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sunsetkerr · 6 months

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THE TRADE | s.kerr

summary: as your afl season ends, your contract is up- leaving you, the hottest player in the aflw, up for grabs.

pairing: aflw!reader x sam kerr

notes: part one here!

yourinstagram

liked by samanthakerr20, crowsaflw and 18,398 others yourinstagram our third flag, so proud to have spent the last five years with this team. ytfg 💪💪

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samanthakerr20 the only time I will accept you not wearing a west coast guernsey is now ❤️❤️ so proud, go the crows!! ↳ yourinstagram screenshotting this and sending it to west coast right now

crowsaflw we love you #1 ↳ yourinstagram ❤️

user no because im so happy

user they need to resign her ↳ user shes a free agent, meaning whoever bids the most is most likely where she will go ↳ user she can't leave the crows 💔

alannakennedy casually winning flags ↳ yourinstagram its a constant tbh

alexchidiac10 loving the hat in the second pic ↳ yourinstagram its sam's dads 💪 ↳ samanthakerr20 roger was robbed

aflwupdates

liked by user, caitlinfoord and 7,281 others aflwupdates BREAKING NEWS: Adelaide Crows star, Y/N L/N, is officially a free agent. After winning her 3rd flag with the southern club, L/N's contract has not been renewed and she is rumoured to be looking for a new club. It is unknown whether Adelaide is negotiating a new contract with their star forward.

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user im losing it, she can't leave ↳ user I wouldn't be surprised, she doesn't live in Adelaide so it might be easier to go to a club closer to home ↳ user where does she live? ↳ user y/n has a home in perth with her wife sam and their daughter, but flies between perth, adelaide and london (where sam and y/n also have a house) for sam's football

caitlinfoord sick pic though @yourinstagram ↳ yourinstagram ffs caitlin ↳ user caitlin can't resist putting her foot in it 😭 ↳ yourinstagram literally this is my life, come get your dog please @mackenziearnold @alannakennedy

yourinstagram

liked by samanthakerr20, maryfowlerrr and 26,387 others yourinstagram in the off season we party (tillies style)

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mackenziearnold matildas 🤝 the crows ↳ yourinstagram party animals

user SAM AND Y/N HAVE MATCHING TATTOOS??? ↳ samanthakerr20 disgusting really

user seeing the girls let their hair down is so refreshing

user y/n looks in no condition to have caitlin foord on her shoulders, that is one expensive woman y/n- don't drop her please ↳ yourinstagram if I did it wouldn't be an accident

matildas see you at training tomorrow morning ladies!! ↳ maryfowlerrr I can't go out.. I'm sick

samanthakerr20 you little rager, you look so good in that shirt ↳ yourinstagram its 100% off (a sam kerr exclusive discount) ↳ samanthakerr20 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

user we are all freaking out about her trade and she's out here getting off her face with her wife's team mates 😭😭

crowsaflw

liked by yourinstagram, samanthakerr20 and 9,290 others crowsaflw it is with great sorrow we announce the departure of our superstar y/n l/n. five long years with the best, she will be missed on and off the field. truly a force to be reckoned with ❤️ we will miss you, forever our #1.

samanthakerr20

liked by yourinstagram, amysayer_ and 739,298 others samanthakerr20 she's off to continue to do great things ❤️ proud.

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user its so weird seeing them all lovey and not all I hate you ↳ yourinstagram dont worry its weird for me too

crowsaflw our girl! ↳ user but like.. not anymore... ↳ user too soon

kyracooneyx my lord and saviour ↳ charlotte_grant all hail mrs l/n-kerr

samanthakerr20 realising this photo kinda makes it look like you're dead xx ↳ yourinstagram sometimes when im with you I wish I was xxxxxx

yourinstagram

liked by samanthakerr20, aflw and 18,388 others yourinstagram the new diggs

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user STOP ITS OPTUS, SHE'S GONE TO WA

user omg shes going to west coast or freo

optusstadium so happy to have you!

samanthakerr20 who says diggs? ↳ yourinstagram literally shut the fuck up

mackenziearnold physically cannot sit still right now ↳ yourinstagram right now or ever?

user y/n literally tell us, tell us right now

westcoastaflw

liked by samanathakerr20, yourinstagram and 11,938 others westcoastaflw welcoming our new #1!! @yourinstagram blue and gold looks very good on you, don't you agree @samanthakerr20?

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samanthakerr20 DAMNNNNNN 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

samanthakerr20 can finally watch one of your games without wanting to vomit looking at your guernsey 🤤🤤🤤🤤 ↳ yourinstagram 💙💛

user I cannot breathe

user sam got what she wanted 😭😭 ↳ yourinstagram she always does unfortunately

roxykerr20 thank goodness we didn't invest in any crows merchandise 😂 ↳ yourinstagram you never would roxy 😌 I did this solely for you and roger ↳ samanthakerr20 I'll just jump off a cliff then x love you babe

#one shots . * • .#sam kerr one shot #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr imagine #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader

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ladymarycrawley · 1 year

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Mummy was mine first - Mason Mount

Request: I have a request of a drunk Mason with his newly pregnant girlfriend - him getting all emotional thinking the new baby will take his girl away from him. Stuff like lifting her shirt and talking to his baby saying things like “remember your mummy was mine first 🥺”

Warning: Mason may sound like a prick in this but it was just for the sake of the story 💔

Tag list: @masonxomount @chelsealover @masterclassbaby

The moment you told Mason you were pregnant with your first child, he swore he couldn’t have been happier. He was literally on cloud nine, eager to live that unique and special experience with you, the love of his life.

As most of the things we have to deal with throughout our lifetime, it wasn’t all fun and games as expected. Actually you had to deal with a lot of changes that would come as the result of your newly found condition: the mood swings, the cravings, all the shopping for the baby, all the readings on how to teach things to your baby, how to grow him up perfectly and, at last but not least, all the potential dangers you had to be careful of.

It was a hell of a ride but it was worth it in the end, or that’s what you hoped at least.

He was absolutely crazy for you and he wanted to remember that image of you forever. Mason grabbed his Polaroid and took the most beautiful pictures of you naked, with your hair dishevelled on the pillow, the white bed sheets covering your lower body as you let your hands caress your baby bump.

In that moment the English footballer swore he never saw a woman as gorgeous as you, he really meant it when he said that the pregnancy made you even more beautiful than you already were. He thought it turned you into a goddess, as he couldn’t care less about the commonly called flaws you always complained about such as your stretch marks, your swollen feet, the extra weight you gained. He took every chance he got to make you feel loved, to give love to every inch of your body.

You sighed and shook your head as you got seated on the bed, looking for your t-shirt.

��Mason, stop it”

“You’re stunning, come on!” He giggled, holding the camera with one hand and lifting your chin up with the other, holding then your face in place to kiss you on the lips.

Mason shot a couple more pictures of you before putting the camera to the side and starting to kiss you passionately.

He was standing before you, balancing himself with his right leg bent over the mattress, at the side of your thigh.

The ardour that inflamed your kiss was so strong he straddled you, hovering over you, always being careful of your bump.

He gently led you towards the soft surface beneath, so you could be in a more comfortable position while he made you feel his love.

You didn’t have the slightest intention to move, you just wanted to stay there basking in the relaxing yet exciting feelings only he could give you. Your legs were loosely wrapped around his middle as his right hand was delicately keeping your thigh up while the left one was holding your arms back on the blanket, above your head.

A moan escaped your lips as you felt his fingers fiddling with your knickers.

During the pregnancy, even if it was something common for most women, you started developing a sense of discomfort towards your body: it was inevitably changing but, since you've never been that self confident, those major changes were only increasing the doubts about the beauty or the attractiveness of your curves.

Mason was willing to do everything that was in his power to make you enjoy sex without making you feel guilty, embarrassed or in pain. That's why you spent a whole afternoon on a website the ob gyn suggested you to have pregnant sex safely, to learn all the pros and cons of such a pleasurable activity during a time where things might have gotten a little more difficult.

Whenever your mind took you back to that afternoon you couldn't help but smile, both because it was a funny memory and because seeing Mason so careful and attentive towards you to make you feel better, filled your heart with more love. But reading advice and theories was a thing, putting them into practice was another, even more so since your belly was getting bigger, leading you through the third trimester.

“Mase, the -”

“Yep, the belly is in the way, I know” You both giggled, Mason was really caught up in the moment he didn’t think about the six (nearly seven) months belly you had to deal with.

He sighed, sitting on the bed again.

"It's not just that, my back hurts a little more today"

Mason helped you up, careful not to hurt you, massaging your aching muscles.

"I just ruined your sex drive" You let out in a low voice, feeling kind of bad.

"Hey hey, you didn't ruin anything, that's okay" He kissed your temple in the sweetest way. "Here, let's see if this one is more comfortable" Mason gestured for you to lay back on the pillows he put there to ease your back pain so your body was resting on the edge of the bed while his body was standing before yours, a little bent over.

You smiled at each other until your boyfriend's lips moved upwards to kiss your forehead, tracing your jaw next and ending on your neck.

In order not to weigh on your stomach, Mason kneeled down on your bedroom floor as his hands were on your hips and his mouth was leaving little hot kisses and bites against the soft skin of your thighs.

You would have liked to have sex with your boyfriend so bad but apparently your body didn't have the same intention: apart from the back pain, there were also those hateful little voices in your head the kept on saying you were embarrassing, that you didn't deserve the hot man which was your boyfriend to to make love to you because you were obscene, which wasn't the truth of course.

"I - I can't do it" You placed your hands on Mason's shoulders to make him stop.

He raised his head, frowning at your sudden halt.

"Sorry babe, I can't do this" You sniffled in the attempt not to burst out crying.

"That's okay" Mason said in a low voice, getting back on his feet and helping you up.

Various thoughts were beginning to crowd Mason's head too: he started asking himself what could have possibly gone wrong, weren't you really okay or was he just underestimating some signals he should have been careful of? You weren't attracted to him anymore??

He tried to fight all that brainwork while helping you get your clothes back on, doing the same with himself some minutes later.

"I'm sorry Mase, I really wanted to do that but -"

"I know, I know. Don't worry, it's fine" He faked a smile and left a gentle peck over your lips before leaving your bedroom and going to his game room. He needed to distract his mind a bit and maybe you needed some time alone too.

You huffed and went to the bathroom to fill the bath tub with some hot water and a rose scented water bomb to relax your sore body and your tired mind all the same. Warm water would also reduce some of the weight your spine had to sustain whic was a huge relief, making bath time something you had been really looking forward to at least once a day.

The last thing on your mind was upsetting Mason but you were sure he would have understood how you were feeling during that delicate moment.

In the other room, Mason’s attempt not to dwell on what happened an hour ago didn’t work as he was there, with his headphones on, his fingers shifting over the controller, his stare fixed on the screen before him but his mind was still on you. He knew a thing as big as the arrival of a baby would have changed your priorities but it didn’t want you to change the way you looked at him: he still wanted to be your hero, your everything, he was afraid he wasn’t ready to leave hthe place in your heart for the baby girl who would have been there in a couple of months.

Maybe he was just a bit moody, maybe he was being childish but that concern was something that had been keeping him awake for a whole week now.

Mason turned off the console, putting away all the other devices he used during game time and started wandering around the house looking for you as he came to the conclusion that the best and wisest thing he could do was sharing what his real thoughts were with you, the love of his life and the mum of his daughter.

“Y/N?”

The first room he checked in was the right one as he pushed the bathroom’s door ajar open and the image of you, standing applying some moisturising over your legs, welcomed him.

A small smile appeared on his lips as he entered the room wrapped in a cloud of heat reminding him you liked to take your shower and bath in hot, very hot water.

“Why didn’t you call me to help you get out of the tub?”

“Didn’t want to disturb you plus I’ve managed to do it myself” You say, a small note of pride in your voice.

Mason’s eyes roamed over your body, taking in your every movement and passing you the clean underwear and pajamas (that is to say a pair of joggers and one of his t-shirts) for the night.

"This may sound weird but... I don't like thieves"

"What?" You stopped massaging your face with the night lotion in order to understand what Mason was meaning with that apparent nonsense sentence he just spoke.

"Yeah I don't like people that steal things from me"

"Mason, are you okay? Who stole you what?"

He scoffed, somehow annoyed. He blankly stared down at his feet, as a child would do once getting scolded over something.

"The baby"

"Mase baby, sorry but I'm afraid I don't follow you"

You really were clueless about what he was complaining about, feeling a bit powerless too as you wanted to help him but it seemed kind of hard doing so with him not being clear about what his problem was. You noticed there was something weird in him that day but didn't understand what.

He huffed, getting closer to your body leaning against the basin, looking in the mirror in front of you reflecting both his pout and your frown.

Mason looked down at your exposed collarbone before moving a strand of hair behind your ear. He then laid his head where his glance was, uttering against your skin. "I don't want her to take you away from me"

"Oh Mase" You cooed. He was the cutest human being ever in that moment. He didn't seem like a man who was about to become a dad at all, he felt like a kid who's about to become the older brother and doesn’t want the newcomer to steal his parents' affection.

You started scratching the back of his neck affectionately, placing lingering kisses on the top of his head.

"I can assure you nothing bad will happen. She won't take me away from you, no one will ever. You two will be the most precious humans in my life, I'll love you more than words can express and I'll cherish every moment with the both of you"

Your lips took the place of your fingers, leaving kiss after kiss on his nape, where his hair was the shortest.

Mason sighed, a sad but relieved sigh, as if your remarks comforted him but he wasn't sure enough, as if he needed some more encouraging and endearing words from you.

"You know I love you, right?"

"I don't know"

"What does it mean you don't know??" Your tone feigning shock and disbelief.

"I don't know if you'll love her more than me"

"Oh…you're more of a child than the one I'm carrying in my belly, I swear"

He rolled his eyes at the sarcasm you were using to answer his apparently silly worry. Your reaction made him feel unappreciated, as you didn’t care enough about what caused him that sense of uneasiness.

Mason left you there standing in the bathroom as he let his stressed limbs lay on the soft bed in your bedroom.

“Mase? Are you serious?” You followed him in your room.

“Nevermind, don’t fell like talking now” He uttered, his words muffled as he was keeping his face flat against his pillow.

“Oh my goodness” You closed your eyes, stroking the bridge of your nose back and forth with your finger. The way he was acting was becoming rather annoying, to be honest, and you were too tired to fight for a useless cause with a grown man that was just, in your opinion, throwing a tantrum. “Okay. I’ll be on the sofa eating ice-cream and watching Netflix, if you wanna talk you know where to find me”

You left him there and went to take your spot on the grey sofa downstairs, ready to binge watch the latest season of Derry Girls while scoffing down what was left of your beloved brownie and cookie ice-cream that became a must of your pregnancy by now.

If there was something you hated dealing with was discussing with Mason especially now, where the smallest of inconvenience would bring tears to your eyes.

The moment your view was interrupted by the sound of his footsteps approaching, you sighed under your breath, determined to act as if you hadn't heard him. Until when he took a seat beside you and you felt his eyes burning through you.

“Do you want a spoonful?” You asked him to break the ice.

“Nope, I’d never steal my baby mama’s favourite ice-cream”

That line was supposed to bring a smile to your face and it succeeded in doing so.

“Stop talking about stealing”

You averted your sight from the screen only when Mason placed his head on your thighs, making the butterflies in your stomach come alive.

With your one free hand, you started stroking his cheeks, moving them to massage his scalp.

“What’s troubling you, Mase?”

After you heard him emitting a loud sigh you knew the thing was getting serious so you just paused the tv to have your full attention set on him.

“It’s just - I’m afraid the miss here will steal you from me, that you’ll give her all your love and attention and when it comes to me you’ll be too tired to even look at me”

“Mase -”

“I’m so worried about this, Y/N. I know, this may sound as something childish or immature but I don’t want anything to change between us, apart from changing nappies and things like that”

You let out a soft chuckle and shifted in your seat to face him, as he had gotten up from your lap to seat properly.

“Look, I didn't mean to be harsh earlier, I’m sorry, but you hurt me when you said you weren’t sure whether I loved her more than you. I meant it when I said I’ll love you more than words can ever say. The baby will need all our attention and love and maybe yes, it’ll arrive a moment when we’ll be too tired to even kiss each other goodnight but it’s part of the process”

“I know but…I’m sorry, I wasn’t the one talking, it felt as if someone just took over me and spoke words I didn’t mean to say. I know it’s not easy having to deal with that ever growing belly but sometimes I just feel like I’m not doing enough to make you feel good and I hate that. I know she’ll need all our love, I’ve started loving her the moment you told me we would’ve become parents but sorry...I’ve been feeling weird lately” ”

The promise you made yourself not to cry, failed miserably and your orbs started getting watery with tears.

“You have nothing to reproach yourself for, Mason, really. It’s just - oh great, I’m a mess and she started kicking like a fucking footballer”

Mason chuckled and he promptly put his hand over the hump she formed pressing her feet against your belly.

“She learnt from the best” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“The fact is that…I appreciate every little thing you do to make my pregnancy a little more bearable and I’m so grateful for you, every single moment of my life but the truth is I don’t appreciate my changing body as much as you do and I always feel hideous, I’m really embarrassed of myself... the thought you want to make love to me feels absurd to me” You burst out crying and Mason had to hug you tightly to calm you down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make all of this about me”

“That’s okay and stop feeling sorry for everything. I love you so fucking much. I’m the one who has to be sorry” He let his lips linger against your forehead, detaching from your body when he felt your baby’s kick against his ribcage which was where your belly was leaning against.

He lowered himself further so his face was now at the same height as your stomach, lifting your t-shirt up so your bump was on full display. The moment Mason’s strokes met your swollen skin, your daughter calmed down a bit, giving you a rest.

“I think she’s a bit angry” You said, adjusting yourself against the armrest of the sofa so you could spread your bent legs more to let Mason make himself comfortable against your own body.

“Oh, daddy made you angry? I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Daddy didn’t mean to make his little princess angry, nor your mummy... it’s just that he loves your mummy so much…remember she was mine first, okay?”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d think you are drunk”

“I’m drunk in love”

“Oh Mase…”

“And now please baby, behave and don’t hurt mama cause she and dada have things to do”

“What kind of things do we have to do?”

“The ones where dada helps mama to love herself more…”

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prettyboysun · 6 months

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just another love song (about you)

•°. *࿐ choi beomgyu x reader

༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ bf headcanons

// fluff, cursing, a tad bit angst, suggestive/some nsfw parts 🫢 beomgyu is just so lovable it hurts // 600~ words

💌🧃🪨🪽

• beomgyu who calls u the most random nicknames just to piss u off “hey my fluffy pink poodle” “what about me is even pink” “okay cheesy fried chicken”

• loves to come up from behind you and just hold you. puts his hands under your shirt for warmth and lazily peppers kisses around your nape. when he’s feeling a bit silly he’ll draw shapes on your waist and let out weird moans in ur ear just to rile you up.

• loves to go out for dates in the rain w you. INSISTS on holding the umbrella. you have this thing together where you sprint home in the rain just for the fun of it. when you’re finally under shelter he’ll grab your face and kiss the life out of you like it’s a movie

• loves it when you play with his hair and do little braids and ponytails “makes me feel like a princess :>” as he does a twirl

• you call him babygirl and he pouts and tells u not to call him that but u know he secretly loves it

• Has a habit of putting his own food on your plate and when you tell him he needs to stop it and eat more he goes “but seeing my baby eat so well makes me happy ☹️”

• sleepily sing songs w you in bed, humming to the quiet lyrics while you both drift off to sleep

• always calls/facetimes u after dropping you off from a date, he’s just so happy to have spent time w you and already misses u

• he can’t help but cry into ur arms when u hold him and reassure him of how perfect he’s doing and that he shouldnt have to carry so much of a burden on his shoulders

• u guys randomly bite each other. sometimes it turns into all out zombie wars.

• ofc he teaches u how to play his guitar ☹️☹️ wears the pretty guitar pick you got for him as a birthday present as a necklace

• loves leaving marks on you. and vice versa. it’s like a competition to wake up in the morning and see who’s left more hickeys on the other (makes out w u in the morning just so he can leave more)

• he buys fruit flavored lip balms for you guys to share (ofc so he can kiss it off you) bought a pack of weird flavors like pickle juice or hot sauce for you on Christmas. u threw it at him when you unwrapped it.

• he quickly gave you the pretty necklace he saved up many paychecks for 😔💔

• pokes your waist or butt whenever he walks past you

• the necklaces do something to you guys. it’s so hot when the guitar pick necklace hangs over you when he’s hovering on top of you 😳 he loves to see the dainty little necklace rest on your bare torso, tugs at it to get your attention (wants to look u in the eyes but u have them shut from the pleasure he’s giving u ☠️☠️)

• likes to think to himself that he loves u more than u love him and he doesn’t mind that at all because he’s sure he’ll love you forever, even if u stop loving him 😭😭😭😭😭 (GYU STOP BEINF A SIMP DONT THINK LIKE THAT)

• he makes you so happy and pisses u off so much and he just makes you so sad but only because you love him sooooo so fucking much

// in my 3am gyu hours rn 💔💔💔

#beomgyu angst #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu smut #beomgyu imagines #txt fanfic #beomgyu #i love him so much #sobs #throws up

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theirnamesarekiklo · 1 year

Note

could u pleasee write a pt 2 to cold where they just .. grieve :’) and maybe you could weave bits of the reader in the story through flashbacks so we could get to know them? ^^

Empty Space (Cold pt2)

As it sets in, everyone has their own way of coping.

pairing: Sully Family x !Twin Sister! Reader

A/N: I wrote this in like a couple of hours I’m not sure if it’s good but I hope it is! 💔

Sitting on the sandy beach, lo’ak felt the breeze run through and past his hair. After a particularly tough day, the setting sun was his favorite thing to see. Closing his eyes, he breathed through his nose, already feeling the bubbling grief coming back up. Although times like these were pleasant, they left him stuck in his head, stuck in his thoughts. It’s been a week since she left, and it’s been racking the entire family down to sad glances and tight hugs as if the other would disappear just as she did.

¨What are you doing out here so late?”

Her voice was clear as day, a haunting memory. Quiet steps stopped right behind him, waiting for a response. She always knew. She, without fail, consistently saw the sad twinkle in his eye and always felt like the silence in his sentences hung far too long in the air for her liking. If it were up to her, she would have already begun comforting him before returning home, but she can’t force him to speak up, and she knows he certainly always will.

Turning his head, the only thing he saw was not her. Scoffing, he buried his head in his hands. He was going insane as the minutes ticked by, and his mind was suddenly catching up. Letting out a gentle whimper, he bit his lip, stopping it from quivering. He wasn’t sure what was worse—not feeling her soft gaze from across the room as she mouthed little motivations or not feeling her soul in his heart. Scrunching up his eyebrows, keeping the tears at bay, he looked at his family’s Marui pod. Ever since the funeral, he hasn’t spent more than an hour inside his home, fearing that if he took one glance at the places she spent most of her time at, he would break down and possibly do unspeakable acts that even she would frown at.

Slumping down, he succumbed to the feeling and let out tiny cries, mumbling her name between a few.

•~•

Neteyam, pushing past a couple of boys, even bumping shoulders with one, rolled his eyes as some started yelling insults at his back. Wincing at a stab of pain from his hip, he kept walking with the sack of fruits on his back. While the rest of his family either closed themselves off or spent the day growing softer, he grew angrier. He wasn’t sure what he was mad at, but he was confident that most of it was directed toward himself. If only he had run a bit faster, he would have missed it entirely and might’ve saved her.

Deciding that the throbbing wound had been annoying enough, he threw the bag on the ground. Grunting as he sat down, he noticed the eclipse coming faster than he had hoped. He planned to work outside for a while before returning home to help his mother with dinner. Taking a risky glance at his chest, her necklace sat comfortably around his neck. Before the funeral, he managed to keep it as a piece of love, but it only became a constant reminder that he wasn’t there again.

He remembers her weaving this necklace for about two days before she finished it. He had joked about wanting it for himself, and despite it being her favorite piece of jewelry, she only told him that one day it would be his. The only issue was that he expected it to be a while before it was his. Maybe she would have given it to him on his birthday, or maybe after their father had yelled at him quite angrily for something that wasn’t even his fault.

Frowning at how dull it looked now, he puffed out a breath, looking at his destination before he quickly got up and walked a bit faster this time, avoiding the pitiful stares he got from the others.

•~•

Although there had been conversations, silence spoke more than they had in the past hour. Kiri kept her gaze on tuk’s hair, avoiding her mother’s stare. She had been there; she had watched her sister die. She wondered how her brother was holding up. They were always the closest. His twin contained him just like a cup would do with water.

On the other hand, Tuk had barely registered that her sister had died a couple of days ago. Since then, she opted to sleep in the same position her sister had, feeling just a tad bit closer to her even though the truth was that she was very, very far away. She always left places with lingering gazes thinking, ¨She would like this, ¨ before smiling and walking away. Just as she did when she was here, she found comfort in her older sister.

•~•

Dinner had been relatively silent as Neytiri tried getting a couple of responses to her questions about everyone´s day. As night pooled into their home, Jake lay wide awake, eyebags much more prominent now as he desperately wished to fall asleep without waking up to a gut-wrenching nightmare from that day. He felt like something inside him had died, and it lay there clawing for a way out.

Every time he looked at lo´ak, it was like a punch to the gut. He looked so much like her, and now as he wore beads from a necklace she once wore in an armband, it simply became worse. The night she died, he spent almost every moment alone crying. Her voice, laughter, giggles, and even her scoldings replayed in his mind every second of the day despite his angry promises that he would stop thinking about his sweet, sweet girl.

¨Jake.¨

Flinching a bit at her sudden appearance, although she had been there all this time, he only felt like curling more into himself.

¨We need to le-¨

¨Every time I stare at the water, I see how scared she looked on that boat, Neytiri.¨ sharply sucking a breath in between her teeth, she sadly frowned at how she indeed saw the expression on her daughter´s face. As she held that bow with just as much confidence as she always had, her face and quivering hands gave it away, but Quaritch never noticed.

As much as Jake hated seeing how his daughter looked like her opposite, he felt guilty for feeling just a tiny bit terrified of the kid he knew to cry whenever she found a dead insect on her daily trek through the forest. Still, at that moment, he knew her as the girl who had fought three fully grown boys for simply insulting her.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he only saw how much anger she held in her eyes despite her hair covering quite a bit of her face from possibly the worst fight of her life. The snarl coming out of her as Quaritch pressed the knife just a bit deeper into her sister´s skin was engraved into his head.

Neytiri, fighting back a couple of tears at how badly this death affected them all, only took a deep breath and moved closer to her husband, who shook with quiet sobs. Her daughter was gone, and nothing was the same anymore.

#jake sully x daughter!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #neteyam x sister!reader #loak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #tuk x sister!reader #avatar twow

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creedslove · 8 months

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HEARTLESS 💔 - PART SEVENTEEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: the morning after the night you and the cowboy spent together had everything to be full of love, but a visit is going to ruin your plans

(this is the seventeenth chapter of the HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• Part one to sixteen on my MASTERLIST

Warnings: sad thoughts, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide attempt, fluff, angst, mom!reader

A/N: what can I tell you besties? I know it took me a long time but here's our cowboy for another ride... some of you didn't like the angst was back, but well, we know their love is stronger than anything that goes on, right?!

4.3k words

"I love you"

Those three simple words echoed through the cowboy's head as he watched you close your exhausted eyes and drift off to sleep. He pulled you closer to him, your head resting against his chest, heart beating fast, nose buried into your beautiful hair while his hands rubbed your back and traced invisible patterns all over your skin while he thought of everything that went on between the two of you. He had exhausted you, hell, he was exhausted himself and yet he couldn't fall asleep, the emotions of the latest events still running through his veins like adrenaline stopping him from simply closing his eyes and relaxing. You loved him, he knew that, in fact, everyone did, even though the heartbreak you had was the biggest, saddest and most intense situation you had ever gone through, it still wasn't enough to erase the feelings you felt for a certain cowboy; just as his desperate, pathetic and insisting trials of moving on, forgetting about you or even trying to hate on were just as big of a failure as he was. He loved you deeply, simply and raw. The kind of love that unabled him from moving on, from trying again, the kind of love that took away all the thrill in going out for one night stands like he often did before you walked into his life. The kind of love that made him think it wasn't worth living anymore, not while he was lacking that love, when he made the worst mistake of his life, choosing his own grief over his actual family, too scared to move on and being trapped in the past because it didn't scare him as much, when he thought the safest for the three of you would be going separate ways, so you wouldn't hurt him with the constant memory of his first wife and unborn son, so he wouldn't torture himself with the fear of betraying her memory and not being able to be there wholeheartedly for you and your son. He was scared, not only that, he was terrified and in his clouded judgment, he really believed he was doing the right thing, of course now he had a healthier mindset he could clearly see the kind of shit he engaged himself into and nearly lost for good the chance of being happy once more. He loved you so much, but he realized he had always taken it for granted, assuming you would always be around, and once he kicked you out of his life, a part of him assumed - and even hoped for - there would be a return; that you would crawl back to him, beg him to take you and your son back, but he was proven wrong once more when he met your power, your strength, and just then, when he didn't have you, he realized how much he truly loved you. Perhaps it was because of all the years of loneliness that followed the death of his wife and son, and Jack associated love with absence, that was one of the fruity, fancy things his therapist had said. He had tried several times starting therapy, but he never really engaged in it, he never really cared for it, and he was so sure it wouldn't be different when Champ set his cards on the table and told Whiskey would get only a suspension, therapy sessions and a shitty excuse of being brain damaged after being shot in the head, instead of being fired from the Statesman, kicked out like an old dog and sent to prison. At that moment, Jack sort of thought that was exactly what he deserved.

He was hopeless, knowing that he had made the worst mistake of his life, pushing away the family God had gifted him, his second chance of being happy and protecting the ones he loved and yet, he had been blind to see it. At that point of his life, his son growing from a tiny little dot in an ultrasound, to a small baby and finally evolving into a cute toddler he couldn't lie to himself any longer, not like when he told himself that dropping amounts of cash in your bank account here and there were enough. He knew they weren't. For the first time, he understood the weight of the stares and the silent judgments from people around him: Helen, his sister, Champ, Ginger, Tequila. It was no secret what happened, and it was also no secret he had made his family go away.

He was lost, he was lonely, he didn't have anything to live for. He thought that by sabotaging the mission he would be able to finally get some sort of revenge over whoever killed his wife and son - the cops could never identify them - but when he had the control of the situation, even for a brief period of time, he didn't feel anything, he was numb. Perhaps the excuse they came up with for the official Statesman reports wasn't so wrong, maybe Jack had had some kind of brain damage because of the shot, the first evidence would be Ginger resetting his memory by using a picture of you and Wyatt; he never knew how she got that picture of the two of you in the first place, his guess would be you being under the Statesman's protection program that covered the agent's families.

When he woke up from his comatose, he was so full of energy, as if he was twenty something again; seeing that hot chick in a lab coat with that sterile environment around that was somehow both so familiar and yet completely unknown to him, all he felt like doing was jumping off that bed and wooing her into bed with him, that was when she showed him a picture of a pretty lady. He looked at her, she was gorgeous, he knew he had seen her before but he couldn't remember at all. The lab coat lady watched him with confusion but took another picture out of her pocket and the moment Jack laid eyes on it, it felt like his head was exploding. Everything coming back to him at the same time, all of the memories returning, the tragedies, the happy moments, broken hearts and mended hearts all at once. His head was pounding as if someone pierced through his skull with a knife until he was brought back into his senses, but then, he was numb again.

He was numb because he had lost two families, one of them was taken away from him and the other he had pushed it away, and he would never forgive himself for that. He was a broken man, he was hopeless, he was a coward. He had tried ending his miserable, empty and useless life a couple of times, but he was just too much of a coward to do it right. It was like he somehow asked for help, when he thought he only deserved to be six feet under. He had no reason to live, so he took the opportunity he needed in order to try his final act. He went after Eggsy and Harry, knowing eventually someone would stop him. Deep down, Jack knew his plan was kind of stupid and it didn't even make that much sense, but he had to tried, in his mind, the best case scenario was someone ending his everlasting pain and he could finally find peace, and he was sure he was going to make it, the moment his lasso got stuck and he was meeting the meat grinder, he closed his eyes, praying it would be painless and fast, and the last image that crossed his mind was you.

You running to him like you often did, getting off Silver Pony and rushing to meet him, wrapping your arms around his neck and crash your lips gently for a welcome home kiss. This time, however, Wyatt would be with you, looking exactly like he did the last time Jack decided to follow the two of you through the street, and his heart tightened, it was too fast for him to notice it had been you, and not his late wife that crossed his mind in his final moments, and his heart tightened, he didn't have time left, but perhaps in the afterlife, he would be as happy as he could've been with you and your son.

And then that young man pulled him back.

His cowboy hat had already been shredded when he felt himself being lifted up and taken away from that real life nightmare. Whiskey knew he wasn't the best person in the world and he had had his fair share of bad actions, but he didn't think he deserved to die that way, not in such a cruel and gruesome way, that would be heartbreaking to everyone. He couldn't even imagine how Helen or his beloved sister would take the news that they couldn't even see his body because technically there wouldn't be much left of him, so for that, he was relieved. His memories of that day were kind of foggy, after he'd been knocked out by Eggsy, he only woke up at the Statesman's headquarters.

The first few days after the mission were pretty odd, everyone stared at him as if he was a traitor, and to be honest he was, not to Statesman, it wasn't anything personal, he would always love that company, the people who worked there and also his job, but he had betrayed himself. Whenever he walked down the hallways for his humiliating therapy sessions, he thought about how he needed to see you, but there was no way he could find you at that moment, not with the surveillance Champ had placed behind him all the time, after what happened, he worried the other agents would assume he was going to try to harm you and Wyatt somehow.

So Jack went to therapy instead, at first thinking he was just wasting his time and rolling his eyes at everything the therapist said, that until his words began hitting him deep, and slowly the cowboy started opening up, and before he could tell, the tears ran freely down his cheeks as he poured his heart out, in hopes he could be fixed.

All that painful path was what led Jack back with his family, after doing things wrong like he very often did, he managed to crawl back into your heart, after he showed you he loved and cared so much about you, despite being a dick, and you also gave in, because you were tired of fighting off the feelings you had for him and above all, the longing to have a real, stable family with him, so he cherish and appreciated those moments, even if they still seemed too good to be true, he vowed himself to make you happy for the rest of your life and never take you and Wyatt for granted. In the painful memories, his arms tightened the grip around you, making sure you were there, safe in his embrace and you shifted softly, smiling at the fact you had always had a deep sleep.

He watched you as you slept, he had always loved doing that, seeing your chest raising up and down at your calm breathing, he rested his head on him, closing his eyes and concentrating into your heartbeat, you were alive, well, in his arms, that cowboy couldn't wish anything else in his life, and yet, he did. He had one more desire, something you had already denied, you'd been adamant about it even, but that all had happened before you had changed your mind, before you broke the cowboy hat rule and told him you wanted to be with him, you wanted your family to work. He wanted a baby with you, another member of the Daniels family, he wasn't in a hurry, now that he had you and that you weren't going anywhere, now that you were staying next to him, watching Wyatt grow up and taking care of him. He wanted to make things right, like he was supposed to have done it once you two were together at first, he should've stepped in, become a man and treated you exactly the way you deserved it: like his wife.

And once you two were settled on that, he wanted you to have another baby, a baby girl if he could choose, because that cowboy wouldn't resist a tiny little princess looking like her mommy, the love of his life. He just knew, without even trying too hard that the moment that little girl opened her eyes, she would have that old cowboy wrapped around her tiny little finger in a heartbeat. He chuckled at the mere picture of it, shifting your body so you would lay your back on the mattress and rested his head on your stomach, closing his eyes as he imagined and prayed hard a little dot could be growing inside of your womb already. He just wanted to be there for you, for Wyatt and for the new baby you could maybe have together. His lips trailed a path of kisses right under your belly button, his mustache tickling your skin softly, but not enough to wake you up.

"Come to us soon, my baby" he whispered into your womb and fell asleep.

•••

You washed your face with fresh water and stared at yourself in the mirror, liking what you were seeing: no dark bags under your eyes, silky hair looking good after your brushed it - after all, your cowboy had a huge soft spot for your hair - and a glow that you recognized from the times you were feeling extremely happy and alive. Giggling as you analyzed yourself in the mirror, you could see the marks that hungry cowboy had left on you. You neck marked with a trail of hickeys that drove you insane at the moment you got them; feeling another wave of warmth down your core, you decided not to cover it up with makeup or any accessory, there was no need to it, after all, you and your son would be staying on the ranch for the next days and it was so secret to anyone there - or anyone outside of it once you returned to the city - you were the cowboy's and he was yours.

It was madness to think that everything you felt the night before could become a routine like it had been once, that all the pleasure Jack gave you, he could give you again over and over every single day; that man could be a little distant if one didn't know him yet, but from the moment you get to know him and he takes a like on you, Jack Daniels vows himself to please you as best as he can. It wasn't different with you, he knew exactly what to do to you, your weak spots, it was his sweet way of domination, and now that you woke up drunk in love, you would be glad to let that man dominate you for the rest of your life.

Jack was still sleeping when you exited the bathroom, his face buried deep into your pillow, making you giggle, he had always been a needy sweet man after all. You lifted the blankets and got rid of your slippers so you could join your cowboy in bed when soft knocked interrupted you; you widened your eyes, knowing it could only be your son. A wave of guilt rushed through your body as you hadn't even thought of him for the past hours, being so deep into the experience you shared with your man, but thinking about it, Wyatt was safe and sound, asleep after the best weekend of his little life and his mommy and daddy did deserve some time on their own.

You opened the door to him, smiling as your son hugged your waist and giggled

"Hi mommy!" He said with his sweet bright eyes, not letting go of you until you took him into his arms and lifted him up. Wyatt looked inside the room curiously and gasped as he saw his daddy asleep, staring into his eyes he giggled "why did you have a sleepover with daddy and not me, mommy?" He tilted his head and wrapped his tiny arms around your neck "I miss you mommy" he whispered into your ear and snuggled and you felt like your heart was bursting with love. Your son was just so sweet and adorable and you also missed him, it had been just the two of you against everything and everybody for most of his life and you saw it then that the two of you missed it.

"I miss you too very very much, my little cowboy… would you like to snuggle with mommy and daddy some more?" You asked and he nodded eagerly, not letting go of you even if his little life depended on it. You got yourself under the blankets, your son immediately tucked between you and his daddy, but he was facing you, staring at you with his beautiful, soft eyes "you are so pretty mommy" he said sweetly and rested his face against your chest falling asleep.

Jack chuckled and looked at you "seems like you found your love bug, sugar" he winked and ran his fingers through Wyatt's curls, looking at his son with pride in swallowing his heart. You took Jack's hand, entwining your fingers together and sighing "you're so handsome, I hope you know that" you whispered and pecked his neck gently, loving the taste of his skin, just like you love everything else about your sweet cowboy. Whiskey could see how sleepy you were and smiled gently at you "sleep sugar, rest and close your beautiful eyes that I'll be here when you wake up" your cowboy's silky voice was enough to soothe you and make you close your exhausted eyes, falling asleep with your lovely little family.

•••

Wyatt shook his head and frowned confused at the words he had just heard, he had even stopped nibbling on the delicious bread and butter during his breakfast.

"No grandma, daddy loves me!" He said confused and looked up at the older woman, who chuckled and shook her head, you mom just rubbed his back gently and sighed

"I'm sorry baby boy, but daddy doesn't love you.. as grandma said, when mommy had you in her belly, he told mommy to leave and said he never wanted to see you or her again! He doesn't love mommy either, daddy is very selfish and he only cares about himself. Mommy didn't even let grandma come to your birthday party because of him" she said but Wyatt refused to believe her, his daddy loved him and he knew it.

"Why wasn't your daddy around you? Because he didn't love you nor mommy" she shrugged and he jumped off her lap "no, you are lying, grandma!!!"

"I'm not! Don't be a naughty boy!" She censored him raising her voice at the same time you and Jack came downstairs. He had his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and pinching your sides playfully making you giggle and squirm. Jack had his hat in his free hand and he only had eyes for you, however, he noticed immediately how your soft and carefree expression changed into a frown and your jaw clenched, but before he could say anything else, the two of you were welcomed by your son's cries as he looked at you

"It's not true, grandma! Mommy, tell grandma it's not true!" He whined and clung to you, looking up at Jack with eyes filled with tears and sniffling sadly.

Your mom just laughed softly and shrugged "I didn't lie my love, I wish I did but it's the truth" and then she eyed you up and down, the disgust in her face at the clear proximity to the cowboy, how his hand still lingered on your hips and of course how you hadn't even bothered to cover up the hickeys he had left along your skin, she couldn't believe and accept you were back with that man already, and in her twisted mind, she needed to do something about it.

"What did you tell my son, you witch? Huh? My little cowboy was perfectly fine earlier this morning, he was happy and chirping like a damn little bird and now he's crying? What did you do?!" Jack roared, his fatherly instincts kicking in the moment he saw the distress, and knowing how his mother-in-law hated him and apparently wouldn't even spare her own grandson from her petty feelings. The woman just laughed again and folded her arms

"What do you think I said?! I told him the truth about how his daddy had a family he loved very much, the only family he ever loved and when he lost them, he just got another replacement which was his mommy but when she got pregnant with Wyatt, he told her to go away because he didn't love her or her son, he just loved his other family" she shrugged and looked at him. You thought Jack was about to explode, you had never seen him so angry, his face was livid, red with anger and if he could would've attacked her right there and then, but he used all his strength to hold himself back. At the same time you asked your mom harshly what she was doing there, the three of you were stopped by Wyatt's loud sob. He looked up at his dad as tears ran down his face and he cried his little heart out.

"I-Is it true daddy? You don't love me? You love your other family?"

And Jack's heart shattered as hard as he had never felt before, it felt it had been ripped off his chest and shredded to pieces, he couldn't handle the disappointment and hurt into his son's eyes, and all because of him. He shook his head and got on his knees, bloody red eyes full of tears, staring into his son, he tilted his head at the same time his strong hands pulled Wyatt closer "n-no son, daddy loves you and mommy, more than anything. There was a family yes, but they are gone and daddy made a lot of mistakes but I've never stopped loving you, I-"

His heartfelt words were interrupted by the quarrel you and your mom initiated, if Jack was able to control his anger, you couldn't say you owned the same skill he did, quite the opposite, you were shaking with anger and all you could see was your son's hurt feelings, if you felt that way, you couldn't even believe how your cowboy must have felt. Not only that, how your poor son must've been hurt by it, his daddy had been his world ever since they met and now, after your mom's venomous words your son cried his little heart out.

Wyatt couldn't handle that, he liked to see his mommy and daddy happy, playing with him and not crying and yelling at his grandma, so he turned around and ran outside the door, wanting to find the only thing that could calm him down.

You cried and tried controlling your anger, no matter how many times Jack had held you by the waist and tried to convince you to stop yelling and causing a scene, but you couldn't rest and stop until you saw your mother out of Jack's ranch, only when you couldn't see her car down the road was when you felt a little better, still you had a lot of damage control. You cried with anger and sadness, your mom had no right to do what she did, she could hate your future husband as much as she wanted but she could not bring her grandson into it. The way your sweet little boy cried was haunting you and how hurt his poor little heart was. Jack was at a loss of words, he hated he had disappointed his son that way; he felt like a complete failure as a man, and as a father. He couldn't even think of how he ever wanted to have another child, if he could barely handle the one son he already had. You paced the kitchen and finished your glass of water, sighing relieved as Jack walked inside. You frowned softly "where's Wyatt?!" You questioned him and he just mumbled something about him being outside playing with Silver Star.

"Is everything okay?" You asked even though you knew everything was not okay, everything was far from okay, after your mom waltzed into your seeming perfect happy ending and screwed things up; even Jack changed his demeanor, if before he was just all lovey dovey towards you, now it was clear he needed some time on his own. He turned around and faced you, frustration was written all over his face, his body was so tense it was visible so he just clenched his jaw before sighing "Wyatt won't talk to me, you should check up on him, maybe he'll talk to you…" after all your mother fucked it up that was what he wanted to say, but he knew it would be mean, that wasn't himself talking, it was his anger and he could see you were just as stressed as you were, it was not fair he would take it out on you, you didn't deserve this. Jack cleared his throat and looked at you with much softer eyes, taking a step forward and wrapping his arms around you, his embrace was comforting and soothing, as he rubbed your back up and down

"Talk to him, sugar, maybe he won't hate me if you do…" his voice cracked and so did your heart; you couldn't accept your mom was such a heartless person who was willing to end your family's happiness like that, you needed to do something about it.

____

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volterran-wine · 6 days

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Relationship Headcanons || Sulpicia

“Say yes to heaven, Say yes to me” ― Lana Del Ray, Say Yes To Heaven

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒: "Would you be willing to do relationship Headcannons for Sulpicia? Everyday I do nothing but hope for my sapphic vampire romance 💔"

I have to agree with you dare Anonymous, who does not want to experience a wondrous sapphic vampire romance? Apologies for these headcanons being somewhat late. It is a terrible habit I have picked up, but alas... they are now here in your hands. Do enjoy.

!𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒! None.

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

— 𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀

Personally I see Sulpicia as a less severe version of Aro, with her own unique quirks of course. She is a cunning and beautiful woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to go out and get it; no matter how hopeless it might seem.

In other words; any romantic partner of Sulpicia's would most likely find themselves to be the ones seduced and/or courted. A careful laid hand here, a whispered compliment there; it is hard not to fall head over heels for the woman without a care in the world.

Witty banter is something she looks for in a partner, having been rather scholarly since she was a human. If you are unable to keep up she would be rather let down.

Sulpicia’s love languages are as follows; Showing: Physical Touch and Gift Giving. Receiving: Physical Touch.

Depending on her partner's preferences; Sulpicia will gladly share her clothes with them and help dress them up before any and all occasions. If they have long enough hair for her to braid she will also be doing that every opportunity she has.

Sulpicia is fond of sharing books with her partners, often reading it first and leaving them little annotated notes about prose she thinks they may like; or perhaps dedicating a beautiful passage to her lover.

Seeing as though she sees Jane and Alec as her children, it is important for her that any lover or partner will spend time with them as well. If the twins do not like the potential partner Sulpicia will consider if the relationship is worth it or not.

If any vampire or mortal is rude towards her significant other she will and can cut the individual in question down with such verbal finesse it is terrifying. In her eyes an insult to her lovers is an insult aimed directly at her no matter what the rude passerby was intending.

Will commission (force) Caius to paint a portrait of her and her lover if ends up being a long-term commitment. The entire session is spent seeing how far they can push the pale-haired king out of his comfort zone.

Sulpicia is a fantastic dancer and will whip any romantic attachment into shape wether they liked it or not. Often she is considered the belle of any Volturi function, and she will make sure her partner look just as dazzling beneath the chandeliers.

PDA: If you are not fond of public displays of affection I will recommend not taking on Sulpicia as a lover, paramour, wife, dalliance―even a friends. I see her as a person who shows her love through physical means wether it be kisses on the cheeks, hugs or a scandalously placed hand.

Terms of endearment Sulpicia would use: Love, My heart, doll.

#Sulpicia Volturi #Sulpicia Volturi Headcanon #Twilight #As a raging Bi/Pansexual I love this energy

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dirtytransmasc · 1 year

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How would mama Neytrir or papa Jake react if the RDA brainwashed Spider and made him more ‘human’, eg his hair is short and refuses to Speak navi(despite the fact it’s literally his language), and now wears human clothes as well. Spider also doesn’t remember anything about his old life, he doesn’t remember his mama, dad, siblings, friends, interests or even hair braiding. Just imagine mama Neytrir's reaction to this……💔

this had to be a mother's worst nightmare, for her own child to no longer recognize her, to look at her with fear and disgust, cowering from her touch. those demons shaved him, stripped him of his jewelry, and his songchord, forcing ill-fitting and bland RDA clothes on what remained of his tiny, underweight little body. every bit of skin covered in dark bruises, yellow patches painted the in-between, both eyes ringed with deep blacks and reds, his gaze absent, dead. he looked ill, his skin pale as if he had been kept from the sun, lips shriveled with dehydration and the biting spider seemed intent on doing. spider had refused any food or water, a change of clothes, even if only nicer human clothes, but he just shook his head or shut down.

he wouldn't talk to anyone, not unless he was screaming that his name was no longer 'spider', that the terms of endearment neytiri whispered to him in na'vi were nonsense, that they were all nothing but filthy savages.

neytiri knew that wasn't her son, not truly, and from what she had learned about the humans, what she saw on her son's body, she knew they had tortured him, beat him until he did what they wanted. hearing jake explain to her what they did made her feel sick with rage, made her desperate to hold onto him, to make him know he didn't have to fear them anymore, that he didn't have to pretend anymore.

but as days turned to weeks, it just got worse. spider made it very clear that this was no act, he didn't remember, his family were now strangers, he didn't remember his home, his people.

every day he grew wearier, every time he seemed to come close to remembering something no matter how small he became more and more vile, spitting acid at his family with that empty look in his eye.

neytiri was heartbroken, she would sit there all day, letting her baby throw insults at her, at her people, never once getting angry. she knew, the way a mother knew, that her baby was in there somewhere and she wasn't gonna scare him away. she would wait there every day for the next 100 years if she had to, she was going to get her baby back.

she would crawl closer at night, brush her fingers through the fluffy new growth of his curly golden locks, ever so gentle as to not wake him from the little sleep he managed. he thrashed in his sleep, whining pitifully, shredding her already mangled heart; spider had few nightmares as a child, but when he did, like any child would, he clung close to his mother and father, not letting go till it was long gone. but now she could only watch, praying to the great mother that she show the boy mercy.

when jake forced her to leave the little 'cell' spider confined himself in, she walked the familiar paths of spider's childhood, the routes she shared only with him, in hopes of gaining back some of the joy she once felt with him. the room itself was an old infirmary transitioned to best suit what they thought was a scared and traumatized little boy who was lost in his own torture, but now it was more than that, and spider refused to leave. he spent most of his days curled up in the dark corner next to the cot, so he could only be seen from one direction, head-on.

jake sat with him a few hours everyday, not as long as neytiri, as spider seemed a lot more frightened by him, no doubt the intentions of his captors when they broke his little mind. spider looked through him and it made him feel cold, like he was submerged in ice water. it broke him to see his son, his baby boy, like that. he remembered when spider was so tiny, curled up asleep in his lap, gnawing on his cummerbund like it was a chew toy. he remembered carving the boys first knife, helping him shoot his first arrow, watching him make his first clean kill. he wanted to know where that little boy went, he wanted to bring him back, to hold him and make sure nothing ever hurt him again.

in the short time they weren't allowed in the room, when spider needed to be manhandled and sedated so he could be tube fed and checked up on by norm and max, jake and neytiri clung to each other, trying not to mourn the loss of their son, because he wasn't gone, they would never accept that, but they cried, they screamed and begged and howled like wounded animals; what had spider ever done to deserve this?

spider was a good boy, he did whatever he could to help The People, the village, the elders. he was well-mannered and respectful, always had a smile on his face and a laugh on his tongue. he was the sweetest, most helpful, and loving little boy, what did he do to deserve this?

they had to watch as he fought to wake up from the sedation, tears flowing from his eyes, a pitiful little whine crawling its way out of his chest. most days neytiri could stay behind the window, but watching spider thrash with something raw this time round, choking on his own spit, and for a split second she swore she heard the word mama in-between his horrible sobs.

she rushed to his side, even as max and norm tried to pull her away, as jake stood numb in the doorway. she took his little scarred hands into her own, scared that if she just scooped him up it would scare him away.

"I'm here, sweet boy, I'm here, your mama's here... please baby, I'm right here," she was desperate, for spider's eyes to fall on her and fill with ease, to recognize her, to come back to her.

and for a second he did, he looked like he wanted to melt, for a single second he was there... and then he was gone, screaming and thrashing about, even spitting at her. then neytiri was the one crying, not letting go of his hands until someone dragged her away, begging for him to come back, to stay with her.

jake held her as spider crawled off the cot and back into his corner, dragging the blanket down with him, curling up so you could only see the gold of his hair.

part of neytiri died that day, the hope she held for just a second being crushed just as fast as it had gathered, and it took some of her spirit with her. she went to commune with Eywa that day, desperate for some sort of answer, guidance as to how she was supposed to help her little gift, her miracle, her fkew'hi'i'atan. she wanted so badly to free him from the prison the demons locked him in. but her strength was waning, she couldn't put up with much more, she knew it wasn't him saying it, that it was forced into him, this whole new persona was built and tortured into him, but hearing her baby's voice, no matter how broken, saying such awful things, it was breaking her.

Eywa provided her little answers, little peace, even though she begged and pleaded. she went to her mother who could only hold onto her and attempt to console her as she sobbed. jake held her that night, promised her that he would make the demons pay for what they did to their baby, that no matter what happened, spider would not suffer for nothing. she felt him losing hope, she couldn't blame him, he could barely even be in the room without spider screaming at him.

it had been almost a year before there was any change, spider stopped fighting, just went catatonic, stared off into space for hours and hours. they'd tried taking him outside, jake holding him in strong arms, laying him in the grass, racking finger's through his hair as the wind blew past him. they'd never managed to get spider outside before then, they had tried, so hard. they hated keeping spider in that sterile white room, even if they hadn't kept him by choice. neytiri insists that something was there, that his eyes shifted a little, that his breath came easier. jake couldn't decided if she was right or if it was just wishful thinking, he doesn't know which one hurts more.

neytiri could hold him now, and she did, every day. she sat there and sang to him, kissing his forehead, talking to him as if it was any other day, and her baby was right there like it had been before.

spider had to be carried everywhere, months spending balled up in corners or sedated to keep him from destroying himself atrophied all his muscles, even if he wanted to, he would never walk on his own, not without a lot of help and a lot of physical therapy. they were unsure if he'd be able to speak if he wanted to either, as he only used his voice to scream and cry. it felt almost unethical to keep spider, he had no quality of life, he was nothing but a shell and it was devastating. they were faced with a horrible question; what do you do when a persons mind has all but died, leaving them to suffer in a broken body? what do you do when death would be a mercy but simply won't come? what do you do when your child is in that position, do you watch them wither away, knowing every single day is nothing but pain and fear and all you can do is watch?

one day spider's songchord showed up, neytiri knew who put it there, and as much as she detested that man, as much as she blamed what happened to her boy on that man, she knew he had some amount of heart. he let spider go, he brought spider back to them, and now he'd managed to find his songchord. it had been left on the edge of omatikaya territory, the songchord was wrapped in his loincloth, a small string of beads next to it, spider's hair beads. she was grateful, in a strange way, she understood what he had done, why he had done it; he never meant for this to happen, and he took full blame for it, this was his way of saying sorry.

neytiri took spider to Eywa that day, placed him under the tree of souls, singing his songchord, watching eywa hold her baby in her arms. spider wasn't asleep, but he wasn't awake, he wasn't there. she connecter to the tree, hoping to find spider within the connection... when she did she almost regretted it, just for a second.

she found spider, her spider, curled up in a ball, sobbing. when she reached out to him, desperately, his eyes met hers. he stared for a second before throwing himself at her. for the first time in forever she heard na'vi on his tongue, heard him call her mama, heard his voice.

she held him as tight as she could, holding onto him as if he was going to disappear. her baby was locked in his own mind, unable to scream out, to beg for help, his minds only goal now was to survive, even if it meant killing him off. but here, where only their souls mattered, she could finally reach her boy.

"mama," his voice was broken, though this time it was overrun with pain and emotion, as he clung to her.

"oh my son, my son I'm here, I never left you."

"mama," he repeated, as if thats the only thing he could think about.

"I never gave on you fkew'hi'i'atan, I know you were in there, and I know your fighting. I know your tired, I see it, I see it, my sweet child. I know you want to give up, that your heart is tired. but I am here, I am waiting for you, your father is waiting, your siblings are waiting, baby we're waiting for you, come back to us." she begged her son, begged him with every last bit of energy she had.

"I don't know how mama, I'm trying, I'm trying really hard, I wanna come home," he cried, cowering into her chest, a subconscious fear kicking in.

she brushed back his hair, kissing the top of his head, trying to reassure him that he was safe here with her. "It's ok, little one, it's oke I will come here everyday with you if that's what it means, I will give myself to Eywa herself, to get you back. I promise you spider, I will never give up on you my son. I know its hard and its scary, but I will be here," she meant every word, she would do whatever it took to get her boy back.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled, "I was so mean, I said... I said such horrible things, I made dad go away, so I hid, I hid as far away as I could and now I can't get back."

neytiri felt her world collapse around her. spider did this for her, for jake, he gave up his own mind, what little bit he had left, for them.

she didn't know what to say, but she didn't need to saying anything, cause Eywa knew, spider knew, she knew. there were some things that couldn't be said, feelings that could never be expressed in words. so she held her baby boy as close as she could, kissing his temple, tucking her head over his.

"I will take you home spider, I will find a way, I promise you that. tomorrow I will come with your father and we will find a way to fix this. rest for now, my little one, you don't have to be strong anymore, its our turn now. you've been so strong and so brave, let it be my turn, can you do that for me?"

he nodded against her, "five more minutes?" his little voice asked her, as if he was a baby all over again - she hadn't let herself remember he wasn't a baby anymore, he was 18 now, in so long, the thought hurt - as he curled into her chest.

"of course hi'i'tìyawn, I'll stay as long as you need."

there was something so simple, painful and bittersweet, as a mother holding her child. as she rocked him she imagined them back in their home, the home spider should have know. the home they could have had back in hometree. she let spider see what she used to see, both of them being lulled into the lullaby of The Great Mother, until the bond was broken by Eywa herself. jake had to carry them both home that night, but that was ok, because he found them in each other's arms, covered in ato'kirina, and something told him it would all be ok.

#made myself cry with this one #I'm so sorry #I'll write something about the kids in time #I have like #4 fics I need to write right now #brain worms #spider socorro #miles socorro #miles spider socorro #spider te suli tsyeyk'itan #neytiri #jake sully #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water

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ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 2 years

Note

Ok I’ve never done a request but it’s stuck in my head and I can’t write. Eddie Munson would absolutely melt if he was laying in your lap and you started playing with his hair🫠

SCREAMING CRYING!!!😭😭😭All day at work today, I was thinking about this. I daydreamed away the entire shift, spent it all with Eddie, and I did my best to remember everything I was thinking of!💖

Summary: Sometimes, Eddie just has to turn the music off, shut his bedroom door, and let himself cry. Being the freak doesn’t bother him most of the time, but every now and then, it all gets to be too much. With your fingers in his hair and his body against yours, Eddie knows he’ll be okay. Someday.

Contains: reader comforts Eddie, Eddie crying, fluff, canon angst (bullying; Jason versus Eddie), nicknames (honey, sweetie, etc.)

I listened to and had Solitude by Black Sabbath in my head as I wrote this; the feeling of that song is what inspired and prompted this piece (as well as the request itself - thank you so much for being my first one!)💔

(On another note, I couldn't believe this is Ozzy singing but all my research says it is - they added a delayed effect to his voice so it sounded like there were two. He sounds so different to the Ozzy I know, but it makes me love the song even more. It's so melancholy but soothing and that's the vibe I wanted for this piece).

Word count: 3, 198.

Tagging @the-slasher-madame @alliecheer007-88 @moonlighteeve @sabbathsworld @spencestyles @eddiebunson

And a big thank you to @gemstone-roses for reading this over and helping me with the ending! I just don't know when to shut up😂

At school, Eddie was the personification of a hurricane. He was loud, chaotic, unafraid to stand atop a table and make some noise. He was always right in what he said, but the way he delivered those truths left much to be desired for the majority of the school population.

Only you and the other members of Hellfire Club truly appreciated the words, the theatrics, the way Eddie liked to deflect attention away from the kids he mentored by making himself the centre of attention; it was so seamless a display of protection that even the kids themselves missed it sometimes.

But you saw Eddie's actions for what they were, you heard his speeches for what he was really saying, and you knew and loved Eddie as no one but you and his uncle got to see him.

Not just the way he behaved at school, but also the way he truly was.

Eddie was... soft.

There was a notable edge to him, to be sure - he wasn't afraid to play into his reputation when he needed to, and he definitely wasn't afraid to get violent. He had a switchblade with a sharp tongue to match, though words were his preferred weapon. His voice became high pitched when he was pissed off or scared, he complained about things and swore about them the whole time but he did them anyway because he knew it was what was right. You saw bravery in his mundane. He sewed patches onto his own jacket, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He would look up towards the ceiling to take deep breaths when he pricked himself, calming himself down before he carried on; wanting the end result no matter what it personally cost him. He got excited when he saw stray cats in the trailer park, he did as many chores for his uncle as he could between having to wake up for school and his uncle coming home from the night shift. He listened to you and his friends, supported and encouraged those who needed it, helped those who were too scared to ask him for help. Gave people a place to sit when no one else would let them, gave Dustin all the time in the world to say what he wanted to say, even and especially when others got impatient with the little shrimp.

Eddie was strong, resilient, sweet, charming, intelligent, creative, passionate, truly such a good person; beautiful inside and out...

And incredibly sensitive.

You saw the act which Eddie played into when he was at school and you loved him for his eccentricity. He owned it and encouraged others to do the same. You saw the man who worked hard at his music, who worked hard to make his clothes his. The man who sold drugs at a higher price than they actually were but only to people who were mean to him. Kind people got a discount. Friends often got drugs for a steal, or he wouldn't charge them at all. It wasn't the best way to make money, but Eddie did it anyway, just so that he could better help Wayne with the bills and upkeep of the trailer. In short, Eddie did the best with what he had and you admired him strongly for that.

But what you admired him for the most was the way in which, when the hour was right, when the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky bled into purple and dark blue hues, Eddie dropped it all and showed the rawest parts of himself to anyone who cared enough to look, to really look.

A part of you found that, the darker Eddie's mood, the more beautiful he became. Perhaps it was in the heartache with which you watched him, or maybe it was because you knew how precious a soul he was and only you got to see him when the world had forced him to his knees, or maybe it was just because you knew he was safe with you, just as you were safe with him. He was so, so pretty, even in his pain, and somehow did you only love him more.

You watched as he paced around the kitchen area of the trailer, going in a full circle before moving through the living space and down the long corridor towards his bedroom. He punched lightly at the door, then spun on his heel, dark hair flying like lightning, and repeated the circuit. He was muttering to himself, dark eyes staring at the ceiling or out the window or down at the floor. Not at you. If he looked at you, he'd crack, and he didn't want to crack. So he didn't look.

He just kept pacing back and forth, back and forth, trying to work out his energy, getting more and more aggravated by the circuit.

He was on his thirteenth one before you intervened, your concern simply too great and your want to help him even greater.

"Eddie?"

A non-committal grunt as Eddie spun past you.

"Eddie."

A faster circuit, a harder punch on the bedroom door, he came back through the kitchen, swore under his breath, turned -

"Eddie!"

He stopped dead. A shuddering breath. Dark eyes looked through you. Swimming with too many thoughts to listen to, words too small to matter but cutting him up all the same, screaming inside his head. Too much too much too much too much -

Eddie put his hands over his face, his shoulders bowing inwards as he cried. He sniffled, didn't make much noise, but he was all you could hear. Great heaving breaths picked up and Eddie followed his body's movements down, down, 'til the world literally and metaphorically had him on his knees, sobbing on the kitchen floor in the trailer.

"Oh, honey," you cooed as you immediately stood, walking over to Eddie. You didn't run or make your urgency physically known; you didn't want to spook him. You hadn't ever seen him like this; never before had he allowed you to see him totally shatter. "Oh, sweetie, deep breaths," you bent slowly, giving him plenty of time to move away, but Eddie gave no indication that he even knew you were there.

How many times had he ended up here and been left all on his own?

How many times had he scraped himself up off the kitchen floor?

How many times had he pulled himself together, hands swiping across wet cheeks as he suppressed sniffles, not wanting to worry his uncle or friends?

How many times had he completely moved through his upset, coming into school like it was no big deal, and no one noticed?

How many times had he screamed for help inside his head, paralysed by his emotions, and unable to voice them to anyone, so he had suffered silent and alone? All the while begging to be seen, heard, helped, loved?

How many times?

The seemingly endless possibilities made you feel sick and you swore there and then that this was the first of every time that you would be there for Eddie, just as he always was for you, no matter any personal cost.

You rubbed his back in slow movements, your hand firm against the softer material of the Dio logo cut off an old band shirt and lovingly stitched onto the back of the denim jacket he had personalised himself. "I've got you, Eddie, I'm here, you're not alone." You blinked hard against the stinging of tears in your eyes and made a concerted effort to focus on Eddie. If he saw you cry at all, let alone for him, then he would forget himself in the face of tending to you, and you didn't want him to do anything other than to feel his own feelings. He had a lot of them and they needed to come out just as they were.

Sobs turned to sniffles but Eddie still didn't look at you. That was okay, you were content to let him take his time. As best as you could, you angled your hands so you could dash tears away from his cheeks. Eddie flinched away when your thumb got too close to his eye and you bit back a smile; he was reacting to you, so he was beginning to come around. That was a good sign.

Fuck, but the way he whimpered before he raised his head to look at you, his dark eyes pools of melted galaxies and stars, burned out before their time but still trying to reach someone with their light. "I know you do." A hoarse whisper. He sniffed harshly, "I feel pretty fucking far from okay, Y/N."

Sweet boy. He made your heart bleed.

Eddie ran a hand over his tear-stained, damp face, shaking his head. He seemed as though he was trying to physically remove his thoughts from his mind, get to feeling better. No one ever got to see Eddie Munson cry. He kept that part of him hidden from the world, but you were his world and now his walls were crumbling down, so fast that it made the both of you dizzy. You were practically frantic in your want to comfort him, to help him. His dark curls brushed lightly across the strong slopes of his shoulders and you tucked some strands behind his ears, wanting to see him. As your fingers ran through his hair, catching on minute tangles, Eddie's eyes slipped closed and he tilted into your touch like a cat. He took a deep breath, pure instinct, and pushed back against your hand. No, not pushing... nuzzling.

“What's the matter, Eddie? You can talk to me; you're safe here with me, I promise. I've got you.”

Eddie sniffled again and you kept playing with his hair; full strokes from his hairline down, down, to the very tips, your fingers gentle, slow. Trying to love him as he deserved... so intensely that he didn't know what to do with himself. You gave him the space and the time to come to you; if he spoke, wonderful. If he didn't, that was okay too. Whatever he wanted. You just wanted to be there for him while what happened, happened. You moved out of the crouching position and sat cross legged before him, getting yourself comfortable.

“Do – do you believe the - “ Eddie whimpered again and you made a soft noise, something between an “oh” and an “awh” as you sought to comfort him, not wanting to interrupt but needing to acknowledge that you were there with him, fully present in the moment and your every nerve fixed on him. “The stuff they say about me?” Freak. Devil worshipper. Cult leader. Never gonna graduate. Waste of space.

“Oh, honey, no. I don't believe anything they say. How could I? They don't know you. But I do. I know you and I love you, Eddie. So much and for so many different things it makes me dizzy sometimes.”

Eddie's dark eyes looked at you fully for the first time and your next breath caught in your throat at how filled with pain his face was. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, his bottom lip bitten to all hell as he had worried at it with his teeth. His tongue was probably sore, too, from having bitten back scathing remarks all day. Even when being mean and scary would have been easiest option, to treat others as they treated him, Eddie was only ever kind. He had a darker streak, it was true, and there were numerous times he had delivered below the belt punches with his words, but those were times in which he had had to be mean. A cornered animal would only take so much before it attacked.

“You're none of those things, Eddie, you're - “ Here, you hesitated. Did he want to hear what you wanted to say? Was it right to vent about him to him when he was feeling like this? Or would it be welcomed? What if -

Fingers spidered across your knee, squeezed. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Together, right?”

Oh, help you. Your heart bled even as you nodded in agreement – there he was sobbing on the kitchen floor, trying to encourage you to open up to him. Even in his pain, he was so kind and it made you want to cry for him, because of him.

“It's just... they're so wrong about you, Eddie. They don't see you for who you are. Not the patience you give Dustin when he rambles for five minutes just to say what's effectively one sentence, not the kind way you mentor people who have no one else to sit with, not the way you taught me how to play D&D just so I could sit with the rest of Hellfire and feel included, not the way you try so hard with the things you're passionate about. Like your guitar, your campaigns, your jacket... it took you weeks to make it just as you wanted it. They see what they want to see and they believe what they want to; judging you without even trying to know you, and that's their loss. You're nothing like what they say, Eddie, please, I - “ you ran your fingers through Eddie's hair, and again his eyes fluttered shut and he melted into your touch, “I love you so much for who you are, in those moments when it seems like everyone's watching but no one's looking, in those moments when you're playing up to the persona they think you are, in those moments when you're crying alone. You're not a freak, or a cult leader, or anything else. You're you and you're... fuck, you're so beautiful, Eddie.”

Silence. Eddie, processing. You, waiting. Supporting. Patient, caring. Loving.

Finally, after what seemed like forever but was probably only a few minutes, Eddie sniffled and exhaled through his mouth before he stood up, your hands falling to your sides. He looked down but not at you and held out his hand. Your fingers widened so that you could slide them between Eddie's and he gave you a tired, sad smile as he pulled you up to stand with him. You followed him, already knowing what he wanted, and you were the first to clamber up on the double bed. You laid down flat on your back, eyes fixed on Eddie. He looked as bad as he felt, you were sure, and it made your heart ache. He didn't come towards you immediately; he was... hesitant? Sometimes you had a little trouble reading him, but you knew how kind and tender-hearted he was, and you used that to guide you. Eddie just needed to be loved in moments like this more than anything else.

“Oh, c'mere,” Fuck, but you almost cooed as you raised your hands, arms slightly away from your sides, “take what you need from me, pretty boy.” You tried to keep your voice as soft as you could without dipping into the volume of a whisper. You wanted Eddie to stay in his vulnerability, to feel safe in being open and raw with you. You knew he was still processing your monologue and he would address it when he felt like he had the right words to say. Eddie took emotional situations like this seriously; about as seriously as he took Hellfire. His passions and his devotions were one and the same. It was one of the many things you admired and loved about him.

Eddie almost stumbled over to the foot of the bed as he clambered up with the same grace through which he stepped up on lunch tables, his body crawling up the bed until he could let himself gently collapse. Even like this, even almost unaware of himself, Eddie was still considerate, making sure to watch bony elbows and knees as he laid atop you. He wasn't happy or comfortable if you weren't. His face pushed into the warm crook of your neck as his arms slid in the gap between your back and the mattress, his fingers wiggling and rings digging into your back. You pulled up, helping him, and Eddie sighed in content as he hugged you to him, his dark curls tickling your chin. His sigh was thick with tears both shed and unshed, his body a weight against your own which seemed to bleed heat. Your hands found purchase in his hair, fingers scratching at Eddie's scalp.

“You're so beautiful, Eddie.”

You felt Eddie turn his head, pushing his face against your skin. A dry but soft, painfully gentle mouth peppered the skin there with kisses. Trying to convey his overwhelming emotions with words he just didn't have; too highly strung. Too tired. “Do you - “ Eddie sniffled, his voice cracking at the start of the next word. You almost didn't hear him. “Did you mean all that, what you said back there?”

You kept stroking his hair, root to tip in soothing motions, fingers carefully and gently manually undoing any tangles you encountered. There weren't many; Eddie took good care of himself. “Every word, beloved.”

Your tone left no room for argument and Eddie made a soft noise, something between an “oh” and a “hm” as he squeezed you tight, pressing every plane of his body against your own. He couldn't get close enough but you didn't shush him or tell him it was okay; you gave him nothing like that. You simply remained quiet, let him take what he needed from you, and you matched his energy as best as you could. You kept stroking his hair, playing with the ends as you felt him melt into you; you were as stable beneath him as the mattress was beneath you and you refused to so much as shift your weight. You didn't want Eddie thinking that you were uncomfortable; he was so vulnerable and you wanted to be the solid ground which his proverbial feet were missing.

You couldn't have known that simply by being who you were, you were already all of that for him and more.

Eddie squeezed you again and then in one big exhale, he physically relaxed and you could feel from the lack of tension in his shoulders that he had just let the whole day go; you admired how he was able to do that. When Eddie decided not to let something bother him any more, it no longer did. Sometimes he just needed a little help getting to that point, and that was more than okay. He was so brave, so strong, so stubborn.

“I love you so fucking much, sweetheart.” Eddie's face rubbed at your neck, back and forth, like a cat headbutting the hand pulling away from its head because it wasn't done yet, and warmth bloomed in your chest. It burned until all you could do was lay there and smile into Eddie's crown.

He was feeling better.

“I love you too, Eddie. The sanest of them all.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 x reader #eddie munson my beloved

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spevvy · 4 months

Text

Although the fact I finally leapt on the CNCO train almost four weeks to the day after they officially split up is 100% on brand for my rotten luck, I'm very fortunate to have ADHD and so I have spent the last four weeks trying to cram 8 years' worth of fandom into my brain, with a level of success that has impressed even myself.

Things that especially give me extra dopamine about these doofuses:

. We don't have time for all the things I love about that idiot Vélez but I'll come back to him in a moment. In any case, let me tell you, he's such an amazing human being that I'm not 100% sure he's even real.

Stop it this instant please (don't you dare)

. Watching the official videos and still being constantly astounded at Rich's wardrobe. This is split into two levels of incredulity—a) "What the bleedin ell has he got on this time?!", and b) "There wasn't enough budget for a shirt for the poor sod again, eh?" (NB: There is rarely any budget for a shirt for Rich in any video, the poor love. Let Rich Be Warm™, FFS!) Both a) and b) are particularly evident in the Miami video, where the Rich's Shirt budget appeared to have been spent on a granny scarf. For his hair. Obvs. Because of course.

Legit son, what the fuck, did you lose a bet or something, lad?? 👀 It's like when Stewart Granger was in films in the 40s and 50s and he'd wear increasingly bonkers outfits scene after scene but he had absolutely zero confidence issues so he just owned everything like of COURSE he was gonna rock the hell out of it. Oh to have a thimbleful of Richard Camacho's self-confidence!!!!

. Every. Single. Time. I. See. Joel. Pimentel. De. León. The. Only. Thing. I. Can. Think. Is. "CABELLITO AZÚUUUUUULLLLL!!!!😭😭😭"

Never has the loss of a toy blue horse (is he just trying to not say My Little Pony, or???) ever been so heartbreaking to me 💔💔💔 Bless that small sweet boy, I just want to protect him, he takes up that one hidden sliver of maternal instinct I have lurking somewhere!! 🥹🥹🥹😭😭

. Chris' hair during the CNCO album era totally gives trans butch lesbian vibes. No I will not take questions on this. Yes I'm way more into it than I can possibly explain in polite company. Stop it, Christopher, I'm already bi. Totally here for my inadvertently genderfluid monarch.

I just want her to slam me into a wall and call me a good girl I don't know what to tell you.

. Erick Brian Colón is the visual representation of iron fist in velvet glove. He may have the face of a little angel and the biggest greenest most beautiful eyes since the invention of green - but that kid is brutal, folks!!! BRUTAL!!!!!!!!!!!

"Guess who just got MUUURRRDEEERRRRREEEDDD!"

. Two words. Lengua kiss.

Zab, sweetheart, you said it perfectly. You couldn't have improved upon it, thank you for blessing us with your lengua kisses, we are grateful.

. The amount of clever camera trickery and stage choreography involved in showing Chris actually dancing as little as possible. Before any of you come at me over this—I'm not saying Chris can't dance, I'm saying they cut around him and they do it consistently enough that it's hilariously obvious they're doing it. One of my favourite examples is in the Vevo Lite performance of Reggaetón Lento, where they just show his left elbow. Oh honey. (I marked it with a pointy finger to help you out)

I have a few theories about this but it's probably because his hips are so wiggly that if they showed them doing their thing on screen they couldn't have marketed the band to kids and that's a giant drop in revenue before they've even started. Not that I've made a study of his wiggly hips. Honestly.

. I have, however, made a very careful study of that lip-lick-into-lip-bite thing he does, and have come to the conclusion that HE is nsfw. Him. Himself. Alone. With no help. He just oozes it. Holy fudgeballs (probably). He's 100% that one guy who would openly flirt with an empty bag of crisps. "Hola, paquetito vacío de papas fritas, seguro que parece que ha pasado un tiempo desde que tuviste papas fritas dentro de ti..... te apetecería??!?!?" Seriously son, give it a rest, we're all pregnant now.

I swear to god you wouldn't be able to sit down for a fortnight. Fucking bloody hellfire. Is probably how it would be. OOOOFFFFFFFFF......

. I have literally lost count of how many times I've seen 4Ever in the last four weeks. I mean genuinely I cannot remember. I stopped counting at 12. There is no particular reason for this. I can't imagine anything that keeps my attention so solidly.

It's beautiful. I've been looking at this for five hours, now.

. "Que quiénes somos? YOU ALREADY KNOW!" My guys this has been my very problem with artists announcing themselves on their songs for at least the last decade, thank you for addressing the pointlessness of this activity but doing it anyway, I love you for it.

(Can he not? Does he ever take a day off??)

. Bringing back 90s boy band dancing with a level of aplomb I haven't witnessed since approximately 1998. And yes, I do remember. I was 15 in 1998, I was very much the target audience. Anyway, watch Mis Ojos Lloran Por Ti, it's the most authentically 90s thing I've seen since actual 90s boy band music videos.

White shirts AND white vests with black trousers in an abandoned building? ALL THEY NEED IS RAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Also the rap section of Mis Ojos Lloran Por Ti sounds EXACTLY like the rap section of Mysterious Girl by Peter Andre. It does. Go on, check for yourselves, I'm right about this.

. Tóxica. Just. Omg. Tóxica. It's beautiful. I dunno whose idea it was to do an acapella arrangement, but I hope they always hit the green light in traffic, because wow. What a song. (here it is if you're unfamiliar with CNCO, you've read this far, and you've never heard the song before. Even if you have, it's always worth another listen!)

Honestly it gives me proper goosebumps every single time, it's THE dopamine song for me, it just does all the things to my brain all at once. I was listening to all their songs on shuffle and all of a sudden I heard this one and I just stopped dead in my tracks like "holy SHIT what the hell....this is... this is stunning!" Like THAT was the moment I was like yep that's it folks this is MY band now, these are MY boys, they've got me for life whether they like it or not, I'm theirs, they're mine, that's how fangirls and musicians go, my guys (gender neutral).

. I am obviously not a native Spanish speaker nor am I 100% fluent in speaking, but after 4 weeks I've managed to learn a significant portion of their back catalogue and I am so goshdarned proud of myself. By comparison it's taken me about 5 years to learn most of Morat's back catalogue and I've been in the fandom since just before Balas Perdidas dropped.

Okay fine I have a whole different set of distractions with Morat (goddammit Monchi!!!!), we can't compare them, and it's not a "which band is better" thing at all cos I refuse to choose between any of my boys because they're MY BOYS. It's just nice from a personal viewpoint to feel like my Spanish level is now at a stage where I can pick up new lyrics to songs quite quickly!!! I feel like my Spanish has really improved in the last month and these doofuses are 100% to blame and I adore them for it and so many other things.

Suffice to say, I may be way too late to the party, but I think I get to be at least an honorary CNCOwner at this point. Without the smallest shred of doubt I know that I am retroactively CNCOwned, at any rate.

(ya tú sabes😉)

#Christopher Velez #Chris Velez #zabdiel de jesus #erick brian colon #joel pimentel #richard camacho #cnco #my poor everything #what even was my life befife December 14 2023?#i cant remember #it doesnt matter #nothing matters any more #everything is Christopher Briant Vélez Muñoz and nothing hurts #i love him your honor #he's just perfect #I feel like people might come at me over something here but its all with love folks #we'll see I guess #some of the gifs are mine but meh me da igual

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angeltsan · 7 days

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how was ur enha experience !! i went to anaheim and had such a fun time >_< please brag about urs LMAOO :33

ahh omg!! okay so i had vip 1 and because it was ga i ended up having to camp which was one of the most humiliating experiences of my entire life!! but it was really fun cuz i did it with friends, i was in a gc full of girls and we all met up and had a great time during camping. ppl kept honking at us and it was really silly tbh,, random ppl kept filming us and asking what we were doing too 😭

but omggg i have to spare all the smaller details because SO MUCH happened but soundcheck was crazy fun, heeseung looked so good. i got a side view of the stage and niki, sunoo, and heeseung came to that side a lot so if im so fr i spent the entire night filming niki like i couldn't help it he kept standing directly in front of me 💔 the concert was literally the best show i've ever seen along with svt like they are such amazing performers and being barricade and being able to sing along to the songs was so so fun.

i got to do send off with the boys so i got to meet them after the show! i was very fortunate to get a selfie with every member! i bought jay a gift but wasn't able to give it to him but its okay! jake told me he liked my hair and niki told me he loved me so im happy anyways and im also happy with getting pics with them and being able to talk to them! the whole experience was so amazing and so worth the time and money spent! they're all much shorter than i expected tho LMAOAJB but it makes them cuter so its okay! jay smells delicious and niki's eye contact is insane 💔

#angeltsan.luvletters #angeltsan.yaps #nishimuraii

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blooming-violets · 1 year

Note

💔 heart break headcanon

I sat with this ask for quite a few days now. I thought it over whenever I went into my daydream world. I had about fifty ideas come and go but none stuck like I wanted.

Until tonight thanks to this picture of Andrew:

Time for some modern day, superhero Romeo and Juliet.

Let's do this!

Wilson Fisk, New York City's most powerful businessman, infamous crime lord, one of the most feared men in the state, mayor of the city...or as you like to call him...dad. He has his hands in every inch of this city and puppets it to his will. His extensive wealth is spent on spoiling his wife (your mother), Vanessa, and his only child (you). His businesses activities were not exactly something that was hidden from you. Both parents made it clear that danger followed your father wherever he went. You knew he was into shady business. One doesn't get power and wealth like he has without stepping on people on the way up the ladder.

Your life was spent inside a protective bubble. Privacy was not something you were used to. Armed guards followed you wherever you went, your internet activity was heavily monitored, and you were never allowed to have friends.

Your childhood was spent by your mother's side instead. She home schooled you, took you to museums, and gave you as much knowledge about the world as she could. She instilled her love and appreciation for art into you at a young age. Lucky for you, the city was crawling with art museums. The first place you were ever allowed to go alone (as alone as you could get with two body guards trailing behind you) was to The Metropolitan Museum of Art. It became one of your favorite places. Your happy place.

On this particular evening, you were wondering through the MET, making a straight line towards one of your favorite pieces of art work. Tonight, there was a young man standing in front of it. You pushed up beside him to admire the work together, craving any kind of human interaction you could get.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You asked him. "The Dissolute Household. Jan Steen is the master of creating the perfect depiction of domestic chaos."

The man turned his head to look at you with curiosity. His face was scruffed with stubble like he'd forgotten to shave this past week. He wore a red beanie to hide the overgrown, greasy hair poking out from under the brim. Dark bags deepened his bright brown eyes. He seemed to take in your outfit in comparison to his own. You were well dressed and put together, perfect posture, not a single hair out of place. The epitome of wealth and class. Meanwhile he looked like he shuffled in from an overnight bender and couldn't remember how he ended up in the museum but was just going with the flow to not draw attention to himself.

He gave you a weary smile, "I wasn't sure why I stopped at this one but I found it hard to look away."

"Steen is good at holding the observer's attention because there is so much to look at. That's him, in the painting, and his wife. It depicts a variety of sinful acts happening. He's lacing fingers with the maid behind his wife's back, his wife is clearly intoxicated, a bible is being trampled on the ground, there's broken bottles and food strewn about, someone is warding off the beggar at the door. Chaos and merriment all around. And above all of them hangs a literal basket full of future misfortune like a terrible fate hovering over their heads. The items in the basket promise poverty, disease, and bad luck. Steen enjoyed painting commentary into his work. Everyone always looks so happy amongst the chaos even with the darkness of reality hanging above them."

You never had chaos in your life. Everything was controlled and quiet.

The craziest thing to happen to you was when you were 13 and your mother woke you from a sound sleep. The two of you had to evacuate the house into a private helicopter and be flown to the airport. You heard shooting happening in the hallway as you ran but you never actually saw where it was coming from. The two of you then spent the next year in a beautiful home in Sicily. When you were finally able to return back to the city, your father had set up new, stricter measures of security. No one ever told you what happened that day and that kind of thing never happened again. Despite being terrified in the moment, it was the most excitement you'd ever experienced in your entire lifetime. Sometimes you longed to feel that again.

"I never really looked at art too deeply before," the man mumbled. He was quiet, speaking as if he was in a library, afraid to be scolded by a rude librarian. "At least not paintings. I'm more of a photography kind of guy."

Whoever he was, he was attractive in his own grimy kind of way. You found yourself wanting to lean in closer to hang onto every word he spoke. You'd never had a boyfriend before. Once you flirted with one of the younger guards assigned to you. You hooked up with him in a coat closet at a fancy party. That was your first and only time being intimate with someone. When your father found out, that guard disappeared from your life. You liked to pretend that he was just let go and fired but you knew the darker truth. That man was no longer alive.

You wanted to know this new stranger even with the threat of death hanging over his head. You needed excitement. You craved the idea of having someone to love. So, you introduced yourself. First name only. Last name's were off limits. He smiled. It was a nice smile. And told you his name was Peter.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening wondering around the museum together. You insisted on showing him all your favorite works. He would listen intently, like he really cared what you had to say, while you over explained every little bit of knowledge you had on each piece. You could tell he was hyper aware of the two men following behind you everywhere you went. Even if they were dressed in civilian clothes, it was obvious they stood out as your personal bodyguards. It was even more obvious when you leaned in extra close to Peter while he unleashed his own knowledge about a particular old photograph you two were staring at and a gruff, pointed cough echoed out behind you, making you immediately jerk back and take a step away from your new friend. They may be here to keep you safe and out of trouble but they were loyal to your father, not to you.

Before you left for the night, you made plans to meet Peter back at the museum next weekend. He asked for your number but you refused to give it to him. Not yet. If you wanted to see him again, you would have to do it carefully. Slowly.

It took two months of weekend museum visits before you worked up the courage to tell your mother about him. You were certain that the guards assigned to you had already informed your father you were meeting a friend every Saturday night. You wouldn't be surprised if he had full intel on every detail about Peter Parker's life neatly stacked into a binder in his office. No one mentioned it to you though so you never brought it up. Until now.

Peter had asked you out to dinner. Up to this point, the two of you had never left the MET property. That was your safe place but you both wanted more.

Bringing up the idea of dating had to be run by your mother first. She was the more reasonable of your parents. She valued romance, loyalty, and love. If anyone could help get your father on your side, it would be her.

It was over dinner in your shared penthouse apartment that you brought it up. Just the two of you...and the security standing outside the room.

"How did you and daddy meet?" You asked, keeping your tone casual.

Vanessa smiled at the memory, "You know this story all too well. I used to tell it you as a bedtime tale when you were a girl."

"I know but I want to hear it again."

"He wandered into my gallery one night. He was very entranced by a particular painting I was trying to sell. The one hanging up in our bedroom. Rabbit in a Snowstorm. I found him standing in front of it, quietly taking it in, and I knew I needed to know more about him. It takes a certain kind of man to appreciate a painting like that."

Funny how her story mirrored so similarly to your own. You pushed your food around your plate with the end of your fork as you hesitantly brought it up, "I met someone. At the museum. He was standing in front of one of my favorite paintings. We got to talking and next thing I know, we've explored the entire building. Head to toe. Every inch of of the place. He seems like an amazing person, mom. He loves listening to me talk about art and I love hearing him explain all the details of photography. I feel like we're on the same wavelength. I want to see more of him. He asked me out to dinner but I told him I would get back to him. You know how daddy can get..."

Vanessa sighed, studying your face and seeing a lovestruck, desperate look gazing back at her. You could tell you won her over with the story of your first meeting. She knew you were in your twenties and never had a chance to date before. You couldn't stay locked in your tower forever. "What's this man's name?" She asked.

"Peter. Peter Parker. He lives in Queens with his aunt. He's been helping take care of her ever since her husband died a bunch of years ago. He's compassionate and kind. He cares about other people. He had a really good heart, I can see it. Please, can you talk to daddy about it. I can't stand the thought of trying to get close to someone only for him to hurt them. I can't let him hurt Peter for being interested in me. That's not fair. I really want this to work out. Please, pretty please, will you talk to him."

And she did. With his begrudging blessing, you were allowed to date Peter.

Peter knew limited details about your life. He didn't know who your parents were or your last name. He just knew that you were the daughter of someone important and that you two needed to be careful. Strangely, he took it all in stride. He never seemed nervous by the fact he was always surrounded by loaded guns or constantly being watched. The potential danger hanging over his head never once phased him. You weren't sure if he was naïvely stupid or just really brave. You liked to think that he didn't care as long it meant he got to stick around you.

He was definitely in a different social class from your family. Peter didn't grow up with wealth. He'd never even left the state of New York before. That shocked you. Your mother and you loved to travel.

You upper class lifestyle was probably the only thing that ever shook him. He seemed to fidget and get uncomfortable the more fancy, high end places you brought him to. He preferred things to be more low key. You'd never stepped foot inside a McDonald's until he brought you there after a date to get McFlurrys. It was surprisingly delicious even if the floors stuck to the bottom of your feet as you walked.

The longer you two spent together, the more you fell in love.

Six months in, you decided it was the right time to tell him more about your life. You were sitting on a bench in the middle of central park. You liked this spot because the men following you had to stand further away and it put you two out of their direct ear shot.

Peter held your hand, his thumb brushing over your palm. You laced your fingers through his.

"I have something to tell you," you both spoke at the exact same time.

After a pause, the two of you broke into laughter.

"You go first," he offered. "Mine can wait."

"Did I ever tell you who my father is?" You knew the answer was no but you asked anyway.

He shook his head and shrugged, "I figured he was probably some politician or something. Someone important. That's why you always those guys following you. They keep you safe so that makes them alright in my book."

You nodded, "Yeah, I guess so. It sucks having them around but I guess they're useful if shit goes south. My dad is Wilson Fisk, you know, the big, giant business man and current mayor of the city. That's why those guys are always around. I thought it was probably time you knew since he invited you to attend our family dinner this weekend. He wants to meet the man I've been spending all my time with."

Peter tensed. He tried to play it off like he wasn't bothered but you noticed. His shoulders hunched and his back stiffened. You watched his jaw clench together and quickly loosen again as he forced a smile.

"Mayor Fisk, huh? He's your father? I didn't even know he had children." His voice was strained.

You slowly nodded, carefully taking your hand out of his grasp to place in your lap, you didn't like the reaction he was giving you. Something was wrong. You glanced over your shoulder to the guards a few few feet away just in case you need their help. "...Just one kid. Me. He likes to keep his family separate from his work and the public eye. There are bad people in the world who want to hurt him so he keeps my mom and I off the television and news as much as he can."

Peter chewed on the inside of his cheek. His shoulders still hadn't relaxed and he refused to look at you. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"Tell you what? That my dad was the mayor? What does it matter to you? It's not something I go shouting off the rooftops. It's not a big deal. I'm not the mayor. He is."

"Not a big deal?" He gave a stiff, dry laugh. "Do you have any idea the kinds of things that man has done? Your father has caused me-" He cut himself off with a heated grunt of annoyance.

Your brow furrowed and you leaned away from him, "What are you talking about, Peter? Why do you have anything to do with my dad?"

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, obviously thinking better of whatever he was planning on saying.

Tears welled up in your eyes at his reaction. You expected him to be mildly shocked or maybe even nervous about having dinner with the mayor but you didn't expect him to get angry as if he had a personal vendetta against your father. Even if he wasn't shouting at you, you knew what silent anger looked like. He was fuming.

"I don't know if I can do this," he huffed, still refusing to look in your direction.

You gave a soft gasp of shock, "What are you talking about? What are you saying?"

"I'm-" he glanced back at the the men who were still oblivious to the conversation being had. "I can't. I don't want to be associated with anyone who ties themselves with Fisk."

"Associated?" You voice heightened, causing your security team to take an interest in what was going on. You quickly lowered your voice again to ward them off. "The only way I'm associated with my father is when we have the occasional family dinner when he can spare the time."

Peter scoffed, "Yeah, right. You'd have to be stupid to not have any idea what shady shit he gets up to? Human trafficking? Drug trafficking? Weapon trafficking? Murder? Anything illegal, take your pick, and Fisk has his hands over it."

This was news to you. You assumed he got his wealth through shady business deals and backstabbing his opponents. You knew he had hit men who would kill for him if he asked them to. Maybe you just never wanted to think too deep about it. Your silence was all Peter needed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just can't."

He got up and walked away, leaving you silently crying on the park bench.

You made up an excuse for why Peter couldn't attend dinner with your family. You smiled and kept the sadness out of your face. Even though he hurt you, you knew what crying to your father would mean. Your heartbreak wasn't enough to risk his life over. You weren't your dad. Revenge and violence wasn't in your blood.

And maybe Peter was right. As you sat across from your dad at the table, you couldn't help but wonder how the rest of the world saw him. You wondered if your mother knew. She had to. They were in this together. You felt like a stranger in your own home. These people you knew all your life were no longer covered by their masks.

A week passed before Peter found you again. It was late at night. You were in your bedroom when there was a knock on the balcony door. That was unusual due to the fact that you were over 50 stories in the air and the balcony had no other entrance besides your bedroom.

You looked over, the bright lights of your room making it impossible to see out into the blackened night. You slowly stood up from your desk, your heart racing, as you grabbed a pocket knife from your drawer. You couldn't see anyone out there. It might have been a bird attempting to fly in the dark. You unlocked the door and stepped out into the crisp night air with your knife held at the ready.

There was no one.

You were alone. Your arm slumped back to your side, the knife loosening in your hand. Just as you were about to turn around to go back inside, chalking it up to your sleep deprivation, the presence of a body lowering behind you made you jump. Before you could let out a piercing scream to alert the guards, a heavy gloved hand clamped over your mouth. This was it. This was how you die.

You struggled against the mass pining your arms down but it was solid. You were no match for the intruder. A hushed voice whispered in your ear.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he hissed. "Stop struggling and I'll let you go. By the time you scream, I'll already be two blocks away so I'd rather you not try it. I'm here to talk."

It was Peter's voice. You had no idea how he got up here, your mind was going a million miles an hour, and you nodded. His grip around you loosened and you pulled away, whipping around to face him. Except that you weren't face to face with the Peter you knew. The sight of Spider-Man standing before you made you almost scream but you quickly clamped your hand over your mouth.

"Wha-" you stuttered out. "Peter?"

"Can I trust you?" He asked.

You weren't sure. If there was on thing your father hated, it was vigilantes. He'd go on long rants over his hatred of people like Spider-Man and Daredevil. They were the bane of his existence, always throwing a wrench in his plans.

The more you thought it, the more obvious it was that he wasn't a good man.

You nodded, making up your mind then and there, "Yes. I won't tell a soul."

That night Peter revealed his truth. It was a hard pill to swallow. The poor, disheveled man from Queens, your first love, was your father's sworn enemy.

You had many doubts. There was no way those two men could ever be put into the same room with each. Your family and Peter could never mix. You two stood on opposite ends of the equation.

But you didn't want to give him up.

And he felt the same.

The relationship progressed as normal and you vowed to stay out of whatever your father or Spider-Man had going on. That was not your concern. Peter wouldn't ask about him and you wouldn't ask about Spider-Man.

But that knowledge always hovered over your heads. Once the truth was out, there was no way to reverse what you knew.

You were the key to tipping the scales. You could destroy Peter Parker and Spider-Man by snitching to your father. Or you could destroy your family by feeding Peter private information.

There was only so long you two could pretend to ignore the obvious.

A time would come when you would have to chose between love or family. There could only be one winner in the battle between good and evil.

And, which ever way the scales tipped, a piece of your heart would be ripped out and buried alongside the loser.

AND I'M GOING TO STOP IT HERE because it's getting too long for something that was supposed to be simple headcanons. I'm very sleepy and have not proof read my mad ramblings so please excuse any forgotten words or mistakes. I'm tired old lady just trying to do my best.

#the amazing spiderman #tasm #peter parker #tasm peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm peter #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm x reader #tasm peter x reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman headcanon #tasm headcanon #tasm imagine #spiderman imagine #peter parker imagine #tasm peter imagine #ask game

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oceansssblue · 4 months

Text

[THE BAD BATCH]—COMFORTING THE STUDENT series.

WRECKER/GN READER

WARNINGS: JUST A MENTION OF ANXIETY 💔, BUT PURE COMFORT&FLUFF 💖. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS OF READER.

EVER BEEN STRESSED AS A STUDENT? WELL, JUST IMAGINE IF YOUR BB BOYFRIEND CAME TO THE RESCUE. THAT'S THIS.

Wrecker was bored to hell; you could tell by the way he sighed and his eyes moved distractedly across the room. He had been dying to see you after his last mision –as had you–; quickly packing his bagpack and saying his goodbyes to his brothers before making his way across Coruscant's traffic to get to your apartment. You had both spent a pair of hours just talking and kissing, enjoying being together at last; after that, though, you had to go back to studying –unfortunately–, and even though you had given Wrecker your datapad so he could watch something in the meantime, it was clear he couldn't stand being like this much more.

He was the sweetest guy ever. You had been hesitant of meeting up at that time in the early afternoon; sugesting it might be better to just see each other at dinner. You hadn't wanted to make him wait for you while you did your studying –and you really couldn't postpone that any longer–; but he had insisted he'd gladly give you time, as long as he was allowed to finally see you face to face and kiss you. So that he had; patiently waited for you for two hours straight after your heartfelt reunion.

Luckily for Wrecker, you didn't think you could keep studying any longer without taking a break. You could feel anxiety creeping in; so you closed your textbook before it grew bigger and took some minutes to just breathe. You've learnt to control it with time. You also closed your eyes; focused in yourself.

"Mesh'la?" His strong voice called your name in what you could tell was his best attempt to whisper.

You opened your eyes and looked at him. He had a deep frown etched on his face, confused by your sudden heavy breathing and your little zen moment.

"Are you alright?"

He had just enough time to finish the sentence before you were walking across the room and wrapping him in a hug without saying a word. He stayed paralysed for second, surprised by the sudden gesture; but quickly returning the embrace and humming against you.

"I'm just stressed" you finally answered, nuzzling your face further into the space between his neck and chest. "I've got so many things to study yet and I'm afraid of not having the time to learn them".

Wrecker nodded in understanding and caressed your hair.

"Well, if someone can do it it's you, lovely. You're the second most intelligent person I know. After Tech, of course".

The comment makes you smile against his warm skin. He's always so warm; your personal heater.

"Nobody can compete with Tech" you chuckle, feeling better with the cuddling you're still involved in, and Wrecker laughs too, his chest rumbling along.

"Yeah, fucking smart ass. I'm grateful you're not that intelligent though. I already feel silly compared to you".

You know he's not saying it with any kind of ill. He's definitely not calling you stupid; and he's not begging for compliments either. He's always honest in an almost innocent kind of way. You really like that about him.

You pull away just a tiny from his embrace in order to lock eyes with him. You're sure the love you feel for him is clear in your gaze.

"You're not silly even compared to me. It's normal I outstand you in what I'm studying; that's what my choice is. You know way better than I do about mechanics and stuff like that. Even cuissine" you add, as an after thought, just for the purpose of see him smile and laugh. You succeed.

"Mm. You know, that just reminded me what I can give you so you feel a tad better. Just give me a second" he asks, and you let him go reluctantly with a smile of your own.

Wrecker dissapears to the entrance of your apartment, where he had left his backpack before, and brings you a small paper bag that you waste no time openning up.

"Chocolate cupcakes?"

He nods with a sudden enthusiasm that makes your heart melt.

"I bought them on my way here" he explains. "I was waiting to bring them out after dinner, as dessert, but i think you deserve some right now".

You softly kiss his cheek; and inmediately smile and kiss his lips too when he turns his head and silently demands a proper one.

You take a bite of the first cupcake; offering him some too. He seems hesitant to accept.

"You know I'll get addicted and want to finish the whole thing too".

You shrug and kiss him again; answering inches away from his lips.

"And you know I prefer seing you happy than finishing this".

Wrecker gives you a warm smile and takes a big bite of the cupcake, a little happy groan following it; his other hand gently caressing the side of your body without even realising it. He's always wanting to touch you; consciously or not. He looks up at you and sighs.

"I love you" he reminds you, adoringly.

You pass your thumb over his bottom lip to wipe some chocolate away and reply.

"I love you too".

THE END.

----------------------

THAT'S OUR SPIN ON OUR BOY WRECKER! IT CAME OUT A LITTLE SHORTER THAN THE REST, BUT IT'S JUST A LITTLE ONE-SHOT IDEA SO I HAVE NO INTEREST IN MAKING IT A LONGER PIECE. WE'VE ONLY GOT ECHO AND CROSSHAIR LEFT!

LET ME KNOW IF YOU'VE LIKED IT!

I'M TAKING REQUESTS AND PROMPTS.

XX,

Sky.

Back to my masterlist here!

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abeinginsand · 9 months

Note

ALSO angsty hcs for taylor???

Offering these angst crumbs to you! >:3c

---

💔 Angsty headcanons

(childhood memory)

Before his mom switched jobs, he only saw her in the morning before work or late at night if he managed to stay up. Staying up wasn't easy though....not until he found some old dvds in storage one day. He spent a lot of time as a kid exploring the house and backyard, so he'd seen the storage room before. However, his mom told him not to go in there without her since there might be glass and sometimes the door jams if you let it swing shut. It was one of the few rules he tried his best to listen to for awhile.

She went on a week trip and she had relatives over checking on him. None of them were his mom, so he spent most of that week daydreaming of a world where he was also a movie star and could be on set with her. Taylor was a cheery kid though and there was still plenty of fun to be had otherwise. But the longer she was away, the more he wanted to go explore that room. Finally, the week was coming to an end and he managed to avoid breaking the promise!

He gets a video call while on the couch, of his mom trying to explain in the gentlest way that a storm delayed her flight. She'll be home around three am and that she's sorry about having to cancel the little return dinner at their fav family restaurant tonight. His relatives had already left for the day, so he eats leftovers from last night's meal alone and rubs at his eyes. The kid lingers in front the house door for thirty minutes after putting his dishes into the dish washer and then heads to bed.

Instead of ending up in front his mom's room, Taylor stands in front the storage room. He goes in and makes sure to use one box to keep the door propped open. It's atleast ten minutes before he happens upon this box at the far left side with the words 'Nicky's stuff part 1'. He coughs and sneezes, brushing away the dust on it and opens it to find several old dvds and abandoned USB drives.

Its how he ends up watching death note on his mom's second laptop while bundled in blankets and clutching pillows. The kid, about 6, is so sucked in by the lively and dark animated scenes that he doesn't even notice 3 am roll by.

Or the sound of an engine coming close and turning off

Or keys opening the door

Or even the bedroom door squeaking open

Taylor made a habit of always sleeping in his mom's room when she was gone since it smelled like her (or her perfume). Bundling up in the covers was almost like a hug.

Still can't compare to how it felt to look up from the screen and see his mom at the door. The feel of her hair tickling his cheeks and her arms tucking him in close as she swept him right into a hug and then flopped onto the bed, nearly knocking the laptop over. She didn't even mention the obvious storage box on the floor, only talking about how much she'd missed him and loved him. As she talked and he hugged onto her as tightly as he could muster, Taylor says a few muffled love yous and a 'welcome home, Mom' before their affectionate little conversation and his mom's warm hug lulls him to sleep.

#taylor swift dndads #dndads taylor swift #dndads #dndads headcanon #writing #asks #abeinginsand writing tag #I don't recommend letting 6 years watch death note asdfghjk #speaking of that--my relatives showed me the first chucky movie at 6 years old when they were babysitting me at their house once #Counts as a top ten betrayal to me (I am joking mostly)

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promiscuouspomegranate · 7 months

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The Fish Cries Too

Reader x Ezra

TWs: Reader suffers from severe depression, bullying, suicide attempt, vomiting, mutual obsession(ish), forced kissing, kidnapping (?), and angst. THIS IS DARK !!!

(… democracy asked for a new male character and damn.. he’s definitely a character!! This got a little rushed toward the end and I’m sorry 💔)

I dipped my red Converse in the murky, muddy pond as my hollow eyes examined the playful, pink petals of the waterlilies. Baggy black denim jeans stuck to my skin as I sloshed through cattails and schools of brown-gold carp. The water rose to my midriff, and melancholic moonlight guided me to a floating cardboard box. Trembling hands seized the package and carried it above the water. I vaguely remember setting it down on the grass before my body failed me–slipping to a dreamless slumber in the woods.

The song of the mourning dove and the sunlight poking above the treetops caused my eyes to open. I weakly reached my hand out to the cardboard box and softly smiled. What mattered was that Dad’s present was safe; I didn’t care about anything else. I rubbed my head and stirred to my feet–a migraine formed, and I felt sick.

I ambled across uneven ground covered in flat rocks, smashed cans of beer, and dogwood branches. I stepped across the small creek and tripped up the dirt mound. Thorns stabbed my skin, and I bit the inside of my cheek. I jerked away and muttered curses, grabbing the cardboard box. I saw the outline of my home enlarging until I was at the broken wooden fence.

I balanced the box above my head and was careful not to step on rusted nails. My head throbbed as I opened the sliding glass door, waking up my little brother–who insisted on sleeping on the couch in the basement. His curly hair shot up from his train pillowcase, and his wide eyes locked with mine.

“Did it happen again,” His gentle voice yawned and then questioned, “Why do they–”

“It’s a silly prank. It’s what friends do to each other,” I smiled as he approached me, holding his fuzzy teddy bear, “They’re only joking, don’t worry.”

“Charlie doesn’t play with me like that,” He hugged my leg, “Why are they meanies?”

“You’ll laugh at it when you’re older,” I patted his head, “When you’re my age, everyone is mean.”

I guided him back to the red couch and tucked him back in. I waited for him to fall asleep before I went upstairs. I set the damp box on the kitchen counter and taped Dad’s birthday card. He wanted a new fishing rod for his birthday to take on his boat; I found a used one and refurbished it.

I muttered as I wandered down the hallway and opened my bedroom door. I saw my chipped phone screen glowing and hesitated to grab it. I felt something hot burn my throat and scrolled through seemingly endless notifications from the latest hate group chat. Highlights consisted of Ezra calling me ‘Fisheyes’–a nickname that used to be endearing–and videos of my friend Lenore protecting my battered, unconscious body from getting injured any further.

I replayed the video a few times, carefully examining the change in Ezra’s behavior when the fight was broken up. If I hadn’t known him, I would’ve assumed he was a bystander. How fortunate I was that nobody knew Ezra the way Lenore and I did.

I blocked the numbers and turned off my phone. I rested my head on a pillow and stared at the upholstered headboard. I traced my hands along the design and thought about the pond. Memories of playing with Ezra in the water and grabbing fish flooded my mind. I was far too weak to suppress the memories of childhood friendship, and the ringing in my ear reminded me of the Sunday church bell.

“We used to draw together in first grade; in second grade, we played house,” I muttered and felt tears trickle down my cheek, “Now, you wish I were dead.”

A thousand thoughts of suicide entered my mind, but only one remained. I thought it would be rather poetic to drown myself in the pond I spent most of my life around. Perhaps, if there was an afterlife, I could watch Ezra’s smug face crumble into a hallowing emptiness. I almost felt the water filling my lungs as my face paled and something rose from my throat. I stumbled to the trash can in my room, and stomach acid spilled from my chapped lips.

“Sorry,” I breathlessly mumbled to whatever divine being was watching, “I won’t think like that anymore.”

I wiped my face with crumpled tissues and pulled my hair back. The nausea finally cleared, and I felt slightly relieved. Footsteps approached my door, and I gently smiled when I saw my dad’s face. Thoughts of sorrow melted from my mind when I saw a toothy grin.

“Shucks, kid. You did well this year,” He heartily laughed and wandered inside my room, “Say, Mr. Borrego and his son, you might’ve heard of him, Ezra.”

He paused for comedic effect and expected me to laugh. I managed to fake amusement.

“Anyway, we were all going out on the boat, just us lads. But, I think it’d be best to bring my favorite kid with me on my birthday trip,” He patted my shoulder and grinned, “You have the honor of receiving my old rod.”

“I can’t fish, though,” I felt nauseous again and resisted the urge to cry, “I shouldn’t go.”

“Ezra can show you how, fisheyes,” He winked, “Besides, I’ve heard from Mr. Borrego a certain someone can’t stop speaking about you.”

“How lovely,” I weakly muttered.

Dad was wasted, and Mr. Borrego was rambling to him about how, in his glory days, he caught thirteen catfish from a single river to impress his buddies.

“I could catch a catfish anytime today, y’know what I mean,” My dad howled with laughter, and Mr. Borrego copied, “Y / N ‘s mother was the only fish for me. What lovely scales she had.”

“Her hands weren’t that callused,” is what I wanted to say, but I knew better than to argue with my dad.

“How I’d love to say something about my wife, but I know Ezra would immediately proclaim it to his mother. Such a mama’s boy, it took him ages to stop cozying up between us in bed when he had a nightmare,” Mr. Borrego took a sip of his beer then pointed at Ezra, “Didn’t you always say it was clowns?”

“Can you cut it out,” Ezra sighed, and his hand tightened on his fishing rod.

“Don’t want to embarrass your son in front of my kid now, Joaquin,” My dad’s eyes locked with Ezra’s, “Lord knows he’ll throw a fit the way he used to all those years ago.”

Silence permeated the salty ocean air, and the gray-blue waves rocked the boat. The soft song of the water made me yawn as my dad looked at me and then over to Ezra.

“I’ll drop you two off at the shore,” He hummed and slowly stood up, “You kids don’t need to listen to us drunk adults ramble anymore.”

“Thank God, I can finally fucking leave this shitbox,” Ezra muttered loud enough for me to hear, “Fucking hate it here.”

I felt frightened and approached my father, who was steadily cruising the old boat towards the docks.

“I want to stay here,” I tugged his blue flannel and whispered, “I don’t want to be alone with Ezra. Dad, I've wanted to tell you for a while–”

“Relax, I know you two kids have the hots for each other,” He stupidly grinned at me, “I know you’re nervous to make a move because I know you. Trust me, Ezra’s dad can’t keep a single secret about his son. The boy is a little more than head over heels.”

Protesting seemed pointless; who was I to ruin my dad’s birthday with silly complaints about fears? Besides, Ezra never laid a hand on me personally; it was always his friends. ‘It was fine,’ the words echoed in my head as the motor’s noise softened. ‘It was fine,’ formed in my throat as my sandals nearly fell off my feet when I stepped on the jagged, algae-covered rocks.

“Don’t get into too much trouble, kids,” Mr. Borrego called out as the motor loudly started.

“We’ll be fine,” my eyes and mouth said.

When the boat was far enough, I looked at Ezra.

“I’ll leave,” The words quickly fell off my tongue, and I attempted to ease the tension, “Just tell them I wasn’t feeling good.”

“No thanks, fisheyes,” Ezra smiled and stepped closer, “You scared or something?”

I was at the edge of the rocks and could feel Ezra's amusement. Yet, it didn’t matter anymore. The waves reflected the pale moonlight, and I saw my face shatter and reform in them.

“You think I’d actually hurt you or something? It’s my birthday gift to your fatass dad,” He laughed and tilted his head, “Oh, forgot you’ve always been obsessed with your dad. Don’t yell at me, please.”

The water called to me like a siren, and I felt an overwhelming urge to

Dive.

The frigid ocean water shocked my body as I opened my eyes. They stung with salt, and I felt hysteria overwhelm common sense. I jammed my foot inside the rocks and felt a delightful pain overcome my ankle. I crammed it further until it was stuck and felt relief sweep over my body. The ocean was no pond, but it was death–how could I complain about my wish?

A year, hour, minute, or second passed–it didn’t matter. I felt my lungs override my hysteric state and could hear Ezra’s hoarse shouting from the surface.

‘Fisheyes,’ I thought, ‘I bet his eyes are wider than mine. I loved Ezra’s eyes; they were always prettier than mine. Emerald green with thick, dark eyelashes. They sparkled when they looked at me.’

Warm and cold, then warm once more–the cycle of the ocean and my relationship with Ezra. I thought it’d finally freeze over; I thought he wanted me to die.

“Liar,” I threw up water and seafood dinner. My voice croaked out another, “Liar.”

An overwhelming sensation of pain that was too profound to protest any treatment consumed my nerves.

“You’re fucking insane,” Ezra smacked me across the face and clenched my soaked t-shirt, “You’re actually fucking insane.”

“Part of me hoped you’d save me,” I felt my eyes close and smiled, “I mainly wished you let me die.”

“I wish you fucking died. You’re ruining my life,” He muttered and let go of my shirt, “I hate you.”

“Why, Ezra?”

“Because you’re always on my mind, fucking fisheyes. I can’t focus on anything but you; it ruins my day to see you happy when you don’t even know the lengths I go to.”

“You’re lying. I fucking hate it when you lie.”

A chill crept down my spine when he cupped my face. His emerald eyes were wider than my own when our lips pressed. He crammed his tongue into my mouth, and I felt like vomiting again.

“Lenore always got in the way whenever I got you weak enough to do this,” He wiped his mouth, “Fucking bitch, why are you two still friends?”

“Lenore doesn’t get her friends to beat the shit out of me and doesn’t have fantasies of molesting me.”

“I bet I was your first kiss.��

Stomach acid crept into my throat, and I started to sob.

“Calling my dad and telling him you got tired. I’m taking you back to my place,” Ezra left my cold body on the rocks and cocked his head, “You look like shit.”

“I tried to kill myself,” I laughed and felt hysterical, “You want me to go back with you after this? I’ll throw myself back in the water.”

“Gives me another opportunity to tongue you,” Ezra smirked and grabbed my neck as he called his dad.

“They’re fatigued, Dad,” He stared at me, “I’m taking them back to our place; it’s closer. Besides, Mom loves to see Y / N. No, I– Shut up. I’m leaving now, bye.”

“I fucking hate you, Ezra,” My lip quivered, and I felt frigid.

“Cry it out,” He picked me up and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

#yandere writing #dark romance #yandere #yandere character #yandere oc #yandere oneshot #❤︎.pomegranate #☆–ezra

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imaginingmarvelandeverything · 1 year

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five times afraid for the Convenience couple please ❣️ and yes i tried to choose the most angst one because they can't catch a break 😉💔

A/N: Well you wanted angst, so here's a boatload! If you would like to send me a request for one of my WIP pairs, you can find the prompt list here!

five times afraid:

One:

“Bruce, you need to breathe. Please, I need you to breathe.” Y/N tried to keep her tears at bay as Bruce clutched onto her harder. Her back hurt from how she had hit the floor when he all but collapsed on her, but she pushed the pain down and ran her fingers through his hair instead. “C’mon, please, breathe with me.”

She knew the first anniversary of his parents death that he spent away from Gotham would be hard for him; that was the whole reason she had flown out to visit him at his college for a week. He had been fine for the first two days, a little more reserved than normal, but she was expecting that. But she had not expected to wake up on the actual anniversary and have him burst into tears the moment he set eyes on her.

After that he had started having a panic attack and would have collapsed to the floor if she had not caught him. His breathing was still ragged and uneven and it terrified her.

“Please, just breathe with me.” She cupped his face and rubbed her thumb along his jaw as she exaggerated her own breaths.

It took a while, but eventually his breaths started to even out as well, and then he was just sobbing into her shoulder instead. But she could deal with that, as long as he just kept breathing.

Two:

Bruce did not know what to do with the small kid who was currently crying into his t-shirt. He could deal with hardened criminals, drug dealers and the literal worst of the worst without fear. But having a recently orphaned eight year old clinging to him, sobbing his heart out terrified him more than he wanted to admit.

His first reaction was to call for Y/N, but she was out catching up with a friend from college and he really did not want to deny her the chance to talk to someone other than him, the kid or Alfred. It had also taken Dick so long to warm up to him that he did not want to just pass the kid off to someone else and end up back at square one.

So he took a deep breath and tried to think about what his parents used to do when he had a nightmare.

He had a vague memory of his mother holding him in her lap and singing Yesterday by the Beatles. Bruce was not very confident with his singing voice, so he started humming instead, gently rocking the kid just like his mom used to for him.

Three:

Y/N’s hands would not stop shaking as she reached out and took Dick’s hand in both of hers. She could barely hear what Leslie and Bruce were saying behind her; something about a baseball bat and a fractured skull and wait to see if he wakes up.

She wanted to run her fingers through his hair like she always did when he was hurt or scared or needed her, but the bandages wrapped around his head stopped her.

She should have fought him and Bruce harder when they said he was going to be helping Bruce each night. She should have fought them both tooth and nail because she was not sure how she would cope if she lost her little boy.

Four:

Jason was… Jason was standing right in front of him. Y/N’s account of what happened and the security footage from the cave had been one thing, but having Jason stood mere metres away from him solidified in Bruce’s mind that his son really was back.

But the choices Jason had presented him with terrified him. He could not kill his son, Jason meant too much, it had hurt too much to lose him the first time, for Bruce to even consider it. But he could not just stand by and let his son kill the Joker either, no matter how much Bruce wanted the clown dead himself. Jason, the carefree little boy who cared so much about people, did not need his own murderers blood on his hands

Bruce took a breath and tried to figure out a way out of this.

Five:

Y/N could not stop staring at the blood on her jeans as she combed her fingers through Jason’s curls. He was leaning heavily against her and sobbing into her shoulder as she tried to console him. But it was hard when she had watched as he slit Tim’s throat and they had no idea what was happening in the surgery room across the hall from them.

She knew, she did, that it had been the pit lashing out. His eyes had been so green they were almost glowing and the Joker had set everything up perfectly to ensure that Jason lost control and had someone in his wake to hurt.

But Tim was so small and he looked so much like Jason.

She curled her body closer around her second son and tried to push down her fear. Everything was going to be okay, it had to be.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #convenience #robert pattinson #the batman #batman 2022 #5.5k follower celebration #2nd prompt list

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