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abibliophobiaa · 1 month

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the ghost of you

eddie munson x f!reader. (1.2k words).

warnings: grief; angst; major character death.

——

Raining.

It always rained on crappy days. The ones where clients yelled, your boss had you contemplating how much you really needed your job, when coworkers had you ready to toss your notebook across the workroom and shout into the open air just to expel some of the stress radiating from your form.

It also happened to rain on a day you thought you might try and get some fresh air for once, what with the weather warming in Hawkins after a brutal few months. You regretted that decision now — regretted even more so that you left your jacket at home, deeming your blouse enough to keep you warm from the slight chill still clinging to the air as spring turned into summer.

That same blouse clung to your form now. Felt like it was pasted to your body as you flicked on the light to your apartment, illuminating the space. Take away boxes lined the countertops. Your coffee table still had one too many mugs on the surface. The dishes were piled high in the sink. The garbage probably needed to be taken out soon, but you decided that was for another day.

You huffed a sigh, stripping down to your bra as you marched down the short hall into your bedroom, brushing your fingers along the strings of Eddie’s guitar as you always did before pulling out a long tee shirt and slipping it over your form. Jeans were kicked off your thighs and shorts were tugged on to replace them, feet sliding into a pair of slippers on your side of the bed.

Humming to yourself, you began washing the dishes in the sink, listening to voicemail after voicemail left on your answering machine. The last of which being Steve’s voice spilling through the speaker, “Hoping today went well. First day back, right? If you need anything, let us know. Rob and I love you, okay?”

A smile quirked your lips, growing further as a pair of arms slipped around your form, pulling you against a firm chest. “Careful with that knife, baby. You know what happened last time. Can’t afford another ER bill.”

You huffed out a laugh, dropping the knife into the dish rack. “Maybe I wouldn’t have needed three stitches if you hadn’t distracted me that day with your wandering hands, would I?”

“Touché, sweetheart,” he snorted, hopping up onto the counter. “Rough day?”

“Everyone…was fine.”

“Just fine?”

With a nod, you said, “Just treated me differently. Like I was, I don’t know, fragile. Walked around me like they were all on eggshells.”

“And how are you feeling?” he asked, head tipping to the side. “Today was a big day.”

It was. First day back, just like Steve said. “I’m…okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Just…okay.” How could you be anything but? “I missed you. I always miss you.”

“I know,” Eddie sighed. “Baby, you’re wearing a mark into that dish.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered out. Tossed the dish into the sink. Sunk down with your back against the kitchen cabinets, knees curled tight to your chest. “I thought I could do it, but I can’t.”

Eddie appeared near your hip, a hand on your shoulder, lips at your temple. “And that’s okay. No one said it needed to be today — or even next week. Hell, not even next year. There are no timelines on this shit.”

“There should be no timeline at all,” you cried, pushing into the heat of his body, the circle of his arms. “It shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“Life is cruel. We don’t always get what we want. We make plans and the guy upstairs laughs, right?” Eddie chuckled weakly, a watery thing, a sound that cleaved your heart. “But you tried. And that’s all that matters. I’m proud of you.”

“It's just…I hate this.” Your head fell against his lap, his fingers curling with your own, his other palm resting against your hip. “It feels like there’s this giant hole in my chest and it’s never going to go away. Every time it beats is a reminder of how different everything is — how unfair it all is. How I’m like this and —”

“It won’t always be this way,” he whispered, holding your fingers tighter, holding you closer. “It’s hard now. It feels like shit now. But every day you’re doing better. You’re smiling more. You’re taking care of yourself. Laughing — and you know I love that laugh. There will be those moments where you’re back there, where you remember. And you’ll always remember. One day you’ll find it won’t hurt as much. It’ll still be there, it’ll have happened, but it won’t feel like this impossible thing.”

“That scares me the most,” you choked out, back of your hand swiping at your eyes. “The pain makes it real. It makes us real. It makes you real. If it goes away…I’m afraid I’ll start to forget. That it’ll have all been a memory.”

“Baby…”

“I don’t want to close my eyes some nights, because that’s usually when I daydream, and I’m starting to forget all the lines of your face. The dimple in your smile. Exactly how your hair falls. I forget the sound of your laugh, your voice…I miss the sound of your heartbeat every night.”

You breathed in a shaky breath, heart shattering in your chest. “I’m afraid I’ll wake up one day and you’ll be gone. Forever this time.”

At least now you have him like this.

Like a ghost you dance with every night in your living room.

“I’ll always be with you, you know?” He pushed at your shoulder a little, rolling you onto your back, your head still in his lap. His hand rested over your sternum, over the space behind your ribs where your vital organ twisted painfully. “Right here. Corny as it is, but I’m allowed a pass because I’m —”

“Don’t say it,” you pleaded, cupping his cheek with a palm.

You couldn’t feel him — not really. But you pretended when he visited you like this. Tried to remember, tried to hold on to what once was — what would no longer be.

“I’ll love you forever, you know?”

Tears glowed in his eyes.

Unshed, yet there all the same.

“I died loving you,” he continued, “so it’ll always be true.”

“I think you took some of that love with you,” you whimpered, trying to remember the way his forehead felt against yours as you leaned up to rest yours against his.

“You’ll love again,” he said, though you vehemently shook your head ‘no.’ “Your heart's too big to keep it shut forever.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

He smiled softly. “Then we won’t. Not today, okay? Come here. Let me hold you.”

He stood to his feet, holding out a hand to you. You stood in the circle of his arms, cradled in his love, praying that this wasn’t the last time. Just like you did every time he came to visit before it.

“I like this with you — dancing with you in our kitchen.” He whispered the words against the crown of your head. You rested your ear against his quiet chest. “I wish I had told you more…before.”

“You can tell me now.”

“I like dancing with you in our kitchen.”

“Me too,” you told him, swaying to the sound of the rain falling outside. “Please tell me you’ll be back.”

“I will.” A promise. “One day I won’t be, though. And you’ll be okay.”

“But not today?” you pleaded, looking up into those eyes you missed so much.

“Not today.” He sealed the promise with the whisper of a kiss. “Today I just want to hold you.”

——

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson angst #Spotify

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kylars-owner · 5 months

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punishment?

Characters: MtF! Kylar, GN! Reader

TW: Kylar being gross, NSFW but no actual smut, mentions of chastity cages?, not betaread

Notes: sighhh i tried to write smut and failed. anyways, chubby tgirl Kylar ftw (thank you Neptune for putting the thought in my head I'm obsessed). might do a sequel exploring the chastity cage thing but idk.

NSFW under cut

you stared down at the grotesque fabric before you.

horrified.

you tried to keep calm, tried to avoid calling up your poor, sweet girlfriend and screaming her ear off. you knew it would make things worse, knew she’d cry and you’d have to comfort her and she would come away learning nothing and probably do it again. but you had to do something, right?

this was the third time she snuck into your room in the orphanage while you were working just to cum all over your underwear. the only difference is that while in the past when she’d do this it would be a giant mess that you’d clean within the day, it seems she was almost meticulous this time. the crotch of every pair of underwear you owned was soaked with her semen, and you were left to wonder how long she sat before the bottom drawer of your wardrobe masturbating.

to make matters worse, the washing machine was inconveniently broken.

you tried to do away with the idea of that being kylar’s doing, for your own sanity.

...

until she texted you.

the simple “my love? did you see my present?” with the cute, smiling kaomoji did nothing to alleviate your anger.

and, of course, when you read her message but spent a whole minute not responding (what a crime!) she started barraging you with texts, each more desperate than the last. and when she called three minutes later, you didn’t answer, didn’t even let it go to voicemail. she tried calling three more times before your phone went dead silent, another barrage of texts between each attempt.

she’d be on her way, you knew it. you could only wonder if she’d use the door or the window. hopefully she’d at least be willing to talk.

in the meantime, you sat before your wardrobe, staring down into the drawer at the gross, cum-stained fabric. you tried calming yourself, thinking of what you would say when she arrived.

...

it took a whole nine minutes before your girlfriend was opening your window.

fast, even for kylar.

the tears running down her cheeks almost made you forget that you were mad at her.

almost.

she went to speak, getting out a few words before you cut her off.

“no, kylar. you’re not guilt tripping me this time. i don’t.. this isn’t a gift, y’know. what am i supposed to do, huh? i can’t wear this, and i’m not going without underwear. so, tell me, what am i supposed to do? lick it off?,” you laughed humorlessly.

she stayed silent for a second.

you kept your eyes off her.

if you saw her now, tears covering that cute, round face you loved so much, you knew you’d relent. inevitably, you’d find yourself wiping at her tears and snot, comforting her with gentle words. but it was time you put a foot down.

“i..,” she started, “i just.. you were supposed to wear them.. it— it’s cute...”

quiet sniffles broke into loud sobs as she broke down again. and, as expected, you relented, standing up and muttering expletives as you slowly walked towards her. you took the small girl into your arms without a word, clutching the back of her head with a gentle hand and guiding it to your neck. you tried not to cringe as she wiped her snotty nose against the skin of your shoulder under your tank top.

her arms wrapped tight around your waist, her body pressing tight against yours, along with her...

“kylar.. why are you hard,” you deadpanned, the sentence coming out as more of a statement than a question.

she remained silent.

you repeated her name a few times before gaining a response.

“you.. you mentioned licking them...”

you sighed, gently petting her head, and reached down to brush your fingers against the hem of her soft skirt. she shuddered slightly each time your fingertips just barely grazed against the thick, soft flesh of her thigh.

“what am i going to do with you..?”

the question was a soft whisper, more for yourself than for her. but kylar heard, as she always did. she paid such close attention to everything you said and did, you almost wondered if she had superhuman senses at times.

the soft ‘whatever you want’ she responded with was almost cute. if only you weren’t still mad at her.

you much prefered the whiney, drawn out 'no' that warbled with her shaking head, teary eyes looking up to you in an almost panic when you suggested putting her ina chastity cage.

what a mess.

#kylar dol #dol #kylar the loner #kylar degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity #kylar dol x reader #dol x reader #kylar the loner x reader

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ghostofskywalker · 1 year

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Filed Under: Payroll Complaints

Words: 1,108

Summary: As an office worker living on Coruscant, you had little to no understanding of what the war was like. The only reason you even got a glimpse of it was because you worked in the front office of the GAR.

or alternatively: a collection of voicemails found on your answering machine, all proving one irrefutable truth: that you (and all of the clone commanders) really deserved a raise.

Note: i have no idea where this idea came from, but i cracked open some wine and stayed up way too late writing this (it's currently quarter after midnight. i really need to go to bed) but i hope you enjoy it!! i'm dedicating this to my lovely friend @captainsophiestark, who has asked to be tagged when i posted this fic! it is probably the least "standard" reader fic i've ever written, but i liked the idea of using a reader character to frame the narrative, even if there isn't much importance to them :)

ao3 link || clone troopers masterlist

“Hello, you’ve reached the Grand Army of the Republic’s front office. If you know the extension of your party, you can dial it at any time. If you need to contact the Jedi Temple, please press 1. To reach the Kaminoan cloning facility, press 2. To get in touch with the Coruscant Guard, press 3 in the case of an emergency and 4 for the office of Commander Fox. If you’re interested in enlisting or aiding in the war effort in any way, please press 5. If you would like to speak to someone in our payroll and budgeting department, press 6. For all other inquiries, press 7. To listen to these options again, please remain on the line or press 8.”

Those were the options everyone got when they commed the number posted for the GAR. And half the time, those calls went to you in the payroll department. Rarely did they ever contain requests, demands, or complaints that you could ever do anything about, but they were entertaining (if nothing else).

you have *:･ﾟ✧ eight ✧ ﾟ･:* new messages

“Six.”

“Jesse.”

“What, Fives?”

“You have to press the button, not say the number.”

“I knew that. I did both.”

“Who are you even calling anyway?”

“Payroll.”

“But we don’t even get paid.”

“Exactly! I’m going to fix that”

“I don’t think this message is really selling it vod.”

“Oh kriff, is this thing already recording?”

“Rex is going to kill you.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“Are you in charge of the budget? My name is General Skywalker, I wanted to talk to you about getting some new weaponry but General Kenobi seems to think that most of the GAR’s funding has already been allocated for this quarter. If he’s right, no need to call me back, but if there’s a few credits left laying around, please contact me as soon as possible. My troops and I have some ideas that might benefit more than just the 501st and would love to put our thoughts into action. If you want to get in touch, just contact Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo, she’ll be able to reach me.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“Hello, this is Commander Thorn of the Coruscant Guard. I understand you’ve been in contact with Fox about new equipment for our commanding officers? Look, is there any way that we can divert those funds to cover a new caf machine and grounds that don’t actually taste like dirt? The commander would never ask for it himself, but in my personal opinion the effectiveness of the force would drastically increase if we didn’t have to drink the equivalent of Endorian mud water every morning when we came in to our shift. More so than if we got all new weapons and equipment. I heard that the 212th got a fancy caf machine with the excess funds from the last budget redraw, did their general have anything to do with it or could we have always just asked for it? Either way, let me or Fox know the status of the request as soon as possible. Thorn out.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“This is General Kenobi. I’m calling to hopefully precede a communication you may receive from a pirate called Hondo Ohnaka asking for monetary compensation. Whatever he will claim that he has done for the Republic is likely nothing but trickery and lies, and there is certainly no reason to feel threatened by him. If you receive more than one communication from him or his crew, please reach out to me and I’ll handle the situation. If there is anything else you or the GAR office in general needs, you can always reach out to me or Commander Cody as well.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“Alright, I have gotten through to the payroll and budget department. What supplies do we need at this point, Tech?”

“More explosives!”

“Wrecker, I highly doubt that the GAR’s payroll and budget receptionist will have the power to clear that kind of request. And besides, Hunter asked me, not you.”

“So what are you going to get? Better goggles?”

“No, he’ll just ask for a new ship to ruin.”

“You are all incredibly rude. My requests are based on when I took inventory of the medical supplies and tools on the ship. Speaking of which, maybe you should ask for more toothpicks, Crosshair.”

“I hate you all.”

“Guys, come on. We-”

But before the one calling could get through the rest of his sentence, a beep echoed from the answering machine, signaling the end of the communication on your line.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“This is Hondo, the greatest pirate in the galaxy calling to collect on what is owed to me. Kenobi should have informed you that I will be in touch. Don’t believe anything he said about me, my service was invaluable to your war effort and I believe that it is only right for me to ask for what I am owed. Please call back and I will give you the full itinerary of my grievances, and if you don’t, I will not hesitate to break in and take what I want myself. I hope to speak soon.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“How many massif treats do you think we need to get our point across, Sinker?”

“I don’t know, I feel like we should at least get a box or two, and send some to the Guard as well. Hound is always talking about how they need treats for Grizzer down there.”

“So should we really be dumping a bunch of them on the Commander’s bunk then?”

“Probably not, but if I had to walk around for an entire campaign with blue in my hair because of him, then he’s going to have to deal with the consequences.”

“I don’t know, I thought you looked nice!”

“Yeah, maybe if I was part of the 501st.”

“Good point, two boxes it is. Hopefully they got the message.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ ﾟ･:*

“Hello, this is Kix, CT number 6116 calling from the flagship Resolute. The 501st will be arriving for a week of shore leave in two rotations, and I wanted to inform you of the supplies that we need to replenish in the medbay so I could arrange it to be delivered before we are deployed again. Please call back as soon as you can, either the comm in the medbay or Captain Rex’s direct line should be able to reach me in the event I miss your call. Thank you!”

You have *:･ﾟ✧ zero ✧ ﾟ･:* new messages

As the machine beeped to signal the end of the messages, you sighed in relief.

At least that last one was both feasible and reasonable.

-the end-

(divider credit to djarrex)

#clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker #commander thorn #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #obi wan kenobi #hondo ohnaka #arc trooper fives #clone trooper jesse #clone medic kix #the clone wars

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oumaheroes · 1 year

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Pick Your Poison

Day 22 of Whumptober

Toxic/ Withdrawal/ Allergic reaction

Characters: Portugal/ engport- human AU

Day 21

-----

His mind is too quiet. Trying too hard to not think about what it wants to.

Gabriel paces his rented flat, from the kitchen to the window, and tries to fill it. Adverts from TV, favourite songs, repetitions of things that he needs to do- nothing sticks. The thoughts don’t stay long enough, don’t take root and grow as they should, as he needs them to, and then the silence returns as he refuses to give in to what he really wants to think about.

His body is restless. Craving a fix that it cannot have.

He grabs his coat. Heads out the door before he can change his mind and do something stupid. Texts his friends -fancy a drink? Now?- but no answer. Stalks along the road for a while, to the pub, then the beach. Then back again; the sea air makes him feel sick. It makes him remember how this all began which then makes him think about now and-

Phone again. A call to his cousin that goes to voicemail.

Gabriel swears and gives in, heading to the pub. He has never wanted to be one of those men who can be seen festering there. Has never thought he’d even need to try and force himself not to be one- alone in a booth or at the bar, nursing a drink alone as the world moved on in the glittering night outside. He wants to move along with it, doesn’t want to be stuck and pathetic and desperate- men with empty eyes and downturned mouths, the skin of their jaw sagging and pouched from years of slumping down just so.

It’s loud inside and he is grateful. Takes a seat on an empty stool and waits to be served, flipping his phone in his hand, spinning it between his fingers.

Don’t look at it. Don’t check it. There’s nothing there you want to find.

A football match is playing silently on a TV behind the bar, slightly out of focus either behind a low quality screen or a shitty connection. He thinks about how Arthur-

Fuck.

Don’t.

-how Arthur had made that his first priority when they got their own house. That the internet was stable, that the TV was able to play the football when his teams were on; Sky Sports paid and prepared before they’d unpacked. He’d sat surrounded by boxes, the sun going down outside whilst he worked to turn the room dark around him as Gabriel had fiddled about in their bedroom putting together a dresser. Them together for dinner on the ground, an odd assortment of crockery and silverware from a muddle of different sets, Gabriel threatening to call Arthur’s brother if they couldn’t figure out how to install the washing machine in the morning. Arthur’s music over the radio, Gabriel’s clothes neatly washed and folded on their bed.

His mouth is dry.

He takes a long sip of his drink when it arrives, the strong liquor burning the back of his throat as it goes down. The taste is strong, he can smell it on his breath and Gabriel hates himself for becoming this so easily, for falling so low. He hadn’t realised, hadn’t known how much Arthur had wormed into him. Hadn’t felt it happen, hadn’t felt their lives merge together this much.

So soft and easy to put together and so jarring and messy to tear apart.

His phone is in his pocket. Then it’s not, it’s in his hand, thumb hovering over the screen- double tap and it will be on. His thumb slides across the cool glass; he doesn't do it.

Puts it back in his pocket, takes another drink. Feels Arthur’s presence near him, can imagine his hands in his hair and on his shoulders, nose on his cheek and lips on his jaw as he kisses him from behind. Arthur always preferred that, always liked to show spontaneous affection where it couldn’t be seen coming. Couldn’t be judged. Or, maybe so quick that he didn’t get the chance to think about whether it would be right for him to do.

A beach, a cigarette. A bottle of vodka to a dark alley, the waves and cars as white noise.

They had never really thought, had they.

Why is he here.

Toni doesn’t even live here anymore. Gabriel hasn’t been here in years. This is a young person’s city, the strip and the beach filled with drunken children, flashing lights and terrible music- Gabriel doesn't belong here. He’s old, he’s married he-

Was married.

Is married?

His ring isn’t on his finger.

He finishes his drink, eyes stinging, and gets up. Thanks a barman who is turned away- he can’t see- and heads back outside into the night. Takes himself to a sordid alley behind an old rundown café- hardly romantic- and hopes to see it with older, realistic eyes. But night softens the details, hides the nasty parts he wants to see, and all he notices is their past and beginning.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Staring at the wall he answers without looking.

‘Yeah.’

A long pause.

‘Gabe?’

------

From the Of Pointed Teeth and Tongue AU

Day 23

Full Masterlist

#aph england #aph portugal #hws england #hws portugal #engport #porteng #aph engport #aph #hws #hetalia #heroes writes #whumptober #whumptober 2022 #whumptalia

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jackalopes-pen · 10 months

Text

Phone calls

Summary: Michael has been dead for a year now, and Pete is struggling with the death of his friend. He copes by leaving him voicemails, however he feels a wave or shock when someone returns his call.

Fandom: South Park ( aged up) | Goth kids (Henrietta Biggle, Pete Thelman, Firkle Smith, Michael ... Tall one)

A/N: First time writing south park fanfic! Lemme know if it is shitty or not, really trying figure out how to write these characters before I get a larger project under way.

Word Count: 1,281

Pete was well aware that this was not very goth. To leave voicemails on his friend's number that would never be heard was so stupid. He still did it, though. Still scrolled down to Michael's name and called waiting for the answering machine just to hear his voice. He still left some update on their lives and how the world still turned without him. He told answering machine about how that song he wrote hit the top 10. He told the machine that they were gaining popularity as a goth band, and that the name he suggested was the one they signed with. Sometimes he just cried after the tone, unable to process.

Today was so much worse then other days. Today it had been one full year since he died. He died to someone else's hand in a hate crime not even to his own. His tombstone read that he was a 'great daughter'. Fucking bigots. Pete kneeled down to the stone, and put a tapped note over daughter, reading now "A great son, friend, and unfortunate martyr." He would have apricated that, right? Pete stood back, on the path staring at the grave. He put the phone to his ear, staring down the flowers of someone who was supposed to answer.

One ring, two rings, three...

"Hey. This is Michael, I'm kinda busy so leave your name I'll consider getting back to you. Unless you're a conformist." the recording stopped with a tone. Leave a message... another message.

"Hey Michael, it's Pete. Just wanted to let you know that I came back to visit you," Pete could hear his voice breaking as he continued "Tried to fix that stupid mistake on your stone. Those conformists can't even let you rest in peace? They really are assholes. Anyway, call me back when you can. I miss you."

Pete slipped the phone back in his pocket. He wanted to stay at that grave for an eternity and hope something would change. It wouldn't though, he knew that. He talked himself into leaving, going to his car and driving to his shared apartment with Henrietta and Firkle. They'd probably get onto him for this and tell him to move on. It's hard to move on damn it. Give him time.. or more time.

"Hey, I'm back." Pete said as he entered their apartment.

"Went to visit him?" Henrietta said from the couch, writing something in her journal.

"Yeah, if you're gonna give me shit can you save it til tomorrow?" Pete responded, flopping down the couch beside her.

"Not today. I know it's hard and all. If this is how you handle it, then so be it." Henrietta said, clearly more focused on her lyrics.

"It's almost poser-ish is what it is," Firkle said emerging from his room with drum sticks in hand. "He's gone, let it go."

"It's easy for you to say! We were close, and I just-" Pete stopped his rebuttal when his phone rang in his pocket. He took it out and froze as he saw the caller.

"What's up with you?" Henrietta said, suddenly perking up.

"He's.. he's calling me back." Pete said, some mix of happiness and confusion and fear all churning in his stomach.

'Well, answer it!" Firkle said impatiently.

Pete did just that. He swiped to answer the call and quickly put it on speaker. He set the phone down on the coffee table, almost scared to hold it in case it was a dream or something. They all waited in silence, for whatever was on the other end of the call.

"Hey Pete, sorry I couldn't answer earlier. Whatever though. I'm at the good CVS on fifth, you need anything?" It was Michael's voice, loud and clear. The sounds of shitty drug store music were barely audible through the phone. It was him.. it had to be. "Hello? Are you about blast a chord again?"

"No, no. I'm here. How- uh... how are you?" It was pathetic but it was all Pete could muster. He wanted to say a million things to him, but couldn't find the words for any of it.

"Uh.. could be better, could be worse. You good, red? You sound like you're talking to a ghost." Hearing that old nickname was enough to break him a little on the inside. Only Michael called him that, and he still was calling him that.

"I'm- I'm good. Do you mind being on speaker? We're all here, about to start writing."

"Nah, I don't mind. Glad the band took off though, that's pretty fucking impressive."

"Your song helped us out a lot, I wish you could've written more." Henrietta finally spoke up.

"Yeah, you know.. not really my decision about the whole thing. I did hear you guys used my name idea. I thought it was pretty bad but, I guess if it works." Pete was so confused at this point. He seemed to know he was gone, but here he was on the phone. Pete almost wanted to run to the CVS and look for him, even though he'd probably find nothing.

"Hey, while you're there.. can you pick up some of those gummy bears? We're running low." Firkle said, tentatively. He was trying to play into the daydream.. maybe Pete should. Maybe this was the casual conversion they never got to have. That last talk.

"Sure, kid. Anything else? Hen, you still like those chocolate pretzel things right?"

"Yeah- yeah. I can pay you back for them." Henrietta was close to tears. It was rare that he called even them their actual names to their faces. These old nicknames.. it hurt to hear them again.

"You don't have to. Red, you?"

"Oh, can you see if they have Marlboro? I'm on my last pack." Pete felt the lump in throat grow. It was such a normal conversation, with a dead man.

"Sure, yeah. Okay, well I'll see you guys whenever. And, red?"

"Yeah?" Pete's voice broke on the ending constant.

His tone was suddenly solemn. "I miss you too, I miss all of you and I wish I was there. Thanks for the voicemails, I might try to leave you some."

The call was hung up. The silence was deafening, as they stared at Pete's phone until it turned to a black screen. It only reflected the popcorn ceiling of their apartment. In some ways, it was a relief to know he wanted to be here and in others a pull to Pete's heart that he wasn't. This could have been their everyday.

But it wasn't, and it never would be.

About 15 minutes later, the doorbell rang Pete almost prayed it was him but, it was just a CVS bag of what they asked for. One bag of gummies, chocolate pretzels, cigarettes, and a bag of the coffee that he used to brew before writing. Of course he'd pick that up, it was a writing session right? Pete noticed on the receipt, paid for with Michael's card, something else they asked for: more writing.

It was a complete song, and a that moment Pete was so glad CVS had insanely long receipts. It was a song about loss, comparing the death to crow that continued to follow the singer. The song went through the 5 stages as it continued, ending in accepting the crows presence.

It would take more time and thought then some lyric's on a CVS receipt, but Pete knew a hint when saw it. He picked up his guitar, and made a promise with it. This is honoring the death, because it did happen. It would only get easier to admit it, every time he played.

#south park #south park fic #sp goth kids #goth kids south park #goth kids #sp fic #goth kids fic #south park henrietta #henrietta biggle #south park pete #pete thelman #firkle smith #south park firkle #south park michael #michael tall goth kid #fan fic #first sp fic #feedback welcome

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findopulencerp · 1 year

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𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖚𝖒 𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖘

he was born 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 years ago, he is a 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 who lives in 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 as the 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐣 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬. he looks an awful lot like 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐭.

“The final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands.”

TW: abandonment, neglect

The first step of parenting 101… make sure you actually want to be a parent. Children don’t ask to be brought into the world. Especially if you don’t have the capacity to be present and readily available to tend to another life beyond your own. Callum is like one of many children who fall into this unprecedented environment. One in which people loved themselves more than they cared to pay him their child any mind. At least his mother had the wherewithal to make sure he was fed, bathed, and changed. After that, she was nowhere to be found. His father tried a bit harder. Making sure that Callum got off to school each morning and made sure a roof remained over his head. Beyond that, the young boy was left to his own devices of learning, exploration, and sense of worth and belonging.

It didn’t take long for Callum to drop out of school once his dad never came back after the first two weeks. A voicemail left on the answering machine said there was enough money to get him through the next three months. After the payment expired, Callum packed a bag and left the trailer park and area he knew as home. Hitchhiking from Boston to Colorado over the span of ten years, he never stayed in one place for too long, going state to state, bumming it in hostels or a stranger’s couch. With no true passion or desire for anything, Callum just lived. Learning and meeting people from all walks of life, serving them drinks and food with his pleasant customer service skills, was the means of survival.

Along his travels he befriended a truck driver named Eddie who was kind enough to exchange his contact with Callum. Knowing that he was a floater, Eddie picked up Callum along his routes, dropping him off to new cities whenever boredom struck. Three years later and a lot of convincing, Eddie brought Callum to his hometown of Opulence, Colorado. The guy had spewed some abnormal things to the Riggs, but he thought the man was simply joking. Stories of creatures heard in children’s novels and depicted in the most obnoxious Hollywood movies. Little did he know he was entering a world contrary to the one he’d known.

Living with Eddie and his farmer husband Victor, he would come to learn that they were werewolves who migrated to Opulence from Venezuela. Looking for a safe home to express themselves freely amongst other like minded supernatural creatures. It’s been five years since Callum was welcomed into their home, helping out as a ranch hand, on top of soaking in all the information he could about the creatures that surrounded. Although human, it was the first time in his life he felt accepted as a person despite his quirky demeanor. Opulence has become an unexpected home and beyond his childhood years, he can now call this place home. Although limited in abilities to protect himself with the strange occurrence in town, he’s invested in the lives of those around him, enough to stand strong and not flee. Opulence is his home and he’d be damned for anyone or thing to dismantle the safe haven he found in this place.

“what power did he attain when settling in opulence?”

None.

this character is…retired

#supernatural rp #oc rp #horror rp #mature rp #town rp #retired

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poly-pan-0118 · 1 year

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Broken Promises

WC:4882. ⚠ Major character death, manga spoilers, hurt & comfort, sorta... Soft and sweet Kirishima.

After suffering the loss of the love of your life, Kirishima is there to help you heal and pick up the pieces.

****Grab some tissues guys****

You knew winter was going to be hell. It's your least favorite season after all. You roll over in bed and run your hand over the cold bare space next to you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath trying to stave off from crying. Again. You tell yourself that he's just been on a mission. Yeah, that's it. That's a good excuse, right? It'll explain why he hasn't been home, or why he hasn't returned any of your calls. You roll over and reach for your cell phone. No missed calls. Maybe you should try calling again. Voicemail. "Hey babe. Just wondering when you'll be home. I was going to make that chicken Katsu you taught me for dinner. If you don't want it ruined, I suggest you be home on time." you giggle and take a deep breath, "I miss you and I love you. Be careful out there. See you soon." As you carefully place your cell back on the bedside table a basket of dirty laundry catches your eyes. His dirty clothes to be exact. You know you should do the laundry, it's about a month overdue. He'll be home soon, and you know how he likes cleanliness.

You sit up on the side of the bed and clench your teeth, trying to keep your breathing even. It's another ten minutes of mentally arguing with yourself before you stand up. You grab the mesh bag of dirty clothes by the handles and drag it to the laundry room. Passing the kitchen, you ignore the dishes in the sink piling up. You'll clean up the kitchen after you start the laundry. At any moment your husband could be home and you want him to find the house clean. The way he likes it. You start the wash machine, add detergent and start separating clothes. But you can't bring yourself to wash them. Right now, they smell like him. The sweet scent from his quirk mixed with the musk from his body odor. If you wash them, you won't be able to smell him anymore. Maybe you can put off doing the laundry for just a little longer. You stop the water from filling and drag the basket back to your room. You throw one of his dirty sweaters on the bed where he lays. You'll cuddle up with that tonight you think. You walk back to the kitchen determined to clean up. That determination quickly dwindles as you look at the mess on the counters and in the sink. Your nose scrunches up as you get a whiff of the trash. You could at least take that out right? You pullout the overflowing bag and tie it. You sit it by the door and look for your slippers while giving yourself a mental pep talk. You can do this. The bin is right down the hall.

You find one slipper but can't find the other. You're looking under the couch when you catch sight of something shiny. You grab it and sit up on your haunches. It's a hearing aid. Your mind flashes back to a month ago, right before he left for his mission. You both had an impromptu quickie before he left for work. It got pretty steamy. Somehow one of his aids fell out. You both looked under the couch, you know you did. You had to tell him that you found it. You picture him rolling his eyes with a little smirk. Since your husband is not answering, you figured you'd call the next closest person who might know what's going on. After three rings there's an answer. "Y/N? Is everything okay?"

"Hey Kiri. Have you heard from my bum of a husband?" you ask jokingly. There was a moment of silence, then. "Aw, y/n" Kirishima paused, "Where are you hun?"

"I'm at home trying to clean up. I want him to come home to a clean house ya know"

You hear Kirishima take a deep breath and it's silent again. "He's gonna flip when I tell him I found his other hearing aid." you laugh.

"Y/N, can I come over for a bit?" he asks. A big smile grows on your face, "Of course Kiri. You know you're always welcome here. Hey, I can make us some lunch." You say excitedly. It's been a while since you had company. "Sure, I'd like that hun." You're not sure why but his voice sounds sad. He has probably had a long day you think.

You're in the kitchen making sandwiches when you hear a knock. Before you can even get to the door, Kirishima is walking in. The bag of trash you had sitting in front of the door falls over. "Shit, I'm sorry y/n" he apologizes. "No, no it's okay. I meant to take it out earlier but got sidetracked." you tell him. Kirishima watched how your hands shake as you pick up pieces of trash that fell out and stuff it back in the bag. "Hey, I got this." he says, reaching out to gently hold your hands. You nod and stand up. "I'm" you take a deep breath and smile, "I'm gonna finish making lunch." Kirishima ties the bag again and before leaving he tells you that he'll be right back. As Kirishima walks down the hall to the trash chute, he thinks about how to handle you. It's a very delicate situation. He knows he has to be careful about what he says. Even though the doctor says not to correct you, so it doesn't set you off, he feels like he's lying to you and he doesn't like that at all. But Kirishima wants to see you happy because he still loves you. He's always had feelings for you but ultimately it was his best friend that came in and swept you off your feet. Although he was jealous and confused about his emotions, he swallowed his pride and respected his friends' relationship. It was the manly thing to do.

Kirishima came back to find you in the same place he left you. Standing at the counter staring at two plain ham sandwiches. You hadn't noticed him walking in and was startled when he spoke. Sitting at the coffee table with mail strewn all over, you both ate in silence. "I'm sorry lunch is pretty boring. Haven't gotten the chance to go grocery shopping yet." you finally spoke. "If you make a list, I could go to the store for you" he offered. "Oh no need for that" you said shaking your hands, "I'll just wait till he gets home, shouldn't be much longer." Kirishima couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want to upset you but he didn't like how you were living in denial like this. Even more, he couldn't stand the fact that once you faced reality you could very well be upset with him for enabling you and he didn't want that. Kirishima stood up and walked over to your end of the table. Squatting down before you he gently took your hands and held them. "Y/N," he closed his eyes taking a deep breath and then opened them again, "you know he's not coming home, right?" You shook your head and your lips began to tremble. "Kirishima don't." you begged, "Please don't do this."

Kirishima hated seeing you like this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you upset or to hurt you, but he couldn't let you keep living like this. "This isn't healthy y/n. Maybe," he paused for a minute, thinking about how to say this as delicately as possible, "maybe we should go to the hospital. See about getting you some help." Kirishima winced at his own words. Before he could think about what to say next, he felt a sting across his face. There he knelt before you, eyes wide open at the realization that you just smacked him. Kirishima took a deep breath. He wasn't mad. His heart was breaking watching someone he loved hurt this way. "I'm not crazy Eijirou" you yelled, standing up quickly, almost knocking Kirishima backwards. You turned to walk away but he grabbed you and pulled you in a tight bear hug. There you fought to get out of his embrace but soon settled down. Kirishima quietly hushed you and rubbed your back.

He walked you over to the couch where you curled up next to him burying your face in his chest and sobbed. He didn't say anything, he just let you get it all out. "He lied Eij" you cried muffling into his chest, his T-shirt now soaked with your tears. "Kats lied to me." Kirishima still didn't say anything, he just continued to listen and rub your back. He was going to let you get everything you needed to say off your chest and hope you felt better afterwards. You pushed yourself up looking at Kirishima and noticed he too was crying. After all he lost his best friend just as you lost your husband. "He said he would never leave me. He said that he would always be here for me. He lied to us both and I'm so angry Eijirou, I'm so angry" your voice cracked as your breathing got heavier. Kirishima could tell you we're starting to hyperventilate. "Calm down baby, calm down" he said pulling you in close again to hold you. "Shhh, deep breaths" he said softly in your ear, "that's it, relax."

Kirishima held you like that for what seemed like forever. Finally calm, you sat up. "Thank you, Ei." you told him, "Thank you for being here." Kirishima moved some hair that was stuck to your face behind your ears. "I'll always be here for you y/n" he said. He wanted to promise you that he would never leave you, that he will always be here by your side, but he didn't want to make that promise, that same promise that Katsuki did and have you worry about losing him as well. "Why don't I start a bath for you and while you are washing up, I will clean a bit out here."

"You don't have to do that. I'll get around to it eventually." Your voice was hoarse from crying and breathing hard. "It's no problem really." Kirishima said, standing up and offering you a hand. "I want to do this." You walked to the bathroom together and watched as Kirishima drew you a bath and set out the one clean towel that you had. "I'm gonna be right in the kitchen." he said. Cupping your cheek with one hand he used a thumb to wipe away a stray tear. "If you need anything just holler okay." You nodded as you watched Kirishima bite at his lower lip. He then cleared his throat and left you to your bath.

In the kitchen cleaning, Kirishima chastised himself for the thoughts he was having. Here you both are in mourning. You, the loss of your husband and him, the loss of his best friend, a brother. And all he could think about was wanting to kiss you. After cleaning the kitchen, he stopped by and softly knocked on the bathroom door asking if you were okay or if you needed anything. You softly answered that you were fine and will be out in a bit. Kirishima found some clean sheets and made the bed for you. His thoughts drifting to wanting to lay with you curled up in his arms and falling asleep. There were no sexual intentions, he just wanted to comfort you and maybe he needed comfort as well. Katsuki Bakugou was his best friend. He was like a brother; they shared everything. Even though he didn't show it, he was hurting just as much.

He was tucking in the sheets at the corner of the bed when something shiny on the floor caught his eye. Bending over to pick it up he realized what he found. It was Katsuki’s wedding band that you kept on a necklace. Squinting to read the inscription on the inside it read ' forever'. He knew that yours read 'always ', after all he helped his best friend pick out the ring. You walked in the bedroom to find Kirishima sitting on the edge of the bed holding something. "Whatcha doing" you asked quietly. Kirishima snapped his head and stood up in surprise, "Y/N, I didn't hear you," he said with a soft smile. You immediately knew what he was holding. "You found it," you said, running over to him. "I thought I had lost this for good. I couldn't find it anywhere." Kirishima placed the jewelry in your small palm and watched as you cried, but this time they were happy tears. "It must have gotten caught in the bedding," he said. Only then noticing that he put clean sheets on the bed.

"Could you?" you asked, holding the necklace up. "Of course, turn around." he told you. Kirishima noticed as you held your hair up that it was still dripping wet. "You're gonna catch a cold." he chuckled. He placed the necklace around your neck and clasped it closed. You stared at the ring you held between two fingers, happy it was found, when you felt Kirishima's warm hands linger on your shoulders. For a moment, just for a quick moment, you imagined they were Katsuki’s hands. His thumbs rubbed soft circles on your delicate skin and you let out a quiet moan. You froze and Kirishima quickly removed his hands.

"I'm so sorry" you told him, turning around, your face red with embarrassment. "No, I shouldn't have-" Kirishima choked on his words as he looked at your pouty lips. He balled his hands into fist at his side. "I should go, I'm sorry" he said then walked away. "Eijirou please don't leave." you cried out. Kirishima stopped at the doorway not turning around, his fingernails dug into the wood. "Y/N, I don't think -"

"Please Eij. I don't want to be alone. I… I just want to be held." Kirishima felt your hand on his arm and tightly shut his eyes. He was trying to find the right decision to make. "Please" you begged in a soft voice. How he wished to hear you beg for different reasons. He shook his head at that thought. He was prepared to stand his ground, but when he turned around and looked at you, he knew that he had lost all willpower. "Are you sure?" he asked you. Watching you nod your head, he gave in and stopped fighting with himself. "Okay," he said in his signature sweet voice, "but first let's get this hair dried."

Kirishima blow dried your hair and brushed it. You argued with him not to, but he insisted that if he were to stay there, he was going to take care of you. After he ordered some take out you got prepared for bed. You gave him a pair of Katsuki’s sweats to sleep in. You couldn't stop yourself from laughing as he walked into the room. They were extremely tight and short on him. That was the first night you slept soundly since you found out about Katsuki. That night turned into the next night, which turned into a week. Before you knew it, a month went by. The nights would always end the same. After you both got cleaned up, you'd settle into bed. Kirishima, the big spoon to your little one. He would always kiss the top of your head before telling you goodnight. Nothing sexual ever happened. Just two people needing comfort after loss.

It's been almost four and a half months now. Kirishima stayed over every one of those nights except for two because of a mission that sent him far away, but he made sure he called you every chance he got. Things have gotten better since Kirishima started staying over. Your sleep schedule got back on track, you were eating better and keeping up with your hygiene. You always had the house clean by the time Kirishima got home. It's been about six months since you lost Katsuki and today was April twentieth, his birthday. It had been a hard day for you. Kirishima had constantly been calling to check in on you. You were sitting at the dining table, nitpicking at your steamed vegetables when he finally came home. You immediately ran over to him, jumping in his arms. "I'm here baby. I'm here"

Kirishima sat down to eat dinner with you and helped clean up. Then you both found your way to bed. There was something eating at you tonight. Instead of falling asleep almost immediately, your mind began to wander. You felt antsy. "What's the matter hun? I can feel something is troubling you." Kirishima asked. You turned to face him. With one arm under your head and the other draped over your waist, Kirishima's mind started to race. All the nights sleeping in his embrace, you never once turned to face him. Maybe it was because you imagined it was Katsuki holding you, he wasn't sure. He didn't care. Long as he still got to hold you. His eyes searched yours as you laid there looking up at him. What were you thinking? Did you want something? Should he make a move? Has it been long enough for you to move on? Should you move on? Could you?

These exact questions ran through your mind as well. Does it make you a bad person hitting on your deceased husband's best friend? Would it make Katsuki happy knowing that you were with Kirishima instead of some ' extra'? Only thing that you were sure of is the feelings that grew for him. Intimate feelings. You couldn't help the heat that pooled between your legs any more than you could stop your heart from racing when he touched you. Kirishima watched your lips quiver. Both of you wanted to act on your feelings but were scared to.

"What are you thinking?" Kirishima asked, his breathing was ragged. You couldn't find the right words, so you bit the bullet and used actions. You leaned in closer and nuzzled his nose with yours. You heard Kirishima gasp and pulled away to look at him. There was something different in his eyes. They held a want, a need, a craving. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. You eagerly nodded and that's all Kirishima needed. He quickly rolled on top of you, his lips hungrily devouring yours. Your hands ran through his hair pulling it out of the band holding it up causing the red soft locks to cascade down around both your faces. Kirishima smiles into the tender kiss he's giving you. "You always loved playing with my hair." His lips brushed against yours. You quickly thought back to third year at the dorms when after he started letting his hair grow out. You would crawl behind him on the couch while he and Kat played video games and played with his hair. Katsuki would eventually laugh at him because he had a long loose braid, but he secretly liked it. You would tease him, asking when he'll grow out his hair so you could braid it. "Fuck off with that shit!" Katsuki would bark. Then, when nobody else could hear, he'd whisper in your ear, "I'd let you do whatever you want to me." Your love was fairly new at the time and you both loved to tease each other.

Taking a breath, Kirishima pulled away and you both gazed at each other for a moment. He knew what you were thinking. "I miss him too." He told you. "Does this make us bad people? What we're doing?" you asked him. Kirishima wasn't sure how to answer that because he wondered the same. "Let me ask you this," he said sitting up, "does this feel right to you?" You answered yes without even thinking about it. Kirishima smiled and it made your heart flutter. "I want you to know that I'm not using you to replace Katsuki." you told him as you played with the covers on the bed. "Aw, I know that baby. And I want you to know that I'm not taking advantage of your loss. I would never disrespect Kat like that. Come here." he said, pulling you on top of him so that you were straddling him. "I love you y/n, I always have."

Your eyes flickered back and forth between him. Did you feel the same? Of course you did, but you couldn't say it. "I... I don't know if I'm ready to say that again, Eijirou. I'm sorry." you admitted as tears fell again. "Hey, hey no baby. Don't cry. I'm not mad." he said, pulling you down to wrap his arms around you. He rubbed your back as you laid your head on his chest. "I'm not forcing you into anything okay, we'll go at whatever pace you're comfortable with." After a while of laying together in silence a hungry need once again took over. You lifted your head and planted kisses over his chest. His hands went from gently rubbing your back to hungrily kneading your hips and groping your ass. You gave him a passionate kiss and nibbled on his lip, slowly grinding your hips into his. You felt him grow hard under you and you desperately grinded harder, trying to get friction on your needy clit.

"Are you sure you want this? Once I start, I'm not going to be able to stop." he asked as his mouth moved down your neck. "Yes, yes Eijirou. I need you. I need to feel you please." There it is. The begging he so longed to hear come from your lips. "Then come here, pretty girl." he said, flipping you on your back. "Let me make you feel good." Kirishima proceeded to kiss down your chest and you leaned up to remove your shirt. "God you're so beautiful." he said before his mouth latched on one of your nipples as he groped the other, causing little moans to escape your mouth. "You sound so sweet." he said moving further down your body, "I wonder what else is sweet" he teased tugging at your waistband. You lifted your hips and he pulled your panties off. Sitting back on his haunches, he looked over your body. You suddenly felt insecure and moved your arms to cover yourself.

"No baby, please don't do that." he said moving your arms back. "You are so, so beautiful." He gently spread your legs apart and placed kisses up and down both legs. "Be a good girl and keep these legs apart for me." he said grinning as you gave a little shiver. Kirishima used his wide tongue to slowly lick a strip up your eager awaiting cunt, pulling a loud moan from your lips. "Mmm, you're already dripping." he said with his mouth full. "You really want this don't you?" You couldn't form any words; you just eagerly shook your head. Kirishima proceeded to eat you like a starved man. He could have came right there, rutting against the bed hearing your loud sounds after entering two fingers in your tight hole." Are you going to cum baby?" he asked feeling your legs shake, "Cum for me so I can fuck you good."

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming!" You said gripping the sheets with one hand and shoving his face deeper into your cunt with the other, you came undone, your body convulsing. Kirishima lapped up every bit. "That's it baby. That's it. Fuck you taste so good." Kirishima said before pulling away. You watched as he quickly stripped away his pants and boxers. Kirishima watched your eyes grow as you watched him. He was big. Bigger than Katsuki was, and you thought it was hard to handle him. How was this gonna fit? Kirishima grinned knowing what you were thinking. "What's the matter baby? Think I'm too big?" He asked, kneeling down between your legs pumping his dick. "You still want it?" he teased. "Yes, Eij please. Pleeease!" Fuck your begging drove him insane.

He rubbed his dick over your sensitive clit, coating it with your juices, then slowly pushed his tip in. "Ahh" you moaned. It was only the tip and he was already stretching you out. Kirishima pushed your legs up so your knees were at your chest, spreading you wide open for him. He was halfway in when you didn't think you could take much more. "It won't fit Eiji" you cried. "Yes it will baby, just relax." he said pushing deeper, listening to you whimpering. Finally, he bottomed out, his hips flush with yours. He let go of your legs and bent down to kiss you, staying still to let you adjust to him. He could stay inside you like this all night. It felt so right. Like you were made just for him. Your hips started to move and Kirishima laughed against your neck he was currently leaving a mark on. "Are you ready to get dicked down baby?"

Kirishima continued to fuck you hard and deep into the mattress, making sure you came at least twice, before flipping you on all fours. Your face was shoved into the covers as he had one hand digging nails into your hip, the other had his fingers working magic on your clit as he fucked you fast, his balls smacking, making loud lewd noises. "You gonna cum again pretty girl?" he asked breathlessly, "Cum, cum again so you can ride me baby." You once again came hard, knees giving out and falling forward more. "You're not done," he said, laying on his back and pulling you on top of him, "not by a longshot." He held you up by your hips as he lined himself up and then he quickly pulled you down. Your sloppy cunt taking him all the way. You cried out having never felt so full before. "Oh, fuck Eijirou, I'm so full." He pulled you down to kiss you and swallow all your sweet moans as he fucked up into you. "I got you baby. Just need you to cream on my cock one more time before I pump you full of my cum." he said growling in your ear. Quickly something dawned on you. "Eiji, I'm not on any birth control." you admitted. In fact, you and Katsuki had just started trying for a baby. "Do you want me to pull out?" he asked, not slowing down. "No. No please don't. I need you to fill me up. Please Eijirou. I want all your cum."

"Fuuuck," Kirishima groaned, wrapping arms tightly around you, holding you close to him. His hips thrusting upwards, hammering hard into you. "You have no idea what you're doing to me." You began babbling, screaming for his cum. "You want my cum huh? You want me to pump a baby in you, is that it?" You didn't think it was possible, but you felt him get even more hard. You knew he was close. "Yes, Eijirou. Please. Please. Please." you cried out having the strongest orgasm yet. "That's it baby. Cream on this cock. Gonna pump my seed deep into your greedy little cunt." His thrusts got sloppy, "oh fuck, oh fuck baby. I'm... I'm cumming." he yelled with a loud growl. He gave a couple more thrusts and then stilled inside of you. You were dead weight on top of him as he rubbed soft invisible circles on your back. "I'll leave early and grab the morning after pill for you before I go into the agency." he said after regaining his breath.

"No." you said, lifting your head up quickly, "I mean, you don't have to." Kirishima propped himself up on his elbows. "Are you sure? Is this something you want?" There's that question again you thought. "I think if it's meant to happen, it will." you said looking off to the distance, scared to look him in the eyes. "Hey, look at me baby." he said, pulling your face to look at him, "I'm prepared to stay with you the rest of my life. Like I said, we'll do this at your pace."

After you both took a lazy warm bath together and Kirishima changed the bedding, you nestled under the covers, close to his body. Kirishima laid awake a little while longer. His mind racing. Were you both rushing things? Perhaps. Were you using him to replace Katsuki? He wasn't sure. He knew you wouldn't do it deliberately and he knew deep down that you needed someone. Was he taking advantage of your need? Absolutely not, but if anyone was gonna be there to pick up the pieces and put you back together, it was gonna be him. Kirishima didn't know what the future held for the both of you. He knew it was gonna be a rough and long road. As he ran his hand over your hair, he watched you sleep, facing him for the first time, he was absolutely sure of two things. He knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him.

#mha fanfiction #denial #depression #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha fluff #kirishima eijirou #soft Kirishima #read on ao3 #manga spoilers #major character death #hurt/comfort

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

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*gasps* empty inbox? well we can’t have that! just wanted to say thanks for churning out fics the way that you do. you’re a machine and i love reading your work.

do you ever think bucky would be able to hide his life with the reader away from everyone else? (with the exception of steve and maybe sam bc, well he’s sam ofc he’s gonna find out). he tries his hardest to keep the two separate because he never wants to put you in danger with his work but one day he has to bring the 2 together (almost like a clint and laura in ultron type vibe).

if this sparks interest for a full fic i won’t mind but you could also answer with some short thoughts and i’d be more than thrilled xx

*fans face* too much, too much, you're gonna make me cry! I don't know how to do anything half measure so you have a full fic my sweets xx

Family First || Bucky

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, mentions of injuries, guns, violence, fluff WC: 2.1k

main masterlist || bucky masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Prequel Blurb

“Shh, sweetie, daddy will be home soon.” You cooed as your daughter cried for Bucky.

The ice pack on her ankle didn’t seem to be helping but at least the bandage on her knee had stopped the bleeding. You checked your phone once again, seeing he had read the message you sent and you cradled her head close to your chest. At least this latest injury wasn’t as bad as the time she broke her wrist falling out of a tree. You had to admit you didn’t handle that very well but it was the first serious injury your daughter had sustained. You had left a hysterical voicemail for him that really didn’t explain what had happened, only that you were rushing your daughter to hospital.

Bucky had charged in like he was about to face down a legion of aliens again, Steve and Sam right behind him. You weren’t sure who was more surprised, you at the fact he had brought friends from work or them at the fact he had a family. It was no secret being married to anyone in the Avengers was a risk but out of all of them, Bucky thought he had the biggest target because of who he used to be. After Bucky had seen that your daughter was safe, hurt but safe, he had introduced you to the men you had heard so much about and swore them to secrecy.

“You have a daughter?” Steve was still stunned at the revelation and his eyebrows were almost crushed together as the nurse had stepped out into the waiting area and called out her name.

“Sarah Barnes?”

Steve looked like he was going to cry when he realised Bucky had named her after his mom. They two men were still waiting there when she was released a few hours later with a bright pink cast covering her arm.

“Do you think Captain America and the Falcon could sign it, mommy?” She had asked, turning her bright blue eyes that she got from her father on you just like he did when he wanted you to say yes to something.

“Only if they want to.” You nodded with a small smile, leaning into your husband's embrace as you finally took a breath that the ordeal was over. “I’m sorry, I just freaked out.”

“It’s okay.” He had chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over your back. “I’m surprised we went this long without them finding out. I’m just glad you two are alright. When I heard you crying I thought…doesn’t matter, you’re both fine and that’s all that matters to me.”

You looked over at Sarah and saw she had climbed up onto the bench between Steve and Sam to regale the story that had led to her broken arm. You would not have thought that only three hours earlier she was a screaming mess and now she was anything but.

“Do you have to go back to work or do you want to invite them over for dinner?”

“If I have to eat another tv dinner I swear I’ll lose my mind.” Sam answered for them.

“I didn’t say you were invited.” Bucky shot back and you nudged your elbow into his ribs.

“You are both welcome to come. It’ll be nice to talk to someone who actually knows my husband exists and doesn’t think he is some fictitious character I made up.” You half joked and Sam gave you an odd look. “Parent teacher night last year. That really happened.”

His booming laugh filled the hallway and he held his hand up in apology to the nurses that looked his way disapprovingly before he clapped Bucky on the back. “Ouch, that has gotta hurt man.”

You were pulled from your thoughts as the sound of tyres crunching the gravel driveway filled the quiet countryside and up to the porch swing you were sitting on. You wiped away the latest tears that clung to Sarah’s eyelashes and pointed to the dust trail snaking up the hillside.

“See there’s daddy.” You smiled. “I told you he would come.”

Your smile faltered as you saw the reflection of the roof and realised it was black but Bucky’s SUV was silver. Not wanting to alarm her, you scooped her up and carried her inside. “That dust is going to get everywhere if I don’t shut the door.”

You placed her down on the couch and shut the front door, quietly bolting the locks in place and opened the coat closet to get the gun and burner phone that was hidden inside. You hit the only number that was programmed and it was answered on the first ring.

“Bucky, someone’s here.” You rushed as you peeked through the curtain beside the door.

“I need you and Sarah to go down to the basement. Lock yourself inside and don’t come out for anyone but me, Steve or Sam.” You had known him long enough to recognise his voice when he was scared, god knows you had held him through the nights when he cried and he had that same voice now.

“What’s going on baby?”

“Someone hacked us, they stole almost every piece of information on each of us.” He admitted and you heard metal groan as he put his vibranium fist through it. “I’m so fucking sorry, I think they know about you, about Sarah.”

You shoved the phone into the crook of your neck and shoved the gun down the back of your waistband before scooping up Sarah from the couch. “We are going to go treasure hunting downstairs ok sweetie.”

“That’s not daddy is it?” She asked as she heard the car doors slam closed and squealed.

“Daddy’s coming, Sarah.” Bucky called out as he heard his daughters panic but she couldn’t hear, even you could barely make out his words as the cell signal cut out the further down the stairs you descended. “I love you - so much. I’m on - way.”

“We love you too.”

You prayed he heard you before the call dropped and you put Sarah down roughly as you heard the front door slam, it would take all your strength to push shut the heavy reinforced steel door. Sarah cried as her ankle gave way beneath her and she fell to the ground but you had to focus on shutting the door, it was all there was between you and the men you could hear ransacking your home.

“It’s okay, sweetie, I know it's scary, mommy’s scared too.” You rasped as you held back your tears and brushed Sarah’s dark hair back from her face.

She was a prettier feminine image of Bucky and sometimes you thought the only thing she got from you was your clumsiness. Especially now, she bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling and she hugged her arms around your neck as you sat in the corner, hidden by a barrier of moving boxes you had never ended up unpacking.

“It’s okay mommy, you don't have to be scared. Daddy’s going to save us from the bad men.”

There was not a single speck of doubt and you nodded your head, wishing you had the infallible hopes of a child but fear of reality kept grounding you with despair. It felt like hours but the phone showed it was only minutes later that the men descended the stairs and the loud rounds of gunfire rang out as they tried to shoot through the door. Sarah’s screams pierced your eardrums and you cradled her to your chest even tighter, wondering how long it would take for them to break through.

You were sitting ducks if they managed to get through and there were so many things you never got to say to Bucky. Dropping the useless burner phone, you pulled yours from your smartphone pocket and opened the voice recorder since it didn’t have any bars of signal either.

“Do you want to tell daddy how much you love him so we can play it for him when he gets here?” You asked as your voice broke at the lie and you hit the red record button.

“I can’t wait to see you bust in the door daddy! You’re going to kick their asses.” She growled proudly before you mouthed I love you. “I love you, daddy, you’re the bestest.”

“Mommy will be back in a minute.” You carefully moved her off you so that she was hidden behind the boxes and you walked to the opposite corner as you swallowed the lump in your throat and put the phone back up to your lips. “This is probably the worst time but I never thanked you. I know this is the worst case scenario you always feared and I wish I could see a way where we get out of this but…if this is it, I want you to know I don’t regret us. I know how guilty you feel and I know you will blame yourself but this was not your fault, baby, it was not your fault.

I knew the second I saw you in the market that you would change my life and I’m so glad you did, James. You gave me the world, you gave me your heart, you gave me a family. I-” You heard the door starting to groan and saw the hinges turning red as they torched their way through, panic gripping your last words and holding them hostage in your throat and you had to raise your voice over the sound of the blow torch. “I love you, so fucking much!”

“That’s a naughty word!”

You sobbed a laugh as you ended the recording and attached it to an email so that the moment your phone had signal it would complete its final mission to reach your husband. Tears blurred your vision as you pulled Sarah into your embrace and hummed the tune to hush little baby, just like you did when she was a baby.

Screams and gunfire broke out and you covered Sarah’s ears as her own cries added to the noise, her fear finally overriding the faith she had in her father. You could see the line of fire had almost completely made its way through the hinges on the door and the metal was groaning under the pressure of its weight pulling it down. Light broke through the room as the door gave way, the crash of it hitting the concrete floor threatening to blow your eardrums and it shook the foundations of the house.

“Sarah! Y/N!”

Sarah tore your hands away as she heard her dad’s voice and she tried to get up but you pulled her back down. “Wait! Wait for daddy to come to us, sweetie.”

You struggled to hold her still as she tried to run towards the voice that promised her safety but you didn’t know how many men stood between you and him. You pressed your lips to her forehead and begged her to stay silent until she finally quietened down. The gunfire was no longer constant and it was only every few breaths that one or two shots went off and you weren’t sure if that was good or bad.

Heavy footsteps descended the stairs and you heard a deeply relieved sigh before you caught sight of Bucky’s boots stepping into your line of sight. “DADDY!!!”

You let Sarah go as she jumped up, Bucky easily catching her and cradling her to his chest and he checked over her for any injuries, aside from the scrap of falling off her bike.

“Told you I would come for you babygirl.” He choked as he peppered her forehead with kisses. “Daddy’ll always come for his two best girls.”

You had sagged with relief at seeing him arrive and your eyes closed as you realised the terror was over. You opened your eyes as you felt movement and found Bucky sitting beside you and pulling you into his side so he could hug you both.

“I have some bad news.” He murmured quietly as he ran his hand up and down your arm and kissed your forehead.

“You got blood on the carpet.” You tried to joke but your voice failed to hold any humour.

“That too.” He said, the ghost of a smile tipping up at your attempt. “There’s some more people I want you to meet.”

“Who else came with you?” You asked, worried about even more people knowing but grateful for their help nonetheless. You watched him chew his lip and knew it was bad before he even answered.

“Everyone.”

Part Two/Parallel Story

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@jessica11133 @nash-dara @buckyisperfect @itswanktime@slutforsexyseabass@sea040561 @gryffindorqueensworld @honeywithemoney@kenzieam @tsnelf7@jmeagin-blog @saranghaey @heavenly-rogers @ashly4@bibibeauelle @wildcat116@glxwingrxse @ymasen @ghostpepper21 @thebuckybarnesvault @hoe-4-sebstan@tailsoflightning @avengershoney@hallecarey1 @tonystarksmutgarden @sunflowerfive @tripletstephaniescp @inlovewithbuckybarnes @kamaria-sweet-writes @mkirk12776 @youngr0se95

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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agustdakasuga · 3 years

Text

Reflection Of You | Chapter 1

Genre: Historical!AU, Timetraveller!AU / Different Dimension, Romance

Pairing: SUGA x Reader, Yoongi x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Idol!Suga, King!Yoongi, Guard!Seokjin, Guard!Jungkook, RoyalAdvisor!Namjoon, Servant!Jimin, Servant!Hoseok, Prince!Taehyung

Summary: Confirming you were dating the famous Min Suga of BTS, you knew you were bound to make some enemies. But what you didn’t expect was to be cursed, going back to meet a cold-hearted, arrogant king that shares the same face as your rapper lover.

The nightmare the both of you feared had finally come true.

“Thank you, ARMY!”

“We’ll see you soon!”

“We love you forever! Goodnight!” You watched the monitor with proud eyes, your hands clasped together. After a long world tour, the boys had their final concert in Korea, their home country. You, along with the other staff, clapped as the 7 boys stepped off the stage.

“Good job!” There were exchanges of hugs and pats on the backs. Technically, you weren’t a member of staff, so you respected the distance, standing at the back of the crowd.

“There you are.” Someone said, almost like a sigh of relief.

“Great job, as always.” A smile slowly widened on your face as you opened your arms to hug him, resting your cheek against his peck.

“I’m sweaty.” Was all he said.

“Like I ever minded.” You chuckled, pulling away to look up at him. He gave a soft smile, leaning down to peck your lips. It was quick but endearing. You knew for him, doing that in public was already a large feat.

“Noona! You’re here!” You were yanked out of your beloved’s arms.

“Of course, Kookie. It’s the last show of the tour, I wouldn’t miss it.” You patted his head as he lifted you off the ground.

“Yah, look at the scowl on hyung’s face after you stole his girl.” Taehyung appeared, slinging his arm around your maknae’s neck. You giggled, shaking your head. Someone stood beside you, holding your hand. Speak of the devil. You turned your head to see him looking at his phone in his other hand, totally nonchalant about holding your phone.

“Great show today, guys. You were amazing.” You told all 7 of them as they packed up, ready to head home.

“Thank you, (y/n).” Jin pinched your cheek lovingly.

“As much as I love spending time with ARMY, I’m excited to have some time off, as well.” Jimin yawned, adjusting his hat in the mirror. You nodded in agreement. The boys deserved a nice break.

“The vans are here.” The managers informed.

“Let’s go, aegi.” He called. You walked hand in hand with him. Before you stepped out, he stopped you.

“You forgot again?” He chuckled, taking a mask out of his pocket. He gently hooked the elastics over your ears, adjusting the fabric on your face to make sure that it was comfortable.

“Thank you.” You said sheepishly.

“Hurry, love birds!” Hoseok called out, being the one to share the van with the two of you. Even if you were all boarding the van privately, you were still cautious, wearing a mask when you went out in case any fan manages to slip past security and saw you.

“We’ll sit at the back.” You were yanked into the seat, making you blink in shock. You felt your lover’s headrest against your shoulder.

“Any plans for the break, Hobi?” You asked.

“Hmm, besides going home? I would like to travel but I don’t really have a destination in mind. What about you? Are you and hyung going to do something?” He asked back.

“He’s visiting his family. Unfortunately, I have work but I’ll try to join him for a few days. After that, we might take a few days off to travel too.” You smiled.

“Must be nice to travel with a companion.” Hoseok teased.

“Not when your companion just wants to sleep and eat all day.” You giggled. There was a grunt of annoyance from beside you.

“Hey, you sleep just as much as me. We hardly stepped out of our hotel room the last vacation because all we did was sleep then nap all day. Besides, I deserve to sleep and eat all day for how hard I’ve worked.” He scoffed. You nodded your head, you couldn’t argue with that after all the hard work the boys have put into the tour.

“Touché.” You booped his nose.

“Still hard to believe hyung is the first one to get a girl. We all thought he was too much a gramps to get one.” Hoseok laughed.

“That’s part of his charm, I guess.” You smiled. Looking down, you saw that said male had fallen asleep against your shoulder. A slight frown was on his face as he crossed his arms.

When the car stopped in the gated apartment complex, the 3 of you were dropped off at the front of the dorm building.

“Hobi-”

“I know, I know. You won’t be spending the night in the dorm. Goodnight, you two.” Hoseok waved you two off. You giggled and gave him a hug before parting ways from him.

“I can’t wait to just spend the next few days in bed.”

“When are you going back to Daegu?”

“Next week. What, can’t wait to get rid of me already?” He teased. You scoffed, entering the lift together and tapping the resident card, pressing the lift button.

“If I wanted to get rid of you, I could just return to my place.” You shook your head.

“As if I’d let you.” He said from behind you. Pressing the code into the keypad on the door, you pressed your finger print and the door unlocked. The two of you shuffled into the big apartment. You turned the lights on and placed your bag on the couch. The first thing you did was put away the washed dishes from your breakfast this morning.

“You can do that tomorrow.” His voice groaned.

“It’ll take less than a minute. Go ahead and shower.” You chuckled. Once again, you were yanked away from the cupboard. He rested his chin on your shoulder, arms loosely looped around your waist.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered, stroking the back of his head.

“Is it too early for post concert blues?”

“You are such a workaholic. You’ll be on stage again soon. Besides, ARMY wouldn’t want to see all of you so tired out. They would want you to rest well and have a break too.” You comforted.

“When I’m with them, I just feel like I have the whole world.”

“ARMY is lucky to have all of you. You’re their world just as much as they are yours.” You smiled.

“You’re forgetting something. ARMY gives me the whole world. But right now, I know I am holding my whole world.” He placed a gentle kiss against your temple.

“Cheeseball.” You shook your head with a laugh. You shooed him away to shower while you finished the chores for the night like folding the washed clothes, filling the coffee machine for tomorrow and arranging the few fan gifts from ARMY around the house.

“I’m done.” He called from the bedroom. You entered, seeing him pull a plain white shirt over his head. He rubbed his wet hair with a towel.

“I’ll go shower.” You said, picking some fresh clothes and bringing it to the bathroom. You were quick with your shower, blowing drying your hair afterwards so you wouldn’t have to wait for it to dry.

“Hurry, I want to sleep.”

“You don’t have to wait for me!” You replied.

“No.”

“Alright, alright.” You shook your head, hanging your towel back on the rack to dry. You closed the bathroom door, slipping under the covers. Immediately, you were drawn into a warm embrace.

“Don’t wake me up tomorrow.” He mumbled, eyes closing.

“Wouldn’t dare to.” You joked. He opened one eye to glare at you while you smiled innocently at him. He yawned, tucking his head into the crook of your neck comfortably.

“Goodnight, aegi.” He placed a kiss against your skin.

“Goodnight, Yoon.” You replied.

You’ve known Yoongi for years now. When you worked at a music store near BTS’ old dorm when they had just debuted. He would come at night, just before closing to browse the shelves. Even if you came to know the whole group through Yoongi, you and Yoongi connected on a whole new level, you understood each other through music.

It was about 2 years ago that he had asked you out on a date. Of course, you were unsure, considering how popular he was and you didn’t want to burden him by keeping your relationship a secret.

But you trusted Yoongi. When he told you he would protect you, you gave him a chance. And you’ve been happily together ever since.

It scared you when Yoongi threatened to leave BigHit when the management found out about you. You told Yoongi that you wanted him to prioritise BTS and ARMY before your relationship together. That was your only condition.

“Why?”

“Because ARMY and BTS were there for you before I was. You need to be there for them just like how they are there for you.” You told him.

With that, the management and Mr Bang approved of your relationship. They also appreciated how you made Yoongi happier and were a positive influence when he had his low times.

It was around 4 am. You woke up, feeling the space beside you still empty. The sheets felt cold, meaning that Yoongi hadn’t returned. You sent a message to Jungkook, who you knew would still be awake since he was working on releasing a surprise song cover for ARMY.

“Yoongi hyung? He hasn’t returned.” The youngest informed.

“Thanks, Kookie.” You hung up. You respected Yoongi and his work, never wanting to interrupt him or stop him but you knew you had to step in at certain times.

‘The number you have dialled is currently unavailable-’

You sighed as you were directed to voicemail again. Putting your shoes on, you left home to visit his studio.

DING DONG

You pressed the doorbell, waiting for an answer but to no avail. Even if you knew the code, you wouldn’t just enter. Just like everyone else, you would always ring the doorbell first and wait for a reply. You pressed it again.

“Who is- Oh, it’s you.” Yoongi poked his head out.

“Hey.” You greeted.

“What are you doing here? I’m busy.” Yoongi said. It came out colder than he would have liked but after working for hours and not getting the results he wanted, he was getting frustrated.

“I know. Just wanted to see how you were doing. Can I come in?” You asked. Yoongi looked back into his studio.

“I’d rather you not. Like I said, I’m busy. I can’t have another person here, it’ll only distract me more.” He said. Yoongi wasn’t someone that dealt with emotions well, you knew that. When things weren’t working out, his defence mode was to just push everyone away and hide alone. That’s just his way of dealing with emotions.

“I understand.” You nodded, not wanting to push him any further. Without another word, Yoongi just closed the door, retreating back into his studio.

“Hmm...” You roamed around the lounge area. You smiled as you came across the famous picture of Jimin that Yoongi got as a prize during the photography episode of Run!BTS.

“Time to go home.” You went back home. Even waiting for Yoongi outside his studio, you knew he would feel guilty later on and you didn’t want that. You laid in bed but was woken up by Yoongi pressing his face into your back.

“Yoon...?” You tried to turn around to face him but his arms held you in place.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, burying his face into your back. You reached over to put your hand over his.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” You said, sleep laced in your voice. You yawned, finally turning around to face him. You cupped his cheek with your free hand.

“The songs weren’t working out, the lyrics were trash, I just... I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. After you left, I just-”

“Shh, you don’t have to explain. I understand how frustrating it must have been. Everyone has their own down times. Don’t worry, I’m just glad you’re back to rest. Maybe after a nice sleep, you’ll have a clearer mind to write better, hmm?” You smiled softly.

“Next time, be angry with me.”

“Why do you want me to be angry with you? I mean, I have times when work frustrates me too. We aren’t perfect.” You laughed.

“You’re too nice to me.” He pressed you against his body, inhaling your comforting scent. You loosely wrapped your own arm around his middle, letting out a yawn.

“Go wash up. I’ll wait for you.” You promised.

Yoongi was usually an early riser but after the concert last night, he had slept in until the afternoon. When he woke up, he realised that you weren’t beside him. He sat up, running his fingers through his hair as he looked for you.

‘Fridge empty. Went out to get groceries. Iced Americano is in the fridge. - (y/n)’

Yoongi smiled at your note, folding it and tucking it into his pocket. He never told you but he keeps all the notes you leave him, even for ones that just say, ‘gone to work’. He shuffled to the fridge, taking the glass of cold coffee out, adding ice before sticking a straw in. He sat down by the kitchen island, scrolling on his phone.

‘BTS’ Suga seen holding hands with mysterious female after concert.’

‘Insider releases photos of BTS’ rapper and a female embracing each other, said to be his girlfriend.’

‘Has the cold, savage rapper finally met his match?’

Yoongi’s eyes widened as he saw the alert news. He felt his heart stop when he clicked on one of the articles. There were blurry photos of you holding hands with him, leaving the venue last night.

“PD nim.” Yoongi called his boss.

“It seems a fan had snuck in under the guise of a staff member. We’ll handle the press for now and tell you what to do next.”

“How can this happen?!”

“Calm down, Yoongi. We have apprehended the culprit and will be turning her over to the authorities. Just make sure (y/n) is safe. The two of you should stay indoors for now.”

When he hung up, his phone rang again, it was the members. But right now, he couldn’t answer them. He was too worried about where you were and whether you were safe. Quickly, Yoongi dialled your number. Fortunately, you picked up, totally ignorant that your relationship was now public.

“Good morning, or should I say, good afternoon?”

“Aegi, are you okay?” He panicked.

“Okay? Of course, I am. Didn’t you see my note? I just finished paying for groceries, about to leave the mart.”

“Stay right there, aegi. I’m coming to get you. Don’t talk to anyone, alright? I’m coming.” He said as he grabbed his car keys, putting on a mask and a cap.

“Okay, now you’re scaring me. What’s wrong, Yoon?”

“They found out. I’m so sorry I let this happen. I’ll explain more when I come get you, alright?” He said and hung up. He got into his car, speeding to where you were. You were standing by the mart entrance.

“Yoon.” You sighed in relief, entering the car with all the groceries in your lap. Yoongi sped away, back to the gated community. True to that, as he passed the security, he saw some fans standing at the post, trying to enter. Luckily, fans didn’t know he owned this car and the windows were tinted so he could drive past without anyone suspecting.

“Let’s go. Hurry.” He grabbed the bags, pulling you with him to the apartment. Only when you reached, you finally stopped him.

“Yoon, calm down. It’s okay, I’m okay. Now tell me, slowly, what happened?” You led him to the couch to sit down. He buried his hands into his palms while you rubbed his back.

“Someone snuck in as a staff member last night and took pictures of us. It was in the press this morning.” He explained.

“Does PD nim know about this?”

“He said he will handle the press and tell us what we have to do next.” He shivered, his breathing quickening. You knew that was a sign of Yoongi’s anxiety so you pulled him into your embrace immediately.

“It’ll be okay, Yoongi.” You comforted.

“Have you spoken to the boys?” You asked softly. He shook his head. As he said that, your phone rang. It was Namjoon.

“They’re just worried and want to know if you’re okay. Let me tell them that we’re okay.” You told him, answering Namjoon’s call and putting him on speaker. As you predicted, the other boys were on the other line, bombarding the both of you with questions.

“We’re okay, just a little overwhelmed. Thank you for your concern. We’ll just wait for PD nim’s instructions.” You told them.

“Do you want us to come over?”

“Maybe later on but not right now? Just let Yoongi and I grasp the situation and calm down first. If there’s anything, we’ll be sure to keep you all updated.” You promised.

“We’ll see you later then.”

“I’m so sorry I let this happen, aegi.” Yoongi cried, cupping your cheek and rubbing it with his thumb.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. We will get through this. I know it’s a little earlier than we would have liked but we knew the risks we were taking by having this relationship, Yoon.” You wiped his tears.

“You don’t understand, aegi. Those people that could hurt you, they aren’t really ARMY. They’re crazy and obsessed. I’ve seen what they have done to others before. I will never be able to live with myself if I let the same thing happen to you.” He shook his head. You knew what Yoongi was referring to, the ‘sasaeng fans’ that the media always talked about.

“Let’s not think of the worst.” You hummed. Yoongi’s phone ringing broke your embrace. It was PD nim, along with the PR team.

“Yes. I understand… I’ll speak to her and let you know. Thank you.” Yoongi said and hung up with a sigh. You tilted your head, hoping they didn’t give Yoongi the ultimatum.

“They said I either publish a note to the fans, explaining everything. Or let them deny the photos, say that you are just a family member.” He explained.

“I see...” Those were reasonable options.

“What do you think is the right thing to do?” You asked Yoongi.

Series Masterlist

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captainmarkone · 3 years

Text

come back.

Characters: Suprise CE Character x Reader. Warning(s): Angst, heartbreak hotel. A/N: I got hit by inspo. Enjoy this drabble of nonsense. But imma guess it's not a huge secret as to who the character is... but enjoy!

June 23, 2021 —

Storming down the stairs, I felt nothing but anger. Hurt. My heart absolutely breaking at the sight I saw mere seconds ago. Footsteps falling behind me, their breathing deep as if I was the bad guy; his own anger radiating off their body.

“I didn’t know you were coming home early!” my husband yelled, staring at me with a smirk on his lips. His robe tied around his body to conceal the naked skin underneath. He stood there, watching me as if I owed him some sort of apology.

“I hate you… I cannot believe… I ha-hate you,” I said, words fumbling out. A quiet plea to whatever god that was out there to smite me where i stood. For the pain, the betrayal. It was all too much.

“Who is she?” I asked, his eyes not showing an ounce of concern. He didn’t care that I hated him.

“Someone I met,” he simply answered. His wedding band glowing in the dim light. Something that was now a joke. A sham on what we were.

“My lawyer will be in touch with yours, you spoiled piece of shit. A little boy that married someone to feel like he was a man. You take all the goddamn money because I want nothing, absolutely fucking nothing to do with you, you manipulative little shit. I hope you eat shit and fucking live so all your life someone can remind you that you ate what you become!” I sneered, my voice laced with venom.

He staggered back a bit. Not sure what to say. No snide comment. His hands came up, as if he realized what he had done.

“Angel…” he whispered, as if he spoke louder would make his voice crack. A simple gleam shone in his eyes. Liar, I thought.

“Oh Ransom,” the voice upstairs sang his name. And that’s what hit me. Like a fucking freight train. He saw it then. The gleam in my own eyes. The pain that shown in them.

“Angel, please. She means fucking nothing. Please,” he began to beg, his voice now becoming something different. Sincere? Apologetic? Whatever it was, I wasn’t buying it. He said my name, a soft whisper that left his lips.

“Go to hell,” I said, grabbing my keys and walking out of the house we bought together. He had someone in our bed. Ours. He promised the world to me. Only to take it all back because he wanted his dick wet.

I needed time. To think. To cool off. Before going back there again to gather my things and rip him a new one. Hugh Ransom Drysdale was the love of my life. And that was something I never should’ve admitted to him; to anyone.

At the traffic light, I saw the soft gleam of the diamond perched on my left hand. His token of faithfulness. Sliding it off, I placed it in the cup holder and drove once the light turned green. I didn’t notice the car next to me had stopped just in time before the large truck rammed into my side of the car. Letting my world go black.

————————————————————————————————

RD -

Ransom paced in the bedroom he shared with you. His own heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. Sick of himself. His actions. The way he let you, the only person who has truly loved him, go. When he sat on the edge of your side of the bed, he couldn’t think anymore. All he could was replay the year and half you spent together.

He had called you multiple times. But of course you didn’t answer. He didn’t expect you to but he had a small sliver of hope that you’d answer. Hear him out. Take him back. But straight to voicemail. He had kicked the blonde out the moment you drove away. Wanting nothing more than to drive after you. But he didn’t. He should’ve.

His phone rang then, before he could check who it was, he decided to just answer.

“Angel?! I’m so sorr-“ he started but was quickly silent when it wasn’t your voice talking.

“Hello. I’m Nurse Bellow from Boston Medical Center. I’m trying to contact the next of kin. Is this Hugh Drysdale?” She asked, following to check if he was your husband. “Hi sir. Your wife is here and in critical condition. We will be expecting you.” She hung up, and Ransom was up in a flash.

Dressing appropriately and making it to the hospital in seconds. Harlan already there with his coat hanging over his arms. They had moved you to a private suite. There you lay. Wires connected and the beat of the machine that checked your heartbeat on. He was devastated at the sight. His world crashing in one night.

“Ransom,” his grandfather said softly. Coming up behind him. Ransom fell on to the chair, taking your hand in his. “Baby… baby please,” he said softly. His turn to plea with the gods.

“I’m so sorry Ransom…” Harlan continued but it was all cut when the machines started going off.

“SHE’S CRASHING!” A nurse yelled, ushering Ransom out with his grandfather. The two sat in silence. No thought in Ransom’s head but you. Your smile. Your laugh. The way you said I love you unconditionally. These were the conditions in which you didn’t love him.

After hours of surgery, the doctor came out and he didn’t seem to have the best news. He sighed heavily and held his hands out and then put them back together.

“Mr. Drysdale… I am so sorry, but your wife didn’t make it. What we thought was just a simple internal bleeding, turned out to be much worse. Your wife… she was about two months pregnant. And well… it made surgery a little longer and little tougher but… she bled out and both didn’t survive. I am so sorry,” the doctor said, making it perfectly clear.

But Ransom stopped listening after he said sorry. Tears streamed down his face, his own heart shattering at it all. Harlan’s hand rested on his grandsons shoulder. Ransom turned to his grandfather and held the old man tight. Weeping in the chair, his world gone.

————————————————————————————————

Five months later —

He stood at your grave. The grass fully grown over your slot. Harlan had paid for the funeral, and even the plot that yielded DRYSDALE on the plaque. He never deserved you.

He had placed the flowers on your grave, standing there in silence. Tears slowly sliding down his face as he watched the flower petals blow with the wind.

“Ransom,” Harlan’s voice lifted Ransoms head. Turning and helping his grandfather down the small hill. “Ah. Thankfully they’ve been keeping this area clean,” he continued. His own bouquet of flowers being placed next to Ransom’s.

“She loved you Ransom. Saw that spark, that good in you,” Harlan said, fetching out a box in his pocket. The small velvet box was placed in the young males hand. “What’s this?” Ransom asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Harlan nodded to your grave and said, “She asked me to get it fixed for you. Said it was dull and needed something. A surprise.”

Opening the box, he saw his lost pinky ring. You must’ve taken it in June. Etched on the flat surface were the first letter of your name, his H, and small b.d.

Tears stung his eyes as he slid it on.

“B.D.?” He asked, Harlan raising a brow.

“I believe it was for ‘baby Drysdale’. Probably going to tell you on your anniversary,” Harlan said. Only making Ransom’s heart sink deeper. “Let’s go eat breaks on, Ran. She’s gonna be okay.”

As Harlan walked back to the car, Ransom stood there with his thumb playing with the band of the ring.

“I love you. I love you both,” he declared, turning before glancing back one last time. He got into the car with his grandfather, feeling a weight being lifted. As if… you had forgiven him.

#chris evans fanfiction #rd x reader #reader #trying not to do spoilers here #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom x you

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vintagemulti · 3 years

Text

Unfinished Business

pairings: peter parker x reader

next part

desc: peter’s sudden death leaves more than a hole in your heart; his unfinished bucket list.

warnings: death, major character death, talk of blood and injuries, car crash, sudden death, funeral, angst for days, crying(?), grieving, talk of alcohol, drugs and/or medication

a/n: loosely based on “11 minutes” by YUNGBLUD cause i listened to it and thought PETER ANGST. this will be a series too, so be ready for that!! requests open, leave feedback <3

masterlist

“Hey baby, I’m about eleven minutes away, I’ll see you soon.” You sighed into the phone, being sent to the answering machine again. Another date that Peter was lined up to miss.

You understood why he would miss dates, being a superhero and all, but it didn’t make it any easier. Peter had been your boyfriend for long enough - about 4 years now - for you to realise when he would flake out.

The only thing that made this worse? It was Peter’s birthday. His 19th birthday. You had made plans to go out for dinner, see a movie and spend the night at May’s, but right now it was looking like the whole night was off.

Shivering a little, you pulled your thin cardigan closer, the normally warm August weather beginning to chill. Something wasn’t right.

I’m almost at the restaurant, you close? xx

You text him again, still not seeing him come online. It shouldn’t have seemed weird - he was driving after all. Peter was big on safe driving, and of course that meant not being on your phone.

But you knew Peter’s car - gifted to him by Tony when he got his license - was one of the new tech-heavy cars. Which mean he had hands-free calling and texting.

Peter never ignored you.

Approaching the restaurant, you began to feel a little anxious, eyeing the clock across the road. Peter was late, and you had that feeling in your gut. That bad feeling.

You pulled out your phone again, clicking on Peter’s contact and pressing call. To your surprise, it didn’t even ring - going straight to answer phone. Had his phone died? Really?

At least ten minutes went by as you waited, constantly looking at the road for Peter to magically pull up, apologetic for being late. But he never did.

Would he really be late for his own birthday dinner? No. You knew him well enough to know that birthdays were extremely important to Peter, something he’d never skip - not by choice anyway.

That could be it, you thought, pulling out your phone yet again, but this time dialling Tony’s number.

“Yo.” He answered after two rings.

“Hey, Tony, it’s Y/N.”

“Hey, kid. What’s up?”

You swallowed. “Are you with Peter? His phone’s going straight to voicemail and he’s like 20 minutes late to our dinner.”

“Uh,” Tony sighed. “Nope. Peter’s not been here since this morning, when he came to pick up his birthday present. Sorry, kiddo.”

You sighed as well, thanking Tony and hanging up. Had he forgotten? Surely not, Peter had never forgot a date, only missed them. He barely missed them these days too, since graduating he hadn’t-

Your phone ringing broke the thought.

Reading the caller ID, it came up as “withheld”. Weird.

“Hello?” You lifted it to your ear.

“Is this Y/N L/N?” It was a woman.

“Uh, yeah? Who’s this?”

“This is Officer Laurel Bridge, do you know a Peter Parker?” The officer spoke through the phone, her tone a mix of demanding and soft.

“Yeah,” You mumbled. “He’s late for our date right now, why?”

You heard Laurel sigh. “You need to come to New York general Hospital. Peter’s been in an accident.”

Time stopped. You let your hand fall from your ear, the voice of the Officer slowly fading. That’s why he was late. You already felt your eyes sting, tears appearing.

No. He was fine. He was ok, he has to be. His spidey-sense would tell him if he was about to get hit He was ok, just a broken leg or something.

You swallowed the tears back, taking a shaky breath as you stepped away from the restaurant, walking in the direction of NY general. Luckily, it was only a short walk away, but when time was moving as slowly as it was for you, it felt like a lifetime.

Approaching the doors, you looked around for anyone who might be waiting for you, and when you saw no one, you took another deep breath and walked into the hospital.

Walking up to the reception desk, the man in front of you was describing a broken arm, and when he walked away the receptionist smiled up at you.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m-” Your voice cracked. “I’m looking for Peter Parker? He- He was in an accident.”

The receptionist took a breath. “He’s in the ER right now, who are you to him?”

“Uh- I’m his girlfriend, Y/N L/N.” You mumbled, too focused on the fact that Peter was in the emergency room.

She nodded. “His Aunt is here if you want to wait with her. She’s just in the hall, to your right.”

You mumbled a thank you, moving towards the hall she gestured to, heading your heels click against the flooring. You were overdressed for a hospital.

“May!” You breathed, seeing her sitting near the end of the corridor.

“Oh, Y/N!” She stood up, half jogging towards you, engulfing you in a hug.

“What happened? Is he ok?” You asked, sitting next to her.

“He was driving to meet you, and- and he was going through the lights, and someone ran a red. Hit him right on the drivers side.”

Your eyes began to sting again. He had to be ok. He had to be. “Will he be ok?”

“Yeah, of course! Probably just a little scratched up, the ER is probably a precaution.” May nodded, half trying to convince herself, half trying to convince you.

Every minute in the hospital felt like an hour. Time moved a lot slower, every door that opened, everyone who walked past, every announcement over the tannoys seemed louder - harsher. You hated hospitals.

You had been waiting with May for around 30 minutes when Tony and Pepper showed up, looking just as worried. Tony must be an emergency contact.

They made small talk, but you hardly replied, too focused on praying for every and any god to make him be ok. Every second he spent in the ER made you less and less sure that it was just a few scrapes.

Another half hour passed, although it felt like years. Your nerves began to get the best of you, your hands were shaking and sweaty, hair messed up from all the times you raked your fingers through it. He had to be ok.

In that half hour, a few more people showed up. Ned, MJ, Steve, Nat, Clint and Thor all walking in, looking just as concerned as the rest of you. Thor had continually asked his Gods to give Peter strength, Steve had tried to console May, who was crying now.

You knew that Peter wasn’t ok. Who is in the ER for an hour with a broken leg? No. You wouldn’t let yourself think it. He could be... Could he?

A nurse pushed open the door to the ER, immediately catching everyone in the hallways attention. “Family of.. Peter Parker?”

You nodded.

“I’m so sorry. We did everything we could, but he didn’t make it - he lost too much blood. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

If you listened closely enough, you would have heart your heart fall to the floor and shatter.

“No,” You mumbled, shaking your head. “No, no, no. He isn’t- he can’t- no, no- no..”

“I’m sorry. There was nothing else we could do.”

You felt the world collapse in on you. Peter was dead. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back.

The tears fell quicker than you realised, and you felt a pair of arms hold you back, clearly sensing that you would have ran into the ER to prove she was lying. Looking up, you saw that is was Thor.

“No!” You screamed, legs giving out. “He’s not, Peter isn’t dead!”

Thor fell with you, holding you as you sobbed, mumbling ‘no’ over and over. You could hear May crying too. She had lost everyone, now. Her last remaining family taken from her.

“No,” You cried. “I want to see him.”

The nurse furrowed her brows. “Are you sure? Like 100% sure?”

You nodded. “I have to- I have to make sure.”

“Alright.” The nurse breathed, knowing it was better not to argue with people like this. “Follow me,”

You stood, feeling your knees shake under your weight. Maybe if you saw him, Peter wouldn’t be gone. He would wake up. He had to.

Following the nurse past the ER, she took you into a quieter corridor, and you read the sign as ‘mortuary’. She pushed open a door near the end of the corridor, and held it open for you.

It was cold in the room. The lights hurt your eyes, and the fan was too loud. It was hell.

Your eyes fell on the body in the middle of the room, immediately widening. You approached him, taking in the sight.

Peter looked worse that you’d ever seen him, even after a rough patrol. His eyes were outlined by rings of blue and purple, a few gashes over his brows and forehead.

But he didn’t look dead.

“My baby,” You cried, taking another step. “Please, wake up.”

The nurse mumbled something from behind you, although the words rang through your head, you knew it was something about being able to touch him.

“Please..” You sobbed, placing a hand on his cheek.

He didn’t look dead - but he felt it. Peter was cold, colder than you’d ever felt him before. It broke your heart.

“Please, for me,” Tears fell onto his face as you leaned over. “Please wake up, baby.”

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. You knew that from the lack of movement in his chest, the lack of breath. He was gone.

“I need you, Pete.” You mumbled, moving one of his curls off of his forehead.

You stared at him for a moment more, conflicted feelings about your next move.

Leaning down a little more, you hesitated before pressing one last kiss to his lips - a part of you hoping that true loves kiss was real.

It isn’t.

“I can’t- I can’t do this I-” You stumbled back, the gravity finally hitting you. Peter was dead. The love of your life, gone. Taken from you in a moment.

“It’s alright, don’t worry. You can leave any time.” The nurse smiled at you, clearly trying to provide some warmth into the cold room.

You nodded, wiping at your nose with the sleeve of your jacket. “I need to leave.”

The nurse took you back out the same way you came, and you could see the faces of your friends back in the corridor.

MJ and Ned were both crying, but trying to console May - even a little - who was just completely broken. Tony was clearly trying to to cry, instead comforting his wife, who was bawling as well.

Nat, Steve, Bruce and Clint were all talking among themselves, each of them bubbling away.

You knew you shouldn’t have felt angry. You knew they were there to help you, but the situation - and the impossible notion of it all - made you feel like no one except May could possibly understand the pain you were feeling.

“Y/N,” Thor spoke, rising from his seat next to May. He had been crying.

You didn’t reply, only shaking your head at him, walking straight past the group, back to the reception area and out of the hospital doors. You needed air.

Walking onto the busy New York street, the grief began to hit more and more. Peter wasn’t coming back, he was gone. Every touch, every kiss, every night you spent with him under the stars and sneaking into May’s apartment at four in the morning, they all meant nothing. Because Peter was gone.

You had to go home. You couldn’t be here, not right now. Taking a cab wasn’t even an option, so the walk to your house would have to suffice. Normally you’d care about your appearance in public, but that was the last thing on your mind right now. Who cares if a few people saw the smudged mascara and blotchy cheeks?

Home, you thought. It wasn’t home anymore. Not without Peter.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

It had been four days since Peter died. Four long, harsh, ugly days. The world didn’t seem colourful anymore, like everything you loved had been ripped from you - which it pretty much had.

You didn’t even try to go online, knowing all you’d see was sympathy messages and tributes to Spider-Man. But those people didn’t know. They didn’t know Peter like you did, they didn’t know what he looked like in the middle of the night, when you would wake up before him and admire his features for a while. They didn’t know what colleges he applied to. They didn’t know how he touched you, a perfect mix of soft and harsh. They didn’t know him.

It wasn’t fair. Of course it wasn’t fair. Peter was 19 years old - just - when he was taken from you. How would a God allow that? He had so much life ahead of him. It wasn’t fair.

You weren’t even sure that your phone had any charge in it, since you hadn’t even checked it for the whole time. You knew your parents were heading back from their trip early to be there for you, but you were dreading the comments when they got back.

Your parents wanted to be there for you, but they can’t possibly understand what you’re going through. The pain was unbearable, especially when everything was reminding you of Peter.

His scent was still in your sheets, his shampoo was still in your bathroom, toothbrush still there, all the hoodies in the closet that belonged to him- it was too much.

Deciding you needed some water, you stood up from your bed, feeling the warmth of your sheets begin to fade. You approached your kitchen, walking past your front door before you noticed the mail.

You never would have picked it up if you hadn’t saw the familiar handwriting on the front, scrawling out your name and address. It was Peter’s writing.

Picking it up, it was addressed to you. Flipping it over - although there was nothing on the back - you read it a few more times. Was that Peter’s writing or were you imagining things?

Pulling the envelope open, you saw a few sheets of paper inside, as well as five smaller envelopes. This was weird.

Looking for any distraction to your grief, you moved to the kitchen, sitting at your kitchen island and taking the paper out of the envelope.

There was a double sided letter, five small envelopes and a set of keys. What?

You went for the letter first, breath hitching in your throat as you read it;

Y/N,

If you’re reading this, I’m dead. I’m sorry, baby. I wanted to leave this with a friend for the event of my sudden death, something Mr Fury recommended when I joined the Avengers. If I died on a mission, please don’t blame the guys. It isn’t their fault.

If I died on earth, please don’t blame yourself. There’s nothing that can stop death, my love.

Anyway, the point of this is kinda simple. I know you’re probably sad right now, and I don’t want you to be. You’re always beautiful, but seeing you cry breaks my heart. Please don’t cry.

Since I was twelve, I’ve had a bucket list. There were about 42 things on it, most of them completed by the time I’m writing this. When Mr Fury advised this, I decided that I was going to do.

I want you to finish my bucket list. When I’m writing this, I have 7 things left on the list, and maybe when I die there won’t be any left. That would be unfortunate.

I have all of the things in envelopes (see enclosed) and as I complete them I take them out, so however many envelopes you have is how many things I never completed.

The reason I want you to complete the list is because I trust you the most, Y/N. I believe that you’ll finish the tasks.

Now, there are a few rules to this. It’s kinda simple, some are for your own benefit.

Rule one: Don’t spend more than $200 on each task - and don’t let Mr Stark give you money, either.

Rule two: Complete every task to the best of your ability, in any way you see fit. This is your bucket list now, I want you to do what feels right.

Rule three: Every task must be completed with a friend. I don’t want you to be alone.

That’s all of them. Yet again, most of them are for your own benefit, but if you elect to ignore them, that’s cool too. I don’t mind.

I’m sorry I can’t be there with you. But know something, angel. I will never leave you. I will be by your side forever, even if I’m not physically there. You’re my forever, Y/N. I’m with you - always.

I love you always,

Peter x

P.S - the keys are for number 40

If your heart wasn’t already broken, this would have done the trick.

Maybe it would help, you thought. Help you feel closer to Peter, even if he couldn’t be there with you.

You put the letter down, moving to look at the envelopes. They were numbered - 1, 21, 5, 9 and 40. They must have been the unfinished tasks.

Deciding to go in number order, you picked up number one, about to open it when you remembered the rule.

Walking back into your bedroom, you picked up your phone off the bedside table, seeing it had about 11% left. That would be enough.

Looking for the contact, you wondered how you were about to word your question. Any way of putting it would be weird.

“Hello?” The voice picked up.

“Hey, Thor,” You breathed into the phone, grateful he answered. “Are you free this week? I need a friend for something.”

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arsonsamruby · 3 years

Text

sam winchester pride

i have a new fic <3 hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

it’s s1 sam coming out to dean. was THIS close to making the ending sam ugly crying alone but even though dean Is like. microaggressions boy he’s not going to be a bitch about it all that’s out of character. i think he does try very hard to support sam. like he’s not an ally but probably because he doesn’t really know what an ally is.

anyway wtf am i even saying.

___ Sam has a headache. Dean comes by, ruffles his hair, slouches into the couch. Sam licks his lips, looking away from the screen. It has loud, bright cartoons on it and in the prickling sense of dread he’s carrying with him, the stimulation is too much.

Half of the headache is from a hard hit he took to the head, lingering pain. The other half is stress and dehydration. Unless beer counts as hydration, then in which- well, he’s covered. The screen of the television is cracked through; it’s playing Friends reruns.

He stands abruptly.

“Sammy, I swear to God, if you start pacing again-” Dean warns, throwing a pillow at him. Sam ducks it, somehow. His body takes up half the room. It’s hard to find space.

He can’t help it. His feet get itchy, his legs pull tight, and it’s nice. Nice, to put in his earphones and walk around for a little while. “I’ll go out to the parking lot, promise. I won’t bother you.”

He smiles slightly at Dean, but his brother isn’t much looking.

The parking lot of the motel has the sticky feeling underfoot of summer heat on asphalt, and sweat. The crumbling pollen and flowers from the trees have made his half-present allergies flare up. As a kid, Sam would have allergy seasons that ran out of sync with everyone else’s.

Go three years without a single cold, until one awful summer would come and he’d sneeze and sneeze and sneeze. He recalls: Oregon, in a rainy patch. It had been a relief to wash all the yellow pollen away with the weekly downpour. Another thing about Oregon, he’d had a best friend there. A girl.

Huh. He tries to tuck his smile away, but it comes through like the sun through clouds. Sam looks dumb, doesn’t he? Some goofball pacing around a parking lot and smiling to himself.

After about ten minutes, maybe more, his pace slows. The scenery is getting too humid. He wants to roll back into bed, into those cool sheets.

“Sammy? Is that you?”

Sam kicks his shoes off into the dirty corner. Dean’s left a bootprint on the floor there. If Sam was looking for a fight, he’d say something. “It’s me.”

“You got a call. Someone left a voicemail. For you.”

His voice is sharp, pounding hail on cement. “A call?” Sam replies dumbly.

Dean nods his head over to the answering machine. “I’ll put it on for you.”

Sam’s heart begins to slow to a rolling stretch of highway. The cars moving across it are few and far between and his breath is short and dangerous.

“Sammy?” The effusive warmth dies down after the nickname, realizing Dean’s heard it through. The voicemail, the nickname. “You gave me this number the other day. Outside the Jewel Osco?”

He laughs. It crackles over the phone in a friendly way. Friendly the way he kissed tiny little butterflies onto Sam’s collarbones, the way his house was cool in the summer night.

“I guess you’re a big-time developer and all so I’m not sure if you even care. But I have the jacket you left with me? The other night?”

He clears his throat. “If you want it back, you can drop by.” The voicemail ends.

“You leave your jacket at your friend’s house, Sammy? Come on, it’s just like you’re little again. You want me to pick it up for you?”

Sam realizes two things: Dean hasn’t caught what the message means, and Sam wishes he would have.

“Dean?”

“Mmm?”

Sam has never been able to cry with dry eyes. He can’t hide the shaky undercurrent to his voice. His eyelids feel like cement but he keeps staring at Dean. A flush of fear is blooming high on his cheeks.

“Me and that guy, we’re not just friends. Or whatever.”

Sam went calling for information, at his house. Said he was a real estate developer, even though the back of his neck went red with the obvious lie. The suit was cheap and he was young. He’d gotten the information and then this guy, his name is Jude, had kissed him. Sam left the suit jacket there. He’s glad he’s getting it back, all things considered.

He still doesn’t know what possessed him to hand over his number after buying peanut butter and sandwich bread two days later. A crack in his self control, maybe.

“What do you mean…” Dean isn’t making jokes, at least. Sam squints hard at the floor. His head feels like a matchbox. Being struck over and over again. His headache is back, erupting with a vengeance.

“Sam, is it something- Dad did? Is it something I did? To make you, uh.”

Sam shakes his head, sighing deeply. He wants to be a bitch about it and spit out something sarcastic. “What do you think you could have done?”

Dean shakes his head. Murmurs, “I don’t know,” almost that Sam can’t hear him. “I guess you’re the type, though, Sammy.” Sam knows what he means by that. “As long as you don’t go around falling in love with some starry eyed dude. We still have to find Dad.”

“About that. Don’t tell him.” Sam pointedly raises his eyebrows. Dean doesn’t have a great record of choosing- choosing him, his secrets that he keeps tight in his fists. He doesn’t have a record of letting any opportunity to be a good son slip by.

“Sure, sure.” Dean frowns. “Hey, what about Jess? Did you lead some poor chick on up until-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sam’s hands are suddenly shaking. Dean leans back. He’s not the shrinking type, his shoulders stay up and guarded. “I’m not gay, I’m- I’m something else. Both, you know?” The inside of his cheek is bitten raw, he can taste the fleshier bits coming alive.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Sammy.”

The telling was easy; now it’s muddier. Sam wades in anyway. “Who here is the expert, you or me?” The sick dread has risen in his stomach and is now lapping at his sodden brain, pulling him under. It’s hot as hell out but he pulls the blankets over his legs.

“Sorry. Bad take.”

“I loved her-” Dean doesn’t like hearing about Jess and Sam cuts himself off.

“Never mind. I’m going to go get more beer.” Dean leaves.

Sam looks between the ugly green blankets, the TV still on, the white, unearthly light seeping in through every crack. When he told Jess, she lit up with it, went on to ask him questions, run her fingers through his shower-damp hair and let him talk.

Dean bursts through the door. “Sammy, I really do want to say- thank you for telling me. You wanna talk about it more, we can go get your girly coffee drink and we can talk about whatever.”

The aimless tears in Sam’s eyes finally come to the surface. “Oh, come on,” Sam groans. “You don’t have to act like I’m that-”

Dean interrupts him. “Here, Sammy. Here. The way I see it, you’re like Chandler Bing now.”

Sam blinks at him. “Dean, he’s not-”

“Well, maybe not in the show, but everyone knows he’s gay anyway. You’re like Chandler Bing. If you want to go with me and get a coffee, uh, tell me about the guy action you got at Stanford, I’ll be your Joey.”

Sam swipes the back of his hand across his eyes. If tears were blood he would look like a murder victim. Dean approaches him nervously. “Seriously.” He wrestles Sam into a tight hug, holding him for a long few minutes.

“Do we still have painkillers around? I have a headache.” The walls (brown wood and decades out of date) are no longer closing in on him under oppressive heat and thoughts of Jess. Dean isn’t mad. Just- just Dean.

Life returns to normal.

#sam winchester #my fic #dean winchester #if you tag this as ship i'm physically ending you i'm killing you with bare hands #i WILL kill you #spnprideweek

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suicidalslasher · 3 years

Text

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 - 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅.

the one where Jason is a jealous dumbass, that’s it - that’s the plot.

WARNINGS: This is a Jason Dean fanfiction, therefore, you all know what you’re signing up for. I don’t really got to tell you, twice.

Possessive!Jason. Jealous!Jason. Female reader, reader’s pronouns are she/her.

Slight mention and scene of choking but it’s not graphic. A hint of NSFW but it isn’t shown. Also there’s a few mentions of blood but it’s not a lot, either. I wanted to tag that nonetheless, too. Also, Jason actually shows emotions in this which is out of character but in MY world, Jason Dean is a simp to his girlfriend and would rather die than to live a day without her.

I may add the smut scene later on, who knows? Not me. This is my first imagine of Jason Dean so be nice to me or I’ll be like Ghostface and gut you like a fish (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*

If you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to follow and or leave me a request, as they are open. If you also like my work and or have a dollar to spare, as it will help me write and create more stories like this one, my ko-fi is here.

Thank you and enjoy :)

White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Jason bit back his words, knowing they'd be harsh and full of poison. He's fully aware of how much damage he'd likely cause if he spit out the words that were on his mind. He was going to break, and he knew it wasn't going to take too long until he did so. Yet, as the female continued to talk beside him as an attempt to grab his attention, the feelings only grew larger and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood trickling on the tip of his tongue. Jason swallowed that anger when it was nothing but a fire-seed and he had forgotten to drink something cold right after, in an effort to calm himself down; therefore, it grew in his stomach until it came out hotter than any dragon breath.... all those negative emotions that swam in his veins and crept in the pit of his stomach exploded and all the feelings he desperately was trying to hold back came burning on the one person he loved the most, his girlfriend, (Y/N). His face was red with suppressed rage and when (Y/N) set her finger on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped, his nostrils flared and his pupils were blown and dilated as he snarled like an out of control beast. "I hate him more than I do the Heathers," spat Jason, as he pushes his girlfriend up against the wall, the framed photograph that hung there now remained at the bottom of their feet, shattered into hundreds of pieces. "I don't like you hanging out with him." Jason growled, his fingers curling around (Y/N)'s throat, feeling her pulse begin to quicken as he presses his weight down onto the palm of his hand. "Do you know how much it hurts to see you look at someone else? To see you smile at someone else? It makes me feel sick.” "Jason... Let go of me. Let's talk. Please? You don't even know him... if you'll let me speak and tell you-" "You love him, don't you?" Jason hisses, the sentence feeling like a slap to (Y/N)'s face as he throws out this statement.... it was a lie, that's what it was and (Y/N) desperately was trying to tell him how wrong he was but he just wouldn't listen, the arrogant son of a bitch never listens! "You love him more than you do me." Before either teen realizes it, Jason is letting go of (Y/N)'s throat only for him to raise his hand up into a fist and he's punching the only other framed photograph that was beside her, the glass shattering behind his knuckles. (Y/N) screams in horror and although she's pissed off, she - obviously - still cares about her boyfriend. "Jason!" (Y/N) yelps, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to her boyfriend's side, examining his hand which was now dripping with crimson, a few drops of red landing on the now broken picture frame and the wooden floor beneath their feet. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here, somewhere-" "You love him." Jason repeats, ignoring the fact she was trying to help him. He pulls his hand back, dropping his arm by his side, not even caring about the way the blood was falling from his knuckles and staining both his pants and shirt. The anger and venom that once coated his words were now replaced with a hint of sadness and heartbreak. She's never seen him this upset before.... regardless, if he'd just calm down, she could explain. "Jason, baby-" His voice broke as he looked up at (Y/N), sad eyes meeting with her confused but angry gaze. On top of those, she was sad, too. "Go then. Go to him, if you prefer to spend your day with him rather than your own boyfriend. You don't care about me, I'm not sure you ever did." (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head as a few more tears spill past her cheeks. "Fine. If you won't let me talk and tell you my side of the story, I'm leaving. If that's what you think and if you truly think I don't give a fuck about you, I'm gone." (Y/N) mutters, letting go of his hand as she walks back over to the door, grabbing her keys and wallet before storming out the door, slamming the door shut as she leaves.

A week passes.

Another week following behind that.

(Y/N) didn't bother to call or show up.

He really fucked things up, didn't he?

Jason wasn't huge on showcasing his feelings and putting them out on display for people to see. The only emotion he was so used to showing was anger and madness. Nothing but chaos was built and stored away in Jason Dean's body, too. All three traits made him who he was. People may not like him because of his temper and all the flaws he had but it was him, and he didn't plan on changing for anybody. Expect.... of course, (Y/N). As he sat alone in his bedroom, he felt depressed. He never cried, either. Couldn't tell you the last time he ever did cry. Did he even cry as a baby? Jason wasn't sure, nor could he tell you.

But.... Jason cried. For the first time in forever, he broke down and cried. Couldn't help himself. By the end of the night, there were no tears left to cry. He had run dry. His body couldn't form any more tears. Feeling both mentally and physically drained, Jason reached over and grabbed his phone off of the night stand, dialing the one number he actually had memorized. All he got was her voicemail. "This is (Y/N). I can't answer the phone at the moment but I will get back to you as soon as I can! Bye!" Jason groaned and he was half-tempted to throw the phone out of his window but he decided against it as he left a voicemail, regardless. He wanted (Y/N) to know he was sorry.

He wanted (Y/N) to know that despite their arguments (which weren't constant but when they did fight, it was mainly due to Jason's behavior rather than her own) he loves her.

(Y/N) coming into his life was the only good thing the world had offered and gave him. He wasn't going to give her up. Not that easily, anyways. "Hey." He had forgotten he was leaving a voicemail, having zoned out for a second, the beep brought him back out of his thoughts. "It's me. Uh.... Jason.... your boyfriend? I hope so, anyway, still.... But, yeah, it's Jason.... Jason Dean.... ha, uh.... you knew that.

Listen, I'm sorry for everything, (Y/N). I'm sorry for having that temper tantrum and taking out my frustration and jealousy on you. I'm not good at this type of stuff, not so great with showing my emotions in person either, so....

I'll talk here, hopefully the message goes all the way through. I don't want to say this in person, again, I'm not good at the whole unraveling my feelings, especially not face to face.

But... (Y/N), baby, you're the best thing that's ever been mine. You're my darlin', my girl, and I got jealous because I was scared, okay?

I was scared of losing you. And I'm telling you this because it's been awhile now and I haven't seen you around or heard from you in awhile. Therefore, I may have already lost you but.... I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm sorry, okay?

Thought you'd never hear me say that, huh? Me, apologizing? That's like... once in a blue moon. Hah.....

But, uh... well, it's true. I'm sorry and I, Jason Dean, love you, (Y/N) (L/N). And I hope that you still love me too." With that, Jason ends the call, hanging the phone back up on the table as he falls back onto the bed. He didn't - doesn't - know what to do if he didn't have (Y/N) by his side. Trying to ignore these thoughts and place his attention elsewhere, he decides he needs to focus on sleeping. His body was exhausted after all that crying, plus the punch to the picture frame was still making his hand ache and throb, despite it being a few weeks since he had done it.

He had one hell of a nasty bruise, too. He was sure it wouldn't look so ugly and scarred if he had listened to (Y/N) and taken her up on that offer when she suggested the first aid kit... Before he knows it, he's drifting off into a deep slumber, naturally bringing a pillow into his chest, tucking it underneath his arm as he falls asleep.

Faint whispers of (Y/N)'s name spills pass his lips as he sleeps. He'd rather be cuddling her than a pillow but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she'll accept his apology.

(Y/N) gets home a little after midnight, sighing heavily and tiredly as she kicks off her shoes and strips out of her jacket, hanging the coat up first before setting her shoes under the rack. She had just finished unpacking and helping her cousin move things in his new apartment and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed.

In the corner of her eye, however, she notices her answering machine is flashing red, letting her know someone had left a voicemail. She walks over and clicks on the button, expecting it to be for her parents but instead she's met with a shocking fate - it was Jason.

Hearing his voice, so weak and vulnerable, brought tears to her eyes and she bit back a sob. Especially when he apologized, that was new.

They've said those three words to each other before, of course, but it was hearing how sad he sounded that let her know he truly did love her, despite everything they've been through and all the silly arguments they've shared over the past few months; they loved each other.

And nothing - nobody - could ever stand in the way of that. Jason was still a huge dumbass, however.

And as she grabs her jacket, sliding the thick layer of clothing around herself and dips her feet into her boots, she's quick to go and tell him that, too.

She loves him, yes, but she needs to let him know he was a huge fucking idiot.

Jason, for the most post, was sleeping peacefully until he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, along with a string of curse words.

He was quick to get up, throwing the blanket and pillow aside as he opened his bedroom door and creeps down the hallway, wondering who the hell was in his living room.

He was met with.... well, not a burglar neither his father as he would have guessed the next outcome to be but rather his girlfriend.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to shake off the remaining sleep that had taken over him not even a few hours ago.

"I came here to scare you, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she scrambles up and off of the floor, brushing her knees and arms from the fall she had taken. "Your door was locked, couldn't find the extra key anywhere so I snuck in through the window and-"

"And... you're bleeding." Jason said, gesturing to the tiny gash on her arm. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here somewhere." He mocks, giving her a playful smile as he quoted the words she had said to him the day they got into that fight.

(Y/N) said nothing but she follows when Jason offers his hand out to her, anyway. He was surprised when he did find the small box up in a cabinet.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing a bandage won't fix, right?"

"(Y/N). Why are you here? You never did answer me." Jason said, getting out the tiny box of band-aids, ripping one open as he presses the item down onto her arm. She was right, it wasn't a big cut, a few drops of blood, sure, but it wasn't one that'd get infected.

"I got your voice message." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I came to talk to you about it."

He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a dumbass."

Oh.

It was bad.

He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He really let his jealousy get the best of him and now he was going to lose the one good thing he had in his life.

"I love you but you didn't let me speak," She continued. "That guy you saw... first of all, you have no right to judge him or say you hate him when you have no idea who he is. That dude I was seen with was my cousin, who, may I add, is gay.”

“I’ve been helping him move which is why you saw me in town with him. We were getting a few supplies and picking up his furniture.” She continues.

“You got jealous over a guy who is far from being attracted to females. And you know... he's related to me as well, so, that also plays a huge part in it. And if you didn't notice either, the picture you broke was actually a portrait of my family and his together at a family reunion. Of course, you didn't see that, though or probably even noticed but.... yeah, you're a dumbass. I love you, J.D, but you're an idiot for thinking I'd ever love someone more than I love you."

Jason says nothing, he feels embarrassed, ashamed, but overall; he feels happy, knowing she still loves him, even if he was a total moron. "I'm sorry, baby, I got jealous and I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions and-"

"And you need to make up for it." She said, pressing her chest up against his, resting her hand on the palm of his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out from his face as she gives him a seductive look. "And how.... exactly, are you going to make up for it, baby?" She purred.

"I think I've an idea." He said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, can you choke me like you did, too?"

"I'll do more than just choke you with my hand, darling."

"To be suffocated and to choke on either your cock and hand would be a blessing, my dear."

"Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"

(Y/N) smiled and took Jason's hand with her own, giggling as if she wasn't just talking about getting choked by her boyfriend, as if she was some saint rather than a sinner. Fuck... Jason loves how dirty she was. "We shall." He replies, nearly dragging her up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"Going to show you how much I love you, going to treat you so good, so well, baby girl... missed you so much, love you so much..."

#heathers #jason dean x reader #jason dean x yn #jason dean fanfics #jason dean x femreader #jason dean one shot #jason dean imagines #christian slater #christian slater x reader #christian slater x yn #my works #cierra's stories

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kae-karo · 2 years

Note

Can you give commentary on and p.s. if this is kaeya... ? :D

dw anon i saw your note about the chennett fic! i'm just selfish and want to do both of them :) lmaoooo

for context - send me a fic you want director’s commentary on!

and p.s. if this is kaeya... - kaeluc

okay critically important if u have never heard the song that this is based on, check it out (x) vaguely this was inspired by sitting in the car with my fam a few months back and hearing this song on the radio (my dad exclusively listens to 2000s country, jimmy buffett, and queen) and my sister, who is an aggressively supportive ally, going 'every time i hear this song i imagine that it's about a guy named austin and i just change the pronouns when i sing it to make it gay'

so obviously, i had to make it abt kaeluc

(He wants to call Diluc.)

rose was my first exposure to people using parentheses in fic which sounds very strange as a comment to make but i do always associate it with her now lmaoooo. i rarely if ever do it in my fics (actually this might be the first one genshin-wise that i've done it in?) but it felt appropriate as a way to let kaeya express his emotions without expressing them

Do I remember that you were planning to propose to me?

okay so my biggest struggle in suiting this to kaeluc aside from the obvious 'they are not the stereotypical men portrayed in a country song' was figuring out what the hell would separate them. bc of the nature of the song, i didn't want to make it a messy/angsty breakup, but it had to be Big Enough that kaeya would just straight up not want to go near diluc for a long time

i did actually consider flipping their roles here, but i do often write a pining kaeya and a distant diluc, so it was fun to swap the typical dynamic a little bit. and ofc, diluc pre-crepus-death always strikes me as a i know what i want and i'm not afraid to go after it kind of vibe, so it fit well with the idea that he'd want to propose to kaeya

Voicemail, he chides, half in relief and half disappointment.

absolutely wild that this song was made in an era of answering machines cause i was like 'an-answering machine??? tf???' lsdfjljsklfsdjkl and had to very intentionally go fix all the times i said that without realizing it lmao

“If you’re calling with the intent to sell me something, please do not bother with a message, I have no interest in buying.”

okay there was a lot of adjusting of the actual voicemails from the song ofc, namely to make sure they fit diluc's voice, but i tried to keep the spirit of them, to let kaeya build diluc's character accordingly (and flesh out the idea of his relationship with him - and what they no longer have)

He won’t say a word, Diluc deserves that.

the other piece of this ofc was building out the way kaeya left, the reasons behind it - namely, his fears that he wasn't ever going to be good enough for diluc (hence his fight-or-flight making him run). this piece didn't come naturally at first but once i tracked it down, it fit well, esp considering how inclined i am to write kaeya as self-deprecating and self-sabotaging

“Advice? Tell me what to do?”

i love love LOVE bffs rosaria and kaeya and this only compounded after the bartender event. but i love rosaria's line abt how kaeya just basically talks about everything when he's drunk and love putting that to good use in fics

“You love him.”

“I know.”

ahhh the good ol' accidental admission. which, for him is like the world-ending type of admission in spite of the fact that rosaria's just chillin like 'babe u got it bad u never stopped loving him and he obviously never stopped loving u suck it up and call him' lksdfkjld. i love her being a force for calm in the midst of kaeya's dramatics

That’s too big a question for three years and a ring he’d never been brave enough to admit he wanted.

ngl something abt this line really made me 😭😭 to write,,,,,everything summed up about his departure in one sentence, more or less. everything about how he feels now, too

(But Diluc always deserved better than that, didn’t he?)

yeah okay this is the turning point for kaeya, ultimately. where he stops lamenting 'diluc deserves better' and starts using it as a motivation - and he gets there in words eventually, that diluc deserves better so he will be better, but this is the first point at which it shifts in the other direction (and the first point at which i realized how i wanted to resolve the issue, or what feels like an issue for kaeya at least)

“Will you come home, Kae?”

diluc, who never stopped loving kaeya. i actually struggle a LOT with prescribed lines of dialogue or events (which maybe isn't a bad thing exactly but it does hinder me a bit when it comes to stuff like this) so this was actually a little weird to write all the voicemail lines basically identically to what was originally in the song, but it ended up working out well to give kaeya these intense emotions between lines, in the breaks, and i hope it didn't end up sounding too clunky lmao

Kaeya shies away from the idea that he is someone worth rushing for.

i love fragile kaeya. broken, unsteady, shattered. terrified. at his least composed, least prepared. i think this is where he shines as a character, where we see some really interesting pieces of him that aren't hidden behind witty lines and deflecting answers, and i love to write him this way

(And this time, he intends to keep that promise.)

yes, they do get married (after a bit of a relearning of each other, but it's not hard to fall back into old habits). yes, they do get the house on the lake. klee loves visiting and kaeya's teaching her how to throw a softball with deadly accuracy. kaeya is very bad at bowling but he makes an effort to get better because diluc enjoys it and he wants to share in the things diluc enjoys. diluc and rosaria meet (rosaria actually says 'FINALLY' upon meeting him, which confuses diluc and embarrasses kaeya to no end) and they get along...weirdly well, to kaeya's relief. things are good. they get their well-deserved happy ending

send me a fic you want director’s commentary on!

#kaeluc #luckae #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fic #ask game #fic game #ask #anon #fic directors commentary

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wayhavenots · 3 years

Text

So don’t you fret for your baby sister now

I wanted to write a fluffy Mind Blind fic, but this was the only idea I could write. ...Sorry in advance!

Title taken from Sunday Shoes by Lady Lamb.

TW: Death of a major character (Nick)

Synopsis: Nick opts to be taken off of life support when it looks like he will not recover. He needs Daphne’s help to say goodbye. (Some Gray x Button but it’s really not the focus here.) (Major angst! I cried like three times while writing this.)

Word count: 1312 words

You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Button.

Daphne Wiseman flicks the zipper on her jacket. I know, she thinks back.

She knows, and she doesn't want to, but her body walks them into the hospital room anyway. It pulls up a chair next to the body of her comatose brother, who is breathing steadily through a ventilator. It sits and it looks.

Funny, how a body and a mind can be so at odds, sometimes.

Funny. Haha. Like the time her body almost killed her brother.

Correction: Like the time her body did kill her brother. Because it didn't matter that Vengeance had been brought to justice. Justice wasn't coming back.

Nick's body stopped breathing shortly after the epic takedown of Vengeance. He disappeared from her mind for the most terrifying half-hour of Daphne's life. (That included the twenty-seven minutes that her mother took her body for a test-drive. And the thirty-two it took for Nick to delete an embarrassing message that a love-sick and slightly drunk nineteen-year-old Daphne had left in Grayson Black's voicemail box.)

Guess they fixed me in the nick of time, he remarked when he came back, when he and Daphne both heard the doctor say that there had been an unexpected development.

C'mon, Body, stop kidney-ing around, he said a few days later, upon the revelation that his kidney function had decreased.

Hey, I can beat this, he said a few weeks later, in regards to the unstable rhythm of his heart. Get it, Button?

And then after some more weeks, so, so softly that Daphne almost didn't hear him over the sound of her own thoughts mixing with the doctors' words (”...brain could eventually shut down...” that's just what happens when you're trapped in my head in Rosy's classroom eh Nick “...you'll need to make a decision, or rather, he’ll need to make a decision if he wants to proceed with organ donation...” if it’s anything like your Halloween costume decisions then I think we should crowdsource this one...)---

Shit.

John and Hope drive down from Milwaukee to say goodbye. To Nick, whose body will soon stop and whose mind will go with it. And to Daphne, whose head will soon be unprotected from those who can do her harm, intentionally or not.

And that’s why they have to leave, hours before the doctors are scheduled to power down the machines. Because they couldn’t bear it if something were to happen to Daphne, too.

But she isn’t scared of what her mother could do to her. Not anymore. What could she possibly do to her that is worse than being used to kill her brother?

She doesn’t say that. She doesn’t say anything, except for the words that Nick wants her to relay---about how much he loves them, about how he couldn’t have asked for better parents, et cetera, et cetera.

Her mouth forms the words, repeating after Nick, but her mind is elsewhere. Her mind is focused on the heart monitor’s steady rhythm, the fluid dripping from an IV into her brother’s veins, a chip in the paint on the wall, the zipper of her jacket. Zip up, zip down, now you see me, now you don’t. The sound is soothing over her voice, which is shaky and unsteady---not a good representative for calm and confident Nick at all.

She barely remembers being gathered into the last ever Wiseman family hug. Or watching the door shut behind them.

How are you feeling, Button?

As if he doesn’t know.

(Maybe he doesn’t. She’s not sure, either.)

Hungry.

It’s the funniest answer she can think of, until she remembers that she will never have a meal as good as one cooked by Nick.

In the long string of goodbyes, a long list of friends and relatives and exes that Daphne never knew, the last is Gray. He bumps a chair on his way in and apologizes to it, which makes Daphne smile for a moment, without realizing it. And then he places the chair across from hers, sits down, knees almost but not quite touching hers.

His eyes are red, she notices. She wants to hug him.

Why not? I think he’d like that.

She tries to suppress the thought, but can’t: she killed his best friend.

Nobody is blaming you for that, says Nick firmly. Button, tell me you understand that this isn’t your fault.

“How are you holding up?” asks Gray softly, unaware of the conversation happening inside her head.

“Me?” she laughs, pointedly ignoring Nick’s request. She holds up a coffee cup, on the outside of which is written Resilience. Her honorary callsign, ever since she and the others brought down Vengeance, and the name the barista insisted on writing on the cup. “I’m held together by caffeine and denial.”

He grimaces, moves his hand as if to take hers, then stops.

Nick groans loudly in her head. This, he says, this is what’s going to kill me.

“And...how is...?” Gray looks between the still body in the bed, and a point in the center of Daphne’s forehead. “How does this...work, exactly?”

“Just pretend that I’m not here,” she says softly. “I’m just translating.”

And she does, her own mind floating through space as she repeats Nick’s words without thinking. Eyes on Gray’s worn shoes, then back to her zipper, and then she is absorbed with ripping up the paper coffee cup, until she can no longer read the name on the front.

“Take care of yourself,” she is saying, “and take care of---”

She stops. She has to draw a line somewhere. I’m not saying that.

It’s my dying wish, Button. Please.

“...and take care of my sister.”

Dr. Amari knocks on the door gently, and Daphne’s mind---hiding in the corners of the hospital room---comes rushing back to her. For the first time in months, she feels the weight of her body, the effort to inhale oxygen into her lungs, tears rushing to her eyes without her express permission.

No, no, no, it can’t be time yet.

“I guess it’s my turn,” she chokes out to Gray.

Without another word, his arms wrap around her small frame, wishing her good luck. Or maybe it is a final hug for Nick.

Two for the price of one, he quips, though he sounds scared. Am not, he adds to her observation.

Gray finally lets go, but he doesn’t leave. Together, they watch as the last of the devices keeping Nick’s body alive are removed. Daphne sits to take her brother’s hand in hers.

It’s okay to be scared, she thinks to him. It’s okay, Nick. You don’t have to be good magnanimous big brother right now. You can be scared.

Promise me you won’t blame yourself for this forever. His tone is positively panicked now. I can’t leave if you’re not going to be okay.

Joke’s on them both: It’s too late to change his mind, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be okay.

I’ll try, she manages. Really, I will. You can go, Saint Nick. I’ll be okay.

The rest of his words come out in a rush, as the heart monitor shuts off, each syllable softer than the last. I’m so proud of you, Button...Give Rosy hell from me...I love you...Don’t let Gray starve...You’re gonna put us all to shame at Aeon...If you and Gray have kids, name one after their Uncle Nick...I love you, Button...

I love you, Saint Nick.

Gray gathers her in his arms again when she starts sobbing. Tears flow down his own cheeks as he holds her tight against him, the room silent except for the sound of her muffled sobs against his T-shirt.

And then she is yelling, so loudly he nearly jumps at the volume of it---

...oh God, oh God, it’s okay, it’s okay, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave...

Gray’s heart sinks at the realization: it is her voice in his head.

But he doesn’t leave.

#mind blind #SORRY #nick wiseman #grayson black #gray x button #tw: death #mind blind spoilers #(if you haven't read the demo i guess lol)

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