening to the teacher, laughing whenever she did something silly in class, drawing on papers in hopes she’d see them, and even giving her kind notes on her desk thinking that she won’t know it’s from An. But in reality, Kohane knew that An gave her the note on her table. An froze when she noticed that Kohane read the note and immediately stared at her with a smile.

An was afraid to talk to Kohane, thinking that She’d find her weird like everyone else around her. Until the time came when they were going to get a seating arrangement. “Everyone stand up facing the chalkboard!” The teacher exclaimed. Everyone stood up and walked towards the chalkboard. The teacher started from the back. “Mafuyu, Emu, Nene” the teacher pointed at the desks while saying kids' names, that’s how they were assigning seats. “Honami, Mizuki, Minori” the list went on and on until the last three desks were open. “Kohane, Rui, An.” It was like the teacher knew everything that An was thinking about. An felt like she was walking on eggshells. I can’t believe I’m this close to her, now I can’t look at her without her knowing. The teacher gave the whole class an assignment and everyone started writing answers to the questions.

An couldn’t focus, her heart took over her brain. There was a pounding feeling inside her body that couldn’t let her focus on the assignment, things were becoming overwhelming for An, she couldn’t hold the urge to look at Kohane. But, Kohane might notice that she was staring at her since she was very close. An tried to stare at Rui so Kohane wouldn’t see that she was staring at her and not Rui, peripheral vision is gonna do its job for once. It wasn’t helping at all, now An could focus less now that she was staring at Rui because she could see Kohane from the corner of her eye. An’s heart started rushing and rushing more, and her blood turned into a rushing river. It was no use for An to use that technique since it made things complex for her. This was hell for An since she had to work while having that funny feeling inside her.

During the final minutes of class, everyone started packing their things. “Ahhh I’m so tired!!” Kohane groaned. An’s mind was rushing, she knew that this was her time to shine. An jumped with joy in her seat since she knew that this is her time to have a proper conversation with Kohane, they can both have time to interact instead of exchanging eye contact. “Man, I’m tired too. Why do we even have school?” An replied. The bell rang announcing to everyone that it was time to go home. When An walked out, she noticed that it was sprinkling outside, good thing she didn’t bring her umbrella. She walked home grinning with pride. I’m so happy I got the courage to talk to her and get out of my comfort zone.

An couldn’t stop thinking about how much fun she’ll have with Kohane now that they were sitting next to each other, she hopes that a group project will happen so they can work together as partners and even have fun study dates outside of school. Hopefully, she’ll get the guts to ask Kohane for an after-school boba date since there’s a boba shop near their school. There were more thoughts in her mind about her and Kohane going out and having fun in school than stars in the sky and sand in the desert, every step she made when walking back from school was a new thought with she and Kohane created. The second An ran home, she kicked off her shoes, ran upstairs, tossed her backpack on the floor, and jumped on her bed. Jumping on her mattress took her to heaven. Every thought about Kohane ran through her mind like a rapid river. The thoughts of her other classes, friends, and worries were all taken over by the thought of Kohane. Her heart pounded in excitement, yearning for the next day. She ignored the fact it was a Friday and only focused on the fact that Saturday was another Kohane day. Every day was Kohane day from now on. Reality hit her when a knocking noise entered her door. “Come in!” she told the person at her door. Turns out that it was her dad. “An, The school has notified me that you’ll be staying home for the next three weeks. An influenza outbreak has occurred in the first years, so the school headmaster has informed everyone that they’ll be staying home to prevent the spread and to cleanse all classrooms, the gym, and any class that a student or teacher has walked into. This doesn’t mean you can slack on your studies, You’ll be doing school work on your laptop until school opens up again. The headmaster says the school will open up again after spring break. ” She fell off of cloud nine, she can’t believe that her dad had to ruin her day like that. “Okay dad, I'll not slack on my studies” she sighed. Well, it’s only gonna be three weeks right? That means I can have more time to work on myself and practice talking to Kohane more, I can’t wait to recite all my conversation starters and build up courage!

—————————♡—————————

thanks for reaching the end!! it's a surprise you'd actually read this. I hope you stay tuned for chapter 1, it'll be uploaded on AO3. That's all, for now, thank you and goodbye

#project sekai #anhane #kohane x an #hatsune miku project sekai #vivid bad squad #project sekai fanfic #fanfic #an x kohane #i love gay people #an shiraishi #kohane azusawa

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ppinp · 9 months

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WIPJohn

John – Chapter 1 - July

> It’s been too long Staring into your eyes While my thighs Suffocate you I moan Your name in pleasure.

> I’ve been set free Years? 3. I’ve been settling Settled, playing house With a game(r) boy Begging for sex Like it used to be Sloppy All-night I ride Into the sunrise Your face Between my tights.

> Liberated by touch With questing hands Got me questioning realities Clear communication And transparencies In exchange for emotional guaranties. In exchange for hands clasped like piano keys. In exchange for Tongues entangled in between kisses discussing theories.

And when you’re not kissing me head to toe- Talk to me Babbling profanities Knowing exactly what you’re doing without knowing anything about me.

Shaken, after a night of shaking rubbed raw from a never-ending anticipating a closely pending breath take-in. Back arching to the heavens whispering His name in vain screaming yours for your vanity but I don’t mind the insanity when you thoroughly nurturing my soul with no self-serving end goal.

I didn't cum Yet you left.

In the wake of the aftermath I back into the sterile white light of my apartment, crying Not because of your emotional unavailability but grateful that you set me free.

//// Fuck walking I couldn't give a shit if my feet never touched the floor again Don't stop playing with my clit

Drop of color, in a see of non My eyes seek you when I'm on the run

Addict Bad habit It's been 3 months And I have it

Bad case of the shakes Can't fall asleep Can't stay awake

The feeling of having nowhere to be Keeps follow me The feeling of having nowhere to be Keeps follow me Cries for help masked beautifully

Bro I'm falling for you heavily You got me unstable mentally

I'm loosing my self Never had religion

empty my mind empty - your heart fill my void tear me apart

I miss you But I can't say I crave you But you can't stay Hide from the feeling It's so healing

I'm tired of screaming your name Tired of crying in vain tired of living in pain caused by your unavailability game

Kiss the sunrise, still intertwined. Vulnerable conversation, to keep us aligned.

Yet another Saturday I greet the sunrise privately Honey coated words ringing rapidly All the horid things you said to me repeatedly

The look in my eye The bend in my back Trying to communicate how badly I wanted you Wanted you to stay Wanted you

The pain in my chest the very next day Crying on the phone Not understand why You didn't want me as well

Smell of sex Seduction Soft eyes gazing up Malfunction A no is a no by any other name Even when your voice dictates kindness Even when your eyes project softness Even when your perfect symmetrical lips quirk into happiness, or surprise at my attempts to make you uncomfortable in the shower. A no is a no from day no.1 when you made your interest clear that your love is conditional, on the conditions of your health. Well, baby I accept. I accepted every single no and pushed myself further into madness How many times can you tell me no before it starts killing me You saying no to me fits comfortably Any excuse to hang with you Cut my nails like you want me to Teach me the song I already knew Different cities, different lovers Strings attached, doors opened I don't want to be yet another Hopeful hoe delusional that it's not over It was a no before it started We fizzled out before we started Spending Saturdays without you feels like a sin The sadness from last Sunday is embedded in my muscle tee I hate that I'm still thinking of you I hate this ongoing conversation that I keep having in my mind with you Telling you stories about myself When last we spoke I had kept you on the shelf For two days of radio silence Where I tried to wrap my brain around what had happened And I hate myself for scaring you You being scared, scared me too Standing in front of the mirror Now you see me clearer The cracks are so evident That's why I've been keeping you and everyone else at arm's lenght To avoid observing All the intricate ways I'm broken But I appreciate the nail you gave me The final bed you laid my emotional outreach The coffin you placed mine and your emotions in The final no of the series Buried deeply A parallel universe where we could finally be Away from the anxiety of past realities Away from the perceived coolness of silence Intertwined as two lovers unearthed and preserved in Pompey Where you could be mine And I could be yours Away from gender Away from social rules and constraints Away from benchmarks Where you could be mine And I could be yours I bury this feeling In this sacred chest Away from mine, I take you out Out of sight out of mind Don't worry in just a few we'll forget this ever happened I'll forget your last name and substitute it with a Doe - your image will become empty, a placeholder for a no In just a few you'll forget how to say thank you in my own even if it did remind you of your home. Like my body once reminded you Like my lips forced you to Like the eyes, you got lost into Like my touch you liked because it reminded me of you Why am I waking up with tears in eyes Wishing for another series of goodbyes Wondering if I can message you Is it ok to tell you that I wanna see you Is it appropriate to tell you that I miss you Killing myself for not saying that I wanted you A healthy doze to bind us two I find my mind wanders to you Wondering if you see the same sunset as I do But then I snap myself out of it Scribe 10% as a reminder I'm not comfortable with living in the shadows of your ex-partner I want to respect your verbal ques but I can't ignore the energy pulling us two

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nurseyydex · 2 years

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im sorry i only ever come here when i can’t use the main to scream into the void or remember dynamics I’ve wanted to write about but never will…but oooopphhhhh !!! it’s been enough of a day that I just don’t have room for this in my head so !

anyways I think I got another disorder or smth else has been misdiagnosed:) it’s been a long time coming it’s been like rolling around for a couple years but brushed off until the last year where ive sat with it and within the last few months starting to like accept it as highly probable. but I’m definitely not going to pursue a diagnosis at this time bc of so so many reasons including insurance and cost for the multiple drs and testing it’ll require and despite like ‘that sounds very - - of you’ has been a joke for a while due to similarities to my actual diagnoses I know this’ll be a fight more than any of the others both like officially and my family because it’s just like 90% of my extended family will laugh it off but like my mom will fiiiiiight back because she knows better and more than me and i just want an excuse for not having my life together blah blah blah when it’s like this isn’t fun for me??

and she’ll never acknowledge, or fully understand the trauma she’s inflicted as a child who, in hindsight clearly with the same fuxking disorders, and how she’s shaped me fundamentally as a child to correct behaviors so the exact things she’d cite as reasons it’s not possible are the things that I’ve adapted to fit her standards

#p #im kinda being vague but mainly bc i don’t wanna have a self diagnosing convo

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wormstacheangel · 3 years

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When Dean finally rescued Cas from the empty, he expected a happy reunion. He envisioned a strong hug like the first time he had escaped. He expected a long-awaited kiss and repeated confessions that weren’t said with sorrow or heartache. He expected to find the same Cas that was taken, but that would have been too easy.

Cas was left awake, alone, and in complete darkness for months on end.

So when Dean went into the empty, ready to wake up the love of his life, he found Cas curled in on himself—staring blankly out into the void of nothingness. He whispered something so softly and quickly that Dean couldn’t pick up on the actual words, but it sounded familiar. Almost like he was humming a song.

Dean tried to get him to stand up on his own, but he quickly realized that Cas wasn’t even looking at him. His gaze was distant, seeing something Dean can’t even imagine. He then noticed the white film over his eyes dimmed the once bright blue.

His fingertips gently traced over the skin he had only dreamt of touching for months before he took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself. With that slight pause, Dean used whatever desperate strength he had and dragged Cas back to the portal.

Back home.

As they got closer, the light of the portal seemed to startle Cas, and he started to shove Dean away. Dean had to put Cas down so he could take his green jacket off and place it over Cas’s head to calm him before he slowly continued to walk through the portal and into the bunker’s library where Jack, Rowena, Eileen, and Sam were waiting for them.

When they walked through, Dean quickly shushed them as he fell to his knees with Cas still in his arms, hidden under the jacket, and covering his ears at the sudden loud voices surrounding them.

Dean looked around at his family, all sharing the same worried glances knowing they were on the same page. Cas’s welcome home party would be pushed back until further notice.

Cas didn’t cry. His expression didn’t change much at all. All Cas did was sit or lay on Dean’s bed with the lights off. All but the desk light. It was an old lightbulb, so the light wasn’t a bright white like the rest of the place. Instead, it illuminated a soft golden glow against the wall.

Cas squinted at it at first, blinking so inhumanly at it, until all Cas did was stare at it. Whenever Dean made any move to turn it off or even just get near the lamp, Cas made a little whine at the back of his throat.

Little noises were the most Dean can get out of Cas. At least it brought him a little relief. It meant Cas could see him at that moment.

Cas still did that rapid talking or singing whenever it was a little bit too quiet. It made Dean wonder if Cas knew he was out of the Empty. Especially during those times when he would stare right past him, unblinking with cold eyes.

It was only the end of the second week when Dean broke down.

[continue under the cut or on AO3]

He didn’t mean to. He was trying so damn hard to keep it together, especially in front of Cas, but one night he just lost it. He can blame the lack of booze in his system, or as he wants, he can blame Sam, who came up to him about a stupid case. It pissed him off more than it should have. The fact that Sam even believed for a second that he would leave the bunker while Cas was like-well the way he was, just gave him enough of an excuse to raise his voice at someone.

Eileen had to step in and tell him to cool off.

Dean stormed off without a glance back and went to his room. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed beside Cas. He laid on his stomach as he wrapped one arm over the top of Cas’s waist, scooting close enough so that he could rest his head on Cas’s shoulder. He then opened his mouth to wish him goodnight just like every night, but something in Dean just broke.

He felt the pressure rise up his throat as he tried to hide his face into the familiar body beside him, but the sob still came.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long to go get you. Fuck, Cas, please.” Dean took a shaky breath, sniffling as he reached to hold Cas’s hand closer to him. “We missed- I...I missed you. I missed you so much, Cas.” Dean brought Cas’s hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckles before letting the hand rest by his head. His eyes closed as he sighs, “I love you. So come back to me, okay?"

The only response Dean got was a squeeze of the hand, which was enough hope for the future, and more than Dean could have ever asked for at that moment.

As the days went on, Cas didn’t change. Literally and figuratively. He was still an angel, so there was no need for him to shower or brush his teeth, but Dean swore that Cas’s facial hair was growing, so he liked shaving him at least once a week. Cas seemed to like it by the humming noise he made.

They did learn a couple of things as the days went on.

One, peace and quiet are not what they strive for.

It only brought Cas anxiety, and his humming or singing became much louder and more desperate. They fixed that problem with a Bluetooth speaker constantly playing music in the background, a playlist Jack made mixed in with a playlist Jack helped Dean make. It made the humming stop, and Cas started to roll over in bed. He even sat back against the headboard with his eyes closed a few times.

A month after Cas got back, Dean's phone died in the middle of the night, and the silence must have gotten to him. He covered his ears while he started muttering to himself again. Dean woke up and pulled Cas to his chest while softly sing to him in his still half-asleep phase. He didn’t know why that was his first instinct, but he went along with it cause it started to calm Cas down. Then, Cas held him back for the first time—tucking his head right under Dean's jaw and relaxing.

Dean tried not to stiffen at the touch; if he were honest with himself, he would admit he was trying not to cry because he was busy singing. Busy, not wanting to disrupt this moment.

That night Dean sang all night long until Jack checked on them in the early hours and connected his phone.

Two, always have a light source on.

The lamp was the first one they had. Cas constantly wanted it on, but it bothered Dean all the time when he wanted to sleep. So they bought a cool starlight projector, Sam’s idea, that kept the light on the cement ceiling and not on Dean’s face. Cas seemed to enjoy it as he laid on his back, watching it all night, letting Dean curl up on his side as he slept through the night.

Three, never leave Cas alone.

Nobody wanted to leave Cas alone for more than a minute if they could help it. So they made plans to keep him company at all hours of the day. Of course, they weren’t crowding him. They all came in one by one, except for Dean, who would say, “This is my room. I get to come and go as I damn well please.”

Sam liked to sit by Cas's side and talk nerd like they usually would while cleaning his guns or doing research to help another hunter. He would even pause during the one-way conversation to give Cas some time to answer or try to imagine what Cas would say in that situation. Sam was always calm, wanting to keep it as normal as possible while Cas just stared at him, sometimes his eyebrows knitted together, and Dean had to excuse himself as he felt his chest tighten up.

Eileen sat by his side and watched shows she liked while she talked to Cas out loud and signed so he could hear her voice. Even then, she didn’t talk much. Instead, she let the laptop do the talking as she pets Cas’s hair while sitting on the chair by the bed.

Jack came in the most next to Dean. He liked reading to him or talking about how his skills as the new God have improved thanks to Amara.

"Dad, I hope you'll be proud of me." Jack once whispered to Cas, who was having a bad day, checking out more than usual as he stared off into the distance. Eyes wide and almost screaming.

It was almost the end of the second month when another big mile-stone happened.

Jack was lying in bed with Cas while Dean was at his desk, cleaning his guns obsessively again. Jack was reading him a book he bought during his recent trip to the bookstore with Eileen, it was a Star Wars story.

Jack was getting into the book as he read slower but louder during a big fight scene. He got so excited that he even jumped up and looked back at Cas, "Did you hear that, Dad? He won!"

Cas smiled back at him- a genuine smile- and Dean almost dropped the piece of metal in his hand while Jack froze, his shoulders tightening up while he scrunched up his lips as if trying to hold back his cry.

Instead, he quietly composed himself as he asked in a shaky voice, "You want me to read the rest?"

Cas only blinked at him, keeping the slight smile, and Jack took it as a yes. Jack sat beside him again with a big smile plastered on his face, wiping his eyes every other word, as he rested his head on Cas's shoulder to continue reading. Dean didn’t miss when Cas tilted his head down to rest his cheek on Jack’s hair.

He had to excuse himself again.

After that day, Cas slowly started to open up a little more.

Once Dean woke up with Cas out of bed. Dean was already in full panic mode, his shoes on the wrong feet and jacket inside out as he called out for Sam.

Then just as quick as the panic came, relief flooded him when he found Cas in the kitchen trying to make coffee. He turned towards Dean and gave him the smallest of smiles, but it filled Dean with such solace that he just dragged himself to Cas’s space. Dean held his arms open to press Cas into him, and without a second thought, Cas fell right into him as if it was an everyday normal occurrence.

That was the start of Cas now being up and around the bunker. It was like when a baby starts crawling, everyone keeping tabs on the baby’s first steps, except this baby was an eon old celestial being.

The library, Dean’s room, the Dean-cave, and the kitchen were Cas’s favorite places just to sit. He always had Dean’s headphones on, softly playing music, just in case it went quiet, and it took a while for him to be able to walk around without those.

It was the sixth month when Cas wished Dean a goodnight first and then added, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean fought the lump in his throat, but Cas instantly pulled him in, his arms wrapped securely around him. He had so much he wanted to say to Cas just to hear his voice again, anything to listen to his voice again, but instead, he kisses Cas’s chest before saying, “I love you, too.”

Days came and went. Sometimes it seemed like Cas was getting better as he talked a little more, but then those days would come when he would just stare off into the stars on their ceiling. Not moving an inch or bothering to fake breath like he liked. Those days the music was a little louder, and Cas held on to Dean a little tighter.

“I don’t want to go back. Please,” Cas pleaded as he stared wide-eyed at the darkness in the corner of their room. As if he was having a nightmare with his eyes wide open. “Please don’t make me…I-I don’t want to be in the dark again!”

Dean took Cas’s face in between his hands to hold his gaze. Only talking when he knew Cas was seeing him. “It’s okay, Cas. I got you. Nobody’s taking you away from me ever again.”

“Promise?” Dean felt Cas’s grip at his shoulder, holding him with desperation.

“Promise.”

That’s how Cas became human.

The nightmares have him waking up screaming some days, but at least Cas knew he was safe from the Empty’s clutches.

He was going to live his human life being loved and taken care of, and Dean was happy to say he felt Cas was doing the same for him.

#i am reposting this fic i wrote in October cause i didn't realize all my suptober fics are kinda gone #and i really liked this one so here you go #i edited just a little but not a lot so sorry about mistakes if beta's wanna beta with me that would be dope #destiel #wormstachewrites #my writing #fic #deancas #destiel fic #dean saves cas from the empty #selective mutism castiel #cas deal with the trauma of the empty #castiel is scared of the dark #dean #cas

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

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Leave Me Lonely p.2 - The Darkling x Reader

Part 1 is here 😝 also there’s so many song requests and majority are Ariana Grande and I’ve never been a fan of her but omg some of the songs you guys requested are absolutely amazing so I think I kinda like her now

He wasn't waiting at the gates for you nor was he in your shared chambers when you returned, your rugged appearance only alarming to the Healers as Ivan basically carried you through the Little Palace halls. You were blind by the rage bubbling inside of you and numbed by the humiliation seeping deep into your bones.

Not only was it because of the hushed whisper fight back in the camp where he didn't hold back on his jabs or his volume, but now he left you to hang, blatantly ignoring you and prioritizing a girl over his partner in a potentially fatal attack. It was bound to let loose a million and one different rumors, rumors where you suffered the most. No Grisha would dare blame their General, and no matter how much respect they had for you, you were always going to be the scapegoat. It happened before and will happen again, but this time you had a fleeting suspicion he wouldn't defend you.

My heart has had enough, of the give and take

The urge to cry was overwhelming as you shed your clothing and slipped into the scorching bath. Your muscles and bruises ached from the fighting and horseriding but you hurt the most.

Today wasn't the first time you let tears slip out because of Aleksander, in fact, you only ever cry because of him. You loved him so much, yet all that came from your relationship lately was heartache and pain. One good day without a fight equaled days of unrest and tensions. You were exhausted and drained, nothing made you happy anymore. It was as if he was sucking the joy out of your life but simultaneously was the only thing to give you joy.

Danger, how you hold me.

The sweet nothings he whispered into your ear as you fell asleep, the talks of a better future where he spoke of marrying you, even something as small as holding your hand while walking through Palace gardens. It all made you smile and set the memories into the concrete of your mind, holding onto them when times got tough.

But now times were tough, they were at a peak and the good memories were replaced by all the bad ones. You tried to fight them, tried to fight the horrible voice in your head that screamed as loud as it could: Let him go.

The bawling started then and never ceased. The water got cold but you didn't seem to care that you were shaking from the temperature, or were you shaking from the realization you would have to end it with Aleksander? You didn't know. Only when a knock sounded on the door did you momentarily stop.

'Ms.Y/L/N, Should I send in the Healer to finish working on you?' a maid questioned.

'In a minute.' You cringed at your voice, it was raw and croaky from your fit of sobs. You got up and grabbed the black robe, securing it on your body before opening the door and letting the Healer do his job. Usually, the itching would annoy you, but this time you paid it no mind as you reflected on your situation.

He finished working on your leg in a matter of minutes and excused himself just as another maid brought in your dinner. You ate alone in the confines of your bedroom, your hair still wet and donning his robe. There was no energy in you to get dressed or to move to the bed to sleep your tiredness off. You wouldn't until he got here.

You needed to put yourself first, to set your foot down and demand his attention. You wanted to be the old Y/N, the one before Aleksander got to you. She was kind and sweet, a humble orphan, never feared by anyone, and good at her job. You hoped you could be her again, hoped that Aleksander's smooth words wouldn't wind you in again and chop a piece of you away.

The doors finally opened and his boots echoed along the hardwood floors.

'You're back.' He came up to you and kissed the top of your head where your hair was now perfectly dry. Before today you would've thought it was a sweet gesture, an endearing kiss to show his love, but now you saw it for what it was: routine.

He continued further into the room, not noticing your tear-stained face or puffy eyes.

'I brought the Sun-Summoner before the King today, I have his permission to train her, it's as if he thought I cared for his opin-' He paused, eyes finally taking you in. You stared out the window in front of you, the same place you had been looking at for hours. He took note of the scrapes on your hands and bruise on the side of your temple, but what garnered his interest was the look of pure melancholy on your face.

'Y/N?'

'You left me there, left all of us'

'What?' He was taken aback.

'There were four times as many of them as there was us and you left.' Your voice was void of any emotion.

'There was plenty of Grisha with you, Ivan was there. Besides, they would have fled knowing I was there.'

'You're not getting it, I was there.' That's all that should matter to you. 'They didn’t flee. I almost died Aleksander. You told me to give my kefta to her and it almost cost me my life.'

'She's the Sun-Summoner.'

'I don't care.' You spit with venom so strong he flinched but stayed quiet but you continued, letting the ball drop. 'I'm leaving the Little Palace. Station me somewhere around the borders. It's for the best.'

As soon as the words left your lips another wave of pain washed over you. How were you supposed to live without him? My love knows no bounds, and it yearns for a man that doesn't care for me.

'You're leaving me?'

'It's for the best.' You repeated and looked away from him, not being able to stand his poised face and calm composure. He was supposed to be upset, shout and scream for you to stay, but he looked....normal.

‘I’m sure the Second Army could do with a skilled soldier on one of the fronts. I’m no good rotting here in the palace.’

He stayed silent and as the seconds ticked by, it was visible his demeanor was falling apart.

'The best for me or you?' There it was, denial. The slight edge to his voice and the flexing of his hands, perhaps even the glisten to his eye.

'Don't do this, don't turn this around on me Aleksander. I have spent the majority of these last few months crying because of you. I have nobody to turn to, all my friends are scared me, they fear me and it's all your fault.' You wiped the tears as they rolled down your face with the sleeve of his black robe. 'I can't do this anymore.'

'You can't just up and run.' Is he upset about his best soldier leaving or me leaving?

'What else am I to do?'

'You don't have to leave the Palace' He took small steps towards you, the reality of the situation hitting him.

'I do. For if I stay I'll see you around and I'll hurt even more. Please, let me go.' You went back to staring out the window because if you had to look at his devasted face, you would crumble.

He kneeled down beside you and tried to grasp your hands but you pulled away. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see his head drop in defeat. You wanted to reach out, hug him, tell him you're staying, put a stop to his sadness but that voice screamed again: Put yourself first. You're the one who's been hurting to make sure he's okay.

'I'll stay in a spare room from now until I leave'

The chair squeaked as you stood up, but Aleksander stayed put. You went to leave, to put all this behind you and start fresh, bring the old Y/N back, but a whisper pulled you back. With your forehead resting against the cool of the door, you resisted the urge to turn around.

'I love you Y/N.'

'I know, I love you too'

I'd rather you leave me lonely, even though it hurts

You're a dangerous love

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Taglist

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl

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maybankiara · 3 years

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TELL ME, IS IT WORTH IT?

pairing: JJ Maybank x Pope Heyward

summary: Pope proposes, JJ panics, and now he’s trying to explain why he said no (and why he shouldn’t have done it.)

w/c: 3.7k

a/n: angst with a happy ending, ignore all the typos bc this is entirely unedited (i might edit in the future)

masterlist | tag list

read on archive of our own

It’s really unfair that when someone’s life falls apart, the world itself doesn’t. JJ thinks it should. It should be raining knives, hailing bullets, volcanoes should be exploding and the ground shaking shouldn’t be just his personal experience of reality.

But it’s not even a moderately hot day. It’s breezy, it’s perfect, and it’s one of the nicest days of the fucking whole year.

JJ hates it.

The Chateau has only got John B and Kiara under its roof when he barges in, teeth gripping on the cap of a beer bottle. ‘Don’t ask,’ he states, then drops in the empty space between the two on the couch. His legs find their home on the coffee table and he nearly downs the bottle. Burps. Sighs, dramatically.

He knows they’re exchanging glances, but he chooses to ignore it.

Kie’s consoling hand lands on his shoulder. ‘What ha—’

‘Pope asked me to marry him,’ he says, ‘and I said no. And I also said I think it’s never going to happen.’

John B should’ve made a dumb comment. Kie should’ve made a sarcastic remark. But they didn’t, and they won’t, because JJ feels the gravity of the situation weighting down his lungs. (It feels like being torn up inside out, like his heart is chewing on itself out of anger, or sadness, or betrayal. It feels like the moment when your heart skips a beat and you think this is it, this is how I die, except you don’t; except you’re stuck in that moment forever.)

JJ burps. It chips at the silence, but it doesn’t break it. Kie’s hand on his shoulder is frozen and the distance between him and John B seems like an ocean.

‘Yeah,’ says JJ. ‘I don’t think that was what he expected.’

A sigh comes from Kie, but he doesn’t look. ‘When was this?’

‘About twenty minutes ago. I drove straight here.’

‘Drunk?’ asks John B.

‘Does it matter? I’m here now. Safe and sound.’ He lets out a dry chuckle before he can stop himself, and shakes his head. ‘Physically, anyway.’

‘You’re not drunk,’ says Kie. It sounds a little like a scoff, so JJ looks at her, but he can’t figure out what her face is saying. Tight lips scream anger, but her eyes are soft as ever, maybe a little concerned. She glances between him and John B with one of her eyebrows slightly raised. ‘He’s a heartbroken idiot, but not drunk.’

‘Ah. Understandable. Should I—’

‘You know what being a heartbroken idiot means.’ Kie pushes herself off the couch and when JJ glances at his other friend, John B’s just as confused as he is. ‘I know a thing or two about getting your heart broken for a dumb reason. You two sort that out, and I’ll make sure Pope’s okay. Let me know when you’ve knocked some sense into him.’

Before either of the boys manage to comprehend her words, she’s out the door. The Kie-shaped void on JJ’s left side feels a little odd, so he pushes himself into that side of the couch. The beer is bitter at the back of his throat; he wishes some music would be playing.

John B calls his name, so JJ looks at him. He’s giving him the puppy eyes, trying to get him to talk, and it’s because neither of them really know how to start. (Their affection is physical, not verbal. Kie’s the one who’s good at that. Pope is—)

‘Did you panic?’ asks John B.

JJ shakes his head. ‘Don’t think so. Not until after I’ve said it, anyway.’

‘So what happened?’

There’s a pause, JJ feels his brow furrow, and then: ‘I don’t know.’

‘…you don’t know?’

‘No.’

‘So you panicked.’

‘No, I didn’t, it’s—’ With a sigh, JJ accepts the momentary defeat. He glances over and sees John B’s signature stare full of indecipherable intent, but nothing less than pure kindness. They’ve had their bumps, but they always came out on top. It’s the pogue way. Even if John B wears that stupid bandanna around his neck well into his married life of his late twenties. ‘I knew the answer was no.’

It’s John B’s turn to frown. ‘You’ve thought about it?’

‘No, I just knew. Like you know the ocean is salty.’

‘You know that because you’ve tasted it before,’ counters John B. ‘I doubt you’ve been proposed to before.’

‘I could’ve been!’

All John B offers is a long stare yet that is enough. He’s older by only a few months, but he’s also married and didn’t say no to the proposal (granted, it was him proposing to Sarah, but still) and kind of has got his life together. He’s still JJ’s dumb older brother, but he knows something JJ doesn’t.

‘How did you know you wanted to marry Sarah?’

‘Are you reconsidering your answer?’

‘No, I just—’ JJ sighs again and tries to wish another bottle into appearing in his hand. Doesn’t work. Probably for the better. He just leans his head back on the couch and stares at the ceiling, connecting the dots in his mind. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want you to tell me how you knew.’

He hears shuffling, and then feels John B’s feet in his lap. (He’s not going to comment on the boat shoes. There’s been enough deflecting. He’s got to listen, because Pope is threatening to burst into the forefront of his mind any second now.)

John B gives out the deep, heavy sigh that only comes with a slight aah whenever he’s about to tell a story. ‘When we were young, she made everything come alive. Everything looked brighter and clearer, and it was like I could finally breathe with the entirety of my lungs.’

JJ closes his eyes, trying not to gag. ‘Bro. I’m not listening to that.’

‘But that’s how I knew!’ He could just hear the grouch in his friend’s voice and now he’s threading the fine line between laughing and gagging. ‘Seriously, JJ, you asked. I don’t— I don’t know what to say. I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough.’

‘I am.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re deflecting.’

‘Big word.’

‘See?’ John B scrunches his nose, shaking his head. His thumb and index finger grip the bridge of his nose. ‘I know you’re confused. And scared. I know you panicked when Pope asked, but I don’t think you understand how horrible is the thing you’ve done.’

‘It’s not like I broke his heart,’ scoffs JJ, but the words are flat and his heart skips another beat. He doesn’t need to look at John B to knows he’s got his head in his hands. ‘C’mon, it’s Pope. He’s tougher than he looks.’

‘Yes, but he proposed, JJ. He asked to spend the rest of his life with you and you said no!’

‘I didn’t say no to that!’ JJ flings himself off the couch and now he’s pacing around the living room of the Chateau, marching circles around the coffee table. His forehead is pulsating; he’s probably having a heart attack. That’d explain a lot. ‘I said no to getting married.’

‘That’s the same thing.’

‘It isn’t.’

‘It is.’

‘It really isn’t, John B,’ he spits out. Christ, he’s getting hot. Is that his blood boiling? ‘Marriage is… It’s taxes. It’s prenups. It’s joint bank accounts, it’s added tension, it’s fucked up. Half of the marriages don’t even last.’

(Pope’s always talked about getting married. When gay marriage was legalised, before they were together, before they were out of the closet, even then he was openly delighted about it. He’s been talking about the two of them getting married for a while now, or at least hinting at it.

He should’ve expected it. It didn’t come out of the blue. He saw the signs, just ignored them, because… because…)

‘If you’re scared marriage is going to ruin your relationship, JJ, I’ll have you know you’ve already done that yourself.’

This is about the point where everything just… It comes crashing down. The world does end the way JJ wanted it to.

He feels himself growing very, very still, like when he was younger and his father raised a hand. He feels his breath halting in his throat and ears tuning out all sound, repeating John B’s words over and over until the echo became the echo of itself. He could feel the ground opening beneath him despite not moving an inch.

When gravity drags you down to earth, your rose-tinted glasses shatter like porcelain.

He sees Pope’s face of shock, then laughter, then embarrassment and betrayal at once, once he’s realised JJ isn’t joking. He sees him get up from his knees, hands shaking as JJ fumbles over his words, unable to find an explanation or an excuse. He feels cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, blood turning to ice in his hands. He sees his mum leaving, his dad’s hand raised; he sees people arguing and JJ wants to cover his ears. He sees himself, alone, alone, alone.

And he sees Pope turning his back to him. Quietly. He doesn’t even argue back. Just takes the no and i’m sorry, i can’t do this, it’s never going to happen, not like this and doesn’t say a word. Just walks away.

It’d be easier if he screamed at JJ. At least he’d know how to deal with that.

Pope’s heartbreak is the quiet kind, the one that doesn’t ask for attention, just the opposite. Usually JJ’s there to hold his hand, to sit by his side until Pope’s ready to talk about it, or be somewhere around, far enough so that Pope deals with things himself, but close enough so that he’s there if he’s needed. He’s never been the reason for the quiet.

Fire replaces the ice. JJ feels like the sun itself is tearing him open.

‘Shit,’ he says. ‘Fuck.’ Then raises his eyes until he meets John B’s, blurry and barely visible. ‘I fucked up.’

He doesn’t realise he’s shaking until his knees buckle under his weight and he stumbles to find his footing. John B shoots from the couch and pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms around him so tight JJ couldn’t have escaped if he wanted to. He didn’t. He wanted to be held, even if by a friend.

He doesn’t sob because the sob gets caught in his throat, too, but he lets out a cough that says all the same. ‘It would’ve been easier if you yelled at me.’

‘I know.’ John B pats his back, letting JJ rest his weight unto him. ‘Pope will understand. That’s why Kie went to talk to him. As long as you realise you’re hurting everyone by being an idiot, you can make it better.’

‘I thought—’ He stops, because his words get fumbled again, and now he’s pressing his eyes into his friend’s shoulder like he’s all he’s got. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone again.’

‘You’re not going to, okay? Just… Marriage is not all taxes, and you gotta understand that. It’s about knowing that if they get hurt, you’ll be allowed to see them. That you can get a house together, that you can look after each other if something goes wrong. That what you have is there to stay. Think of it as a promise.’

JJ snorts, but he doesn’t let go. ‘I don’t do well with people promising things to me.’

‘Then promise it to yourself,’ counters John B. The way he puts it makes it sound it’s as easy as breathing – JJ wishes he could feel the same. ‘Promise to stay with him. Promise to be around if something bad happens, but if something good happens, too. That’s what marriage is.’

‘I already promised that,’ he says. ‘His future and mine are the same.’

‘Then what’s the problem? Marriage is just making it legal. Making it formal. When what you have is honest and true, it doesn’t change anything. It just makes things better.’

JJ pulls out, feeling confident he can stand on his own two feet. He still feels a little lightheaded, but the thought of Pope possibly thinking that spending the rest of their lives together is the last thing JJ would want… That is the last thing JJ would want. Pope hurting because of him.

JJ can’t afford to be scared anymore; living a life half-way ready to run is not living.

He checks his phone; it must’ve chimed at some point because there’s texts from Kie, telling him where she is with Pope. His heart skips another beat, and at this point he thinks he could have enough heartbeats for a whole new person just from the ones he missed.

He’s not dying today. He’s not dying before he gets to live the future he’s almost ripped out of his own hands.

When he looks up at John B, he feels the hint of a weary smile on his lips. ‘I think I’ve got a promise to make.’

—

It shouldn’t be a surprise JJ finds them at the Boneyard, yet it’s still quite odd to see the scenario he’s seen a million times – Kie sitting next to the sea with her feet dipped into water as her fingers splash at the waves just about reaching her, and Pope… Pope sitting on the half-dunked log that’s been here forever, with his feet bare but not quite touching the water. His head is hung low and JJ can see the strain in his shoulders even from halfway across the beach; the cap is sitting on his lap, unused, despite the sun high above their heads.

The sight tugs at his heart and he falters in his step, but John B’s firm hand on his back encourages him forward. JJ gives a slight nod; he’s not giving up on the courage.

It’s Pope who notices them first and he stiffens even more; JJ sees Kie pat his knee before turning around and waving at them, then saying something to Pope. JJ wishes the wind would carry her words to him – is it encouragement or telling Pope he’s better off without someone who panics and refuses the one thing they’ve always longed for?

‘Don’t.’ John B pats him on the back. ‘I see you doing your dumb thought thing.’

JJ opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it was that he meant to say, it’s gone forever. All he can do is try and keep his shoulders from slumping and hands from forming fists; he can’t allow himself to be angry at the world, or himself.

The sand creaks underneath his feet. He hates it in this moment, because it makes him aware of every step he’s got to take to get to Pope, and the steps drag into eternity.

Pope locks their eyes. JJ tries figuring him out, but he’s too far, and Pope’s too guarded.

(Not against me, Pope. Please. Not against me.)

When they get there, JJ feels like fainting, but he sets his foot firmly on the ground. He’s not escaping.

‘Hey,’ greets Kie, and John B returns the greeting. The feuded lovers stay silent, just taking each other in.

(JJ always wished he could paint. The lines of Pope’s face are shaped as if they were meant to withstand centuries instead of being washed away with age. He wishes he could offer to Pope more than just… himself.

He’s talked about this with Pope before, though. Feeling inferior to his boyfriend was always going to be JJ’s Achilles’ heel, yet he didn’t think it would come to this. He made another promise, ages ago – to try to see himself the way Pope sees him. The way other people see him.

To believe in himself the way he believes in other people, for once.)

The silence is heavy, but JJ forces himself to not see it that way. Instead, he looks over to Kie, to John B, and says: ‘Can you guys give us a second?’

There’s nods and then they’re off, with nothing between the couple aside from waves crashing into the shore. Pope’s head is hung and shoulders slumped, and he’s sitting on this log with one foot pulled up and resting on it, the other hanging in the water now. JJ’s fingers ache to reach across for his, but he tells himself it’s not the time.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Marriage scares me. I don’t know one that worked out, aside from John B and Sarah. I was raised to be on my own. Marriage means not being alone and that scared me, until I realised that… I haven’t been alone for a while now. The pogues, you… Nobody’s going anywhere. And if marriage is just a way to promise to you that I’m not going anywhere, either, and if it means so much to you, then I say let’s do it. I got scared, but never for a second did a life without you cross my mind. It’s — That’s my nightmare, Pope. Your future and mine are the same. Where you go, I follow. That’s the way things are.’

For a long time, it was JJ trying to come to terms with loving Pope – then it was Pope coming to terms with loving JJ. They’ve always loved each other, in a way, without quite saying it. It has never been the kind of love that is shouted from the rooftops – it’s the helping hand, the whispers of i got this, or you’re not alone in this, or i wish you could see yourself the way i see you. It’s the kind of love that’s etched into the air around them, existing as a part of themselves rather than something external. They’ve grown into it, shaped their lives around it.

It’s always been the beach for them. Their first kiss when they were seventeen, their first fight, their first promise to stick together through thick and thin. Every time something happened, something that mattered, etched itself into the back of JJ’s mind like the sound of his mother’s voice, it was always accompanied by the sound of waves on the shore; by the wind howling over the bay. It was always people chatting in the distance, or some music playing from a half-working speaker. It was always them, in the midst of other people’s lives.

Pope proposed in their flat.

When JJ drops to his knees, he doesn’t do his dumb thought thing. He doesn’t even think about it – for once, his gut isn’t telling him to run, but stay. ‘Pope Heyward.’

‘JJ—’

‘Can you let me do this?’ asks JJ. He laughs a little, shakes his head, and tries not to think about how ridiculous this looks. ‘I know I already had a monologue, but I don’t think I got my point across.’

Pope shakes his head, too; he isn’t smiling, but his eyes aren’t as strained anymore. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to—’

‘I want to. I want this, okay? I want you to hear it.’

He can see Pope’s Adam’s apple bob, and he can see his shoulders slump in a relaxed way. The lines around his eyes soften and his lips nearly turn upwards, just a little bit. A little twitch is enough to shoot electricity to JJ’s heart.

‘Pope, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life saying it to you. You’re my best friend, my boyfriend, and my fiancee, if you’ll have me after the shit I pulled today. Husband, then. Father of your children, because I know it’s what you’ve always wanted, and I want it, too. Whatever you’ll be, I’ll be by your side. It’s all I want. No matter what our status is, we’re always Pope and JJ. We’re always just us. And I really haven’t thought out what I’d say next because—’

Pope’s lips crash into JJ’s, his hands grasping at JJ’s face, and world pulls itself together again. When they part their foreheads lean against one another, and he can feel Pope’s breath on his lips, and he feels his hands burning on the small of Pope’s back, and he can breathe and breathe and breathe like his lungs have never worked properly before.

(He understands John B now. Not like he’d ever admit it to him.)

He lets out a chuckle, and then he’s kissing Pope again – a small, chaste kiss, just to feel the softness of the touch. His fingers grip the back of Pope’s flannel and he’s laughing into the kiss.

‘You’re an idiot,’ says Pope. ‘I should break up with you.’

‘Can’t. I’m too irresistible.’

‘Shut up. You’re cheesy. That entire speech would put John B to shame.’

JJ shakes his head again and then his thumb is tracing the line of Pope’s jaw, eyes transfixed by his lips. He almost lost this. He almost gave up everything out of fear after promising to never doing it again. (He’s making a vow, this time. It holds more weight.) ‘You loved that speech.’

Pope rolls his eyes, in the way that tells JJ he’s right. ‘Kie told me you were freaking out at the Chateau.’

‘I was,’ admits JJ. What’s the point of holding back the truth? ‘I was freaked out of my mind. I thought I’d ruined everything.’

‘You forget how well I know you, JJ. I was hurt, but I knew you would come back. Old you would run, but Kie came and said you’re at the Chateau, and you wouldn’t have gone there if you meant to run.’

‘I couldn’t ever run from you.’

‘You better.’

JJ rolls his eyes at the teasing tone in Pope’s voice, then pulls him in for a hug. It’s not long until Pope buries his face in JJ’s shoulder, and JJ kisses the side of his head. ‘I do want to marry you, if you’ll have me.’

There’s a pause and JJ feels Pope chuckle against his neck, shivering a little. ‘What is it that you said? My future and yours are the same? That better be in your vows, John B.’

‘Shut up.’ JJ feels himself burning, neck up this time, and tries to laugh it off. ‘I get to be cheesy once.’

‘Just save it for the wedding. I’d like to hear it again.’

JJ angles his body so there’s some space between them; he doesn’t hesitate before planting another kiss on Pope’s lips, reveling in the ease of movement. This is what coming home feels like, and if this is what future has in store for him, who is he to complain?

#outer banks #obx #mayward #jjpope #mayward fic #jjpope fic #jj maybank #pope heyward #my fic #god a part of me adores this and another part hates it #if i don't post it in the first draft version i'll never post it #obx fic

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jadelynlace · 3 years

Text

something of madness for the widow / Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x Reader], prologue

synopsis: You are brave. You are cunning. You are brutal. You are restless. And you are hunting them.

author’s note: refer to this post, your honor, when I go insane and finally snap because I have too many things in progress. details at the end of the post to clear up any confusion. please note that Ivar’s canon brittle bones do not exist in this universe. I have other pain to make up for it. I mean, what?

content warnings: mentions of mafia-style business, weaponry use & references, language, drug use & reference, sexual / adult themes.

✎

“How about a favor, for an old friend?”

“I am neither old, or your friend, Ragnar. The answer is no,”

“I have intel on the Galvanic Couple,”

“Does Aslaug still like sweet wine with her dinner?”

“The sky is still blue, dear,”

The pale beauty on the other side of the door had a face that dug into your heart. Blue silk for eyes that hardened like a metal cross with a growl hinted in his speech at his confusion for your sudden arrival. Ragnar promised himself once more that he had “forgotten” the silent promise that he was not to contact you. Certain unanswerable questions had spent too much time forming in his mind, questions you wanted answered just as quickly. But this man with chestnut locks of pulled back hair knew nothing of the hidden crudeness you had sailed upon.

Your lover turned up dead, lone bullet casing and hair mangled with blood and regrets. Copper polished steel with the whispers of a fake apology for the loss of your husband. But the couple never killed with their own hands; they covered his head with screams and terror and gave him one simple solution to their torture; and you were holding it between your fingers. It was the only reason you are determined to destroy their project, one beautiful blood bath at a time.

“Allow my condolences, once more. Your husband was a good man,” Ragnar started.

“Save it,” You spit quickly. “You have intel, and I want to hear it, we’re not here to shoot the breeze and catch up Ragnar,” Ragnar offered an annoyed sigh, setting his glass down against stained wood grain. A mahogany desk top that you knew was built by the same hands who had supplied some of the best weaponry you had used to date.

“I have intel, yes.” Ragnar spoke, leveling eyes with yours as you took the moment to drown the remains of the amber liquid from your glass. A sting down into your throat. “Quid pro-quo, dear. I’ll tell you something if you tell me,”

“I’m still waiting,” You argue, straightening up your frame as you level a stare against his.

“Can you move ice?”

“Is that a fucking joke? You know I can move ice—is business that bad for you Ragnar?” You ask but the snicker behind you calls for you immediate attention.

“Have you met my youngest?” Ragnar says, hand outstretched to his son as he comes through into the locked vicinity of spoken crime. The other man offered you a look, one silent nod in approval—or appreciation, you negated to really care which. “Listen, you work with me for these next few months, and you will get that intel,” He sings, the music floating into your ears as the thought turns over through your head, rolling around the musical notes and the lyrics to his speech. It blindsides you, loudness covering your common sense but in the moment you’re too lost, but too caught up to really care. You want to stamp your signature on the death certificate of that company if it took your own life in the process. Not through one loud bang, or one swish of a blade, but rather one scream at a time. “What do you say?” Ragnar asks, knuckles mingling together as he he folds his hands against his desk.

“You cover it all—every expense,” And you know with your barter you have this man locked back around your finger.

“Let me introduce you to your team,” Ragnar says as he stands. His kingdom is a large mansion, labyrinth of halls and twists and turns of marble, gold and well earned, well spent money. There are words he’s speaking to you, stories of golf games and coastal vacations that you couldn’t give less care about if you harbored every angry cell in your entire body. Blue eyes are trailing on your back as if they each hold the red glow of a scope, ready to fire by one small clench of his jaw. His steps ebb and flow, closer to you and then slip back a few feet, silently sizing you up from where you stalk in front of him.

“Excuse me,” You say suddenly at the halt of your feet. “I am trying my best to be polite, but if you move any closer to me, I will tear you apart,” comes your speech through crimson stained lips while those azure orbs take to watching you. Void of all emotion, eyes that look as dead as the stars in the sky take to haunting your own vision as he remains silent. You nod once for his unspoken understanding, still in your same spot as the two of you make no hurry to move in either regard.

“Save the pissing match,” Ragnar calls from the end of the hallway. “You two won’t be able to kill one another,” But those words do peak a sort of petty interest in your mind, this mute solider behind you that seems to be of such a prize to his father. You longed to see him in the field, ruthlessness pouring from each pore like sweat would, pulling men apart and yelling in victory through an estranged war cry. Something about how he towered above you, build sturdy like stone and expressionless, sparked your mind back to your late husband. You wondered if these blue eyes ever melted into a smile. Or if every emotion was boxed away out of spite. He waited for you to lead, resuming the steps and catching up to where Ragnar had stopped: double doors to a room already loud with the sounds of recreation. “My boys like to relax in here, before they return to the real world,” Ragnar says, opening the door. He flicks the lights several times, like a professor trying to wrangle a classroom of unruly, immature students, and each face, all eyes, snap to where you stand with their father. Ragnar takes to stalking into the room, peering around what these men have been up to in their cooling down. “Iron,” Ragnar starts, tapping the shoulder of his eldest son, “Titanium,” He then said, tapping his second born, “Gold, and Mercury,” He spoke, a hand on each of the next two boys. “And that is your partner, Lithium,” And his hand was outstretched back to that man who wore a glare better than you did, cold blue eyes that looked no different. And you knew right then, being at the center of this man’s attention was a very dangerous place to be. “This, boys, is Polonuim,”

✎

undercover name references for anyone who is not a science nerd, like me, eldest to youngest in this AU:

Fe (Iron): Bjorn, based on the ironside nickname

Ti (Titanium): Ubbe, low density & high strength

Au (Gold): Sigurd, least reactive

Hg (Mercury): Hvitserk, silent killer

Li (Lithium): Ivar, highly reactive

Po (polonium): Reader, 250-thousand times more toxic than cyanide

Galvanic Couple: in a galvanic couple, the more active metal (the anode) corrodes at an accelerated rate and the more noble metal (the cathode) corrodes at a slower rate. the anode: a human’s body. the cathode: a human’s mind.

Tagged:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @leilabeaux @writings-of-a-fool @builtlikeanokia

(also tagging anyone who commented/liked on that post)

*please message me to be added or removed from the tag list. specifications for series are welcomed, as well as feedback!*

full & current masterlist can be found here.

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justananxiousauthor · 4 years

Text

DestructiveDeath Oneshot

Soooooo, I made this a few months ago.... and never posted it... then shared with my friend... now I gotta post it.... soooo here ya go. @nozapuns Here ya go....

I found myself trembling as Reaper disappeared, my voice still caught in my throat, my throat dry. He didn’t understand, he didn’t understand a thing I’d been through. I’d watched everyone I loved die by the hands of some kid. No, not some kid, Chara. The name made me grit my teeth, I hated that small child with every fiber in my being, and every drop of magic in my soul. They’d taken everything I cared about, everything but Reaper, I guess I took them away from myself. He didn’t understand how much I loathed myself for what had happened, and it wasn’t like I could talk to anyone else in my plain white hell. I’d spend days, months, years maybe, waiting for him to return so we could spend a short time together before he vanished again. I was done living like this, I’d rather return to my timeline and be dusted than spend another moment here, and reaper hated that. I sat on the ground in my lonely silence as time passed by. He’d say he’d be back soon, but here?

Soon could be never.

And never could be soon.

Time passed…….

I don’t even know how long

I could only judge by the exhaustion I felt, so I counted the days by my sleep.

10 cycles passed and I was still alone.

20 passed and nothing…..

50…

100…

Invisible aches filled me, and I don’t even know what happened next. Anger filled me, rage that I couldn’t even understand. I just didn’t understand…..

150…

200…

300…

500…….

5,000………………….

Everything blurred together, the loneliness crushing. Tears burned my skull like fire branding my bones. Then something changed, a new power coursed through my soul as the tears dried to once porcelain white face of mine leaving streaks of light blue. I gasped as I felt the void pulling at my body, glitching it even more than the day I had come here. What was once white turned black, my sockets red eyes yellow, and fingers red and yellow. What was happening?!

I woke up somewhere new, or maybe it was the same place as before, but it felt…..

Different.

I could feel the energy that was hidden in the white space, and it was almost like I could...

Open it.

Out stretching my hand I took in a sharp breath, a window opening for me to look out into the world.

Not a window, a door for me to finally escape my endless prison.

Freedom….

5,001…...

Day 11,397 without Reaper.

A day well done as the Destroyer of AU’s, a title I held dear, bringing all other abominations to their knees. I enjoyed my work, which made it easy to keep others from suffering like how I did. However, I found it impossible to destroy a classic timeline, something I was from, maybe it just pained me too much to see my brother cry… but if a single Sans attempted to become Geno and stray from their code, they would be annihilated. I found myself in a void, not one of my own, one created by a new Geno. The new code felt sickly to me, this idiot had no idea what he was doing, but I could fix that. By the end of the fight, if you could even call it that, his dust laid at my feet, a hollow pain echoing in my soul, but before I could destroy the timeline….

A voice from the past came echoing back.

“Geno, I’m here to visit!” Reaper’s voice echoed through the void. My body stiffened at the sound, so this is what he had been doing? Got in a fight with me so he just found a replacement? A new geno, someone with the same face, personality, a clean slate…

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“What- Error!” Reaper growled, and by the time I turned to see him, he had his scythe ready to fight. So quick to jump to attack the one he claimed to love, not that I was that person anymore, Geno died a long long time ago.

“Long time no see Reaper,” I said, I doubt he remembered, I probably wasn’t even the first Geno he played with. I pressed my fingers to my face for a moment before pulling the brightly colored yarn away from my blackened cheekbones, “Do you wanna play too?” I asked, the pain numbing.

“You killed him,” He began staring at the dust that greyed my feet. He charged, probably mad I broke his new toy, so I dodged.

“What? Miss him already? Oh please Reaper, I know this isn’t the first Geno you’ve played with. Just another toy broken in your miserable toy box right?”

“You know NOTHING!!” He yelled while swinging his scythe at me, his rage would be his downfall in this fight.

I was right, the fight ended quickly as Reaper made a mistake and ended up caught in my lines, hands tangled above his head.

“I know nothing?” I asked leaning in, holding the ends of the yarn that tangled him up oh so beautifully. “Is that true? Do I really know nothing? I mean you’ve been Geno hopping for as long as I can remember, their sad faces crying out for you, yet you never come. You never save them, you never saved him.”

“Him?” He asked, he looked so deliciously defeated, like I had destroyed something he actually cared for.

“Geno? All of them, everyone I have ever destroyed.”

“Did you?” He began.

“Of course I did, they all became dust at my feet. Which is really a shame, dust is so hard to wash out.”

“Did you kill a Geno, 11,000 days ago?” He asked, wow, color me impressed, he remembered.

“What’s so important about that Geno in particular? He’s just another abomination snuffed out.”

“He was my Geno, now tell me, did you kill him, 11,000 days ago?” He asked again, his Geno? Me? He was lying, trying to get under my skin. If I had any.

“Yes, I killed Geno, and I watched him scream, I watched him slowly become insane, from loneliness, from guilt, from pain. 11,000 days alone, and I watched, and then, when I became bored with watching his insanity, I killed him.” I said expressionlessly. Reaper’s eyes went dark. “I mean, did you really care about him, you left him alone for so long!” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I cared,” He whispered.

“Excuse me?” I said dryly.

“I cared more than I have ever cared about anyone.” Reaper continued.

“You cared about some random Geno that you ran away from?” I couldn’t help but ask as I leaned forwards to look into his deep dead eyes. “You left him alone, to go insane.” I said simply, “you two get in a fight over something that was killing him inside and you left him.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Reaper snapped looking up at me, “I couldn’t get back in! I couldn’t open a portal or anything to his void! I tried to go back to apologize but I couldn’t!” He said now tears began to fall.

“You tried?” I said dryly, “you tried?” I began to laugh, “well obviously Reaper, you didn’t try hard enough!” Now I was yelling, the same painful rage as the day I left filled me. “You left me there alone to suffer for years on end! 15 years of isolation 15 YEARS of being alone and you…. YOU…!” I yanked on the yarn to pull him upright into, what looked like, a rather uncomfortable position. “You tried,” I growled, my anger, my frustration….

“You?” The light returned to his eye as he looked at me.

“Me?” I asked, “What about me? You left Geno alone!” I snapped.

“No, you said I left you alone, Error…” he paused.

“Hah! No, I didn’t,” The anger was quickly replaced with stomach-turning anxiety.

“Error where did you come from?” Reaper asked while looking my body over. “How were you made?” I wanted to hide, remove his wandering eye lights from me.

“That’s a little personal don’t you think?” I asked, feeling sick.

“You’re the one that started monologuing and slipped up. Now tell me, Error, where did you come from.” The look he gave me made me feel like I hadn’t felt in over 30 years. I grabbed my chest with my free hand and looked down.

“It really isn’t any of your business,” I stated.

“I really think it is Geno,” his words made the yarn slip from my hands, releasing him and dropping the other skeleton to the ground. It took him a moment to recover but he stood. “Now, tell me what happened.” He could see right through me, see right through the lies, through this character I had made.

“Don’t call me that,” I said simply, arms dropping to my sides.

“Alright, Error,” He got up and came to me, hands sliding down my arms before taking my hands in his. His touch, though it did make me flinch, it also made me feel like that love-struck puppy I once was. It wasn’t as scary. “Tell me what happened.” I found myself unable to stop once I started, telling him my new life story, the pain, the tears, everything. Damp dark yarn ran down from his empty socks, sticking to my cheeks as he listened to me, one hand gently brushing over my cheekbone as he hushed me, I pushed him back.

“Reaper,” I said my voice cracking from the pain, “I can’t.” my voice broke my own tears falling. “I couldn’t do it anymore,” he hushed me more silently as he pulled me into his arms, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other rubbing circles into my shoulder. I could more glitches coat me but… he was okay... “The loneliness was crushing.”

“It's okay, I am so sorry I left you like that, I tried to go back and apologize, I promise, I’ll be right next to you the whole way, I promise I won’t leave you again,” I swore into my ear.

“But Reaper,” I started with voice trembling, “What am I going to do?” I asked, “I’m no longer the person you love.”

“Error no,” He said pulling back and resting a hand on my cheek, “No no my love, it doesn’t matter who you are, Sans, Geno, Error, I don’t care. I know who I love, and that’s you.” His words made me melt into him, returning into his arms as the tears fell heavier. I just wanted to stay there, in his grip as he protected me from the pain I had felt for all these years without him. He hushed me as I sobbed, the crushing loneliness finally lifting off my shoulders as I just melted into the man I loved’s arms. His hands gently ran over me as he tried to comfort me, trying to hide his own tears. “I am so sorry my love, I love you more than the worlds themselves.”

Day 1 with Reaper again.

#destructivedeath #errorreaper #reapererror #reaperXerror #errorXreaper #undertaleau #fanfic #undertale fanfic #undertale oneshot #Oneshot #yes i know error is not how he is in canon but I love him so shush!#for noza because they just haaaaad to credit me #XP damn you noza #love ya noza #here ya go

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anotherbeingsworld · 3 years

Text

Rainy Days

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Casey Valentine)

Rating: G/Fluffy goodness.

Summary: Bryce and Casey spend their weekend with a new idea.

A/N: Hellooooo, I am finally back on writing!! (In one way or another lol) , after a month of not writing - I present a short drabble due to Bryce's absence and I apologize beforehand if there is any grammar error since English is not my first language! I have some fics which are in progress, hopefully, I can post more since I am on holiday and I manage to finish the semester in one piece! A huge thanks to @ambrosykim for listening to my rambles 😌😌 Enjoy! 💖

//Tags below the cut!

MASTERLIST

The rain started to fall for the fifth time of the week as the sound of it gave a soothing feeling to her as she took a seat on the couch of Bryce’s apartment that day. Casey decided on staying for the weekend as they haven’t gotten to grace each other’s presence due to their workload at the hospital. Bryce was busy due to an outstanding number of surgeries while Casey was occupied with more cases from the diagnostics team.

They initially decided on a weekend filled with adventures but, a day inside sounds perfect. Good movies and good company are always worth it, yet Casey found herself much more interested in the raindrops, than the movie itself.

“Casey!” He suddenly surprises her, making her let out a scream before jokingly punch him with her elbow.

“Bryce, I’m not into surprises like that!”

He lets out a satisfied happily, as he took a seat beside her.

“I know – it’s just very fun to irk you there. Plus, you were so focused on the rain there, what’s on your mind there?”

Her eyes seem to focus on the balcony once more, before tilting her head to face him. A smile appears on her face.

“I’m just thinking about work stuff, the hospital, Suzette, and just it feels like a mess sometimes in my head but it’s good to take a break for once.” She stated as both of them resume on their activity of rain-watching as he turns the movie off. They sat in silence before she perks up another question as they are in each other’s embrace.

“How have you been Bryce?”

“I am quite okay, and still in one piece which is a win for both of us! All the surgeries were packed but it has been fulfilling despite the sleep deprivation from being on duty for too long.”

She lets out a chuckle as the silence commences once more before an idea appears in her head. She immediately stood up from his embrace, as she took out the rain jackets from his storage room.

“I got an idea.” She exclaims happily before tossing the rain jackets his way, as they exit the apartment.

Casey founds herself smiling as they walked down the flight of stairs in their rain jackets as both of them stood upon the sidewalk of the apartment, a few inches away before exposing themselves to the rain.

“So, care to explain?” A laugh escapes his lips while Casey is gesturing the rainy sidewalk in front of them.

“We are going to have fun, and not think about work right now. It’s more directed towards me, but let’s show the people how to have fun even in the rain!”

“It's time for Party God Bryce Lahela to appear once more despite the chance of both of us getting hyperthermia” He summons as they both prepare themselves for some unexpected fun.

“We are wearing rain jackets, Bryce! In a count of three, let’s do this.” Both of them held each other’s hands, as they commence the countdown.

3…

2…

1…

A big splash was heard, as they started to dance and finally having some fun in the rain. She wished she could capture this moment, yet there were some moments that better be enjoyed without any interruptions as it should.

There were weird looks given by the people across the road, as there were kids who were looking at them with bright eyes. Yet, they didn’t care – it was them against the rain and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“This is a great idea Cas.” He stated as they sat upon the stairs outside of the apartment, accompanied by the drizzles of the rain itself.

She lays her head on his shoulder,

“It’s worth the hyperthermia then?” She jokes as he nods happily.

“But, speaking of hyperthermia – let's get ourselves dry before it gets much worst.” She nodded in agreement, as they walked back inside.

After they were both finally dried off, they decided to order some take-out for the night. She loved his cooking as he has been practicing since the year before – but, an excuse for a chipotle takeout is always acceptable.

The rain was seen still pouring as the stars above appear, both of them enjoying each other’s company. It was his turn to stare at the balcony, where the rain is falling heavily.

“I get it now – why there are times where the world around you disappears every time it rains.” He begins as Casey prepares the takeout on the table.

“And?”

“It gave you that sense of calmness. And, when we were dancing or playing – it feels like entering a world where there was freedom from all the responsibilities in the world… and I liked it.” His reply causing a wide smile to appear on her face, somehow the smile he knows all too well as there was a hidden agenda behind the mischievous idea behind the smile as well; we will never know.

“Maybe sometimes we can do it again?” She suggests as he nods in agreement upon the idea as she ends up running towards his arms filled with enthusiasm upon their future dates. He caught her just in time, as they stayed upon each other’s arms filling the void of their missing moments together – as the rain become the soundtrack of their little moments together both in and outside of the hospital.

THE END.

Tags: @bitchloveskcbaseball , @mvalentine , @storyofmychoices , @princess-geek , @lahellacute , @annekebbphotography , @mrsbhandari , @dcbbw , @choicessa , @fantasyoverreality98 , @baltersome , @ofpixelsandscribbles , @thundergom @starrystarrytrouble , @kelseaaa , @choicesficwriterscreations , @lalizah , @drethanramslay , @eleanorbloom , @openheartfanfics , @brycesgirl , @freckles-spangledvampire , @agentnolastname , @robintora , @adriansbiss (comment if you want to be tagged or removed 💜💜)

#playchoices #open heart #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #anotherbeingsworldwrites #alya writes #open heart third year

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

Text

Billy Hargrove’s Exploration of Beauty

Part 6: Split Ends

also on ao3

***

It all happened so fast. Like he blinked his eyes and he went from behind an ice cream counter to a hundred feet below ground level. Tied up to a chair in front of his coworker who he had barely even known. Who he was beginning to like. And despite being told after the fact that whole days had passed, his little vacation didn’t feel so long. Having been blacked out and drugged out of his mind for the most of it. It was quick to be over with. Could have almost have been excused as a fever dream.

The events following his escape went by fast too. Coming up to the main floor only to find out that they might have just been safer underground. Hearing news of the mind flayer being back just went in one ear out the other.

Finding out Billy was among the flayed. That stuck. But he hid the fear. Suppressed it. Because they didn’t have the time to dwell on that.

Driving up to Cerebro felt quick. Considering he drove like a bat out of hell, that wasn’t that hard to believe.

Slamming into the side of the Camaro. He had his eyes closed for that one. But it went by fast. It had to. “It’s not Billy” he had chanted in his mind.

Everything was quickly paced. Moving from one thing to another swiftly. Nothing felt like it had dragged on.

Until he was up on that balcony.

And he watched as the mindflayer skewered his boyfriend through the chest. It was all slow motion. Felt like watching a movie that would never end. Watching as it went in and out. Tearing flesh and breaking bone. Collapsing to the floor with a loud thud that echoed throughout the mall. Lying there motionless. Bleeding out onto the disgusting mall tile. Dying. He was dying.

He’d later hear from Robin that when he was up on that balcony she had to hold him back from jumping over the ledge. Kicking and screaming. “I have to get to him!”

Everything following that moment felt like slow motion. Agonizing slow motion.

Driving to the hospital that held Billy. Max in the passenger seat. It was silent. And they must have hit every red light on the way.

The trip up the elevator to the floor he was on. Unbearably slow.

The line they stood in to speak to the front desk. Unbearably long.

The wait until they were ready for them to come back. It felt like forever.

And just as he was ready to pass through the glass doors into the hall of the ICU, there was a hand on his chest. A nurse of about five-foot-five looking to be in her mid-to-late forties had stopped him. “Family members only at this time.” She’d said. He wanted to yell at her. Say he’s the closest thing Billy has to family. But he kept his mouth shut. Bowed his head and ushered Max along, despite her protests.

“Go see your brother, Max. I’ll be okay.”

But he wouldn’t. Steve wouldn’t see Billy for the first time for over a month. The longest month of his life.

Months spent with Billy beginning to fade away in this never ending cycle of being alone. Waking up everyday to an empty bed. Not even being able to make a phone call just to hear his voice. Being without him in every way. Not hearing his laugh or seeing his smile or just feeling his skin against his. He tried to hold on to all of those good memories. But they were slipping away.

It all went downhill when Max had called him from the ICU. It was two in the morning and she was there with Chief Hopper, despite knowing she shouldn’t be. Steve hid his anger around Hopper, trying his best not to hate him. Because he got special privileges and Steve didn’t. It was two in the morning and he was sitting in his living room watching a random movie, curled up in a blanket and hugging a pillow. He hadn’t been sleeping very well. The left side of his bed cold and vacant.

Max didn’t usually call this late. The ringing of the phone startled him and made his heart race. Because something must be wrong.

“Steve?” Max’s voice came over the line.

“Is something wrong?” He had to get straight to the point.

The pause felt like forever. His breath caught in his throat, hands trembling waiting for her to say something.

“They want to cut his hair.”

June 10th, 1985

“I think I want to grow out my hair.”

Billy says it to him that day while curled up in his bed. Steve’s fingers tenderly combing through his curly blonde locks. It’s soft. Void of any hairspray and all natural in its full curly glory. Smell of cheap drugstore shampoo. Slightly minty.

“Grow it out? It’s already long.” Steve says. He’s not wrong. Billy’s hair is already shoulder length and that’s with his naturally tight curls. Wet and brushed out it’s even longer. About to his collar bones.

“I know that. But I’d like for it to be longer. Is that okay?”

“Are you asking for my permission? Because you know you don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Just wanted to know what you thought.”

“More hair to grab onto? Doesn’t sound all that bad to me.”

Billy laughs and leans into Steve.

Billy had been getting better about voicing his feelings about things. Finding it easier to settle into himself in the company of Steve. Gaining a trust that Steve wouldn’t look at him like others would have if they had seen a boy take pleasure in a feminine aesthetic. Painted nails and soft makeup and even sexy lingerie when the mood was just right. Things he’d never allow leave the walls of Steve’s house, but had been able to set free when he was inside.

“Can I ask what made you want to do this?”

“Max braided my hair last night, but it’s too short on top so it was all sticking out.” Steve couldn’t see the smile peek onto Billy’s face or the rosy tint on his cheeks. “But I liked it.”

Max and Dustin had come to learn about the two of them. About not only their relationship but about Billy. About the little things he does to feel beautiful. Billy wasn’t as open with the two of them as he was with Steve. But they were nice about it. Supportive like Steve was. Billy would say it was nice having someone else in on the secret. Even if it scared him shitless having even just Steve in the know.

“Good. I bet you look amazing with your hair braided.”

“Do you know how?” Billy seems timid in the way he asks. But not like he used to be. His voice is consistent in tone and there is an ounce of confidence there.

Steve’s in the middle of wrapping a curl around his finger until he reaches Billy’s scalp. “A little. I used to braid Carol’s when we were little. Not sure how good I am now.”

“Do you want to try?” Same voice as before. Hopeful tinge to it that makes Steve smile.

“Go get me a brush.”

- : -

Steve barely listens to the rest of the call. He’s already getting ready to leave for the hospital before he even hangs up the phone. Barely bothering to make himself presentable. Going out to his car wearing a pair of pajama pants and one of his father’s college sweatshirts.

Max had told him to come. So he was already out the door. Letting himself imagine what Billy might look like now. It’s been over a month so he surely looks a lot different from when he last saw him. Hopefully he looks much different considering the last time he saw him he was drenched in his own blood with a hole in his chest. Max had taken pictures of Billy at the hospital, but he couldn’t bear to look at them. He needed to actually be there the first time he saw Billy, or he might completely lose his mind. If he hasn’t already.

The hospital is a full forty minute drive outside of Hawkins. But it’s two in the morning and the roads are almost entirely empty. So he floors it. Driving fifteen over the whole trip. Releasing all of the anxiety and anticipation into the weight of his foot to increase his speed.

He’s driving like he’s heading there to say goodbye. Like he’s getting ready to say his last words to the dying man in the hospital bed. Tell anyone else he’s driving this recklessly over a potential haircut they’d think he’d be being dramatic. To put it mildly.

But it was more than just hair. Billy’s hair meant something more than just the evolutionary purpose of keeping your head warm.

Losing his hair would be like losing a limb. It was a part of him. So much of his identity contained within each strand of dirty blonde. The one thing he had control over. The one thing Neil never bothered to touch. Hair he had been growing out for the better part of five years having only recently begun trimming it, and even more recently begun growing it out again. The bulk of the hair on his head was the same exact hair that had been with him through all of it. Through every beating. Through every milestone. Always there sitting on his shoulders.

It was the thing that brought him comfort in knowing it was his. That it would always be there. It was like his coat of armor. It was like a shield. Something he always used to hide behind. Something that protected him. Something that made stepping out into the world just a little bit bearable.

But then with Steve he didn’t use it to hide behind. When he was with Steve he let it fall. He let it soften and lose the stiffness brought upon by too much hairspray. He let Steve comb his fingers through it. Touch the very thing that gave him a glimpse of comfort. Because Steve did too. Steve’s gentle and caring hands combing through tangles while they lay together in bed. The same hands braiding his hair while they sat in front of the TV. Billy on the floor with his back to the couch. Sitting in between Steve’s legs as he tries to incorporate the shorter strands at the front of his head into the cascade of woven hair. Slicking it down with water and hairspray only for the short strands to sprout up only after only a couple of minutes. Billy never did get his perfect braid.

They want to take it off. They want to take it all off. Even though it’s not necessary. They wanted to take away the one thing Billy had left after everything. After it was all taken away from him. Steve had already destroyed the Camaro. The only thing he’d be walking out of the mall with would be that fucking hair and thankfully his beating heart.

And he would have Steve. He would always have Steve.

If he still wanted him when he woke up.

Steve passed the “Leaving Hawkins” sign at a whopping seventy miles per hour. Paying no mind to potential police surveying the road. Wasting no time at all.

June 20th, 1985

Billy’s wearing a scrunchie in his hair when he comes to Steve’s house after his shift. His hair is still drying from the pool water but is still so bouncy and shiny in the evening sunlight, and the little blue scrunchie in his hair makes him melt. The way the pink and orange hues of a perfect sunset warm the color of each strand. The ways his ears are fully exposed, his earring dangling and perfectly reflecting the light. The way the little strands at the front of his head fall into his eyes. The way it’s so messy yet so elegant at the same time. His heart soars. He looks beautiful.

Steve tells him that. With a kiss on the lips before he walks through the front door.

“Where’s the scrunchie from?” Steve asks.

“Stole it out of Heather’s locker.”

Steve gave Billy a fake shocked expression. “My boyfriend? A thief? It can’t be.”

Billy walks past Steve and into the house. “Relax, I swear there’s like fifty of them in there. She won’t even notice.” He takes a seat on the right side of the couch, like he always did.

Steve sits beside him, leaning his entire body up against Billy and burying his head into the crook of his neck. Billy still strongly smells of chlorine and he used to hate that smell until it became a signal that Billy was around. Suddenly it had become one of his favorite scents.

“Well it looks like we’re just going to have to get you some of your own doesn’t it?” Steve starts twirling his finger around one of the loose strands at the front of his face. “It looks real pretty.”

Pretty.

That was a newer word for them. Dropping the ‘boy’ at the end because it didn’t feel necessary anymore. Sometimes even made him feel a little like he was implying that boys couldn’t be pretty, needing to add the specification. Billy was becoming far more comfortable with himself and embracing it all. Beginning to believe that men could be pretty and that didn’t have to detract from anything.

So Steve called him pretty. He called him beautiful and gorgeous and stunning because he was. Because Billy deserved to hear it. And because it made him happy.

“Showers weren’t working at the pool. Need to wash the chlorine out. You gonna join me?”

“Oh absolutely.”

- : -

The trip through the hospital gives Steve flashbacks. Flashbacks to the night him and Max anxiously made the trek to the hospital wing Billy was in. Every moment he was currently experiencing felt like the memory. Sweaty palms gripping the handles in the elevator while the cage slowly moves up to the fifth floor. Shoulders hunched, leaning all his weight onto the bar as he curses each time the elevator stops. Foot tapping in anxiety as he waits and waits and waits until finally the doors slide open onto the fifth floor.

Steve ignores the lineup of people at the front desk and heads towards the glass door through which he can see Hopper. He wasn’t going to wait anymore. Fully prepared to bypass the stout man they had guarding the door.

Two hands come in contact flat against his chest as he gets within a foot of the door. So close to grabbing the handle. Steve leans all his weight against the man. Straight faced like a man on a mission.

“Let me through.”

Steve knows how he looks. Adorning comfortable clothes looking completely disheveled. Hair a mess, sweat forming on his brow, practically foaming at the mouth as he attempts to push his way past. His voice determined as he repeats himself.

“I can’t allow that sir. You do not have permission.”

The man just stands his ground. Hands still flat against Steve’s chest, applying very little pressure, but enough to prevent Steve from storming through.

“Let me through.” It’s louder this time. Enough to where he’s beginning to cause a scene in the middle of the waiting area. Staff and the rest all turning their heads towards the disarranged man on the verge of a public tantrum. He looks all kinds of mad, like he belongs in a padded room, restrained and straight-jacketed. He repeats himself over and over again until his voice starts to break. The man is not budging, and Steve doesn’t have the strength.

Then there’s a strong hand grabbing his bicep. Steve’s haze still recognizes it as belonging to a separate party.

“Let the kid in. He’s with me.” It’s Hopper’s distinct voice that breaks him from the daze. The man blocking his way moves to the left and removes his hands from his chest, nearly causing him to fall forward.

Hopper guides Steve through the glass doors. This is the furthest he’s made it. He can feel Billy’s presence just right around the corner. He’s not sure if that’s just because he can hear Max’s voice echoing through the halls as she argues loudly with the nurses on call.

“Good thing you’re here. Max has been guarding Billy for an hour. It’s just hair. I don’t know what the issue is.”

Steve just looks at Hopper, completely stone cold.

“It’s not just hair.”

He storms past him and into the room where Max is standing in front of Billy’s bed with her arms outstretched while two nurses try to reason with her. Steve stalls when he finally looks past Max and gets a glimpse of Billy.

He’s pale, but still tanner than Steve. He has more stubble than he would have liked but it’s still trimmed. The mask over his mouth and nose block his view slightly. His eyes are closed and he looks very peaceful.

And his hair is longer. A lot longer.

Splayed across the white pillow underneath him, his tight waves look to be at the very least an inch longer than the last time he’d seen him. Bangs falling into his face extending all the way down to the tip of his nose. It looks soft. Shiny like satin under the hospital fluorescent. He looks heavenly and angelic and that freaks Steve out.

Heavenly and angelic.

Asleep. Dead to the world. Dead.

Except he wasn’t dead. The crests and troughs of the heart monitor proving such to be true. But it felt too close. Like it was right around the corner and he had to be careful not to alert death to their location.

Steve walked past the shouting fourteen year old without a word and approached Billy’s bedside. Upon closer inspection he notices how Billy’s body has frailed. Previously cut muscles, now soft and smooth. Yet he didn’t look sickly. He was still looking more built than Steve, even. Steve moves a fallen hair from out of his eyes, like it was blocking his vision out of his closed lids. Gently tracing his finger across his hairline to behind his ear where he tucked back another strand. His skin was warm. Blood still coursing through his veins. He was definitely alive. And somehow Steve felt his presence. Knew deep down Billy was still in there.

He’s not paying attention to the screaming match taking place behind him. And they’re not paying attention to him. He’s just staring at Billy. Like he’s looking at the Mona Lisa. Behind six inches of bulletproof glass. He can’t get to him. He can’t reach him. But he’s there. He can see him. And god he’s as beautiful as ever.

It’s not the ear piercing screams from an enraged teenage girl or the annoyed combativeness from the two young nurses that separates his attention from Billy. It’s a strong hand on his shoulder that somehow both gently and forcefully pulls him back.

“Alright everyone that’s enough!” Hopper doesn’t shout but his deep and full voice carries an intensity that shuts everybody up. “One at a time, please?”

“You have no right to shave his entire head! You only have to shave off a small patch for the surgery, you said it yourself!” Max is fuming. The only word that sticks in Steve’s head is surgery. He doesn’t bother asking. Not sure if knowing would make it easier to swallow.

“We actually do have the right. His father already gave us consent to do so. It’s you who doesn’t have the right kid.” Steve has to physically restrain himself. Looking back at Billy as his fists clenched and his fingernails dug crescents into his palms at the mention of Neil.

Neil having the final say over the one thing he never touched. That was something Steve had promised Billy he would protect him from. Not the hair. Protect him from Neil taking anything more from him.

“Besides, a man’s hair shouldn’t be that long anyway.”

If Steve didn’t have the self control he did, there would surely be a nurse with a broken nose. Instead he turns back to Billy again. Looking at him. Trying to pull some answers from him.

I wish you could just tell me what to do.

“When does it need to be done by?” It’s the first thing Steve’s said since he entered the room.

“His surgery is scheduled for nine this morning. So you’ve got around five hours.”

Steve hasn’t turned towards the nurses. Hasn’t turned his head away from Billy.

“Then give us five hours.”

Steve’s expression when he finally turns back to look at the two nurses is mean. Attempting to get it across that he’s not asking.

“Five hours.” They say as they nod their heads and walk out. Annoyed expressions on their faces.

“Steve you can’t let them -“

“They won’t.” Steve takes a long look at Billy. Taking a deep breath as he glances towards the scissors that sit on the medical tray. “I’m going to do it.”

Max doesn’t say anything, which is actually a good sign. An even better sign is when she finally removes herself from her guarded position at the foot of the bed to come join Steve.

He pulls down at one of the shorter strands at the front of Billy’s head. Pulled taut, the spiral reaches all the way just past his chin.

“You think it’s long enough for a braid?”

June 20th, 1985

After a very hot and heavy make out session against the shower walls, the two actually take a shower. Despite having done so many times before, showering together always feels so intimate. Standing with each other, naked and alone in a very vulnerable position,

just existing without jumping each other’s bones. It was nice. It was just more proof that what the two of them ran deep. Soaping up each other’s bodies. That was something so personal.

Steve was running his fingers through Billy’s soap covered hair. Billy’s back turned to Steve as he did it. Letting the water from the faucet rinse his front while he let Steve play with the individual strands of his hair.

Steve liked the way Billy’s hair looked when wet. Still maintaining a curl no matter how saturated in water it got. The way it darkened to a near dark brown and he could easily be mistaken for a brunette.

The shampoo smells like coconut. Stolen straight from his mothers bathroom. The fumes mixed with the steam of the hot water clearing his senses and making his breathing feel so easy.

Steve pulls at one of his curls until it’s completely straight. Careful not to pull too hard.

“It’s already getting longer, baby.”

Because his back is turned, Steve doesn’t see the wide smile appear onto Billy’s face. Because the water is falling into his face, Steve doesn’t see the tears of joy form into his eyes.

Yet Steve knows without seeing. He wraps his arms around Billy’s waist and pulls him in close. Presses kisses into the mole on the back of his shoulder.

“It’s gonna look so good.”

“You think so?”

“You bet. I’d say give it two more weeks and I can get these little suckers into a braid.”

- : -

Steve remembers saying that so vividly. Because exactly two weeks later would be the Fourth of July. The same day that Billy’s life would nearly be taken. It felt like some cruel joke.

Now Steve is sitting in a hospital bed with his comatose boyfriends sitting in between his legs as he brushes through his hair. Trying to hold it together in front of Max and Hopper.

Steve’s not entirely sure Hopper has been made aware of the true nature of his and Billy’s relationship. He figures he’s probably pieced it together by now. And he’s pretty sure he doesn’t really care if he knows or not. He’s too focused on Billy. Focused on the man in between his legs. Focused on making him look as beautiful as he can while his hair is still on his head. Trying not to focus that it’s going to be his hands that will cut it off. Because it has to be his hands. Or else it’ll end up inadvertently being Neil’s hands.

And he wouldn’t let that happen.

Max hasn’t said much since he’d arrived. He can tell she feels guilty that Steve had been blocked from seeing Billy for so long. Especially considering how easy it was to get him past those doors. She’s just sitting in the chair at his bedside holding Billy’s hand. He is angry. But not at Max. He’s not really angry at anyone one particular person. He’s angry at the entire situation they’re in and he doesn’t know how to express that anger to Max without screaming. So he keeps his mouth shut and gently brushes the tangles out of Billy’s hair.

“I’m going to head downstairs for some food. Do you want me to bring anything up for you two?” Hopper says. He too has been mostly silent. Clearly pretty confused about the situation.

Max’s eyes lit up. “My bag. It’s in your car. Can you grab it?”

“Sure thing kiddo. You Steve?”

“A cup of coffee would be nice.”

Hopper tousled his and Max’s hair. “You got it. I’ll be back in a bit. Please for the love of God don’t yell at anymore nurses. They’re just doing their job.”

Hopper leaves the two of them and Steve finally begins braiding Billy’s hair. Combing his hair front to back before taking three small strands and began attempting a French braid.

“What’s in the bag?” He asks.

Max smiles. Looking down at Billy’s bare fingernails. “My Polaroid. Thought maybe he might like to have some pictures.”

“I think he’d like that.” Steve’s looking down at Billy’s hand in Max’s. “You have any nail polish in there?”

“I think so.”

“That’s good, maybe we can paint them.” Steve’s being extremely focused on braiding. Making sure it’s clean and precise and making sure no strand is sticking out. And it’s going a lot better than usual. Only needing to slick down a couple stray pieces. All while carefully pressing kisses to the top of his head as he makes his way down the length of his hair. Down his neck until he’s reached the end where he finally ties it off with a hair tie off of Max’s wrist.

“How’s it look?” Steve asks.

“He looks pretty.”

Steve can’t help it anymore. Can’t hold back the stream of tears that have been bottled up and threatening to overflow since he got the call. The tears squeeze through tightly closed eyelids and roll down his cheeks as he just buries his face into Billy’s braided hair.

“He does. Doesn’t he?” Steve gently wraps his arms around Billy’s chest, careful around the dressing over his scar. Fully taking in for the first time that Billy is still here. For the past month Billy’s being alive was just simply something he was told. Never something he got to see. Now he does see it. Now he sees it and he feels the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Feels his heart beat against his chest. He’s right there and he was going to be okay.

He had to be okay. That was the only way Steve would be okay too.

“I’m sorry.” Max apologizes. He knows why she says it. He doesn’t need clarification.

“It’s not your fault.”

Max gives Steve a half smile and uses her free hand to squeeze his shoulder.

“I don’t want to cut his hair.” Steve takes in a deep breath. “But I know it has to be me.”

“I could do it.”

Steve shakes his head at her. “No. I made a promise. It can’t be anyone else.”

“Well I’ll be here with you if it helps.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for loving my brother.”

They sit there for a while in just complete silence save for the muffled chatter from outside the walls and the occasional beeping from one of the many machines Billy had been wired up to. Hopper only arrives around ten minutes later with two coffees in hand and a red Jansport on his shoulder. He hands Steve his cup and Max her backpack and takes a seat in the other chair that’s near the door.

“You two alright?” Hopper asks. He probably noticed Steve’s tear stained cheeks and the somber atmosphere of the room he walked into.

The two of them nod. Steve goes in to begin nursing the hot cup of coffee and Max begins to sift through her bag. Pulling out her camera case and two small glass bottles.

“I have red and orange.”

“Billy hates orange Max! You know this!” Steve laughs.

“I know that. Was just messing with you.” She tosses the bottle of red nail polish over to Steve. “You paint, I’ll take pictures.”

Max takes a few shots while Steve coats Billy’s nails in a shiny bright red varnish. Still in the same position of Billy sitting in between Steve’s legs with a pillow on his chest for Billy to lay back on. He brings a coated hand to his lips to gently blow dry. All the while Max is snapping candid photos of the two, passing each piece of film over to Hopper for him to put into his shirt pocket to allow it to develop.

“You guys want one of all three of you?” Hopper asks. He’s been mostly silent the whole time. Nursing his own coffee while he watched Max prance around the room with her camera.

“That would be great.” Max says, handing the camera over to Hopper before she makes her way over to the bedside. Leaning into the frame. Steve pulls Billy’s braid forward so that it’s now draped over his shoulder and visible. Intertwining his fingers with Billy’s now dry and red coated ones. He smiles as the flash temporarily blinds him.

They take as many more photos as they can until Max has run out of film. Hours pass and the hour hand is approaching eight o’clock. Meaning it’s about time.

About time to say goodbye.

The process begins slowly. Undoing the braid being the first step. Undoing the thing Billy really wanted to see for himself. The thing he’ll only get to experience in pictures. It hurt to pull the elastic from his hair and run his fingers through the perfectly woven strands.

The next part was securing it all back up into a ponytail at the top of his head. That way all Steve would have to do was make one single cut and be done with it. Allow the nurses to shave off the rest.

He knew it was going to be hard. But he didn’t anticipate it being this hard. Now holding an open pair of scissors above Billy’s head. All of his hair in between the blades. All he had to do was close his fingers together and it would begin. But he was stuck. Hands frozen still as he began to sob into Billy’s hair as Max and Hopper silently watched him. Max’s hand on his thigh and Hopper’s on his shoulder.

He couldn’t stop imagining Billy having to wake up like this. Wake up to the knowledge that his hair was gone at the hands of Steve. Wondering if maybe this would hurt him more than someone else doing it. He had to remember he made a promise. Even if it meant that Billy may wake up and hate him.

Steve’s fingers finally close the blades together and he can hear the sharp sound of cutting hair.

He made a promise.

September 19th, 1985: One Month Later

Billy’s awake.

Billy’s awake and Steve is there holding his hand as he does. It wasn’t planned, somehow fate just decided to work out in their favor.

Billy takes a while to come to. Nearly an hour before he truly recognizes who he is and where he is and who Steve is. Steve just sits there patiently while he does. Repeating over and over again that he’s in the hospital. That he’s okay. That “Steve’s here.”

Billy’s hair is short and curly now. A lighter blonde than before. It looks really good on him and he just hopes Billy is able to agree.

“Steve?” Is the first thing Billy says and Steve’s heart melts at the sound of Billy’s groggy voice.

“Yeah baby. It’s me. I’m right here.” Steve pulls Billy’s hand to his mouth and begins kissing his knuckles. Showing Billy his own painted fingernails. Maybe that will help serve as a comfort for him. “Welcome back.”

“How long?”

“Almost three months.”

Billy just nods. Then slowly moves a free hand up to scratch at his head and Steve’s heart stops. He thought he’d have more time.

His heart shatters when Billy’s hand makes contact and his half lidded eyes turn wide.

“My hair is gone.” He says before turning over to see Steve is crying.

“I’m sorry. I had to cut it. I'm so sorry.” Steve’s voice is broken and Billy takes a minute to finally register the situation. Spending about a minute pulling at the short curls in his hair before squeezing Steve’s hand with all of the strength he has. Which isn’t much.

“It’s okay.” He whispers. Pushing down his own sadness and grief over it to reassure Steve that he’s not mad at him. He couldn’t be mad at him. It hurt. It hurt to know that his hair had been taken from him. But he also knows Steve didn’t do it to hurt him. “It’s gonna grow back.” He’s not sure if he’s saying that to Steve or to himself.

Steve sniffles and apologizes again. And again. And again.

“Steve I’m too weak to kiss you so you better get down here and kiss me or I’ll fucking scream.”

Steve does as he’s told. Nose full of snot and cheek coated in tears but he does it anyway. And Billy tastes like coming home. Everything about right now feels so unreal and he just has to savor the moment before he wakes up from whatever dream reality he must be trapped in.

But he doesn’t wake up from any dream because there is no dream. Billy’s alive. Billy’s awake. And Billy is kissing him.

Things were going to be okay. He was certain of that now.

And so was Billy when Steve finally showed him the little Polaroid of him in his perfect braid. Held by Steve. Looking beautiful with his long hair. The hair will grow back. With new memories, better memories, attached to each inch.

Things were going to be okay.

next part

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #mandi writes tresh

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anjuschiffer · 4 years

Text

Amira Wayne - Chapter 11

A/N: Something I want to address - Updates will be coming slowly because not only am I writing this fic as I go, I have other irl issues that need my full attention. Just wanted to let you guys know incase you see inconsistent updates in the future.Thank you for reading and understanding! <3

Day 11 of @biodad-bruce-month event!

Chapter 11: The “Talk”

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords @fantasiame @corabeth11 @anonymously-odd @alexandriamw @officiallydarkgeek

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

The weekend ended up uneventful (in terms of akuma attacks), allowing Amira to catch up with Dick and Wally.

The three went to the arcade the following day, Dick smiling the entire time as he watched Amira enjoy herself.

He watched as she went from arcade machine to arcade machine, pulling Wally along. He watched as she cursed out claw machines but shouted in victory at the pinball machines.

He watched as Wally showed her how the ring toss worked, Amira easily nailing it after watching Wally miss his second and fourth shot.

Dick watched as the two ventured around the arcade, Amira racking up the tickets as time went on. In the end, she was able to get herself the most expensive prize there.

“Did you seriously just spend all day trying to get that?” Wally asked her, earning a huff. “And wait, where’s the other one?”

Wally looked as Amira swung around the lit up dagger, watching as she twirled it around with ease. The soft lavender glow came to a halt when Amira placed it on her holster that would usually carry an actual dagger.

“I can protect myself with just one.” Amira tried to brush off, only to confess when she saw Dick raise a brow. “I gave my other one to the girl that was beside me at the prize area. Every girl deserves to have a weapon.” That caused the two boys to laugh, causing Amira to pout.

“Whatever you say, Mimi.”

“Shouldn’t we start heading back home? Looks like it's about to rain.” Wally pointed out.

Looking at the darkening skies, the trio agreed to call it a day.

Amira had a bounce to her step as she entered the apartment, bouncing onto the sofa and grabbing the remote to see what was on the news.

Much to her disappointment, it was some news coverage about Batgirl’s latest appearance.

“-amateur footage of the vigilante taking down-”

Amira quickly flipped to another channel, a frown now on her face.

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to end up with scowl lines for life.” Dick commented, taking out some ingredients to cook.

“Did you know about Drake replacing Jason?” Amira asked out of the blue, causing Dick to almost drop the cabbage in his hands. “Or what about Barbara being Batgirl?

“I...I didn’t know about Tim being the new Robin.” Dick stuttered, placing down carrots and potatoes on the table. He didn’t want this day to come. But he knew he was going to have to eventually tell Amira the truth. “I recently found out about it when I went to the Cave to retrieve some data. As for Barbara being Batgirl…”

He could feel Amira’s eyes on him, analyzing his every move. Taking a deep breath, Dick continued. “I was the one who gave her the mantle.”

Amira dropped the remote in her hands, staring at Dick with wide eyes.

“You?” Amira whispered. “You asked her to become Batgirl?” Amira felt her chest begin to twist.

“Amira, Bruce needed-“

“Why did you drag Babs-”

“I didn’t- she, ugh.” Dick ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t drag her into this. She already knew about us.” Dick defended. “I simply-“

“Then why did you let her! Why did you encourage her?” Amira screamed. “She didn’t need to be roped into our messed up family-”

“Gotham needed him back.” Dick cut off. “Gotham needed Batman back. And we both knew that. We understood that. With his head still in the gutter-”

“Then why didn’t you stay there with him?” Amira cried, hating that she was having trouble breathing. “Why didn’t you-”

“Because I couldn’t forgive him with what he did to you!” Dick shouted, Amira watching him look down at his feet despite his head being held up high. “He shouldn’t have sent you to Paris when we were all mourning Jason! He should’ve let you go to the funeral, to visit him one last time before forcing you out of the country! He didn’t have to push you away just because he was mourning!” Duck didn’t care if his shoulder shook or if his voice warbled a bit.

This was Amira. He could trust her. She was his sister.

Amira watched as Dick walked up to the couch and plopped next to her. “We both know he’s still in mourning, hell all of us are. But that doesn’t excuse him for doing the shit he did!” Dick growled out before letting out a deep sigh. “Did you know he almost sent me to Germany?”

“Germany?”

“Alfred told me after I fled here.” Dick threw himself back, looking up at the ceiling fan. “To think he would try to pull that on me as well.”

“I...I didn’t know.” Amira said, pulling her legs to her chest and resting her forehead on her knees. All this time, she was venting towards Dick and she never asked how he was dealing with all this. He had to deal with all of his emotions on his own, storing them inside while he played peacekeeper.

How selfish she was. How stupid and blind did she have to be to not notice her brother’s suffering?

“Where are you going?” Dick asked her as she got up and started to storm towards the window. She whispered ‘Spots On’, watching as a soft red glow engulfed her. “Amira!” She heard Dick yell, but she didn’t turn back.

The sun was beginning to set, but she didn’t care. She was Ladybird. She can handle a few Gothamite thugs. With that in mind, Amira got on the railing before dropping from it and swinging herself towards Gotham.

If there was one thing any villain in Gotham hated, it was newbies waltzing into their terf.

As for Selina, the moment she noticed this newbie, she knew something was up. After all, no one survived longer than ten minutes while on enemy turf.

“I’ve never seen you around here before.” Selina looked at the girl from top to bottom, critiquing the girl’s choice of red and black. “New to the game, aren’t you?” She asked, noticing a dagger hidden within the shadows cast by her skirt. “Tell me, what brings you to these parts of Gotham?”

Selina watched as the cloaked girl continued to analyze her, trying to circle around her.

“Okay then, would you like to tell me your name, kitten?”

“Marienkäfer.” The girl spoke, glaring at her with an ever so familiar glare through her red domino mask.

So she spoke German. Great. To be honest, she wished the kid spoke Mandarin just like- “Wie heißt du?“ The girl asked her, or at least Selina judged from the way her brows furrowed a bit. She huffed, knowing this is going to go nowhere without help.

Pressing her comm, Selina awaited for the other end to pick up.

“Hey. Got a kid here who only speaks German. No, she doesn’t seem- yea. Yes she’s wearing- wait hold on. What do you mean-“ a frustrated sigh left Selina.

What did he mean by he knew her?

Selina kept watching over the girl, deciding to watch her as the girl started to make her way towards her.

Her hooded cape flew back from the autumn breeze, exposing the girl’s midnight hair.

Selina watched as the girl stood mere feet away from her, her green eyes holding a curious twinkle in them. She saw how the girl approached her before quickly falling back, her hand hovering over something at her side. Was that a yo-yo?

“Is this the girl you were talking about?” Bruce’s voice trickled down Selina’s back.

“Why do you always have the need to do that?” Selina hissed, but Bruce remained silent. “Anyways, how do you know her?” She frowned when he ignored her.

“Amira.” Bruce called out, Selina watching as the girl didn’t budge. “Amira, what-”

“She smells like you.” The girl -no- Amira said, Selina watching her scowl. So she knew English, so why did she act as if she didn’t know it?

Or did she do it on purpose? Was it just a ploy?

“What-“

“Your cologne...it’s all over her...the cologne I gave you for your birthday two years ago.” Amira growled. “That could only mean one thing. When were you going to introduce us to each other, Father?”

Selina looked at Amira and then at Bruce for some type of explanation. She was his daughter? Why is she learning about this now? As far as she knew, he only had Dick and Jason...and currently Tim.

“Bats, explain.” Selina demanded, Bruce feeling a headache starting to form.

“Fine. But not here.”

Selina felt as Amira continued to glare at her, Selina starting to hate the attention from the younger Wayne.

They finally arrived at the manor, currently walking towards Bruce’s study. Of course, Amira didn’t change out of her costume yet, walking in the red and black suit.

“So Amira, how come I haven’t heard about you?” Selina decided to ask.

“I wonder.” Amira spat with venom, causing a brow to raise. “It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with my father-”

“Amira.” Bruce cut off, prompting Amira to frown. “I meant to say this earlier, but welcome back home.”

“Home?” Amira let out a dry laugh. “Last I recall, the apartment back in Paris is my home. Not this place despite having been raised here for 13 years.”

“Amira.”

“I didn’t come back here to see you. I didn’t even plan on seeing you, yet you always seem to find a way to find me.”

“Amira, you said you used to live here for 13 years. So tell me, how old are you?” Selina asked, hoping to ease the suffocating tension.

“Turning 14 in July. And you don’t have to worry about having to see me for the rest of the year. I’m going back to Paris in a few hours. After that, I won’t be back in Gotham for another half year or year.” Amira looked at Selina, her eyes dull and void of the anger from earlier. “Father’s never let me attend any gala or any event that requires showing my face, so coming back to Gotham would be pointless for me.”

Selina stopped herself from coming to a halt, absorbing Amira’s words.

She was 14, living in Paris by herself while her family lived in Gotham...not only that, but she seemed so distant to Bruce despite loving -no- adoring Gotham...

“Bruce, did you really send her to Paris...by herself?”

“What if I did?” Selina let out a scoff.

“Are you being serious right now? Bruce, she’s 14!”

“She’s still a child.”

“And yet you still thought of doing the same thing to Dick and he was 17 at the time, turning 18.” Amira interjected. “

She didn’t know what overcame her, she really didn’t.

“I’m going to Paris with Amira.” She never saw Bruce turn around so quickly before, noticing Amira had the same reaction as him when she said that.

“Selina. You-”

“I’m only going to be there for a week, make sure Amira is doing well and from there, I’ll come back.” Selina walked up to Bruce, sinking her nails into his arm. “After that, you and I are going to have a talk.” She whispered, letting go of Bruce. “So Amira, where are your things?”

Selina waited for a few minutes before getting a response from the girl.

“A-At Dick’s. I didn’t think I was going to be here for that long. I just wanted to talk to my father before heading back, although it seems like there will be a change of plans.”

“You wanted to speak to me?” Bruce asked, wondering what exactly Amira wanted.

“Yes. But of course, in your office.”

Selina had gone to pick up Amira’s things from Dick’s apartment, leaving father and daughter by themselves.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Is it true you wanted to send Dick to Germany?” Amira threw out the first thing in her mind, watching as her father tensed. “You could’ve just sent him to France with me. The two of us would’ve kept each other company, be safe with each other. But no. You thought it was best to separate us, to keep us isolated from each other because-”

“I...I didn’t actually want to send him to Germany.” Bruce confessed. “I...I also didn’t want to send you to Paris either, but I knew that if I didn’t, the two of you ran the risk-”

“But isn’t that why you fight? Wasn’t becoming Batman the solution to your worries?”

“I can only do so much. I can only guide the villains towards redemption, I can’t force them to-“

“Then why? Why didn’t you simply kill them off?” Amira asked. “Why don't you just get rid of them...or rather, him? Of Joker? Of the bastard clown that took Jason away from us! Why didn’t you-”

“You don’t understand, Amira. Getting rid of Joker isn’t the solution nor is getting rid of anyone for that matter. Killing isn’t-“

“Don’t you realize it? He’s the main problem. He’s the one racking up the deaths in Gotham. The reason why we have to keep constructing new cemeteries. The madman behind the cruelest tortures. The one who-“

“Killing Joker won’t do anything!” Bruce yelled. “It won’t bring Jason back and it definitely-”

“I never said it would bring Jason back. I said it because if you did kill him, it would bring you peace of mind. It would make Gotham safer for me...and countless other children.”

“Amira, I don’t think you understand. I don’t think you nor Jason understood.” Jason had told Bruce this before? “Killing only brings out the worst of people.” Amira watched as Bruce walked up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “If I were to kill anyone, I won’t be able to get back from there. My hands will no longer withhold the justice I claim to uphold...I also don’t want my children to have a murderer for a father.”

Amira watched as her father shook, but she didn’t care.

“You always said you wanted to be someone we could be proud of. A father whom we adored...but in your mission to become that, you’ve become a stranger to me.” Amira said, pushing Bruce off her. “I claim you my father, but...I don’t know much about you.

I have a stranger for a father instead of a respected man.

I found out about your girlfriend-no...fiance around a day ago, only to find out you’ve known her for longer. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the inconsistencies in her files?” Amira brought up.

“You looked at her files? When? Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Despite not being in Gotham, I like being up to date with the news. As for how, I was downloading information from the computer to take back with me to Paris. Got bored and started to look at the criminal files you had there. That’s how I landed on Selina’s file.

To think you’re engaged, nonetheless to a thieve.” Amira glared at her father. “Then again, why am I surprised at you for hiding things from me? You’ve always hid me away from anyone else. Just like how you hid Barbara and Drake from me.”

“I never hid that from-” Amira raised her hand and shook her head.

“I don’t care about that. I don’t care about what the hell you do anymore. But just know this. I will never forgive that bastard from taking Jason away from us. Now, I better get going. I have a plane to catch.”

#maribat #bio!dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #b!dbwm2020 #amira wayne

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