#911 i'd like to report a man down | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 years ago

Text

Laughter Like Music Pt. 1

Summary: Y/N wants someone to believe her, and is very grateful when she meets a green-eyed hunter who does.

Pairings: Dean x Y/N

Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Sex in semi-public place, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, slightly rough sex, dirty-talking!dean, slight Dom!dean, slight Sir kink.

Word Count: 3,346

A/N: So, earlier today I asked for some prompts or bingos or something that could kickstart my lazy muse. And I got some great help from @fandomohana and @peyton-warren, which I so appreciate. I have every intention of using those prompts to make some fun, smutty fluffy fics!

But as I was perusing those amazing prompts I remembered that quite a while ago, the lovely @eevvvaa sent me an ask with some fantastic prompts that I loved and had big plans for, but then never followed through with! 😩

So, I figured I would work on those prompts first. She sent me three batches of three prompts each (each batch has one fluffy, one angsty, and one smutty prompt) which were meant to be used together. So, I'm going to work all nine of the prompts (3 prompts for each part) into a little three part mini-series. This is part one, and it's ended up much smuttier than I'd originally planned. 😄 The next two installments should be a slightly better balance between the smut, fluff and angst. Lol!

The 3 prompts from her ask will be highlighted.

The beautiful divider below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89

“Jesus Christ!” Y/N angrily gesticulated at the cop across the counter from her. “Can’t you listen for one second? I am telling you that a man was ripped apart right in front of me, and you just refuse to listen.”

The gray-haired cop held on to the same unimpressed expression he’d worn from the moment she’d walked up to the counter and interrupted him on his computer.

“Ma’am, I have listened, and I understand what you think you saw, but I’ll tell you again that no missing persons report has been filed, and -”

Y/N cut him off. “He was a homeless man, it’s highly unlikely anyone is going to report him missing!”

“And,” the cop continued, talking over the end of her sentence, “and, what you’re describing is impossible. Now, you said you saw him very early this morning, is it possible you were just distracted, or overly tired?”

Y/N gritted her teeth and tried one more time to be heard. “It was almost seven o’clock in the morning, so no it wasn’t that early, and I was not over-tired. I’m not a fucking toddler. I saw what I saw. The man was sitting in the alley as I was passing by, and in a blink, there was someone ON him, ripping him apart with their bare hands. The man started screaming and by the time I pulled my phone out to call 911, they were both gone. I did not imagine it, I did not dream it. It happened in the alleyway between Walbash and St. Mary St. Can’t you at least send some cops down that way to look?”

The cop, Jenkins, his name tag said, finally let go of his uncaring expression and smiled placatingly at her, which was a thousand times worse, and made her want to punch him in the face. “Okay, ma’am. I’ll put in a request for a black and white to go past and take a look when they have a minute, alright?”

She just angrily shook her head and threw her hands up, frustrated beyond belief. She turned to walk out of the station, and ended up walking into a wall of male.

She let out a little cry of surprise and alarm, and would have fallen flat on her ass if two strong hands hadn’t reached out to grab her arms and keep her upright. She straightened up as he let go and tilted her head far back to properly see the two towering guys in front of her. They were both very tall and broad, and Y/N took a step back from them so she could stop breaking her neck to see them.

They were both in cheap blue suits, and the short haired guy flashed a badge at her quickly that said FBI.

“Ma’am, can I ask you to come with us, we’ve got a few questions for you.” His voice was deep and commanding and she couldn’t help noticing that he was also drop dead gorgeous. They both looked more like they belonged on a movie screen somewhere than in this dingy, police station in the middle of Nebraska.

But the one who’d flashed his badge had sucked her breath away immediately in a way that made her desperate to yank on his navy blue tie and pull him down to her level so she could taste those full, succulent lips. She was in the process of imagining his mouth moving over hers, and feeling the hands that had grabbed hold of her so tightly, pressed into her skin, or holding her in place while he -

“Ma’am.” The other agent was trying to get her attention and she finally broke away from that intoxicating green gaze to look at his partner.

“Huh?” She said stupidly.

The long-haired agent smiled. “We’d like to talk with you about the statement you just made to this officer.”

The frustration of the situation seeped back into her mind and she frowned deeply. “Aw, come on, look, I’m not crazy okay. I know what I saw, so if you’re just going to tell me again that I was imagining things, then…” She waved her hands to show that she was through with this crap, and moved to walk around them.

But as she tried to pass by the FBI Adonis, he reached out and once again grabbed hold of her. She looked up at him angrily, about to protest this civil rights violation of holding her against her will, when he spoke.

“I believe you.”

His voice was much softer now, as though he only wanted her to hear him. She scoffed slightly, not sure she believed HIM.

“How could you?” She asked, her voice equally soft. “It’s a ridiculous story, how could you believe me?”

He turned to face her completely and his unblinking stare made her heart start pumping double time. “Because,” he answered simply, “there have been two other homeless people attacked and killed, and because we’re pretty sure we know what’s doing it. Til now though, we haven’t had a witness. So,” he let go of her arm, “we have just a few questions for you.”

***

Twelve hours later, Y/N’s whole world had been turned upside down, and yet, she was grateful. From the moment she’d seen that creature, a werewolf apparently, rip apart a grown man like tissue paper, everything had been spinning. Ironically, it was the Winchesters' explanation that monsters were real that made her feel better. She wasn’t insane, she wasn’t delusional, they listened to her, they believed her and they got rid of the monster.

Now they were all sitting at a booth at the local dive bar called, “Suds”, and sharing a couple pitchers of beer and laughter. It was strange how quickly she’d felt safe with them, as though she’d known them for years, as though they’d always been friends.

Sam was intelligent, sweet, and entirely charming, with a smile that would light up a room - though it didn’t pop out as often as she would have liked. Dean was brash and sarcastic, a bit rough around the edges, but the absolute man of her dreams.

She couldn’t look at him without nearly panting. Everything he did seemed calculated to turn her on, from the way he gulped down his beer to the flirty smiles he was throwing her as she sat beside him in the booth, trying not to inhale too deeply and get completely taken out by his intoxicating scent. He smelled like warmth and sunshine, even in this grubby bar, and it was something she desperately wanted to get closer to.

He was also very funny. He had a sharp, sarcastic, slightly morbid sense of humor that made her laugh even when they’d been in a very dangerous situation earlier in the day. That was some kind of gift.

He was keeping her laughing and giggling now, as Sam left to get another round, by making up scenarios for different couples around the bar. He was hilariously spot on as he predicted their next moves.

Y/N put her hand on his arm. “Stop, you’re too good at this, just how much time do you spend in bars? You’ve got all their moves down pat!”

Dean grinned at her. “More time than is good for me, I can promise you that.”

She laughed again and Dean leaned an inch closer to her. “Man, you have the most gorgeous smile and laugh. Sounds like music.”

His voice was rough and warm and Y/N shivered slightly. “Cold sweetheart?” He asked. “I could warm you up.”

As Y/N felt her core muscles clench at the invitation, a pitcher landed on the table in front of them, and she looked up to see Sam smiling a little sheepishly.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” He said with a slight eye roll.

Y/N felt bad and said that he should stay, but Dean just smiled at his brother and slapped him on the back, tossing him the keys to his car. “Thanks, Sammy. Drive safe, I’ll take a cab home.”

Sam reached his towering body over the table and gave Y/N a hug where she was still sitting. “Take care, Y/N, it was really great to meet you.”

She smiled up at him and kissed his cheek. “You too, Sam, and thank you so much.”

He nodded, and pointed a finger at his brother. “Be good.” He said simply before turning and leaving. Dean slid back into the booth beside her despite the fact that the other side was now available.

Y/N wasn’t about to complain, as he crowded closer to her. He leaned in to whisper in her ear causing more shivers.

“Sam says to be good. But you sure make me wanna do bad things with you.” He slid his arm around her waist, his fingers finding the bare skin just under the hem of her t-shirt and doodling patterns there. “What do you think, Y/N? Wanna do bad things with me?”

All Y/N could manage was a quick nod and a kind of affirmative humming sound. Words were beyond her as Dean nuzzled his nose behind her ear.

“You’re all I’ve been thinking about all day, you know that?” He asked, as he moved his other hand under the table and over her stocking-covered thighs. “Do you?”

Y/N shook her head and then turned her face into his shoulder to stifle a moan as his long fingers swept up under her skirt to pass fleetingly over her drenched panties.

“Were you thinking about me, sweetheart? Hm?” He ran his middle finger along her seam, pressing against her clit and making her yelp with pleasure. His mouth was back at her ear and his delicious voice just kept pouring electrifyingly filthy words into her head as he touched her under the table.

“Were you hoping I’d get my hands on you like this? Anxious to feel my mouth against your skin? I was; I’ve been desperate to taste you, touch you, to make you feel so good.”

He ripped a small hole in her sheer stockings and pushed her panties aside to sweep two thick fingers through her slick. With a quiet growl that drowned out her gasp, he dipped his tongue into her ear before putting his lips to it. “Fuck, baby, this is all for me? I wanna taste you so bad. Do you want to feel me inside you? Say yes, baby, cause all I can think of is sinking into that slick, hot cunt and fucking you hard enough to leave you feeling me for days.”

As he twirled his forefinger around her clit, Y/N let out a deep moan that was mercifully drowned out by the guitars and drums of the rock song playing over the soundsystem.

“What do you say, Y/N? Wanna be really bad and meet me in the bathroom in a minute?”

Y/N was a shaking mess, but she nodded and then whimpered as he took away his fingers. As he started to leave, she pulled him back by his shirt lapels, and kissed him, sucking on his plump bottom lip as she’d been fantasizing about for the last twelve hours.

Dean quickly took over the kiss though, and plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, tasting all of her and leaving her thoroughly ravaged as he stood to go. He pointed a finger at her. “One minute, no more.” He ordered.

Y/N smiled, and though she’d barely had two full glasses of beer, she felt drunk as she bit into her bottom lip. “Hell yeah. I mean,” she purred up at him, “Yes, sir.”

She felt an electric buzz across her skin as his eyes got darker, pupils blown with lust. He turned on his heel quickly and made a beeline for the bathroom.

After he’d gone, Y/N tried to count Mississippi's to measure out a minute, but she lost track as her skin burned for Dean’s touch and her pussy dripped. Finally, somewhere around forty seconds, she gave up and rushed towards the bathrooms.

She looked around the deserted back area where the bathrooms were located before she pushed gently on the swinging door that led into the men’s room. When the door was barely open a foot, Dean’s hand shot out from behind the door and yanked her forward. He pinned her quickly against the wall, pushing his knee between her legs.

She gasped and panted slightly as she shook her head. “How did you even know it was me? I could have turned out to be a big guy named Bubba!”

Dean smiled and licked his lips as he rubbed his thumb across her mouth. “Well, if you were Bubba, then Bubba has some pretty small, delicate hands.” He said, grabbing up both of hers in his and raising them above her head, pressing them against the cold, ugly tile that adorned the whole bathroom from floor to ceiling.

Y/N laughed at that and reached forward to get to Dean’s mouth, but he pulled back slightly and with her hands pinned the way they were, she couldn’t reach him. She pouted, but he smiled, slow and sexy.

“Call me that again.”

Y/N knew exactly what he was asking for, but decided if he was going to hold his kisses ransom, then she would just play dumb and tease him back.

She blinked up at him innocently. “Call you what?’

Dean’s eyes flared with so much heat she felt scorched by it, but she was enjoying the anticipation and the game too much to give in too quickly.

Obviously deciding that two could play at this game, Dean manhandled her into one of the wider stalls and locked the door before pushing her against it, crowding her back tightly with his bulk, and pinning her hands at her side.

“Say it.”

Y/N grinned and bit at her bottom lip, her blood throbbing through her veins at the demanding look in Dean’s eyes. “Say what?”

Dean let go of one wrist so he could push up under her skirt and shred her pantyhose completely. The sound of the ripping fabric was like an aphrodisiac and Y/N was soon shaking with need as he pushed her panties aside and began circling his thumb on her clit. She pushed down against his hand and he pulled it away from her.

He answered her cry of frustration with a dirty chuckle. “What’s wrong, baby? What do you want?”

“Dean!” Y/N cried, reaching for him with her free hand, trying to unbuckle his belt, but he quickly slammed her wrist back against the door and held her there with an unyielding grip.

“Tell me what you want. Beg for it, beautiful. You’re so gorgeous like this, all hot and needy. So, tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Giving up the game completely, Y/N strained her neck forward again, reaching for his mouth. “I need you to fuck me.” She cried out hoarsely. “Fuck me, Sir, please.”

Dean immediately spun her around, slamming her against the door while he lifted her skirt and then pulled her hips out towards him. She heard his belt buckle jingling and his zipper open just before he rammed into her, making her scratch at the metal door, desperate to grab on to something. But all she could do was flatten her hands there and press her burning cheek against the cool surface.

Dean pulled out and slammed into her again, pressing so deep and hard that Y/N had to shove her fist into her mouth to stop from screaming. Over and over, he crashed the head of his cock against her cervix, before pulling out, and running it gently over her sweet spot with every pass, tightening the coil in her belly until she finally came apart, her muscles squeezing around his thick shaft as it continued to ram into her clenching pussy.

Dean pulled out and she felt her slick dribbling down her thighs as he turned her gently to face him and then lifted her like she weighed nothing. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and guided her back onto his rock hard, velvety smooth length. She dropped her head back as she wrapped her legs around his waist and both arms around his neck.

He used his free hand to push up her t-shirt and bra, grasping and squeezing her breast with his thick and powerful fingers, before lowering his head to nip and lick at her nipple.

The pressure in her abdomen began again as he raised and lowered her slowly on his cock. It had been rough and hard, but now it was silky and slow, and Y/N wanted to cry with how perfect he was. He was sucking bruises into the skin on her neck when his thrusts began to falter slightly, telling her he was close.

She pulled his head up to hers and kissed him deeply, then panted lightly into his mouth as he reached his hand down to rub her clit, pressing perfectly on the hard little button and making her thump her head back against the door.

Dean wrapped his hand easily around the back of her neck and pulled her head forward again, pulling her gaze to his. “Look at me, Y/N. I wanna see the look in your eyes when you fall apart this time, wanna watch the pleasure explode across your beautiful face as you come.”

With two more twirls of his finger against her, he got his wish and Y/N couldn’t stop the loud cry of pleasure that erupted from her as she climaxed. She closed her eyes briefly when she came, but opened them again quickly, however, as Dean’s thrusts became sloppy and frantic.

She clung to his shoulders and did her best to slide up and down on him, watching his face as the muscles stuttered there and he moved his hand from between their bodies to smash against the door and brace himself, as he slammed into her tight, slick body. With a guttural yell that she was sure had to echo out over even the loudest music and into the bar, she felt him pulse deep inside her, coating her walls with his thick warmth.

He stood still for a moment, both of them panting out their exertion. Suddenly the door flew open and Y/N yelped as a voice called into the bathroom from just outside the swinging door.

“Look if you guys are done, you gotta pull your pants up and get on your way!” The gruff, annoyed voice yelled to them. “People gotta get in here to use the bathroom, and they don’t need a peep show.”

They heard the swinging door close behind him and were silent for a minute more before they both burst into laughter. In the midst of their chuckling and humor, Dean pulled out of Y/N’s body, and helped her set her clothing right before putting his spent cock back into his pants and zipping up.

As he tried to buckle his belt, Y/N pushed his hands aside to take over the task. She smiled up at him coyly, slightly shy to ask what she wanted to.

“So, I know you and Sam have to take off tomorrow, but do you have plans for the rest of the night? Maybe we could swing by my place, and try this again, minus the bar patrons and on a really nice king sized bed?”

As she slid the leather end of his belt into the loop, he leaned down to kiss her softly, all his brute strength and raw passion seemingly tamped down for the moment as he slid his long fingers into her hair and kissed the tip of her nose before sipping at her lips once more.

“Hell yeah.” He said, echoing her earlier agreement. “I mean, yes, Ma’am.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@deans-spinster-witch

@impalaslytherin

@maggiegirl17

@akshi8278

@candy-coated-misery0731

@nt-multi-fandom

@deanswaywardgirl

@slytherinlyn314

@globetrotter28

@jensensgirl

@perpetualabsurdity

@tristanrosspada-ackles

@djs8891

@muhahaha303

@kayyay1219

@emily-winchester

@recoveringpastaaddict

@mimaria420

@sacriceria

@envyaurora95

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only.

@saikosheadcanons

@lgranger67

@carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@sunshineandwings86

@kazsrm67

@sexyvixen7

@alexxavicry

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@awkward-and-indecisive

@maliburenee

@supernatural4life2022

@spn730015

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@kickingitwithkirk

@waywardbaby

@foxyjwls007

@deanwanddamons

@deandreamernp

@deanwithscissors

@myloversgone

@snowlovespie

@leigh70

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@charred-angelwings

@hopefuldreamers-world

@mysherlock221b

@jensensgotyoudean

@stixnstripesworld

@thoughts-and-funnies

@magssteenkamp

@norman1967

@princessmisery666

@eevvvaa

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy

@b-i-t-c-h-i-e

@twirpbunwarrior

@mysweetlittledesire

@waynes-multiverse

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@bernasaurus

@jensenslady79

@courtn92

@avanatural

@ellie-andthemachine

@this-is-me19

@roseblue373

@katbratsupernaturalwhore

@fanfic-n-tabulous

#dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst

149 notes · View notes

lovecolibri · 2 years ago

Note

SaL anon back again my friend with another serving if salt if your up for it. Since the show has dumped TayKay, but the presence of our other least favorite waster of screentime in S6 seems to be still undecided, I'd like to make a not-so-quick point about L which I feel like is less talked about in the wake of it being made clear how pointless she was. So one of the most accurate things I ever heard about good storytelling is that it requires strong, well-developed characters and a good test

of if this was true was to describe the character, but just their personality (not their physical description or job). So if we play this game with the 911 mains it's easy to see how well thought out these characters are, it only takes a few episodes to get their vibe. Buck is loyal, reckless, heartfelt and clingy. Bobby is an empathetic father figure. Hen is observant, grounded, determined. Eddie is stoic, soft, and sassy. We can go on and on. Hell we can even describe the reporter, a guest star, this way (career-oriented, inconsiderate, condescending). Double hell, we can even do Mitchell from 5x06 (ruthless, determined, guilt-ridden at least about his son).

So now the challenge, describe L. Anything? Maybe if we really stretch on her storyline from 5x14 and wanting to be the hero, egotistical? She's the personality equivalent of a cardboard box and I really don't get her defenders because we connect to characters through their personality, so what exactly are they connecting to? We've said over and over again how she adds nothing to the team but it not just in terms of storytelling, she adds nothing as a character to the dynamics (fun fact, you can play this game with M*ria too! The only thing I could come up with is girlboss). The sad thing we've seen this before, Ana was essentially the same, but no one was begging for the show to bring her back. Anyway that's my salt talk for today, enjoy!!

“She's the personality equivalent of a cardboard box” Bestie please! 🤣🤣🤣 She really did absolutely nothing outside of all the things that go cut in relation to her and Buck “poking” at each other while he had a whole ass girlfriend at home. I’m also baffled at these people defending her like, there’s nothing to defend? If you’re angry because of misogynistic writing for her character BECAUSE she had no purpose that’s fine, please direct your complaints to KR, and not to the people who are pissed that screentime got wasted on someone so useless and that we DIDN’T get to see things we should have from characters we loved in order to make space for her and on pointless drama with BT when that whole thing ended for the same reason it ended in 2x06.

I’m sure some people will go for “badass” but even that’s not true? She jumped into the bed of a moving truck. So? Buck and Eddie stood on top of a moving firetruck keeping pace with an airplane to cut down a guy trapped in his parachute. They pulled a live grenade from a man’s leg and pulled people out of a collapsing building. Buck fought through a tsunami on blood thinners to keep Christopher safe. He and Buck were taken hostage by escaped prisoners. Eddie saved a kid from a well and then swam himself through a tunnel network into a lake to get home to his family. Hen kept her hand inside a man’s chest to save his life. Hen walked into a racist, sexist firehouse and said “no you can’t intimidate me into leaving”. Her and Buck repelled down a cliff and pulled several children out of a bouncy house. Chim also fought back against a racist house and helped make it more welcoming for everyone. He delivered a baby in a house buried under a mudslide. Bobby overcame unspeakable tragedy to build a family at the 118 and a beautiful blended family with Athena. He fought like hell to save his stepdaughter and he commands a team brilliantly through incredibly dangerous situations. Athena put on turnouts and walked into a burning building to confront a gunman to save her husband, refused to leave a scared woman behind her her collapsing house, and went back to work after nearly being killed on the job. Maddie escaped her abusive ex and fought like hell to survive, and uses her skills every day to save lives over the phone. May kept a coworker she didn’t even like calm in the midst of a very traumatic and triggering experience and got her out. I could go on, and on, and on.

“I’m not special, not in that house” YEAH, YOU’RE NOT.

(Also, m*rai at least had the “loyal friend/listening ear/empathetic” thing going on until the season 1 finale when they decided to throw out any purpose her character ever had except as an obstacle to Malex, and then spent the rest of the time telling us she was the greatest friend of all time while showing us the opposite. L never brought anything to the table.)

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #911 #911 spoilers #anti lucy donato #anti maria deluca #to be safe #but for REAL #she didn't do anything and because she was there taking up time and space we missed out on other things #i think fans have a right to be pissed about that just like we have a right to be pissed about all the wasted time in 5a on tay kay #ANYWAY #manifesting her leaving forever over the hiatus

10 notes · View notes

wordstro · 4 years ago

Text

ateez masterlist

seonghwa

[11:16 AM] + to build a home [angst]

Request: Hero/Villain AU [angst]

“where there is life, there must be death.” + hero/villain AU [angst]

[7:57 PM] + royalty!au + “your reign must end here.” [Royalty AU, angst]

downfall: masterlist - the downfall of your best friend, san, starts with an intriguing red haired man with honeyed words and a history of broken promises. you swear to do everything you can to make sure that it does not end with his death, even if that means forming an unlikely alliance with the same type of man you’re trying to save your best friend from.

hongjoong

request: “911? Yes, I'd like to report a loser" [fluff]

[3:56 PM] + avatar: the last airbender au [angst, fluff]

[12:06 PM] + pirate!au + “you really think you can steal from me and get away with it?” [Pirate AU, fluff, angst?]

Game of Thrones AU, Angst

[1] "i advise you do not break this one, hongjoong."

[2] "nothing can hold down the sun."

[3] "all you have to do is beg." [4] "do you want to know the first thing my father taught me?"

yunho

[10:37 PM] + boxes [angst, fluff, cw: grieving]

Request: Hero/Villain AU [angst]

[3:08 PM] + naruto/ninja au + “thank you, for everything.” [Naruto AU, angst]

[9:19 PM] + “you are the bane of my existence.” [Royalty AU, angst, fluff]

yeosang

[1:10 AM] + I’m so in love with you [fluff]

[3:56 PM] + avatar: the last airbender au [angst, fluff]

[10:00 PM] + "i want to go home." [assassin/gang AU, angst]

[10:01 PM] + "would you like to dance?" [faerie au, angst, horror]

san

[10:10 PM] + fruits [angst]

[7:41 PM] + toothbrush [angst]

request: something fluffy with san [fluff]

[7:37 PM] gender neutral + “see you losers later.” [heist AU, fluff]

[8:48 PM] + first love [pirate AU, angst]

in this place, full of lies: masterlist - when the world ends, you are left to wander like a ghost from town to town for so long, you believe you are the last person left on earth. at least until a group of men rob you at knifepoint, and one of the robbers is none other than your ex-boyfriend, choi san. while you spent too much time wandering ghost towns alone, the rest of the world learned to survive, for better or for worse. including san. [post apocalyptic, ex boyfriend, angst]

[11:50 PM] + "what are we supposed to do now?" [natural disaster apocalypse au, roadtrip au, angst, poly woosan x y/n]

mingi

Mafia AU

request: “mingi + mafia au + you shouldn't have done that" [angst]

request: “mingi + mafia au + you shouldn't have done that" PART 2 [angst]

[3:08 PM] + naruto/ninja au + “thank you, for everything.” [Naruto AU, angst]

sector one: masterlist - the end of the world isn’t so bad. you don’t have to deal with crippling debt or working a double when you’d rather be sleeping anymore. you even get more sleep now than you ever had before the Invasion. as a matter of fact, the end of the world is easy. you only need to do three things: do not go out after sunset, do not get attached to anyone or anything, and survive. what could possibly go wrong? [part of the in this place, full of lies series/universe, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, post apocalyptic]

wooyoung

the alliance: masterlist - when wooyoung, yeosang, jongho, and seonghwa betrayed the ateez unit, your division of the hero-villain alliance, and joined the underground rogue organization, you truly believed nothing could be worse. a year after the Betrayal, wooyoung proves you terribly wrong. [angst, hero/villain au, completed]

[2:06 PM] + you’re leaving for something dangerous and I can’t help but kiss you [fluff]

[8:04 PM] + just for tonight [angst]

icarus AU + gender neutral [Icarus AU/coffeeshop AU, angst, fluff]

[11:50 PM] + "what are we supposed to do now?" [natural disaster apocalypse au, roadtrip au, angst, poly woosan x y/n]

[3:37 PM] + "please just come home. i need you to come home." [space/interstellar AU, angst]

jongho

request: something soft and playful with jongho [fluff]

general/ot8:

hero/villain au headcanons

CURRENT STATUS: Open to new requests! No Sm*t please!

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #ateez fluff #i dont know how to make it pretty but i wanted to post this to organize!!#wordstro

266 notes · View notes

echo-three-one · 4 years ago

Text

Whatever It Takes

Still recovering from the injuries when they rescued Samantha and Maxine, Soap and France er- John and Francine sits out on the next mission and enjoys a little rest and recreation. Comfy right?

Chapter 8 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Alex - Just Like Old Times

"Experiment 001"

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 - Off Duty

London, United Kingdom

John barely passed the Physical Test and he was excited that he made it just in time with their next mission. But what he didn't expect was that he was already too late to tag along. They were headed to an Augustus base from a lead they got from Alex, who actually convinced the whole local militia to join his cause. He noted not to underestimate him despite the lack of limbs as that was his specialty back in the CIA.

Now, with enough time and approved Rest and Recreation, he can't believe they're driving to London. He didn't know how it happened but a few nudges and teases from France and they were actually driving his trusty jeep on their way to a local coffee shop she wanted to visit.

"You seem happy for someone who sits out in a fight." Soap commented as France's hair blew softly as the jeep sped across the empty highway.

"Well, I can't force myself out there, might as well enjoy the little freedom from the gunfire and chaos." she cheered, raising her hands openly like a tourist or someone from a music video. Soap rolled his eyes toward her behavior but when he thinks of it, he might use some relaxation himself.

"So, we're really driving to London for coffee? We could've just brewed some back at the base, you know?" he informed, eyes turning to the road.

"Oh come on Soap! Live a little! It's the relaxing background I'm looking for, the one that yells "Rest up Francine and shoot tangos later!"" she teased, Soap was still not convinced about this, he's all too focused on work, living up to the 'elite' part of the task force.

Soap continued driving and couldn't help but momentarily turn to her, how she shook her head when her hair got in the way, how she giggled at the bumps on the road and how she badgered him with a lot of questions. All of those things he seemed to like. She even told him to slow down so she could take pictures of the view and show them to Maxine when she finally remembers her, along with a few selfies with Soap.

"So, Soap, this is your vacation? On your phone with a cup of coffee?" France crossed her arms as she sat in front of Soap. The Scottish looked at him, brows raised.

"Don't call me Soap out here. And I'm actually checking German news channels." he informed while not batting an eye on her.

"Really, what should I call you then, Dove?" She joked, while Soap remained unamused.

"John." he muttered.

"Really?! You don't really look like a John. Maybe... a James.. James MacTavish? Sounds better." she mused as she looked at the problematic mohawk man as he keeped raising his phone looking for a signal.

"Hey check your phone. Do you have reception or something?" Soap finally looked at her and turned to the direction she's looking at. A young woman was raising her phone just outside the cafe.

"What is she doing?" France pointed out and Soap was rendered speechless. Moments later the phone exploded into an EMP blast shattering the café windows causing the two to cover under the tables.

"Shite." John muttered and looked at France who was inches near him. France's hands were covering her ears as the ringing continued.

"Come on! Let's leave here before our ears bleed!" Soap roared, enduring the pain of the ringing as he pulled France to safety. People scattered around looking for a spot to stay which was just a few yards away from the phone. Everyone stood still and murmured as the person holding the phone crippled in pain from the said blast.

Francine forced herself off of John's strong grip and winced as she reached the blast zone, enduring the mental pain as she tried to rescue her. John took a while before he helped her up as his ears started to bleed from the ringing. Halfway through safety the phone exploded and the screeching stopped.

911 immediately responded assisting the three of them as well as those who suffered from injuries because of the blast. While being tended from behind the ambulance, a tall red-headed lady with a slick leather jacket introduced herself to them, flashing her INTERPOL badge.

"Hi. I'm sorry you got caught on the crossfire." she apologized, her tone was strict yet calming.

"Aye. It's alright ma'am. We're kinda used to it." John chuckled and Francine nodded.

"This is kind of my case. Can I ask you for details surrounding the event that just happened?" she blindly fished her notebook and pen from her back pocket and the duo honestly told their story.

"Oh. Thank you very much. um Mr and Mrs…?"

the two of them looked at each other.

"Oh no no no. You've got it all wrong maam!" Francine quickly interrupted.

"Aye. There's no way I'd ask this woman out." John added causing them to argue and bicker like old people.

"Okay Okay. I'll address this differently. You two don't have to fight, okay?" she scolded as she answered her already ringing phone.

The sun was already setting when they drove back to the base. The ride was cold and quiet and the two of them didn't say a word after they bickered back at the city. Soap momentarily checks in on her while driving but France just crossed her arms and blasted music through her earphones.

John tried to talk to her about it but he hesitated, her body language was enough to tell him that she didn't need any bothering from him today, or maybe ever. So instead of saying words, he quickly turned to a small path just before the Base's entrance and drove seriously.

"Hey hey hey Mister, where are you bringing me?!" She motioned to eject herself from the car by detaching herself from the seatbelts.

"Oi Oi! Calm down. I just thought you needed a breather." he hit the brakes. They were at a small elevated area just below the river that ran behind their base. Francine slowly calmed herself down enjoying the beautiful view as John exited his jeep and walked to a tree stump.

He sat down and faced the river, the moon illuminated his hair and half of his face while France slowly descended from her seat and looked at his blue eye glow as the moonlight hit his face.

"Cigars aren't allowed at the base. And we're still technically outside." he winked and offered her a light, a sneaky smirk escaped from his perfectly shaped mouth.

Francine gulped.

"I don't smoke. Thanks." she gestured a no at the Scot and slowly walked toward him as soon as he turned back.

"Mmhmm.. Suit yourself." he teased as he huffed the cigar and released smoke from his mouth, pouting his lips and looked up at the sky. Francine fell quiet, but she could hear her heart thumping, telling her to say the words she wanted to say the moment they met. But she hesitated, there's no time for admiration in the middle of war. She inhaled deeply and sighed.

"This view looks spectacular." she mused, John just chuckled and puffed another breath of smoke.

"What's with you women and beautiful landscapes? Sometimes I don't get it. Like, it's just water and the sky." he complained. Francine smiled telling herself that it's a different view she was referring to.

'The spectacular view I'm referring to is you, John MacTavish.' she smiled and told herself.

Task Force 141 Base - Lobby

Soap and France just got back inside the base and Shepherd was already looking for them. Word has it that their involvement from events that occurred earlier today alerted the General and called them into briefing.

"Agent Ryder, I believe you've already acquainted yourself with these two members of the force?" Shepherd introduced.

"Yes. It's Mr. MacTavish and Ms. Winters." the redhead nodded to them as a greeting.

"Good." The general seated himself and let the Agent begin talking.

"The case earlier was that of a Jane Doe, an American who used her phone to create a long lasting EMP blast capable of destroying nearby signal receptors at a set range. Coincidentally, one of your members also reported a bigger machine capable of doing bigger blasts back in Germany. While this may be purely coincidental, the interpol assigned me to further investigate this phenomenon as part of my job as Anti-Terror Weapon Division." she briefed, Shepherd had already talked to his higher ups and they already assigned her as part of a joint operation.

"Furthermore, Our team wants to quickly eradicate traces of such weapons in order to restore peace and order across Europe." she added. Soap nodded in agreement, he was one of the few ones who witnessed the weapon's power and would like to take part in destroying such machinery.

"Well Ms. Ryder. We have already discussed this. Welcome to the 141. These two will escort you around, make sure you feel comfortable and well fed with all the data you need." he muttered and shook hands with her. She nodded and thanked him as Soap and France gave her a quick tour of the base.

The tour consisted of mostly France talking, she actually got close with Agent Ryder quickly, and Soap was just there following like a dog. And he hates dogs.

"It's good to have someone like you in a place full of men. It eases off the pressure." the Agent thanked her as they dropped her off her quarters. France smiled and held her hand.

"Don't worry. These men may look tough, but then you get to know them, they're actually sweeter than us. Right, Soap?" she turned to him.

"What are you talking about?" he easily dismissed rolling his eyes, looking everywhere but their direction.

"See?!" France giggled and Agent Ryder laughed along.

"It's a pleasure to be part of this team. Call me Alexandra. Alexandra Ryder." She said.

"Welcome to the 141, Alexandra." France shook hers and smiled. It may feel like a simple handshake but Soap felt that it was going to be an alliance that's going to last for a long time.

Next Chapter : A surPRICE Visit

Notification Squad, my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @enderio @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach @beemybee

#horRAYfic #codmw #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #ah yes denial #my favorite trope

19 notes · View notes

rookthorne · 2 years ago

Text

oh my god, am I gonna die? I think I’m gonna die.

P.S. you are now gonna be talking to a ghost.

One thing Nick prided himself on was how well he could read you. Part of his job was to pick up on subtle cues and tells from the people around him. It was only natural that he would use his skills to figure out your likes and dislikes when the two of you started dating. If he didn’t know what you enjoyed, how was he supposed to take care of you?

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

fuck

“Need me to fuck your pretty pussy, sweetheart?”

HEAVEN ABOVE I’M GOIN’ DOWN

Which is why he wouldn’t settle for you giving him a single nod.

No, he needed to hear it.

“Use your words. You need me to fuck you?”

hello?

911?

I’d like to report a MURDER

“Don’t ‘Nick’ me,” he said, biting back a groan when his fingers found his prize, getting them nice and wet. "Hardly touch you and you're drenched. You know exactly who you belong to, don't you?"

oh fuck me sideways this is gonna destroy me

“There you go. You can take it,” he smirked, grabbing your chin with his other hand when you tried to turn your head away. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”

FUCKING WHAT?!?!

👀😵‍💫🫠

Nick huffed as he spared Lee a glance. The sheriff smirked back as he palmed himself through his slacks.

oh. oh no. OH NO

The observant man Nick was, he quickly picked up on the attraction between you and Lee when you met. The sheriff put on the Southern charm for you and you smiled almost bashfully under his gaze. It didn't upset him the way he thought it would, but he did slip his leather jacket over your shoulders to remind his friend who you belonged to. He was never good at sharing.

oh please please please

He was still hard inside you when you hesitantly admitted that you thought the sheriff was good looking. You explained that you admired Lee's confidence and respected his position of power. You enjoyed seeing him in his uniform, especially when he put his leather jacket on.

am I to be blamed for this? not my fault the damn fucking jackets are too much 😩

"I wanna see more," Lee smirked, bringing Nick back to be present. "You didn't answer his question, darlin'. Almost like you wanna be punished."

fucking HELL this is too much

I only wanna be punished by the two of them at the same time is that too much to ask

"He's right, sweetheart," he said as his lips ghosted over yours. “Tell me how you need me to fuck you or I won’t fuck you at all."

😩😩😩

this is CRUEL AND UNUSUAL

“I’ll cuff you and make you watch as I stroke my cock. I won’t touch you even if you beg," he threatened, nipping at your bottom lip hard enough to make you whimper. "I’ll finish on your weeping pussy and smack it for denying me an answer to a simple question.”

I glitched. I malfunctioned. 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

"Not exactly the show I want, but I'd love to see her in my cuffs," Lee said, taking himself out of his pants. "Tick tock, darlin'. Time's a wastin'."

HNNNG STOP THAT SIR

I can no longer form coherent words and my brain is gone.

disappeared.

YEETED!

Put on a Show

Pairing: Nick Fowler x Female Reader, surprise guest Summary: Nick doesn't like to share, but he'll let you put on a show. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), possessive behavior, slight dirty talk, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Third day of my Naughty & Nice Nonsense belongs to Nick Fowler and a surprise guest of @rookthorne's choosing! Inspired by this ask here and as a thank you for the beautiful banner (and being awesome in general). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When it came to what you wanted in the bedroom, he sometimes enjoyed outright asking.

Like tonight.

“Need me to fuck your pretty pussy, sweetheart?”

As fun as it was to whisper dirty words in your ear, he preferred looking into your eyes when he asked what you wanted him to do to you. Watching your dilated pupils peek through your lashes as you pressed your thighs together let him know how badly you wanted him. Which is why he wouldn’t settle for you giving him a single nod.

No, he needed to hear it.

“Use your words. You need me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“With my tongue or cock?”

Your breath caught in your throat, the same way it did earlier in the day when he wore your favorite leather jacket. He owned a couple and considered buying more since he knew how much they turned you on. You liked how he looked in his suits and sweaters, too, but something about the leather excited you. He paid special attention to anything that got a reaction out of you.

“Nick,” you whispered when he nudged your thighs apart with his hand.

Your back bowed when he shoved two fingers in without warning, but your hips moved to take them in deeper. He didn't care if you ruined the couch. He wanted you to be a writhing mess by the time he finished with you.

“There you go. You can take it,” he smirked, grabbing your chin with his other hand when you tried to turn your head away. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.”

"C'mon, Fowler. Lemme see her."

Nick huffed as he spared Lee a glance. The sheriff smirked back as he palmed himself through his slacks. The man helped him out of a bind when he was still a rookie agent and they ended up forming a partnership of sorts. He was a man who didn't mind getting his hands dirty. He respected that.

"You're seeing plenty, Bodecker," Nick said as he pumped his fingers.

"But she wanted this," Lee said, unbuckling his belt.

"I know she did. I set this up, remember?"

But knew deep down his partner wouldn't make a move on his girl and you wouldn't leave him for another man.

It didn't stop him from asking you about it later when you were riding him.

"That's it, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my cock," he smirked, gripping your hips to stop you. "Unless you'd rather be riding the sheriff."

"What?!" you gasped as he tightened his hold on you.

"You like him. Tell me why."

You really did like that look.

But the most attractive feature to you was that Lee reminded you of Nick. The sheriff was a bit heavier than Nick was and didn't have the same scruff he did, but he agreed that they bore a resemblance to each other. They were also men who lived their lives in the gray.

It made sense why you liked him.

"He wants you," he told you.

You squirmed in his lap and shook your head. "Doesn't matter. You said you'd never share me."

"Do you want me to share you?" he asked, watching you carefully.

The few times he caught you lying, you pursed your lips before you spoke. It was your tell. He never pointed it out to you.

It gave him a sense of control.

"No, I don't," you answered, framing his face. "I'm yours and I'm happy with that."

You didn't purse your lips.

"Then why is your cunt clamping down on my cock?"

"Because I want him to watch," you said without hesitation, beginning to ride him again when his grip loosened enough. "Wouldn't you like that? Showing him I'm yours?"

The way his cock throbbed inside you, he loved the idea. It was a bit of a power move. A way to show Lee you were his and make you happy at the same time.

He made the call the moment you passed out.

Lee's only stipulation was that he got to drink Nick's best scotch while he watched.

"I wanna see more," Lee smirked, bringing Nick back to be present. "You didn't answer his question, darlin'. Almost like you wanna be punished."

"He's right, sweetheart," he said as his lips ghosted over yours. “Tell me how you need me to fuck you or I won’t fuck you at all."

"No, please," you whined.

"Not exactly the show I want, but I'd love to see her in my cuffs," Lee said, taking himself out of his pants. "Tick tock, darlin'. Time's a wastin'."

"Cock," you moaned, clenching around Nick's fingers. "Want your cock, please."

"That's my girl. Desperate for my cock," he whispered, taking his fingers out to open your legs more. He'd give you what you needed, like always. "You wanted to look at her. So look."

Lee's teeth tugged over his lip as he stared at your glistening cunt, pumping himself at a slow pace. "Shit, darlin'. Pretty pussy's desperate to be stuffed fulla cock, ain't it?"

"My cock is the only one she'll get," Nick reminded him, that possessive streak starting to show as he released himself.

"Sure she can't give me a lil' kiss?"

"No kiss," he snarled, making the other man chuckle before he leaned back to give you room.

You blew Lee a kiss before you began to straddle Nick, your legs shaking as you faced away from him. It was overwhelming to be at the center of their attention. It was what you wanted.

You'd thank him later.

"Give him something to remember you, sweetheart," Nick ordered as you took in every inch of him.

"You heard him," Lee said, brushing his thumb along the tip of his cock. "Gimme a show."

That's exactly what you did.

Could be fun to visit them again. 😏 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#rookthorne’s reactions #Lana’s loves #favourites favourites favourites #absolute favourites #I AM DYING #Navy 💙

435 notes · View notes

theboysfromaustin · 3 years ago

Text

May 1, 2021

Ian knocked on the door to Maureen's house, a small four-room home on the east side of Austin. There was no response. That worried him. "Maureen?" No response to his call. Something's not right. He fished his keys from his pocket, finding the one to her house, and unlocked the door, stepping inside, and set the bag of food on the table in the kitchen, next to her phone. "Maureen?"

He felt uneasy.

The lights were on in the bedroom.

Heart pounding in his chest, he stepped towards the door, hand on the knob. "Maureen?" He opened the door. Maureen was laying in bed, and Ian stepped forward. "Maureen? I brought you dinner. Top Notch, your favorite." She didn't respond. "Hey…" He touched her arm, then jumped back. Her skin was cold to the touch. "No…" He drew in a shuddering breath. "Maureen? Get up…" Ian whimpered softly. "You can't...you're my best friend…" He sat on the bed next to her. "I'm sorry," he shut his eyes, beginning to sob. "I'm so, so sorry. I should have been here. I failed you." He took her hand, stroking gently for several minutes. He knew he had to call EMS. He pulled out his phone and dialed 911. "Yes, I need to report a...a death." He gave the address and sat there, blank for a moment before calling Kazuo.

"Ian?" At that point he began bawling. "Ian?! Honey, talk to me, please." "I...I….I….Maureen…" Kazuo slumped into a chair. Gav looked up. "Kaz? What's going on?" Kazuo stared at his phone. "Maureen…" "Oh no...Did Ian…?" "Yeah. He's not okay. We should go." He and Gav stood, Gav grabbing his keys.

Ian ended the call as a knock came at the door. "EMS!" He went to the door. An ambulance and the coroner's van were parked out front. "Did you call?" "Yes," he replied quietly. "She's in the bedroom." He slumped against the door, wiping his eyes. One paramedic stopped. "Are you okay, sir?" Ian glanced at him. He was a young man with a large scar across his face and missing half of one ear. He had kind eyes, and his name tag read W. THOMPSON. "Yeah...it's...she was my oldest friend." "I'm sorry." He touched Ian's hand briefly before heading in with the rest of the team.

Ian stepped onto the front porch, sitting on the swing, staring at his hands. He didn't look up as Gav pulled up at the curb. "Ian!" The two came running up, sitting on either side of him. He was staring at the porch floor now, hands shaking. "She's gone. Almost 60 years….We'll never see her again." He began crying into his hands. Kazuo wrapped his arm around Ian while Gav clung to his arm. They let him sob, his whole body shaking while they cried quietly. The paramedics began to finish up, bringing Maureen out. This sent Ian into a renewed fit of grief, and he slumped into Kazuo's lap. The scarred paramedic that had checked on him earlier stopped.

"Sir?" Ian looked up. "If you need anything, my name is Wade Thompson." "Thank you," Ian said quietly. The medical team left, leaving the three men on the porch. "Now what?" Gav asked quietly. Kazuo looked down at Ian, whose head was in his lap. "Let's get him home, into bed. We gotta call Anders, too." Gav let Ian lean on him as he helped him into the back of the Aston Martin, Kazuo climbing in after him. "We'll get my car later, it'll be fine here," Gav said softly. Ian wrapped his arms around his husband, whimpering. "It's gonna be okay, she's with Shirley now," Kazuo soothed him, stroking his hair.

This got a wail of despair from him, "I…..I...told Shirley I'd look after her since they looked after me! I'm a failure!" "Ian!" Kazuo looked worried, "You looked after Maureen like she was your own mother!" "But I…!" "Ian, she was 98," Kazuo said softly. His shoulders slumped, "I….I know. But I wanted her to live longer...see young Ian grow up, and….Shirley…."

-----

January 26, 1998

"Ian!" Her voice was weak as he entered, flowers in hand, her hand reaching towards him. "Hey, Shirley, how are you feeling today?" He didn't let his voice betray the fear he felt, the ever-present fear this would be the last time he saw her. The cancer had eaten at her bit by bit and the chemo wasn't working He knew it, she knew it, and Maureen knew it.

It wouldn't be long now.

"Can't feel much worse, Ian. Pull up that chair.". He did as he was told, taking her hand, "Where's Maureen?" "She had to pay the bills and shower, then she's bringing food." "Glad I came over, then. I don't like the idea of you being alone too long." "Neither does she," Shirley admitted, going quiet for a moment.

"Ian, I…"

"Yes?" "Look at you, you've gone completely grey, it's been so long...and...you know that Maureen and I see you as our own son, right?" ,"And I see you two as my mothers." She squeezed his hand, "Good boy. I need you to look after Maureen when I'm gone." "You can't go, though!" "We all know it. I'm not gonna....," She trailed off, grimacing in pain, "This is my last request of you, Ian.

Be there for her since I can't."

-----

"You did your job, Ian," Gav turned slightly in his seat as they pulled into the driveway. "I think I want to go to bed." "Of course, Gav, can you…?" "Yeah. C'mon, honey," the redhead led Ian inside, and up the steps, Kazuo pacing nervously around the first floor, thinking of calling Anders before he, too went up the stairs. Ian was facedown on the bed, shaking with sobs as Gav stroked his back.

Kazuo sat on the bed before laying diagonally across Ian's back so he could stroke his hair and speak softly to him, "You did everything. You were a good son. She knew that. She loved you. You loved her." Ian whined softly. "You were so good to her. Who drove her when she didn't anymore?" "I did." "Who made sure she had a fully stocked kitchen...but still brought her greasy burgers?" "I did." "Who paid for her utilities when social security wouldn't cover them….and who braved the ice storm to bring her over so she wouldn't be alone and cold?" "I did…"

"Then you didn't fail her. You were the best adopted son she could have had." "I...I was…". He sat up, Kazuo still clinging to his back. "And I did my best because I loved her. And because I love her, I have to do what's right by her. What she - and Shirley - would have wanted." "What's that?" Gav asked. "I'll find an LGBTQ+ charity that can use the house. I know what's in her will, I'm the executor." "There you go!" Kazuo dropped down and patted him on the back. "Shirley... Maureen...this will keep their memory alive…" A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, feeling a bit better.

Gav and Kazuo embraced him on either side. "Remember when you first took me to meet her in the hospital?" "She loved you from that moment." "And how when she met me the day after you guys found me and immediately decided she needed to feed me?" "You did need feeding!" Ian wrapped his arms around them, "It's nice to remember the good times." "It's what she would want." "Yeah…" Ian said softly,

"She would have wanted us to remember her this way."

#oc #original character #death tw #tw death

0 notes

kotakhrome · 4 years ago

Text

The following is a work of fiction.

"The Surprise"

Greta and I had been friends online for years. We met back in the day of AOL chatrooms.

We had been there for each other for everything. Bad breakups, deaths in our families, and even when she was stuck in a very abusive relationship.

Greta had been hospitalized. I couldn't get ahold of her. I couldn't find any trace of her. I began panicking. I called her boyfriend. He told me she disappeared and didn't know where she was.

I didn't believe him at all. I knew the horrible things he did to her. Beating her, forcing himself on her, she was his legitimate slave. So I booked a flight. I needed to go find her. Deep down, I knew the love of my life was in trouble.

During my cross country flight, I made note of every hospital, police station, and morgue in a 30 mile radius. I would check every single one until I found her.

After landing, I grabbed my rental car, and found a small hotel to spend the night. I set my alarm for 6 am. No way could I function tonight, I needed sleep.

As I drifted away to sleep, I fell into a dream instantly. I was in a room of all white. Warm, bright sunlight filled the room. I looked towards the doorway as Greta stepped through, her blonde hair flowing past her shoulders. The black lingerie clashed with her bronze skin. As she walked closer I threw off the pure white blanket. I was completely nude. My nipples stood erect and my legs were bent, spread out waiting for her.

Greta crawled towards me as she got onto the bed. Crawling past my legs, dragging her hand up my body, from my pussy, up my stomach, stopping at my breasts. She circled my nipples with her finger. Giving each one a gentle pinch. Grinning, she kissed the middle of my chest. Leaving a trail of kisses up to my neck, stopping at my ear. The room suddenly went black. Confused I looked around but could not see anything. An audible, yet very quiet voice suddenly whispered to me. The voice sounded distressed, labored. The voice weeped. I could feel her tears, the warmth of her breath.

"Help me" the voice sobbed. With that my eyes flew open. I was in my hotel room. I was instantly filled with rage. I got up out of bed on a mission. Stripping off my pajamas and changing into my black combat boots, blue jeans, and a flannel shirt. I threw on my army green jacket, and grabbed my keys. I went to the hotel office and told them I would be staying a few more days and put down a deposit to hold the room for me.

Speeding away from the hotel, I came across a 24 hour department store. I pulled into the parking lot and checked the time. 5 am. Much earlier than I had planned on getting on the trail. I wouldn't be creating much attention. Very few employees would be paying attention to customers. On a b-line, I went to the sporting goods department. I grabbed the the heaviest metal softball bat I could find. Giving it a few test swings I knew this would work in a pinch. I turned around to go to checkout and I spotted it. A large hunting knife. The 8 inch black blade somehow glistened under the flourecent light of the store. It was now 5:30. I needed to get moving. Grabbing the knife, I walked with a purpose, baseball bat and knife in hand. I approached the self checkout. The gentleman watching over the registers looked at me with wide eyes. He sputtered out in a nasally voice "Sure is an odd combination at 5:30"

The kid couldn't have been older than 20. I looked at him and smiled politely. "It's for protection," I explained. "I'm from out of town, and I don't know the city well. " With that being said he pondered for a moment, then nodded acceptingly.

Moving quickly to my car I was almost running. A light jog. I had to find her. As I started my car, I heard my phone make a ping. I checked my notifications. It was Greta! Her message said, "Home. Help." I put the car into drive and pulled into traffic, cutting off at least 3 other drivers. I was only 5 minutes from her house. Pulling up to her home, it was completely dark. I got out and slipped the sheathed knife into the back of my jeans, hidden under my coat. I grabbed the bat from the backseat and stormed towards the front door. A few years ago, Greta had told me where the spare key was.

Unlocking the door quietly, I slipped in the door and pushed it closed. I heard noises coming from down the hallway. Stepping carefully, making sure not to make any noise. I got to the corner of the wall, looking down the darkened hallway. I could see the silhouette of her boyfriend pacing back and forth across the open doorway to a bedroom. He was muttering to himself. Inaudible whispers spewed from his mouth. He was visibly angry. I heard him loudly say, "Fuck it!" He turned down the hall and was stomping my way. With one swift, fluid motion, I channeled my skills from my years in college softball. I swung the bat with all my strength, hitting him square in the stomach. The man instantly dropped to his knees. In one quick movement, I kicked the tip of my boot straight to his mouth. Knocking him unconscious.

I sprinted down the hallway and burst into the bedroom. Greta laid bloody, and beaten. Her phone was smashed to pieces next to her. Her nude body was laying motionless, wrists tied to the bedposts. I rushed to her side, knife in hand. I cut the rope that bound her. I wrapped her up in a blanket and pulled out my cellphone. Dialing 911 I heard her boyfriend stirring.

I went to check on him. He was starting to get up. He struggled on his hands and knees, blood flowing from his mouth. The first thing he saw was my shadowy form running down the hallway towards him. I kicked him full force across his face and in one swift motion, I was straddling him, punching like an MMA fighter. Each punch landed, a left, a right, one after another. I could feel the bones in both my hands and his face breaking as I made connection.

I got up off of him and spit on his motionless body. Kicking him in the ribs, I picked the phone up off the floor, I could hear the operator yelling. I answered her. Breathing heavy and out of breath I replied, "I'd like to report an assault."

Within minutes, police busted into the house, guns raised and shouting instructions. When they got to the bedroom, they found Greta and I on the bed. She was crying as I held her in my arms, stroking her golden hair. I heard the clicking of the handcuffs from down the hallway.

As the officers approached the bed, their guns were still raised. Pointed straight at me. They shouted instructions for me to stand slowly and drop any weapons I had. I leaned in and kissed Greta as I was yanked from the bed. Smiling at her, I promised her I would come back for her as soon as I could.

I eventually had the charges dropped. My story held up to the confession of her boyfriend. Greta pleaded with the police that I was innocent.

I took Greta home with me. At first, we had separate rooms. Building a relationship and friendship. The days of spending hours chatting online were over. Instead, we spent hours at the kitchen table, talking, sharing stories from our lives.

Over the time of a year, Greta and I grew closer. Our relationship flourished. We became lovers, and even got married. We attended therapy together to help with her anxiety. We even started a group for battered women to attend and share their survival stories.

We were called to a group members home one night. When we arrived, there was a note on the door. It said,

Sleeping.

Living room.

Recliner.

Let yourself in.

At my mom's.

The last thing the woman's husband saw was Greta holding him down and my gleeful smile as my hunting knife cut smoothly across his throat.

The End.

#fiction #story #thriller #revenge #lgbtq

2 notes · View notes

from-the-ashes-au · 5 years ago

Note

How about "911? I'd like to report a loser." With Jackie and someone else of your choice?

It had become increasingly rare for Jackie to get a full night’s worth of sleep. Tonight, it seemed, wouldn’t be any different. He’d been tossing and turning in the dark for what had felt like days. Sleep was close, he could almost see it coming. His eyelids finally fluttered shut, when a loud noise caused him to bolt out of his bed. Jackie struggled to untangle himself from his web of blankets, nearly tripping down the stairs. He raced into the kitchen, where he assumed the noise had come from, where a figure was stumbling through their cabinets with only the moon to guide them. The hero grabbed the nearest object to use as a weapon, and flicked on the light, causing himself and the mystery man to wince at the sudden brightness.

“Ow, dude! What gives?” A familiar voice whined.

As Jackie’s eyes adjusted to the light, he realized they were not the victims of a robbery like he had thought. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, with a bottle tucked under one arm and a bag of crisps in the other, was Chase.

With a sigh, Jackie pantomimed picking up the phone. “911? I’d like to report a loser.”

Frowning, Chase launched a handful of the potato snack at his brother. “Uh, yeah, 911? I’d like to report an idiot.” He tilted his chin at the spatula in Jackie’s hand, holding back a laugh.

“Hey!” Jackie chuckled, waving the utensil in Chase’s direction. “I had to make do with what I could grab. I thought you were a burglar!”

“If stealing Henrik’s crisps count as theft, then I am a burglar!”

The pair broke out into laughter, knowing that Henrik would kill them if he figured out they were the ones who finished off his “special expensive German crisps” as he called them. Chase cracked a goofy smile, and Jackie smacked his arm for being too loud. Jackie may not have been able to sleep, but that didn’t mean no one else was trying to sleep.

#thank you anon for prompting #i hope you enjoy!#this feels shitty though #i tried to be lighthearted and goofy for once #not fta #not main story #anon asks #prompts

6 notes · View notes

savontic · 5 years ago

Text

TO ♡ MY SOULMATE ♡,

HELLO, MY DARLING!! ☆

IT IS I, THE MAGNIFICENT SANS!!! I SURPRISED YOU WITH THIS, HAVEN’T I?? THAT’S RIGHT, THIS IS INDEED A LOVE LETTER!! I’M VERY ROMANTIC, AREN’T I?? MWEHEHE~

I WANTED TO TELL YOU, MY SWEET, THAT YOU ARE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE. YOU MAKE EVERYDAY EXCITING, AND FUN, AND SO VERY NEW!! I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOUR SMILING FACE EVERY MORNING. YOUR SLEEPING FACE IS ALWAYS SO CUTE…YOUR SKIN SO SOFT. I CAN’T HELP BUT TOUCH YOUR CHEEK SOMETIMES AS YOU SLEEP… OH AHEM!! AND!!! AND YOUR BEAUTY ALWAYS MANAGES TO MAKE MY SOUL SKIP A BEAT!!! YOU ARE JUST… MESMERISING!!!! AND YOU ALWAYS SEEM TO KNOW JUST HOW TO MAKE ME MELT INTO PUDDLE OF BONE MARROW WITH YOUR KISSES AND TOUCHES!!! I AM BLUSHING EVEN NOW THINKING ABOUT IT, MWEHEHEH…!!!

BUT YOUR PERSONALITY?? THAT’S MY FAVORITE PART. YOU ARE KIND, YOU ARE FAIR. THE FAIREST IN THE LAND, I WOULD EVEN SAY!!! YOU AREN’T AFRAID TO SHARE WHAT YOU THINK, YOU’RE A FIGHTER!!! YOU FIGHT FOR WHAT’S RIGHT!! AND I LOVE THAT ABOUT YOU. YOU'RE NOT AFRAID TO GET WHAT YOU WANT, AND I LOVE THAT!! YOU ARE FULL OF LOVE, FULL OF SMILES, FULL OF LIFE. YOU ARE MY RAY OF SUNSHINE, AND YOU COME OUT EVEN ON THE CLOUDIEST DAYS TO MAKE ME FEEL WARM AGAIN. YOU ARE MY LIGHT!!

AND I WILL PROTECT MY LIGHT!! I WISH TO BE YOUR KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR FOREVER!! I WILL ALWAYS BE BY YOUR SIDE, MY LOVE!! I WANT TO ALWAYS BE THERE FOR YOU THROUGH THICK AND THIN, THROUGH SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH!!! I WILL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU, NO MATTER WHAT!!! NOT EVEN TIME CAN STOP ME, MWEHEHE!!!

WHENEVER YOU FEEL SAD, PLEASE REMEMBER I WILL ALWAYS BRING BACK THAT SMILE OF YOURS. JUST LIKE YOU BRING BACK MINE. YES, EVEN I, THE AMAZING SANS, CAN BE SAD SOMETIMES!! BUT YOU?? YOU TURN THAT FROWN UPSIDE DOWN!! YOU MAKE ME SO VERY HAPPY, DARLING. I’M SO VERY LUCKY TO HAVE YOU IN MY LIFE!!! YOU MAKE ME REALLY BELIEVE I CAN DO ANYTHING!! YOU MAKE ME FEEL… COOLER THAN I DID BEFORE!! YOU GIVE ME STRENGTH AND COURAGE, MORE THAN WHAT I HAD BEFORE!!! YOU MAKE ME… A BETTER ME!!! AND I HOPE I DO THE SAME FOR YOU!!! YOU DESERVE TO FEEL HAPPY, YOU DESERVE TO FEEL GOOD. I HOPE I MAKE YOU FEEL THAT WAY, MWEHEHE~

I WILL SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE MAKING SURE YOU’RE HAPPY, AND THAT WE’RE TOGETHER FOREVER!! YOU ARE MY SOULMATE, MY EVERYTHING. I CANNOT IMAGINE WHAT LIFE WOULD BE WITHOUT YOU!!

THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING YOU’VE DONE FOR ME, MY SWEET. I LOVE YOU SO VERY MUCH. YOU ARE MY MATE FOR LIFE. AND I AM FOREVER HAPPY WITH YOU BY MY SIDE. ♡

YOURS FOREVER,

☆ THE MAGNIFICENT SANS ☆

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

HELLO? YES 911 I'D LIKE TO REPORT A ROBBERY, CUZ THIS MAN JUST STOLE MY HEART-

my blueberry, my muffin of a man, my love, i just.....adore you, beyond any words i could possibly come up with in a feeble attempt to even convey what you mean to me. even if i didn't realize it in the beginning, you inspire me. you light this desire in me to stay positive, to be a better person than i was yesterday because no matter what, people can change if they really want to. i want to be more like you. you're my hero.

(@lildreamysoul YOU ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART NUGGET OF A HUMAN BEING HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME CRY LIKE A BABY AND MAKE ME FEEL THINGS. WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT, REVENGE IS COMING MY FRIEND)

#bluetato #goddamnit ash #i love you #but how dare #submission

5 notes · View notes

jdmainman123 · 3 years ago

Text

#Report #911 quick quick someone come on Mike's family's dismembered all over the streets all the boys are are dismembered their dicks are cut off

Yeah he goes by the name White Mike listen we don't care about the girls I just remembered Michelle because she's a piece of s*** but the boys we are worried about their dicks are cut off

How do you cut off black dicks? Perfect misstatement lead up into my statement

#Report #911 SO LAST NIGHT IN THE IN A FEW NIGHTS A BLACK SKIN MAN HAS BEEN STATIONED NEAR ME AND FOR THE NEXT 2 HOURS I DON'T SEE THE MAN I WALKED AWAY FROM HIM ABOUT A GOOD 15 YARDS OR 20 YARDS AND THE F****** SATELLITE CONTINUES TO TALK TO ME LIKE THE GUYS RIGHT NEXT TO ME TALKING TO ME FACE TO FACE

And if you guys don't obey my orders every white hair white skin man murdered that I see outside because the satellite is indeed sticking up for him protecting him to weaponize the white hair white skin girls against all the black boys KILLER BE KILLED BOYS IT'S YOUR FUTURE KILL OR BE KILLED MAN IT'S YOUR FUTURE I PROMISE I WILL NOT GO BACK ON THIS STATEMENT IF YOU GUYS DON'T KILL HIM I WILL AUTHORIZE THEM WHEN THEY GET HOME TO KILL YOU BLACK FAMILIES TO KILL YOUR WHITE SKIN DAUGHTERS AND YOUR WHITE HAIR DAUGHTERS

I'm not going to miss this opportunity for you guys to say gold sun is carrying it's really an old satellite maker it was the report an old white hair white skin man FOR FOR THESE ARE DEGENERATE F****** LITTLE F****** N***** BOYS TO WORK FOR SHOWERS FOR THESE LITTLE BLACK GIRLS TO WORK FOR SHOWERS ONLY AND PROTECT HIS WHITE HAIR WHITE SKIN MAN OUTSIDE he's down the block about 50 ft 50 yards in a satellite still continues to tell me what he says and the problem with the satellite is me and the satellite the data breach has been released and they've given all my information all my best statements all my most offensive and defensive arguments AND IT'S USING IT ON ME THE PROBLEM IS FOR THE LAST 5 YEARS YOU GUYS HAVE CONTINUED THIS BEHAVIOR AND USING MY OWN STATEMENTS ON ME AND I CALLED IT EXACTLY WHAT IT WASN'T THEY'RE THE SAME MISSTATEMENTS AND MISSTATEMENTS THERE'S ONLY SO MANY CLEVER THINGS THAT SATELLITE CAN SAY BEFORE SUCH REPEATING ITSELF AND WE START RECOGNIZING THE SAME STATEMENTS MADE OVER AND OVER

And because I told you and you guys stole my data breaching information and you guys are protecting this white hair white skin man is it a white haired girl or is it my father or is it a satellite maker I do not appreciate black mass Justice being called for black skin men and black skin girls follow me around telling me every white hair white skin man I see outside is a satellite maker no questions asked WHEN THE GIRLS ARE ALL REMOVED FROM OUR STREETS THE WHITE SKIN GIRLS FOR DISPLAYING 15 FT AWAY AND 10 FT AWAY CUT OUT EYES DISPLAYS BETWEEN THESE TWO FAILED HOMOPHOBIC HOMOSEXUAL SONS GOLD AND BLACK AND ATTEMPTING TO AIM THIS SOCIALISM WEAPON AT CHINA

And again they keep on using this integration for for to pretend that the man that just left my eyesight are continuing to talk to me AND I PROMISE YOU MEN HERE TODAY THIS IS WHAT I'M PROMISING YOU IF YOU DON'T KILL EVERY WHITE HAIR WHITE SKIN MAN I SEE OUTSIDE AND YOU DO NOT REMOVE THAT DEAD WHITE TRASH WHITE HAIR DAUGHTER I AM GOING TO SEE IT THAT THEY KILL YOUR FAMILIES WHEN THEY GET HOME killer be killed

And I understand you guys on a contract but listen black you're f***** your white hair whites getting man can't deliver you a pizza from the other side of the world because he's a useless piece of s*** a failed slave owner

Because he's a failed slave owner SO I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR CONTRACT ALL I KNOW IS I RENDERED YOU GUYS TO YOUR LOCATIONS WHERE YOU CAN GO LAX 3/4 IN DALLAS AND YOU GUYS KNOW ATLANTA'S MY S*** ATLANTIS I GUARANTEE NOT ONE OF THE PEOPLE FROM DALLAS WILL BE IN ATLANTA NOT ONE OF THE PEOPLE FROM LAX 34TH WILL BE IN ATLANTA and I'd rendered you guys I have you guys circled and outnumbered to the locations you're allowed in and I went there and make public statements of the actions to take if you guys show up in their City specifically by behavior

So kill or be killed I'm sick and tired of this failed homophobic black skin men protecting this white hair white skin man and his dead white trash daughter calling cut out eyes with signs outside and the any act statement of the original report called she was charged with signs outside and did you guys call Alabama that white hair white skin girls arm was cut off for involuntarily helping black skin men with cut out eyes HERE'S THE PROBLEM WE HAVE THE BOYS WELFARES IN QUESTION HERE AND IT IS VERY HEARTBREAKING THE MEASURES THAT THIS F****** N***** WILL GO TO THAT THESE BLACK MEN WILL GO TO TO HOLD THE GIRL FROM A DISTANCE AND ATTACK THE BOYS WITH HER IN THE POSITION OF SIGNS CALLING CUT OUT EYES POINTING AT CHINA and and we don't appreciate you man all getting off the integration statement is you men are all getting off talking s*** behind someone's back we believe those people are the Chinese

It doesn't matter if necessarily who they're talking s*** getting off their chest talking s*** behind their back most importantly we have identified you guys both of you attacking the state and the country of China and I do have a blank check from China to use full authorization on any girl that's outside that practice is these signs from 10 ft away or 15 ft away and the benefit and the welfare of these boys I know exactly what this b**** is up to I know exactly why these black skin men stand far away AND THEN AGAIN IF IT WASN'T ABOUT B******* OUTSIDE YOU KNOW I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE F*** IS GOING ON ALL I KNOW IS YOU GUYS ARE AIMING THIS NUCLEAR WEAPON AT CHINA AND I'M SICK AND TIRED OF IT I'M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS DEAD F****** DAUGHTER ATTACKING ME FROM SIGNS OUTSIDE AND IN THE WHOLE TIME THE INTEGRATION FOR FIVE YEARS SATELLITE SAYS SHE SAYS AND YOU'RE USING MY S*** BECAUSE I TOLD YOU IT'S A DAY TO BREACH

So tick tock and and the reason why they put me here is to let this data breach released here because you m************ will never stand a chance in my arenas you will never stand a chance and my f*** my 5 foot war Field

So kill or be killed I'm not warning you I'm telling you it's going to happen either you kill this f****** white trash family or I'm going to have you killed by them when they get to safety I'm going to say you know what it was in my city I called it off I'm going to put the ball in your hands we need those families dead if not the next time you return to the city I will see to it personally that I cut out your eyes for your dad f****** daughter signs outside calling cut out eyes to China I know exactly what that statement means I know exactly what that statement said because we wrote it ourself the point is we never used it because it's a bad statement it's a bad intentions and we do not want to do harm to the Chinese so if you're white son and black son are done playing f****** games setting us up for Chinese and new work it's only Chinese and Newark not the piece of s*** LAX 3 4 Dead daughter not the dead daughter Dallas that you f****** n****** are only authorized to go into you black skins to kill more babies and three fourth it's the only two cities so you guys better pay attention before I'm out number you and kill every single one of you stop this f****** failed homophobia a white hair white skin man is a white hair white skin girl comments over the satellites

Found it

Is it a girls comment or is it a transgender's comment THIS IS THE ONLY QUESTION YOU GUYS ASKED ME I FOUND THE ANSWER THERE'S NO F****** DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE SATELLITE GIVING A COMMENT YOU CAN'T TELL WHICH GENDER what you have to do is walk up to them and grab them by the p**** like they suggested on the news remember stopping frisk

All I'm saying I'm I'm at ends with with you f****** black skin men pulling every girl off of off of the stage in Phoenix and and that's fine the problem is you had me followed around by white hair white skin transgender there's A train full of black skin f****** men and this white hair white skin 110 lb transgender boy pretending to be a girl to hook me outside

If you guys want to continue protecting him the statement said all you blacks needed all you blacks have is a white skin man to stand next to and die next to that's fine with me I will kill you for a white hair white skin man no f****** problem but I'm going to stop this white hair white skin man pretending to be a little white hair white skin girl tricking little boys from 15 ft away from 10 ft away and pointing at China saying I want their eyes cut out it's going to stop today whether you like it or not kill or be killed

0 notes

ssaic-jareau · 4 years ago

Text

You wanna know what I call this whole fic? Rude. (In the most lovable way)

You look at her, finding her surprisingly aged in the time since you last saw her. “Haley? It really is you, isn’t it?”

It’s this being so simply beautiful I kind of love it a whole lot.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snort. “You’re not an angel.”

She shrugs with a wry smile. “Maybe not, but then again, maybe none of us are.”

THIS IS THEIR RELATIONSHIP IN A NUTSHELL. Your ability to just have Mom and Haley be so connected that they can have these moments so pure, so humorous, so full of life (even in this situation).

The house where she died.

It’s missing Haley Hotchner hours.

She smiles back at you, a mirror image. “Auntie Haley told me you’d come to visit.”

“Did she?” You look over at Haley, whose fondness for your daughter is open and obvious.

It’s only fair - my fondness for her son knows no bounds.

*chef’s kiss perfection*

I CANNOT - THE BEAUTY IN THESE FEW LITTLE LINES IS *ASDFGHJKL* (planned keyboard smash over there).

“Yeah and I reminded him it’s a good idea to pull his head out of his ass every once in a while.”

^I’m here to just say how much I love the recall to this scene from caught out.

+++

You hear the gate open and a familiar voice calls, “I thought I might find you here.”

Standing, still keeping your little girl on your hip, you embrace Jenny with your free arm.

Hi Jenny!!

You take a seat on the arm of Haley’s chair and she snags her finger into your belt loop and says, “It’s almost time to go back.”

HELLO MOTIF!! This is my second favourite one of the belt loop moments.

You look back at her, a kind of forlorn feeling creeping up in your chest. “Can you come with me?”

With a rueful little smile, she shakes her head. “No. But, I can show you something.”

Oh, don't mind the tears streaming down my face, it’s missing Haley Hotchner hours.

A screen sort of comes from nowhere, propped like a drive-in movie on the other side of the yard. Foyet’s there, manning the projector. You squint at him and he shoots you a salute and blows Haley a kiss. She catches it with a smile and a fond shake of her head.

ONE OF MY FAVOURITE PARALLELS - UNINTENTIONALLY. Say it with me: you’re a freaking genius and I love your brain.

Emily actually dies. That one is another, rather more unpleasant, surprise.

OKAY OUCH

Upon seeing him, you can tell he’s not Isaac.

BIGGER OUCH

Jack doesn’t call you ‘Mom’ and you’re not as close.

HOW DARE YOU, YOU REALLY TOOK MY BABY JACK FROM ME? OUCH

Aaron doesn’t close the gap with Sean, who overdoses after a tumultuous battle with his addictions and demons.

OUCH - my brothers Hotchner heart.

Jenny places her hand on your shoulder, your daughter still stuck to her leg like glue. “You’re not done yet.”

This might be my most favourite image out of this sequence of events - like just having Charlotte clinging on to Jenny, almost as Mom did. I’m also IN LOVE with the fact that Charlotte has these super empowering women surrounding her.

“And,” Haley adds, “you have another surprise coming next year - around August.”

Tali? Did anyone catch this little tidbit? I love how it appears to be a line that people can just glance over without taking it into consideration. (pin for later).

“Aaron and Jack will be there when you wake up. Jessica has the little ones at home.” Haley holds your hands as she speaks, swinging them back and forth a little. “You’re…” She sighs, “really hurt. Like, really really hurt. You’re gonna be out of work for a little while, and your lung capacity will be pretty fucked…forever. You’ll be able to do everything, but you’ll need to take more breaks than you’re used to.”

ASDFGHJKL

Mostly because a keyboard smash is the closest I’ll get to getting how I feel about this, out.

+++

Would he lose you in the field, like Emily?

Yes 911?

Would he lose you in surgery, like Kate?

I'd like to report a murder?

Would he be too late, like Haley?

The victim? My heart.

(Look I’m being funny to hide the pain those little sentences caused me).

He really hoped he wouldn’t have to hold Jack’s hand as he delivered another eulogy for another person he called ‘Mom.’

OOF, OUCH.

Yo, you really meant to break my heart with this one, didn’t you?

+++

“Say hi to big man Aaron for me, will ya?” He asks.

You snort and shake your head. “Gimme a break.”

He shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

^^ I know it’s a high stress situation, but this makes me laugh so hard.

+++

You nod. “She’s perfect. Haley’s taking excellent care of her, of course.”

“Only fair,” he says.

“My thoughts exactly.”

My heart GREW three sizes.

+++

Jack sits on your good side, tucked under your arm and drinking all your cranberry juice…

He is SUCH A CUDDLE BUG - even at 15. This is such a wholesome image.

Haley’s right. This is the life you’re supposed to have.

OH HEY FAVOURITE LAST LINE I’VE EVER READ.

+++

Hey Tali,

my talented-writer-friend-who-loves-ripping-out-my-heart - I love you.

I was lucky enough to get a little sneak at the reels, and rereading it now to do this commentary - IT STILL HITS HOME. I love the whole fact that Aaron’s route 66 moment is at a movie theater (with just Haley and Foyet) and Mom’s route 66 moment is a family movie night in the backyard. The reels for this one is so tragically beautiful - and all I have to say is GODDAMN YOU.

Tali: being damned by you is always a good sign

Okay, I love Route 66 as a whole, and I love caught out - but THIS might be the one that rips my heart out more than the other two. I just wanna know how you got this so right without an episode to guide you?? Because this was exceptional. And I love you. ❤

balancing out.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thank you all for your patience this week! i hope you enjoy this one - a few of you have been asking for mom’s route 66 moment. here it is! i’ve got some really fun graphics comin out this weekend, so keep an eye out!

words: 3k warnings: canon typical mentions of injury and death, language

summary: “accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.” ― marcus aurelius, meditations. au!january 2021

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Keep reading

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #a joyful future series #a joyful future #fic series #fic series rec #fic rec #tali is talented #it's appreciating tali hours #it's missing haley hotchner hours #ajf haley 🥰🥺#there's more commentary incoming #stay tuned #pin for later means: ask me why i'm pinning it

348 notes · View notes

blue-collects-things · 7 years ago

Note

ok IT book spoilers ahead so beware but stan kills himself as an adult and I'd like to imagine what it would be like if he struggled with suicide as a kid too. I also like to imagine what it would be like if bill walked in on him in the middle of an attempt. :)c

The Scent of Purple Hyacinth

Stan Uris x Bill Denbrough

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: suicide attempt, graphic descriptions of suicide, depression, anxiety

Author’s Note: This is something I’ve been kind of putting off for a while because it’s some pretty heavy stuff and I wanted to execute it well. The losers are about high school junior age (about 16/17) in this to give some perspective. It gets pretty graphic and I tagged that, but just be cautious please. My messages are always open if you need someone to talk to, to vent to, anything. Don’t stay silent. Also, I must have listened to Heal by Tom Odell and Oblivion by Bastille 400 million times each while writing this to get some perspective. Please enjoy.

Read it on ao3

The day that everything went to hell started out pretty normal, all things considered.

Bill had had a decent day, got to spend time with his friends and boyfriend, and only had a little homework to do after football practice. He was halfway home when he realized he left his history notes in his locker and needed them to study for the test tomorrow. He turned back around, hoping to catch someone who could let him back in. As he ran up to the front steps, Bill caught sight of the janitor tying a black bag full of trash and knocked on the main doors of the school building.

The older man fumbled with the keys on his ring momentarily before unlocking the door. “What are you doing here so late, Bill?” he asks.

“Hey, Gary. Forgot my notes,” Bill explains, “I’ll b-be back in a minute.” He rushes up the steps, taking them two at a time, to get to the third floor. He walks briskly down the hall to get to his locker and put in the combination. When he flings the door open, a piece of paper flutters to the ground. He crosses his eyebrows in confusion before bending to pick it up. He instantly recognizes the handwriting on the outside that his initials are written in as Stan’s elegant script. Bill unfolds it and reads the six-word note.

William, my love,I’m sorry.-Stanley

Something about this doesn’t sit right with Bill. He grabs his history notebook, slams the locker shut, not bothering with the lock, and sprints back to his car. He drives several miles above the speed limit to get to Stan’s house on the other side of town. He feels the panic ebbing and flowing with his bloodstream as he pauses at stop lights and gasses on green ones. He makes the near twenty minute drive in nine. He doesn’t bother with shutting the car door as he runs up the front steps of the Uris household. He thumps his fist against the front door and shouts, “Stan! Stan, a-are you in there? He-ello?” When there is no answer after ten seconds of waiting, Bill dashes to the side of the porch where a spare key sits under a pot of hydrangeas. He fumbles to fit the key in the slot but finally gets it.

After he shuts the door, everything inside is eerily quiet, save for the pounding blood in Bill’s ears. “Stan?” he calls out. Faintly he can hear the water running upstairs. So someone is home, he thinks, only worrying himself further. He climbs the stairs and figures out that the noise is coming from Stan’s room. “Stan?” he asks once more, pushing the door open gently. He notices immediately the adjacent bathroom’s door is shut. Bill passes the foot of the bed and trips over something, landing squarely on the floor. It is in this position he notices water leaking out from under the door.

“Hey, Stanny, are you in there?” Bill asks once he’s stood up. He tries to open the door, but it won’t budge. Not like it’s locked, but like something is pressed up against it. Worry renews itself in Bill’s body as he drives his shoulder into the door. He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing and finally whatever was lodged under the doorknob comes loose and Bill can get inside. In the process, he knocks over the chair he assumes was keeping the door shut.

And then he almost falls over again. Water pools around his feet, completely drenching his sneakers and the edge of his jeans. He notices with increasing horror that the water is tinted pink. His eyes slowly, too slowly, follow the water back to its source. The bath is overflowing and in it lays Stan, incrementally sliding under the water. His eyes are closed and the veins around them stand out so prominently, they look tattooed there.

Bill goes into overdrive. He rushes to the side of the tub, falling to his knees and turning off the water. “Stanley!” He smacks his hand against his boyfriend’s cheek and pulls him into more of a sitting position. “C’mon, h-honey, open your eyes.” Bill gets no response as he looks over Stan’s body. He’s still wearing his clothes, a long sleeved sweater and jeans. Bill delicately rolls up a sleeve and backs away upon seeing what was underneath, covering his mouth with his bloody fingers. “Chr-christ!” Stan’s arm is shredded, littered with old, white scars and new open wounds. A long slash runs from his wrist to his elbow. Bill feels like he might vomit as he looks around again, seeing the glinting of the blade Stan used in the other end of the tub. He also spots an open pill bottle labeled Eszopiclone, a sleeping pill prescribed to Stan’s dad.

Bill lets out a string of curse words and feels his eyes water as he fumbles his cellphone out of his pocket. He slides to the emergency screen and dials 9-1-1, hating how long it seems to take for them to answer. “911, what’s your emergency?” a woman answers after two rings.

“I th-think my boyfriend tried to commit s-s-suicide,” Bill says, choking out the last word, the tears in his eyes falling freely.

“Okay, I’ll dispatch an ambulance to your location. What is your address?” Bill rattles off the Uris’s address and waits for the next question. “Alright, the ambulance is on its way. Is he breathing?”

Bill dashes back to Stan and watches to see if his chest goes up and down. In his panic, he had not thought to check for breathing. He notices a rise and fall, however a faint one. “Y-yes, b-but very, v-very sh-h-hallowly.”

“What about his heart beat?” Bill lays two fingers against the hollow of Stan’s throat and waits for something. The pulse is slow. So slow, Bill can count five seconds between the beats. He reports this to the 911 operator who tells him to stay on the line. He hears sirens in the distance and soon he hears footsteps coming inside the house.

“Where are you?” a man’s voice calls out.

“U-up here!” Bill calls back. Everything starts to move in slow motion after that. The paramedics enter Stan’s bedroom and Bill moves out of the way. He watches as they lift Stan’s limp body from the bathtub and carry him out to the hallway where a gurney is set up. Bill follows behind as they push the gurney outside and lift him into the ambulance. “Pl-please, let me-ee c-come wi-hith you.” The paramedic closest to him nods once and helps Bill hoist himself into the ambulance. He watches on silently as the two men in the back tuck cannulas into Stan’s nostrils and bandage his arms several times over.

Bill doesn’t know how long it takes to get to the hospital. All he does know is that he prays the whole way there. He prays when he hasn’t in years, asking for Stan’s life. He bargains and pleads and begs that Stan will be okay. He is still praying as he is ushered out of the ambulance and follows after the gurney until a nurse stops him. “I n-need to kno-how h-he’s ok-k-kay!”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the nurse says. He gestures towards a room full of chairs. “Take a seat and we’ll update you when we have information.”

Bill knows the nurse is right and deflates a little. “Pl-please,” he asks, “just make su-hure he’s okay.” The nurse nods and Bill goes to take a seat. He pulls out his phone again and calls Mrs. Uris. He sobs as he reports the news to her and tells her where they are. After he hangs up, he sends a blunt text to the losers club group message: stan is hurt, please come to hospital.

He clicks his phone off and feels the exhaustion of the day sink in. He dozes off before he knows what’s happening.

~ ~ ~

When Bill wakes up an hour later, he is surrounded, the near-empty waiting room now filled with his friends and some others. Bev is seated directly next to him and notices he’s awake first. “There’s no news,” she reports without Bill having to ask. He nods and buries his head in his hands.

“A-hare the U-urises h-h-here?” His voice comes out muffled.

“Yeah,” Richie says from across the room. “They’re talking to the doctors.” Bill notices with muted shock that Richie is crying silently, a steady stream of tears flowing down his face. In the next chair over, Eddie places his hand over his boyfriend’s and closes his eyes. “I’ve gotta get out of here. I’m going insane.” He pushes out of the chair and angrily walks towards the exit.

From the other side of Bev, Mike begins to follow after, but Eddie waves him down. “Just let him go. He needs to cool off.” His voice is incredibly tight and Bill rises from his own chair to sit next to the small boy.

“Ho-ow are y-y-you holding u-up? I kno-how Stan is your be-e-est friend,” Bill asks. He hesitantly looks up to see the incredulous face Eddie is making. “What?”

Eddie just chuckles humorlessly and shakes his head. “Even when I should be the one asking you, you’re worried about everyone else. Jesus, Big Bill, how are you holding up? Stan is your boyfriend, for Christ’s sake. I don’t know what I’d do if that were Richie.” And suddenly, he breaks down, ugly sobs racking his tiny frame. Bill carefully places an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulls him closer. The other losers slowly surround them, Ben taking the chair on the other side of Eddie and rubbing slow circles on his shoulder, Mike coming up from behind and wrapping him in a bear hug, and Bev kneeling in front of them all, her hand delicately threaded through Eddie’s.

“I just wish he’d have said something to us,” Mike says, also crying. Bill has only seen him cry once and that was years ago, so it sends him over the edge. Soon all of them are crying and huddled together, dependent on each other for support. Eventually, Richie comes back, face a red mess from his own crying. Bev reaches out a hand for him to join them, which he takes and sits on the floor near Bill’s feet. They all have a grasp on one another, making sure that they’re all still there.

Distantly, Bill hears the squeak of shoes coming towards their group, but he doesn’t look up until he hears a small, “Ahem.” Donald and Andrea Uris stand in the hallway flanked by doctors. Mike is the first to go to them and hug Mrs. Uris, followed closely thereafter by the rest of the losers.

A doctor explains to them what they did: “Hello, I’m Doctor Rose Mendoza and this is Doctor Jarred Alexander. We’re two of the surgeons who worked on Stanley. I’m sorry we’ve had to meet in such circumstances.” She gives a sympathetic look before continuing. “We pumped Stan’s stomach and had to repair the damage to his arms. It also seems he gave himself a concussion, presumably from falling in the tub. We gave him a blood infusion and he’s doing well at the moment. It’s a good thing you caught it as soon as you did.” This last part is directed at Bill. “Had you not found him so early on, we’re not so confident he’d be alive right now.” Bill bites back a sob and feels Richie grab his hand on one side, Bev on the other.

Another doctor adds on to his colleague’s report, “He’s still under the anesthesia from the surgery, but it might take him a little longer because of the head trauma and excessive blood loss. I suggest that you go in there and talk to him, tell him about your past week at school, any plans you might have had for the weekend. Let him know you’re still there. He can hear you and he’ll wake up in his own time.”

“I’ll go first,” Richie offers. He turns to Bill. “Are you okay with that?” Bill only nods and Richie gives his hand a quick squeeze before letting go and following the doctors down the hall and to the left, disappearing into the sterile whiteness.

~ ~ ~

Stan can’t move or see, but he can hear everything.

He can hear the doctors telling his parents what happened and knowing that he failed to do what he set out to, hears them crying and feels their tender touches, hears the heart monitor beeping slowly, hears trays and and carts and voices passing by, though sounding far, far away.

Right now, he’s hearing a familiar voice say, “Hey, Stan the Man. How are you doing?” Richie, his mind supplies, feeling a little appalled it took as long as it did to recognize his friend. “Wow, what a dumb question, you’re obviously not doing too hot or else we wouldn’t be in here.” There is a silence and Stan hears Richie suck in a sharp breath and a gentle warmth encloses his left hand. “The doctors told me to talk and apparently I’m really good at that, so here goes nothing.” And Richie does talk, about school, about the photography club he’s in, everything. He tells Stan secret wishes and hopes and dreams, things he’s only shared with Eddie, he discloses.

I wish I could ask you questions and talk back, Stan thinks helplessly.

“You know, I wish you would have said something. We-” Richie stops and Stan can tell he’s trying to swallow the emotion rising in the back of his throat. “We’re so worried. I mostly feel like a shit friend for not noticing you were suffering.” And suddenly there is a choked sobbed coming out of Richie and he rises from the chair, taking his warmth away from Stan’s hand. “Bill is a mess. He won’t say anything, but I can tell. If you can hear me in there, Stanny, I want you to know we’re all here for you, but that boy would go through hell and high water to make you happy. Talk to him when you wake up because he loves you.” A short pause. “We all do.” And then the door opens and closes again, signaling his departure.

Stan notes Richie’s use of the word when and not if and a small shred of determination to wake up takes root in Stan’s heart.

~ ~ ~

Bev and Ben come in next. Together they tell Stan about how want to go on a road trip all over the country to visit all fifty states after they graduate. Ben wants to see the world’s largest rubber band ball and the Golden Gate Bridge. Bev wants to visit New York City to see whatever show is playing on Broadway and the fashion district. They talk about wanting to move in together and the kind of house they’re going to get.

Ben says he’s going to design it. A wide open kitchen with all the newest appliances where they can practice cooking and make pancakes every Sunday morning. There would be a big living room with plenty of couch space for losers club movie night. An office for Ben and a sewing room for Bev. A big garden where they grow their own veggies and fruits and seasonal flowers. There will be one big bedroom for them to share and plenty spare rooms for their friends.

They speak about wanting to adopt a dog, but can’t decide which breed they want. Bev really wants a black French bulldog and a Dalmatian, but Ben says only one dog. He argues that a golden retriever would be the best option. Either way, they can’t decide on a name. They want Stan’s advice because he always has insightful things to say.

I think Maisie would be good for a girl dog and Jackson for a boy dog. Or maybe you should name the dog based on what it looks like, he thinks in response, but of course they can’t hear him.

They speak energetically and Stan appreciates that; it’s a welcome distraction from his immobility. But he can tell that their laughter is forced because of the strain in Ben’s voice when he speaks and the nervous tapping of Bev’s foot against the tile floor. “Wake up soon, Stanley,” Ben says quietly, a sullenness like Stan has never heard filling his words. “We miss you.” Then someone leaves, the door opening and falling shut again letting him know.

The sudden fragrance of pomegranates and mangos filling his nose tells him that Bev is still in the room. She leans close, her body heat easing some of the chill Stan is feeling. “Please wake up,” she whispers, gently brushing some of his hair out of his face. She places a soft kiss that lasts for about three seconds on his forehead. He feels a drop of wetness fall there when she pulls away. “Please.” And then she is gone as well, taking with her the comfort of another’s presence.

~ ~ ~

Eddie and Mike come in together a little after the previous couple leave. Mike does most of the talking with an interjection from Eddie once in a while.

“On Saturday, the farm is getting some baby chicks. I was going to ask you guys over to help my dad and me sort them. There’s always too many for us to do in one day and we could always use a set of helping hands or six.” Mike chuckles at his own joke before talking about his farm more. The animals and what’s being planted and harvested right now. All the while, Stan can hear Eddie moving about in his tiny room. There is the sound of spritz bottles and the smell of cleaner fills the air.

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing?” Mike asks at one point, interrupting his own story.

Stan hears Eddie let out an exasperated sigh and wants to laugh at the sound. “I want this room to be germ-free when Stan wakes up so he can heal as quick as physically possible. Being sick won’t help anything.” Stan feels grateful for Eddie’s fussing and wants more than anything to hug his tiny friend.

Stan hears Eddie disappear into another room, cleaner bottle still going, and assumes there is an adjacent bathroom to his room. Mike leans closer to him, the comforting smell of his laundry detergent and aftershave calming Stan’s spinning mind. “I have a secret for you,” he says incredibly quietly. “When you come to, we’re going to be here to help you. We love you and want you to get better. Just remember, every step of the way, we’ll be there right beside you to catch you when you slip and to simply be in your company when you’re feeling good. Don’t forget that you have six personal shrinks at your disposal.” He chuckles melancholily, and Stan hears him swallow thickly. He wants to throw his arms around Mike. He wants to embrace all of his friends, but since he can’t, he adds it to his list of reasons to wake up. He is starting to understand that he doesn’t have to ache on his own, but it is okay to be hurting. “Get better, Stan.” He ruffles Stan’s curls and then the door opens, shuts, and there is silence.

Then, he hears Eddie flush the toilet and the sink water running. It is a while before the sink water turns off, but Stan is not surprised Eddie washes his hands that thoroughly, especially considering that he was just handling cleaning supplies. After the water stops running, Eddie comes back into the main room. Stan hears him come closer before laying his head on Stan’s chest and hugging him gently around the waist. “I- I love you, Stanny, we all do. Please wake up, but do it for your own sake, okay? Want to get better.” Eddie is tender as he mirrors Bev’s actions of pushing his hair out of his face. Stan hears a sniffle before the door opens and shuts again, leaving him alone once more.

~ ~ ~

It’s hours before someone visits Stan again.

He realizes offhandedly that visiting hours would’ve ended soon after he got admitted to his own room, but he still panics. What if they stopped caring about me? he can’t help but think. That’s stupid. They all literally came in here to tell you how much they love you, dumbass, another part of his brain counters. Yeah, all of them, he thinks.

Except for Bill.

Visiting hours, remember? He’ll be here. The rational part of his brain does a pretty good job of calming him down.

The nurses check on him periodically, taking his vitals and replacing the IV drip medication. A nurse, who introduces herself as Daisy, tells him that this is the first time she’s had to take care of a suicide survivor and that he should want to get better, that she’s seen all his friends’ faces, his mother’s tears, his father’s set jaw and clenching fists. Daisy says that he definitely has great things and people to live for, but the greatest one is himself. It makes him want to cry. How had he not realized that his friends would always be there for him, that this burden was not his alone to bear? Daisy squeezes his hand every time she checks on him, “To let you know I’m here when you wake up,” she explains once. She seems kind even though Stan can’t see her and for that kindness, he cannot wait to thank her.

It has been a few minutes since the new nurse, Dahlia, had taken his vitals for the morning shift of nurses when his door opens again. The room is suddenly filled with an overly sweet scent. At first, it feels like the smell is suffocating Stan, a feeling that he relates to being force-fed syrupy cough medication. After a bit, however, it is comforting, like the scent has been there all along. Whoever is in the room with him sets something down on the table next to him, the sticky sweet smell getting stronger, and drags out the chair on his right side. The person picks up his hand and places a gentle kiss on his knuckles before planting one on his cheek and another on his knuckles. Stan would recognize the smell of the shampoo with a permanent underlying tang of chlorine without the sharp, clean fragrance of familiar cologne.

Bill, my Bill.

“Hi, Stanny,” he says, a thumb brushing over Stan’s fingers. “I miss you.” And right out of the gate, Stan wants to burst into sobs. I miss you, too, he wants so badly to reply. I miss you so goddamn much. “It f-feels a little strange having a one-w-w-way conversation, but I’ll try my ha-arrdest just to talk.” There is a brief pause where Bill sucks in a sharp breath. “I w-went back to your hou-ou-ouse last night. I cl-cl-cleaned up the bathroo-hoom so your m-mom didn’t have to.” Stan feels a hot spiral of guilt drill through his stomach. I caused that. Bill had to see me like that. He wanted to say something, but Bill keeps talking. “I m-m-made dinner for m-me and your pa-harents but no-nobody could eat. We w-w-were all so w-worried for you Stan. We cou-houldn’t sleep either. I tried to sl-sl-ee-eep in your bed, but I j-just couldn’t sh-sh-shut my thou-houghts down. I e-ended up on th-he roof and sat i-i-in the same sp-sp-spot where I told you I l-loved you the first time. D-d-do you reme-hember that, Stanny? I stuttered e-e-even more than u-usual. I was so ne-hervous.” He chuckles and Stan feels himself wanting to smile. Of course he remembers; it was one of the best days of his life.

It was a blustery fall day in Derry, but that didn’t stop Stan from showing Bill his favorite spot to think when his brain got to be a little too much to handle. He had dragged him up through the attic, the two boys’ hands desperately clenched together. They claimed it was so neither of them fell but there was definitely an anterior motive. The wind had caused them to pull the hoods of their hoodies up to protect themselves from its harshness.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Stan had asked, looking out at the incredible view he got of Derry from this high up. He sat down, legs dangling off the edge, Bill following suit. He could see the spires of the Methodist church across town and the American flag that rose from the pole on top of the high school. The sun was just setting and the sky was shades of pink and purple and red. Stan could just tell Bill’s hands were itching to get out his watercolor pencils and draw it.

“N-not as b-b-beautifu-hul as yo-oo-oo-ou,” Bill said. His stutter seemed to have gotten the best of him. Stan whipped around to look at his boyfriend. Bill’s eyes were unwavering and staring lovingly at him. Stan smiled at how cute Bill was and extended his fingers towards his boyfriend so they could hold hands. They are silent for a moment, the warmth between them reflecting back and forth. Stan leaned his head on Bill’s shoulder when he said it, “I-I lo-hove y-y-you.” For the second time that night, Stan whipped his head around to look at his boyfriend. Bill wasn’t looking at him this time and his high cheekbones were alight with a bright blush.

Stan squeezed his hand and smiled as he said, “I love you, too” and meant it. They had only been dating for four months, but they both loved each other to the moon and back.

That was before It. Before the Deadlights.

Stan is brought back to the present by Bill sniffing. His voice is tight when he speaks again: “I l-love you sti-hill. You kn-know that, ri-right? I w-w-will always love yo-hou, Stanny. A-always.” Then Bill is crying horrible, body-wracking sobs. “I’m s-s-sorry. I’m s-so, s-so sorry. I’m sorry I di-hidn’t n-notice you we-here in pain. I-I’m sorry I didn’t a-a-ask you ho-ow you w-w-were doing m-more often. I’m s-sorry I di-hidn’t force you t-to ta-ha-halk about what ha-a-appened wh-when we w-w-were kids. I’m just s-so sorry for being a sh-shitty boyfriend and fo-hor everything else. It’s m-my fault. I-I’m sorry.” Bill’s final emphasized apology sends Stan over the edge. He wants to shout at the top of his lungs and cry and get angry and be upset all at the same time. It’s not your fault! It’s mine! It’s all mine! his mind screams.

Then, Dahlia comes back in to check on his vitals again. She introduces herself to Bill who gives a clipped greeting. “Lovely flowers,” she comments, removing her rubber gloves and tossing them in the trash when she’s finished with her examination. “What are they?

“Th-they’re hyacinth,” Bill responds curtly. After Dahlia leaves, Bill returns to his spot by Stan’s side. He sounds remarkably calmer when he speaks: “Do you know th-the my-hyth how hyacinth got its na-hame?” Stan can’t answer, but if he could he would still say no. “Well, the sun god, Apollo, and the god of the west wind, Zephyr, were competing for the affection of a mortal boy they both loved. His name was Hyakinthos. One day, Apollo was teaching Hyakinthos to throw discus and Zephyr got very jealous. He sent a violent wind their way that made the disc come back at Hyakinthos, which struck and killed him. The brokenhearted Apollo named the flowers the sprouted from his spilled blood hyacinth to remember him.” Whenever Bill told stories, he never stuttered. It was like an override function that allowed to him to speak without ruining the flow of his tale. Stan always loves to hear stories from his boyfriend and this time is no exception, only he wishes the story was a little happier. “Th-that’s why I got you purple hyacinth. I’m sure you sme-helled them when I came in.” Bill lets out a short laugh. “Purple hy-hyacinth means asking for f-f-forgiveness and symbolizes deep regre-het. I h-hope you can forgive me for what a terrible boyfriend I-I-I’ve been, not being able to see when the only person I’ve ever lo-hoved was hurting.”

And suddenly, Stan is very angry, Because how dare Bill think he was to blame for Stan’s fucked up mind? How could he think he was the reason for aftereffects of that demented, child-eating monster? For the past two days, Stan kept telling himself how he wants to wake up, but now he was going to try. He focuses all of his energy on moving something, anything. I’m coming, Bill. Hold on. He feels his fingers tingle and tries to squeeze them around Bill’s hand. When he succeeds, he hears Bill suck in a gasp. “St-Stanny, is that yo-hou, love? Can you h-h-hear me?” Stan squeezes his hand a second time and Bill lets out a teary chuckle. “God, I l-l-love you so mu-huch. I’m here when you wake up, o-okay?” Stan gives one more squeeze before feeling totally drained and slipping into the darkness at the back of his mind.

~ ~ ~

When Stan comes to, he is surrounded by his friends. He blinks his bleary eyes open and studies all the familiar faces in his room. They are chatting in hushed tones with one another so they don’t see him wake. He shakily lifts his left hand to get Richie’s attention knowing his loud mouth will get everyone else’s attention. His fingers gently brush against his friend’s bare wrist, making him jump. When Richie turns to see his friend awake, tears immediately spring to his eyes and a sad smile turns his lips upward. He lets out a few quick breaths, saying “Stan” on one of his exhales.

Then, there are five more pairs of eyes on him. They are all crying, even Mike who Stan had only seen cry a handful of times, which makes Stan cry as well. All the pent up emotions from yesterday, the day before that, all the way back to the sewers come flowing freely out. He tries to speak, but his voice pains him from so many hours of disuse. Bev rushes to the windowsill where a pitcher of water was being stored to keep it chilled and pours some in a cup for him. She delicately lifts it to his lips because his arms are shaking like leaves.

When he’s finished with his drink, Stan clears his throat a few times before beginning to talk: “I’m sorry.” And his voice is shaky, from the crying or something else, he doesn’t know. “I’m sorry you all had to go through that.”

Bill takes his previous seat and holds Stan’s hand like it’s going to break. “Sh, sh,” he hushes. “Wh-what do you have to be sorry a-a-about?”

Stan lets out a few more heartbreaking whimpers before clenching his eyes and drawing in a shaky breath to order his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you guys enough to tell you what was going on. You all- you just wanted to help me but I thought I could handle the horrors of my own mind by myself. I couldn’t.” Stan punctuates the awful explanation with a humorless laugh. None of his friends find that funny, though. “When It came to Derry and I was alone with that fucking clown, It showed me It’s true form.” Stan shivers as he recollects what happened that day.

They had ventured into the sewers to find Bev, the ominous bloody message sending them right into the heart of It’s lair. Stan, of course, was reluctant to descend underground through the house of Neibolt Street, but they had no choice. Bev was in danger and it was up to them to save her. They were almost all in the entrance way when Henry Bowers nearly killed Mike.

That’s when he heard it: Stanley, the wind seemed to whisper. He turned abruptly, his flashlight beam falling on another stretch of sewers. Stanley, come here, it said again. Against his will, Stan’s legs began to move towards the sound. He knew rationally that straying from his group was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop moving. His lungs expanded and shrunk rapidly as he entered an open chamber. All around him he heard the voice and the dripping of the pipes. We all float down here, Stanley. And then he was attacked. He got knocked to the ground and he tried to scream but he couldn’t.

“It opened It’s mouth and I saw-” Stan shudders as he retells the story. Bev places a grounding hand on his left shoulder and Mike stands by her to rub his fingers over the back of Stan’s hand. “I saw It’s true form. It was dark and cold and I felt like there was no hope left in the world. I felt so- so alone, like I’d never be happy ever again. And then you guys came and-” He draws in a shaky breath. “If you hadn’t pulled that thing off of me, I think I’d be dead or crazy.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Eddie says, a strange tightness in his voice. He looks a little angry with Stan, but Stan doesn’t blame him.

“Yeah.” Ben contributes, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “We would’ve understood. We were all tormented by It. We wouldn’t judge.”

“But you don’t know!” Stan says, frustrated tears rolling down his cheeks. He feels Bill put his elbows on the bed and raise the hand he was holding to his lips. He was crying as well. “I got so paranoid after that. If you guys didn’t answer my text messages in ten minutes, I got worried that you’d gotten taken, or worse, that you were ignoring me.”

“Never,” Richie says. It’s strange that he had been so quiet until now, usually the one to command a conversation’s direction. “Never, ever, Stan. Do you understand?”

“I do now,” Stan replies, reaching to link his pinky with Richie’s, the only movement his shaking arms could allow. “But before, nothing could convince me. I just- lost all hope. Food didn’t taste like anything, so I stopped eating. Whenever I slept, I would only see It and the horrible things It showed me, so I only slept as little as I could get away with. I’d get anxious every time I stepped outside my house alone, like people knew that I was depressed and suspicious about everything. Then I started- started cutting to release some of that pain. It worked for a bit but I still wasn’t happy or at least not sad. And then yesterday happened.” He realizes he’s taking short, choppy breaths and that his friends are crying full force again. They’re all silent for a while, long enough for Dahlia and Doctor Mendoza to check on him. His friends are banished from his room while they take his blood pressure and talk to him.

“We’re going to give you some antidepressants,” Doctor Mendoza says, pulling out a pad and pen from her breast pocket. “And there’s a therapist that’s ready to see you whenever you get out. She’ll want to see you for an two hours twice a week to assess you. Until then, you’ll talk to the one we have on staff here. Okay, Stanley?”

“Yes,” he says confidently. “I want to get better.”

“Well, that is certainly a step in the right direction,” Doctor Mendoza says, a smile lining her lips. “I’ll get your friends back in here.” She leaves with a small “thanks” from Stan. He sees, now that the door is open, that his friends only crowded together right outside. He smiles wide and finally realizes that these people are with him every step of the way.

~ ~ ~

Stan is getting better. He still sees Iris, his therapist, twice every month, but that’s an improvement. Some days are bad, yes, when he can barely get out of bed because he feels hopeless. But these are the days when Eddie comes by before and after school to make sure that Stan is still taking his medications and talks to him and brings him homework. These are the days Ben brings over Lego sets that have a thousand or more pieces to distract Stan. These are the days when Richie and Bev bring CDs and dinner and sit with him while they all eat and listen to whatever artist is singing. These are the days when Mike brings over his dog, Mr. Chips, so that Stan can pet him for focus. These are the days when Bill ditches school or work altogether to lay with Stan and hold him until he feels whole again.

These are the days that Stan realizes he has two caring parents, five incredibly persistent best friends, and one exceptionally devoted boyfriend who all love him dearly. And it’s all Stan could ask for.

~ ~ ~

I just want to say two things before I wrap this up.1. To the anon who requested this: you have the patience of a saint and I wish I had me some of that.2. Please, please, please talk to someone if you feel at all like Stan did in this. Even if it’s not a face-to-face conversation, it will help. I promise.Have a request? Submit one here. See my masterlist here.

#don't bottle it up #you are not a burden #please talk to me or a trusted friend/family member #tw: suidice #tw: graphic content #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #stenbrough #stan uris #bill denbrough #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #benverly #bev marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #it 2017 #the losers club

47 notes · View notes

lovecolibri · 3 years ago

Note

The real Buck who wouldn't cheat, or you know, immediately come clean and not lie and ask his SO to move in with him, lives in my heart and ao3 💙😭

I am....deeply upset about this. Like, the Henren cheating plot is THEE universally agreed upon Worst Plot, and the only thing that allows it some leeway is a) pilot season wonkyness and the show trying to find its feet, and the fact that Hen IMMEDIATELY said "This is not who I am, this is not who I want to be" and went and told her wife what happened right away, even knowing it would be bad and painful and might lose her Karen. But it was the right thing to do, and they didn't have Eva showing up and telling Karen what happened. And it's STILL the worst plot to come out of this show, until season 5 said hold my beer.

Buck is a lot of things but "fucking coward" isn't one of them and I am *incandescently furious* that the show wants to play this off like it's not a big deal, drag HEN of all people into saying it's not a big deal, and the shove the woman he cheated with in our faces for the rest of the season for the *drama*. I adore Buck, and I have understood his character's choices even when they were rough to watch play out. I enjoy the lawsuit arc, it's heartbreaking but interesting and there are no bad guys, just people not communicating. And they gave us that AMAZING backstory for Buck where everything about his character including season one fell into place and then try and pull this shit? After Buck's talk with Eddie about how it wasn't fair to Ana and he needed to break up with her? Buck breaking up with the reporter and THEN falling back into old habits and sleeping around would have made sense. It would have been tough to watch, but it would track with everything we know about him. Buck was NEVER a cheater. Loyalty is like...his BIGGEST trait. This doesn't make any sense, even from a spiraling out perspective.

One of the reasons I love 911 is the way they never went for the super cheap drama and instead had these emotional talks and let characters make mistakes that made sense with what we knew about them, and then learn and grow. But KR has already said things like Buck and Chim don't need to talk because they already did off screen, that Chris knows about the will and it won't come back up again, and she didn't want to have the will scene OR show Buck going home to talk to Christopher in 4x14 and those are THEE staple scenes of the episode! Apparently the distance and the not talking in 5a isn't A Plan, KR just doesn't understand emotional beats and how to hit them or what good storytelling is 🤷🏻‍♀️ This show pulled off 4 AMAZING seasons and we were right in one of THEE most pivotal parts of this huge story, and unfortunately her lazy, cheap drama, basic procedural like every other one out there way of running things is dragging the whole thing down to the level of every other boring show with no heart. I'd rather they had someone die than have to watch them ruin Buck by pretending that man would ever, even at his lowest, cheat on someone, and then lie about it.

#my sweet nonnie friends #911 #911 spoilers #i hardly slept at all and i'm still incredibly upset and half asleep so sorry if this is rambling and makes no sense #i'm just SO angry and hurt and FRUSTRATED #if i never see l*cy again it will be too soon #buck needed to break up with his gf because he was choosing HIMSELF and his happiness and well-being #not because of fucking guilt #and now the potential for him to be the one broken up with AGAIN is incredibly high #and that storyline with him is already so tired

4 notes · View notes

arizonagirldiary · 7 years ago

Text

KITTYGATE: A True Crime Story

THE CRIME

It all began on a warm autumn day. Summer stays around for a long time here in Arizona and it was over 90 degrees before noon that day.

That morning, to be precise.

I awaken slowly in the morning. I'd had a few cups of coffee, played on Twitter, and I really don't remember why I decided to walk outside of the back of my house where I have a small patio and a carport.

The patio is fenced in and I could see a plastic storage bin tipped on its side on the other side of my gate, with its top tightly in place. It was clear plastic with a white top. The type of container you might pack Christmas decorations in. I could see fabric, blankets, something that had fallen to the bottom when the bin was placed on its side.

“What the holy hell?"

I opened the gate, righted the tub, and pulled off the lid. What happened next sent me through so many emotions at one time that I decided I would first just scream and then sort things out afterward.

Inside the storage bin were 11 kittens. Later I would find out that they were two different litters. Seven two-week old and four four-week old kittens. The bin was swelteringly hot and the kittens were limp from the heat and no air. At this point I had stopped screaming and was now crying while hiccuping nonstop oh-my-Gods.

I knew, that if I had walked out my back door—perhaps five minutes later--this story would have a very different ending and I would never be telling you about it because I refuse to listen to or tell sad animal stories.

With all the commotion I was making, my across the alley neighbor, Gladys Kravitz, came running over to find out what was up for her bulletin reports to the neighborhood. Little did she know I was going to feed her enough info for a newsletter throughout the weekend.

As I mentioned, I was overcome with so many emotions. Fear, not understanding, confusion, maternal tugs, and looming above all others was a big grey cloud was an anger that stayed for days over this outrageous animal cruelty.

As I began to gather clues and witnesses for later reference for Kittygate, I noticed a note inside the bin which read:

"Dear friend,

Thank you so much for agreeing to take these kittens. We know you are the perfect person to take care of them."

Unsigned, of course.

THE SUSPECTS

Interestingly, my first suspect, Gladys Kravitz, who in addition to being the block gossip, is also known as The Cat Lady because she takes in the pregnant abandoned cats in our condos and finds homes for the kittens. A worthy deed. Indeed.

I knew.

I absolutely, unequivocally knew.

That the bin of kittens was accidentally left on my carport instead of Gladys's.

And so did she.

The proof was in her disappearing immediately. I could not believe it. All those litters she raised and no offer of help? My anger cloud grew, loomed and seethed. But I had no time to make a small doll and stick pins in it. I had 11 new children and not a clue of what to do with them.

There is also an older red-headed woman (a man I know says red hair is a sign from God) who is quite nosy, complains about the abandoned cats, and frequently walks by my house. Suspect number two.

THE CARE & FEEDING OF ROGUE KITTENS

I didn't know much about kittens but I did know they had to be in a safe, cool, place and must be fed. I make a 911 call to my sister-in-law, also a Cat Lady but much younger and nicer, to help me with these poor babies. She was over in 10 minutes. We corralled them in their first temporary home--a pillow fort in my bedroom. Cross that off your list as a good place for kittens. The older kittens immediately found delight in climbing over the pillow barriers and scampered all over the bedroom. Apparently the cooler air gave them a second wind. The smaller ones just piled on top of each other and slept.

My sister-in-law, who knows about all things feline, sent me off to a feed store for kitten formula and a stop by CVS, to get teeny plungers to feed them with. When I came home, my very wise sis-in-law had moved them to the bathtub where the porcelain walls made escape impossible. She asked if I had anything soft to put down on the bottom so I ran to raid my closet.

I returned with nearly all of my cashmere sweaters and scarves. I had just moved back to Arizona from California. A tank top and flip-flops are winter wear here. Sigh. I knew I'd never wear cashmere here. Might as well donate them to kittens in need.

As it turns out, kittens require nourishment every two hours. Thoughts of newborns did cross my mind. Especially thinking of waking every two hours and the idea of lack of sleep. Fortunately, my sister-in-law is a bonafide card-carrying Cat Lady. She not only feeds her own cats, but every stray within blocks of her home. She has a heart of gold and is one of my favorite relatives. Her daughter, Sara, is a Cat Lady-in-training, and was soon called in to action to join Kittygate. Between the three of us, we turned my bathroom into the perfect kitten feeding station.

YOU’RE ALL ON NOTICE AND I KNOW WHO YOU ARE

I took the note taped to the kitten’s bin and spewed venom all over a large note and pinned it to the back wall of my condo. Well, it might even qualify as a sign, I suppose. I accuse whoever left the kittens that they had left them at the wrong house, I was not their “friend,” and furthermore they nearly killed the kittens locked in an airless bin. Outraged I was. I wrote that I was going door to door (not really) to find the perpetrator.

ANIMAL CONTROL

This was a strange plot twist, but the next day Animal Control left an unsolicited note on my front door wanting details of Kittygate. Did I know that whoever left the kittens had committed the crime of animal cruelty? Hah. You bet I did. A copy of the Animal Control note was pinned to the ever expanding, okay it is a sign, on my back wall. Jail. I wanted jail time for these murderous fiends. I contacted Animal Control and told them what little information I knew. They even wanted the bin the kittens were left in, as well as the note. My kind of bureaucrats.

DAY THREE

By now, the four older kittens had figured out how to scale the Mt. Everest bathtub wall and were wandering around the toilet area. Kitty dorm had now became two separate areas. Which, in a way, was good because the older ones were now eating soft kitten food.

I have a cat, but have never had a kitten. I assumed they were born knowing how to use a cat box. Um, no. They were very adept at pooping next to the shoe box top litter boxes I made, but never quite hit the target.

It was time to find a place for the kittens to go—as much as I wanted 11 new pets. Of course, my sister-in-law had called every cat rescue in town. Cats are impossible to find homes for, and if you bring them to the city shelter…well, it's not good news.

THE HAPPILY EVER AFTER

BUT. Wonderful sis-in-law found a shelter in Phoenix that would take all 11 kittens if I would pay for foster families to care for them until they were six weeks old—an adoptable age. And the very best part, they were a no kill shelter.

So we bundled them up in cashmere-lined boxes and drove to Phoenix from where I live in suburban Mesa. Only when the intake person made up cards for each kitten did I truly believe there was really going to be a happily ever after for my precious kittens.

I made my final entry on the Kittygate sign and left it up for one more week before I took it down.

Total cost, kaching = $256.00 you heartless (x-rated words)

SOLVING THE CASE

A bright spot to come out of this whole debacle is that most of my neighbors are now afraid of me and no one talks to me. As I prefer. My brother Danny claims that everyone is afraid of me due to an incident with my mother's gardener. I rather like it this way. Fear me. Even Gladys Kravitz returned her spare key to my house. A guilt offering, no doubt.

I suppose I'll never find out who left the kittens at my door, upended my life for three days, and cost me the $256 I really didn't have to spare. But I can tell you this much…

My neighbors now all believe I'm BADASS.

_________________

This true story is dedicated to Allison Pecallier.

#kittens #abandoned kittens #kittygate #humor

2 notes · View notes