#A mother’s love turned a mother’s grief and how it shook the world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

topguncortez · 8 months

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Maybe blurb from crying prompt idk if this would be a hide or hold maybe both? But the reader holds her emotions in during a family thing because she's the oldest sibling and she feels like she has to be strong because that's how her family was raised and then she gets a moment and they tell her to stop being strong and that it's okay to let it out. I'm thinking either Bradley or Jake?

Hold My Hand - J. Seresin x Reader

synopsis: you get a phone call that no child ever wants to get, and as the "rock" of the family, you aren't allowed to break.

warnings: parental death, trauma, parental abandonment, incorrect medical jargon, mental abuse, grief, depression

note: I know this was supposed to only be a blurb, but I started writing and I couldn't stop. These past 16 days have been hell and there was something about writing this that just felt so freeing, like the cloud hanging over me has finally been lifted.

it had felt like a lifetime had passed, but in reality, it had only been 10 days.

10 days since that frightening phone call on that cold January day.

10 days since your mother called you, sound incoherent on the phone but you managed to gather the gist of it.

10 days since you had rushed out of your house, your hair half done, your husband chasing after you like you had lost your mind.

10 days since your father so bravely rushed into a burning building, saving other children and leaving you, your siblings and your mother behind.

You were angry, at first. Angry at the world for allowing this to happen. Angry at your father for playing superman when he was just a regular man. Angry at the other people standing around who didn’t have the same courage to run into the fire instead of standing by and yelling at your father to turn back. Angry that this was going to be the end; that your mother would be a widow at a young age, your youngest sisters wouldn’t have their father to walk them down the aisle, your children wouldn’t ever have another “grandpa day”, that you’d never get another hug and an “i love you” from your father again.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to shut out the world, force the cameras away, force the sorrowful looks from others away, force the heavy weight of your heart onto someone else.

But you couldn't. You had to be the strong one. For your mother. For your siblings. For your own children.

Jake had been watching you like a hawk since you had gotten that phone call. The morning started out like any other morning, with the two of you waking up before the sun was in the sky, making sure you had enough time to do a quick at-home workout and a run. You had been working on packing the kids' lunches when you got that call. He had to pry the keys out of your hands, telling you that your mother didn't need you and your father in the hospital.

Jake had eyed you the whole drive, noticing the redness and the unshed tears in your eyes. The way that you clutched the dainty silver cross around your neck between your fingers. The way that you sniffled every so often, trying to hold back the tears. But the second you stepped into the hospital, seeing the distressing look on your mother's face and the waiting room full of fellow firemen, you rolled your shoulders back and pushed back your own sadness and grief.

Those 10 days had been the best and worst of your life. You hardly left the hospital, unless Jake was physically forcing you to leave. You hardly ate, hardly slept, hardly took care of yourself. Your mind was so worried about everyone else except yourself. For 9 days, you had believed that maybe, just maybe, your father would pull through. But that all came crashing down on day 10, when your father's brain had swelled and his doctor's pronounced him brain dead.

"Y/N," Your mother had spoke, looking over at you as the doctor stood in front of your family. Jake shifted in his seat, putting his hand on your thigh, "You need to do it."

"What?"

"No," You and Jake spoke at the same time.

Your mother shook her head, "I can't be the one. . .," Tears clogged her throat, "I can't be the one who takes him-"

Jake scoffed, sitting up straight in his chair, his grip tightening on your thigh, "And you want your daughter to-"

"Jake," You sighed. There was no use in fighting. After all, you were the eldest. You knew eventually you would be the one who gets stuck making the medical choices for your parents. You just assumed you'd have more time to prepare. You rolled your shoulders back and looked at the doctor, "What do I need to sign?"

"It was such a lovely service," Your aunt Marjorie said, patting Jake's hand as he spoke to him. It was true, you had done a fantastic job planning a funeral for your father, all by yourself. Jake had helped you the best that he could, going with you to pick out a casket and a grave plot and music and flowers, "That Y/N was always Lee's favorite."

"I know," Jake gave Aunt Marjorie his best gentleman smile, the one that made his dimple pop out, "She's a special girl."

"Oh and how brave she was standing in front of everyone and speaking?" Aunt Marjorie placed her hand on her heart. Jake nodded his head, wishing that he could be anywhere else than in a conversation with Aunt Marjorie, "And that Miranda," Aunt Marjorie scoffed, looking over at where your mother sat stoic on the couch, "Looks like she's going to be the next to go."

Jake clenched his jaw, pulling his eyes away from your mother. He had his own thoughts and feelings about her, ones that he had shared with you one night during a heated fight.

"She has abandoned you!" Jake yelled, as you angrily pulled the blankets back on the bed. You were exhausted and just wanted to sleep in your bed for one night. You had managed to get your mother to stay with your father for the night, which was like pulling teeth, "You need her to be the parent and she's not."

"She is grieving too, Jake," You sighed.

"And you're not!?"

"I am," You ran a hand down your face, "I just handle it differently. I've always been the strong rock. The one who doesn't cry. The one who holds others when they cry," You sat down on the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion.

"And I know that, baby," Jake rounded the bed, and sat down beside you. He grabbed your hand, holding it in his own, "You are strong. You are incredibly fucking strong. . . but you shouldn't have to be the strong one right now. You shouldn't be the one pulling all nighters by your dad's side. You shouldn't be the one making medical decisions on your father's behalf. Even though you are an adult. . . Y/N, baby, you're still his child. Your mother should-"

"I don't want to have this conversation anymore," You pulled your hand away from Jake, "My mom isn't well, and she needs me to help her-"

"Bullshit," Jake scoffed, "She is abandoning you and you know it."

You clenched your jaw, holding back the anger radiating in your body. Jake held a tiny bit of hope that maybe, just maybe you'd lash out at him. That you'd show some type of emotion after being a near zombie these past 8 days. But instead, you stood up quietly and left the room, choosing to go sleep in your son's room instead.

Jake had drown out Aunt Marjorie's talking, his eyes landing on you across the room. You had opened up your home to your family, your father's fire crew, Jake's squad and friends for a meal and drinks following the funeral. You had done a great job at not falling apart during the service or the burial, but Jake could tell that the rope was starting to fray. And right now, it was about to snap as you were talking animatedly with your sister across the room in a small alcove.

"Hey, Aunt Marjorie," Jake turned back to look at the 80 year old woman, "It was lovely catching up with you, but I need to go help Y/N with something. We should do coffee some time."

"Oh yes, that'd be-"

"Great, see you later," Jake quickly made his way over to you, not bothering to hear the rest of Aunt Marjorie's response.

The last thing you wanted to do in a houseful of guests from your father's funeral, was get into an argument with your sister, but here you were. Claire was the baby of the family, the one who got away with the most. Your relationship with Claire was rocky, as the line between sister and mother-figure had gotten crossed while you were growing up. You wanted what was best for Claire, and sometimes that required extra tough love and parenting.

"You are high!" You exclaimed.

"I am not," Claire's voice was slightly slurred. Jake's nose scrunched up as he walked into the room, smelling the distinct scent of marijuana.

"My whole damn shed smells like marijuana, Claire," You crossed your arms over your chest, "This isn't like you. What is going on? Talk to me."

"Oh god," Claire rolled her eyes, "Here she goes again. Acting like my mother!"

"Well!" You scoffed, throwing your arms in the air. Jake stood behind you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. In the past couple days, you had shrugged off any sort of comfort that Jake offered you, but now, you welcomed it, "You smoked a joint before you walked into dad's funeral! Smoked another one in my shed, where your niece and nephew play. And don't even get me started on how you reeked like vod-"

"Y/N," Your mother's voice filled the air, making all three of you look towards her, "Let's not do this now."

"No," You shook your head, "Let's do this now. Your daughter is high. She smoked up in my garage and then walked into my house smelling like a dispensary."

Your mom looked over at your sister and then back at you. You felt a pang in your chest as you watched her silently side with your sister. The familiar burning sensation of tears prickled at your eyes and nose.

"She's grieving," Your mother simply answered.

You scoffed, "And who isn't?"

"Y/N,"

"Forget it," You shook your head, "It's nothing, it's fine. It's always fucking fine."

For the rest of the afternoon, you made yourself busy, staying far away from your mother and sister. Jake remained within arms reach of you, his presence comforting and not overbearing. You had finally sat down, and managed to get something in your stomach. It must've been evident on your face, but the guests had only said a couple words to you before going on their way. It took nearly four hours, but all the guests had left, filling your house with a silence you hadn't heard in nearly 10 days.

Jake had taken the burden of cleaning everything up, while you sat on the back porch, watching the sunset with a glass of wine in your hand. The cool San Diego winter breeze felt nice against your heated skin.

"The house is finally, back to normal," Jake announced as he walked out onto the back porch. Natasha had gratefully volunteered to take your children for the night, so you and Jake could decompress.

"Thank you, daddy," You smiled sweetly at him, as he sat down next to you on the porch swing.

"Of course, baby," He said, and held out a white gift box, "Someone left this for you."

You furrowed your eyebrows, taking the box from him and lifting the lid. Your breath caught in your throat as you lifted the small, gold pocket watch from the box.

"Y/N," Jake said softly.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, "I always wanted this," You ran your hand over the engraved hummingbird on the gold casing, "It was from my grandfather's jewelry store and it quit working. My dad said he was going to get it fixed and give it to me as a wedding gift, but he lost it. . . I-I don't know-"

"Well, does it work?" Jake asked.

You swallowed, opening the face of the watch open. To your surprise, it did work. The second hand ticked around in perfect time as the watch seemed to already be set to the correct time. The beautiful watch had a colorful humming bird painted onto the face in the middle of the black Roman numeral numbers, and gold watch hands.

"It's perf- oh, c'mon," You cursed, as the watch stopped ticking. You tapped the glass face a couple of times, trying to maybe, just maybe get it up and ticking, "C'mon! You just. . . worked! C'mon!"

"Baby," Jake spoke, gently placing his hand on your wrist.

"No! It has to work! It has to!"

"Baby, it's okay," Jake assured you, "It's o-"

"Nothing is okay!" You snapped, looking up at him as the tears had finally escaped your eyes, "Nothing about any of this is okay!" You pushed yourself up from the porch swing, rushing to the edge of the patio and throwing the watching across the yard with a scream. Jake closed his eyes as loud sobs escaped from your lugs, as the grief had finally seemed to rush to you.

He stood up from the porch swing and enveloped you in his arms. You sagged against him, feeling his arms tighten around you to be able to hold you up. Jake hushed you, placing a hand on the back of your head, and his chin on the top.

"Let it out, baby," Jake encouraged you, running a hand over your hair, "Let it all out, baby."

You weren't sure how long you stood there in Jake's arms and cried, but he eventually picked you up, after feeling your legs grow weak. He carried you through the house, to your shared bedroom, sitting you down gently on the bed. You didn't even need to tell him what to do as he moved through the bedroom with familiarity, grabbing you nightgown, taking you out of your dress, washing the make-up from your face and applying your moisturizer.

"What do you need from me, baby?" Jake asked, as he kneeled in front of you, sliding your socks on your feet.

"I don't know," Your voice was raspy as you looked at him confused, "I've never. . . I've never felt-"

"I know," Jake nodded his head, "I know you haven't, and it can be scary the first time you just. . . lose it all." Jake could remember the first time he had ever broken down like you had. It was terrifying as he cried and destroyed the things around him. It felt like it was never going to end as one thing after another had set him off, until he was on the ground in the fetal position, withering, "But it will all be okay. I'm here to help you. Let me help you."

You nodded your head, tears springing to your eyes again. Jake cooed, and pulled you into his arms again as the tears fell down your cheeks.

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ashsimpsalot · 4 months

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Coconut oil & honey (Monkey Man Kid X reader)

A/n: I haven't written anything in so so long. Like a year long. This is a fluff fic erm... OKAY ENJOY

Gentle love?

Gentle love.

He's 27 now, almost 28.

He's the age that his mother will forever be, and after 18 years, he's found that feeling he's been desperately craved, he's mistaken for trying to fill that hole in his chest by the only thing he's understands; pain.

The angry 13 years old boy with tiger stripes on his wrists would be baffled if he'd find out that the emptiness he feels is that yearning for love.

The stoic 20 years old boy with knitted eyebrows will scoffs if he's told him that he needs to open his heart bigger to fill it up.

"what is grief if not love with nowhere to go?" his woman had said while tracing his scarred palm with her perfect fingers.

Perfect.

She's perfect.

Who would've known that he'd find the missing half of his cursed soul in a cursed hotel? Not him.

"where'd you go, handsome?" you asked, sweeter than sugar cane, quieter than the night outside of her shitty apartment.

Just the sound of your voice had crafted a small, soft smile on his otherwise tight lips. "I'm right here, jaanu", " Kid would answer just as quiet as you, reaching behind, taking one of your hands out of his curls, planting a kiss on your palm ignoring the distinct smell of coconut oil and honey. By pure muscle memories you flatten your palm out and placed it on his cheek.

"you're getting all the oil on your lips and cheek, silly." you chuckled.

and right there and there he'd understand that half of his heart had spilled out of his chest and now free to roam the world in the form of his lover.

Kid's nights used to be filed with snoring men and loud voices of his mother's screams.

Now it's this, you sitting on the couch, him sitting on the floor between your legs, eyes pinned on whatever movie you decided to turn on, your fingers that are red with henna along with small ring he'd bought with whatever money left in his pockets wrapped around your ring finger that are willingly buried in his curls, working their magic.

A determine look on your face as you massages your homemade hair oil into his scalp.

He'd never know that the smell of the coconut oil and honey that hits his nose when he first met you would stay in his life for this long, and he's wish upon all that he knows for it to stay forever.

"lost you there again, bandhar." you said softer this time, he knows what that means, concerned. He almost whined when your fingers left his hair, he knew that you're done.

He shakes his head, held your hand and continue to do so as he settles to sit next to you.

"thank you." he whispered, kissing your palm and pushes his cheek against it next. You smiled. "you know I love playing with your hair. This is purely for my pleasure." you joked.

He didn't laugh, he shook his head. "not that, you saved me, you found the heart that I lost all those years ago, you.." he stopped, he realised he doesn't have the words to let you understand just how much you meant to him.

"I love you" you replied, you understood, you always do.

He smiled and leans in to kiss you. "I love you much more than you can ever imagine," he whispered, with his forehead pressed onto yours, colloused thumb softly rubbing on your chin.

He felt it again, the love you have for him spill onto him just by your hands, your hands in his curls, your hands on his cheeks, your fingers in his palm, your hand on his chest.

"I love you," he repeated, he'd laid down on the couch, pulling you with him, the desire to be close to you is too strong, you can't be closer, the only way to do that is to open him up and crawl into him, you've laid your head on his chest, eyes back on the screen. You're watching the TV and he's watching her.

"I love you," he repeats again.

"I love you" he repeats, not giving you a chance to reply.

"I love you," if you've forgotten.

"I love you," if you've doubted him.

He sighs and kisses your forehead. "I love you,"

You softly chuckle and move up.

"i love you," he said again, you had leaned in to kiss him to shut him up, hand caressing his cheek as you do so. He thought he'd die, he thought the love in his chest is too much it'll burst open and kill him.

"I love you too," your voice silenced him.

He smiled as you went back to lay on his chest, finger tracing circles on his chest.

He closes his eyes.

He knows now.

He's knows he's loved.

He matters.

#monkey man #monkey man x reader #kid monkey man #kid x reader #fluff #monkey man fluff #dev patel #monkey man fanfiction

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loonylupinblack3 · 6 months

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𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader

Warnings: angst, swearing

Summary: could charles still love you, even after everything?

Word count: 2.6k

part 1

“Y/n calm down-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” you snapped. “My whole career is hanging by a thread. I can’t calm down.”

Lando sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t the right thing to say. But you need to breathe, because you’re turning blue.”

You reluctantly did as he said, because your chest was starting to hurt and you’d probably collapse if you didn’t. But as soon as you did you wished you hadn’t, because accompanying the breath was the sharp stab of grief.

What was happening? Two days ago, your world had shattered, every newspaper and website claiming the same thing; you and Charles had dated. It didn’t matter that it was past tense- people were still hurling insults your way, discrediting all your work just because you dated a boy.

Except he wasn’t just a boy. He was Charles Leclerc, driver for Scuderia Ferrari, and you were Y/n L/n, driver for Aston Martin.

And now you were facing a possible investigation, because you’d kept your relationship a secret and both teams were worrying you’d passed information onto each other, so here you were.

Suspended.

“Can they even do this?” Yuki’s voice sounded enraged, and if you weren't as tired as you were you’d probably have felt warmed that you had people who cared about this as much as you.

Oscar looked up. “Is Charles suspended too?”

You flinched slightly at the mention of your ex, but everyone either didn’t notice it or purposefully ignored it, which you were grateful for.

George had already started whipping out his phone. “I’ll ask Pierre.”

You stared at your four friends, all here to support you during this time, and felt a surprising amount of love towards them. If you had any energy you’d probably shower them all in your affection, even Yuki who would bat you away with a stick if you tried.

You laid your head in Lando’s lap, the boy immediately playing with your hair, an almost subconscious instinct by now. It was embarrassing how much time you’d spent in Lando’s lap over the past two days.

“Y/n,” Oscar said, passing you your now ringing phone. “It’s your mum.”

You groaned but rolled off of Lando’s lap, sitting up on your bed and grabbing your phone, taking a deep breath to calm yourself before answering.

“Hey Mum-”

“Stupid idiots! When I come down there- I mean, who do they think they are?! Ridiculous boys parading around as men. As soon as I get my hands on them-.but how are you doing Sweetheart? I know this must be hard.”

You let out a small laugh at your mum’s rant, one that threatened to turn into a sob so you silenced it. “I’m… I don’t know, really. Just trying to get through it.”

“Suspended! For what?! For fucking another driver? If anything he should be suspended, since it was his dick in you.”

You choked on a gasp. “Mum.”

“What? I’m just saying.”

You shook your head, shocked but also feeling slightly better. Your mum always managed to take your mind off things, even if it was by saying out of pocket things that, if you’d had your phone on speaker, would have made your friends gobsmacked.

“Has he even talked to you about it?” Your mother prodded.

You sighed, feeling the insecurities that had been sticking to you like parasites, infecting you, come to the surface. “No, he hasn’t talked to me.”

Why hasn’t he? This was literally the worst case scenario for you, and he knew that. It was why you broke up in the first place. So now that your deepest fears have happened, the dread turned into something real, he was gone? Just like that? What happened to all the promises that he’d be there for you, that you’d get through this together? You knew you weren’t together anymore but shouldn’t they still mean something?

Your mother continued her rant at your words, babbling on about incompetent people in power, stupid idiots, etcetera etcetera. You had to hang up on her when you saw Geroge’s less than pleased expression though, because obviously something had happened during the phone call to put him in this mood, because he was always annoyingly optimistic, even during this mess.

As soon as you put your phone down you demanded to know what happened, what George found out. He sighed, looking forlorn that he had to be the one to give you the news, but pressed forward anyway.

“Charles hasn’t been suspended.”

Silence followed his words. You didn’t even know what to say, your jaw working but no sound coming out. Charles wasn’t suspended? You were suspended but Charles wasn’t, for doing the same fucking thing?

“What the fuck?” Yuki burst out, standing up. “They can’t do this!”

“They can, mate,” Oscar said tiredly, rubbing his face. “They’re from different teams, and it was up to those teams to make the decision, not the FIA.”

Yuki kicked the side table, looking for all the world like he was going to storm the Aston Martin headquarters and demand they un-suspend you. You all knew why Charles wasn’t suspended and you were. It was the same reason it took you so long to get into F1, why you still got daily death threats and had to undergo a different training to everyone else.

Because you were a woman.

Suddenly you were so tired. You’d been tired for a while, but now it was exhaustion weighing you down, a draining, crippling exhaustion you wanted nothing to do with. You were tired of worrying, tired of constantly scouring the internet, soaking up every insult directed your way. You were tired of missing Charles, a constant in your life now. Waking up and having your hand search for his body, only to find the sheets cold. Thinking about him every spare moment of the day, your mind straying to him against your will.

You missed him, and you wished he’d call. You regretted your decision, didn’t you? Since the secret came out anyway, except now you didn’t even have Charles to be there for you through it. It really was all for nothing, and here you were, stuck with the decisions you made.

Lando’s head resting on your shoulder snapped you out of your sulking. You looked down at your hands, letting out a sigh. None of the others were talking, waiting for you to speak, to see what sort of reaction you had before they did anything.

“I think I’m going to take a walk,” you said quietly.

Yuki’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, about to say something, when George elbowed him in the side, sending him a pointed look. Yuki scowled, rubbing his stomach but stayed silent, letting you leave with no complaint.

You were too tired to question their strange behaviour and left the hotel room, walking along the halls. You weren’t sure where you were going; you just needed to get out of that room, away from your friends’ pitying stares.

You eventually entered the elevator, deciding to visit the bar in the lobby where you’d drown your feelings in alcohol and hopefully receive a respite from this horrible nightmare you were living.

Except as soon as you exited the elevator, heading towards the bar, you realised you’d made a terrible mistake. Because there Charles stood, speaking in hushed tones with Pierre Gasly and making big gestures with his hands.

And fuck, his hands. It was probably a strange thing to focus on considering the circumstances, but it was the only thing keeping you from freaking out so you welcomed the distraction eagerly, eyes tracing each vein on his hand, remembering how gentle they could be when he wanted them to.

But then he looked away from Pierre, a frustrated expression on his face, and his gaze landed directly on you, and his eyes widened, mouth parting slightly as he stared at your figure. You panicked yet couldn’t move, swallowing thickly but unable to tear your gaze away from him as he continued to stare, looking dumbfounded.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As soon as you regained control of your body you turned around, walking swiftly back into the elevator. You couldn’t do this today; not when you’d just discovered your career was at risk and his wasn’t, for the exact same thing.

Charles didn’t seem to be thinking the same thing as you though, because just as you pressed the button to your floor, the doors starting to close, his hand was there stopping the doors from closing, and then he was inside the elevator with you as the doors did finally shut, except now they felt like a death sentence, trapping you in there Charles.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, and oh.

Oh how his voice comforted you. Everything was shit, your whole career crashing down before your eyes, the thing you worked so hard for in the midst of being destroyed, but with one word from his mouth Charles somehow made everything seem slightly better. It warmed you, and you cursed yourself for it.

“Charles,” you replied just as softly, unable to help yourself. You longed for him like the sun longed for the moon, like the stars longed for the clouds. Polar opposites, unable to be together but fuck if you didn’t try as desperately as you could to make it work. To be with them even against all odds.

And then suddenly you were being wrapped up in Charles’ arms, apologies spilling from his mouth as he pressed you against him, grip tightening with every passing second. And you were just as hopeless, returning the embrace with a desperation you didn’t even realise you had, hiding your face into his chest, escaping from the world, feeling nothing but him.

He rested his chin on your head, eyes fluttering shut, hugging you tighter against him. It took everything in you not to start sobbing, to beg him for forgiveness then and there. Everything felt so fucking hard, and if you had to leave without Charles you weren’t sure how you’d cope with it. You never imagined having to do this without him.

“I’m so sorry Y/n,” Charles choked out, words muffled from where he pressed his face into your hair. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You pulled back, quickly wiping away a stray tear before he could see. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because this is your worst fucking nightmare.”

Well, you couldn’t argue with that. It was your worst nightmare, except it was double the horror because you didn’t even have Charles by your side to help you through it.

“Why didn’t you call?” you asked instead. “Or even text me?”

Charles looked away guiltily, but he didn’t take a step back. If anything he held you tighter, like he thought you were going to try to escape him any minute. Little did he know you didn’t want to be anywhere but his arms right now.

“I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” he admitted quietly. “It’s my fault this is happening. We were too careless. I was too careless, and encouraged you to be as well, even though I knew what was on the line for you. This happened because of me.”

You were shaking your head before he even finished speaking. “Charles none of this is your fault. I knew what I was doing getting involved with you. Both of us are responsible.”

Yet only one is suspended, a vicious voice hissed in your mind.

You tried pushing it away, not wanting any bitter feelings to ruin the moment. Unfortunately Charles knew you, and he noticed the sudden shift, eyebrows furrowing.

“What is it?”

You swallowed, unsure if you should tell him or not. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t suspended, he shouldn’t be blamed for it, but you couldn’t help resenting him a little bit for it. It was wrong, you knew that, but it was how you felt.

“I was suspended.”

Charles opened his mouth and closed it again, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I know,” was his eventual answer.

“And you weren’t.”

Pain briefly flashed across Charles’ voice, his voice strained as he spoke. “I know. I’m sorry. I tried to talk them out of it but they said because we weren’t together anymore the risk of secrets spilling was higher and-”

“You talked to them?” you asked, surprised.

Charles looked almost hurt at the shock on your face. “Of course I did, Y/n. This isn’t fucking fair. If I can help you I’ll do it, even if we’re no longer together.”

You kissed him then. You weren’t sure how it happened. You just felt this overwhelming warmth at his words, this feeling of love filling you to the brim, begging to be released but you didn’t know how to except with this. With a kiss worth a thousand words, telling him everything you couldn’t say in person, all your doubts and insecurities and love love love.

Charles kissed you back just as deeply, hands cradling your face like you were something fragile. Like you were precious, something he wanted to keep forever in his arms, never let go of. Like he loved you just as much as you loved him, even now. Even after everything.

When you both pulled back there was a hesitant hope in your eyes. You’d understand if Charles didn’t want you again, if he just kissed you back in the heat of the moment. You’d hurt him, and now you wanted him back. It was understandable if he wanted nothing to do with you. It would break your heart, of course, but you’d understand and you wouldn’t fight it.

Except Charles was smiling, which wasn’t something someone would do if they were about to break up with you. Even though you weren’t even together.

“I love you, Y/n,” Charles breathed, cupping your face. “I understand if you don’t want to, but please, let me be with you again.”

Your heart gave a little squeeze. “You still want to? Even after all I did, after everything, you still want to be with me?”

Charles smiled, pressing his forehead against yours. “Of course.”

You opened the door to your hotel, hand in hand with Charles.

“Y/n, you’re back, we were starting to worry-”

Lando stopped speaking, jaw hanging open as he stared at Charles, distrust and confusion clear on his face. As if his silence was some indicator of danger, the three other men bounded into the living room, expressing similar shock to Lando at the sigh of Charles next to you.

“You bastard,” Yuki muttered, lunging forward to- well, you weren’t even sure what he was intending to do; tackle him maybe?- but Oscar grabbed the hem of his shirt, keeping him away.

Charles looked at them sheepishly, giving a little wave. “Hey guys.”

George looked at you. “So are you two dating again?”

You nodded silently, but couldn’t stop the smile forcing its way onto your face.

George sighed. “Fucking finally. Pierre had been harassing me constantly about it.”

“He was what?!” Charles squawked incredulously.

George, sensing he had made a mistake, kept his mouth shut.

You didn’t care though. All you could care about was that you had Charles with you, by your side, and he’d be with you while you sorted this mess out, got your career back on track and made sure no team or media would fuck with you again. You had him for every moment in the future, every night as you went to sleep and every morning as you woke up. You had him for every race, every dinner, every anniversary.

That was all for the future though. Right now you just wanted to hang out with your friends, and your boyfriend, who regardless of everything that had happened was here with you. Who cared for you, loved you, wanted to be with you, even after everything.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #yuki tsunoda #george russell #lando norris #oscar piastri #pierre gasly #ferrari #aston martin #driver

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inej-ruination-ghafa · 2 years

Text

SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS - J.M

Warnings: pregnancy, main character death, violence, blood, grief

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: you loved Joel more than you had ever loved anyone else and when you were finally ready to start the rest of your lives together, the world collapsed

Wordcount: 4.1k

The alarm woke the two of you up that morning but he ignored it, tightening his arms around you as the two of you lay there in his bed.

"Alarm," the young girl called out, hand pounding on the door.

You didn't want to be taken out of the dream you had even though you knew that the morning sickness would wake you up any second.

You hadn't mentioned it to Joel yet but you'd checked and you were going to surprise him before he left for work for his birthday. You were 7weeks along and couldn't be happier.

You were snapped out of your thoughts of your future by Joel's groan as he pulled you tighter against him, "Five more minutes," he said, his voice gruff in your ear.

As you turned over and looked at your husband of two years, you thought of everything you'd done and been through. You were 5 years his junior and had met five years ago at a work event. You were a secretary at a work event he wa doing construction for and after spending the whole night staring at you, tommy had finally convinced him to ask you out.

Now as you lay here in his bed, looking up into his eyes, you knew that he had made the best decision. "Happy birthday handsome," you said and he pulled you closer to him, arms tightening around your waist.

He smirked, eyes opening to look at you as he spoke in his deep morning voice, “Do i get my present now?” He questioned, hand slipping down to pull on the bottom of his oversized shirt you were wearing.

You chuckled, pressing a hand against his chest as you pushed him away before sitting up in your share bed, “We have to make breakfast, Ill meet you downstairs,” you said, getting out of bed.

After getting changed, you walked down the stairs to the kitchen where you saw Sarah as she stood at the stove, cooking some eggs. As you walked past, you pressed a kiss to the girls temple as you went to grab a glass of water from the fridge.

Sarah had only been 7 when you started dating her dad and she love you from the second that you two met. She had never had a mother like any of the other girls at school had had but you were more than enough.

“You want any help lovey?” You asked as you saw the girl cooking the eggs.

Sarahs nose scrunched up in disgust, she loved your cooking but eggs was in no way your forte, “I’m good,” she said, trying to be polite as you sat down at the counter.

You looked over at the stairs when you heard a noise, watching as Joel walked into the room. He walked over to his daughter, pressing a kiss to her forehead before reaching for the coffee machine.

Sarah asked where the pancake mix was and her fathers face scrunched up in the same way Sarahs had earlier, they were more similar than they thought they were, "I don't like pancakes," he said.

"I know, but me and mum do," Sarah said, grinning at you. You would never get over her calling you that because it showed just how accepted you were in the little family. She turned to the fridge, pouring her father a glass of orange juice, "It's Vitamin C,"

He shook his head in disgust, sliding the juice over the counter. You smiled, picking it up and taking a sip as he drank his coffee. You picked the glass up as you both walked over to the table, watching as Sarah placed their food on the table.

"How old are you again?" Sarah asked teasingly.

"36," he said, taking a sip from his coffee. He had missed out on so much in his life but the only thing he wanted now was to grow old with his daughter and his wife, ready to live the rest of their lives together.

He was snapped out of his daydream when he heard the door open and and they all turned to him as he walked in, "Hey, still alive you old fucker," he said, grabbing a cup of coffee fron the pot, "You look cheery, you get some last night?"

"Course he did," Sarah said and Joel choked on his food, looking up at his 12 year old daughter, thinking about what she had just insinuated.

"Sarah!' The two adults exclaimed, looking over at her as Tommy laughed at the idea.

“At this rate, you two will have some evil mini mes running all over this house,” Tommy joked and Joel laughed at the concept.

Your face scrunched up as you looked over at him, brows furrowed at the idea that he didn’t want that with you, “Would that be so bad Joel?” You questioned and he looked at you, mimicking the same confused look.

He shrugs, looking at you with the ghost of a smirk on his lips, “No, I don’t think it would,’ he said.

The words sent a wave of relief through you and though you didnt want to mention it now, you were. You had the tests upstairs and the first scan that you had gotten the other day at the hospital to prove it. You smiled at him at the idea and his face sank, almost like he was going through all five stages of grief.

“Honey,” he said, his voice quiet as he looked at you, your smile growing every second that you looked at his shocked face, “Are you serious?”

The room was silent as they waited for your answer. Sarah had a huge grin on her face as she looked at you, the excitement of having a baby brother or sister bubbling up inside of her. Tommys eyes were wide as he looked over at the table, realising that he spoiled the surprise - you had mentioned it to him the other day as he had driven you to the hospital.

“Surprise,” you said, your voice quiet as you waited to gauge the reaction from the others, “I had this whole thing prepared for tonight Joel-“

You started to speak and he cut you off, pulling you into a kiss - he didn’t normally kiss you that much in front of Sarah so the act alone made it clear how happy he was. When he pulled away, his hands came up to cup your cheeks and he looked into your eyes, tears welling up in his.

“We’re going to have a baby?” He questioned again, trying to keep his emotion in as he looked at you. Sarahs mother had never stuck around but he knew that you would, he knew that you were everything he was looking for in a person.

You nodded your head and he kissed you again, one hand going down to rest on your stomach, “7 weeks,” you stated when you pulled away from the kiss.

Joel looked around the room, a huge smile on his face as he looked at his family, “We’re going to have a baby!” He exclaimed, repeating the sentiment as he looked at the others.

When he noticed Sarah had started crying, his face sunk as he wondered if she was unhappy about it, even though she was the one who had been begging for a little sibling since you two got married, “What’s wrong baby?” He asked and Sarah sniffled.

“I’m so happy,” she said, laughing in between the tears. He pressed a kiss against her forehead with a smile.

“Me too Sarah, me too,” he said, looking back at you. Nobody in the room had ever seen Joel miller smile that much before but right now, it looked like he would never stop.

“Congratulations you two, guess I get to be the fun uncle for another kiddo,” he said, a smile on his face.

The rest of the breakfast went smoothly, all of them talking about how exciting it was going to be, what they were going to name the baby, how they were going to paint the nursery but all good things must come to an end. Joel left for the day to pull a double shift at the construction yard and you drove to work.

You were laying on the sofa, fast asleep, when you heard a noise coming from outside. When you finally fully woke up, you checked the time and noticed the sound of helicopters flying overhead.

You started to panic and pulled a jacket on as you rushed to Sarah’s room, you bag slung on your back. When you noicted that she wasnt in bed, you rushed outside, screaming her name.

That’s when you saw Joel’s truck rushing down the street - he had gone out to pick tommy up from jail after an incident - and when the car parked, he jumped outside.

“Where’s Sarah?” He asked, looked around, a wrench in his hand as he walked over.

Just as he said that, she ran out of the Adlers house, the girl running into your arms as you tried to protect her from whatever it was that Joel was scared of.

Nana Adler started crawling out of the house and anyone could tell that the three adults were scared and unsure what to do. You didnt even know what was going on but with Tommy standing there, a shotgun in his hand, you knew that something was wrong.

"What are we doing Joel?" Tommy asked, his voice loud as he pointed the shotgun at the old lady. She seemed sick, her face morphing into something horrid as she scrambled towards them.

When she got closer, Joel did the only thing he could think about doing to protect his family, he hit her over the head. He had to kill the elderly woman because if he didnt, then there was any chance that she could kill his family.

You gasped, pulling Sarah’s face into your body in an attempt to make sure that she didn’t have to watch her elderly neighbour being bludgeoned to death by Joel.

"He killed her," Sarah whispered into your chest and Joel came over to the two girls, knowing that you both deserved answers.

When he looked into your eyes, he could see that you were scared and confused and he felt bad that this was happening to you now. You two were just about to start your family and now you were being flung head first into an apocalypse that you had no idea about.

When his daughter looked up at him, he noticed the look of pure fear in her eyes - she had never looked at him like that before and he could feel the guilt sinking in his stomach "It's not just the Adlers but we're gonna be brave,"

You nodded and he grabbed your hand, checking on the both of you quickly. You watched Sarah get into the car and he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You okay baby girl?” He asked and you nodded, “We’re going to make it through this, all of us,”

You got into the car, sitting down next to Sarah when you noticed that the other two Adlers were rushing towards the car - they were infected, "Get your seatbelt on!" Joel yelled out and the two girls did.

"I'm scared," Sarah said as she looked up at you. You didnt know how to reassure the girl, you didnt even know what was going on. All you could think about was your family, your baby. You looked down at the bag that you had carried out; inside was the present for Joel, the sonogram.

“What’s going on boys?” You asked, trying to hide the shake in your voice as you looked out of the window as they sped through the streets.

Tommy shook his head in the front from where they were sitting, "They're saying its a virus. Some sort of parasite," he explained, looking back at them.

Sarah let out a shaky sigh, "Are we sick?" She questioned, eyes wide as she looked over at you.

You took her hand in yours, "Course not," you said as you tried to comfort her on a subject that you knew nothing about. You could all be sick for all that you knew but you had to make sure she wasnt too worried

"How do you know? How do you know we're not sick?" She questioned an you could hear the fear in her voice.

The girl had been so excited this morning, she had picked out baby names that she wanted and was preparing for the rest of her life as a big sister. Now she was preparing to potentially die.

Joel turned back and looked at the two of you, "They're saying it people in the city, that's why they got the highway blocked off," he explained and you nodded, unsure what that meant.

He hated seeing his daughter like that, so upset and scared, but he knew that you would look after her and that you were going to be okay. He didnt know how this morning he had recieved the greatest news in his life and now he was sitting here, planning on runnning away to save his family.

As they drove through the streets, Tommy looked in horror at a house on fire in a field, "God. That's Jimmy's place," he said, almost like he finally realised the extent of all of it. It was surreal as they heard the sirens on the streets and prepared for the end of the world as they knew it.

"The Adlers would take nana into the city," Sarah said almost absentmindedly suddenly. You nodded, listening to Joel reassure her that that must be how they got As they drove onto the highway, Joel swore as he looked at all of the other trucks lining up in an attempt to escape the hell, "Everyone had the same fucking idea," Tommy said.

He was just as scared as you and Joel were. This was his family too, but he had to put on a brave face.

"Take the field, we'll pick it up on the west side," you suggested, and Tommy nodded, the car jolting back and forth as they drove across the grass.

When they were driving through, Tommy stopped aburpty when he noticed that the entire military was lining the highway that they were trying to get to, "The fucking army," Tommy said.

"Keep moving, head north," Joel said and you could hear the panic in his voice as he starts to yell, explaining that there was nowhere else that they could go, "Tommy, come on,"

He would do anything for his family, especially now, "Where do we go?" You questioned, not knowing what they were going to do now. You werent even write sure what really was going on but also, nobody else seemed to know either.

"We go as far as we go, I don't know, Mexico," he said, shaking his head as he tried to save the family that he had spent so long building, "Go to the river, get across. Pick up the highway and then we're out,"

As he looked back at you and Sarah, you whispering to the girl to try to keep her calm, one hadn on her shoulder and one on your stomach, he wanted to cry. He wanted to break down and destroy whoever had done this to his family.

"Maybe its everywhere, maybe there's nowhere to go," Sarah said, trying to stay strong for everyone else but you could tell that her voice was breaking.

"We will be fine sweetheart," you said, reaching down and grabbing the girls hand, “You’re a strong girl and you’re going to make it, we all are,”

You were absolutely terrified for your family, for your baby but you couldn’t let it show for Sarahs sake. You had never had a good family life and now that you had this one, you couldn’t bear to lose it.

They started to drive through town, the four of them horrified ad they looked at the crowds of people. Some people were running for safety and some were chewing on other people.

Tommys eyes were wide as he stared into the distance, "I can't drive through them," he said, his hand shaking on the wheel.

"Keep going," Joel yelled out, all of his protective instincts bubbling up. There was no part of Joel that would ever let anything happen his family, to his brother, to his daughter, his wife and his unborn child and he knew that he would kill people to protect them if he had to.

All of a sudden, a large crowd started to emerge in the distance and they realised that there was something going on over there, probably more infected people. There was no way they'd make it through.

"Back!" Joel exclaimed, his voice breaking slightly "Tommy go faster, mow the fuck over them,

"Joel!" You yelled out and he turned to look in the front window when he noticed that a plane was crashing down and was going to land in their direction - it was going to kill them all.

Your head was a blurry for a second as you crashed and when you woke up, you were upside down and Joel was reaching through the car to grab you. You winced as he pulled you out.

He pulled you into his lap, whispering your name under his breath as he checked to make sure you were alright. His heart was pounding as he looked over at the other side of the car where Sarah and Tommy were standing.

For a second there, when you weren't responding, his entire life flashed before him and he couldn't bare to think about what life without you would even look like. He might as well be dead if you were.

“Dad? Are you and mom okay?” The girl called out from the other side of the car, holding onto her uncle.

"She's fine, you're fine, aren't you baby," he asked, hands coming up to her face and she nodded, looking in his eyes like it would be the last time.

You took a deep breath, nodding your head, "My ankle hurts, but I'll be fine," you said and he helped you stand.

Just as you were about to make your way around to check on Sarah and tommy, another car crashed into theirs, blocking the way around, "Head to the River, we'll find a way," Tommy said, knowing there was no way round.

“Let’s go babygirl,” Joel said, wrapping his arm around her as they started running. When they made it into an alleyway, they started running at the sight of one of the infected behind them. They started running as fast as they could, legs carrying them into an abandoned field at the back.

Just as you thought that you weren't going to make it through, the infected man was shot and you and Joel both looked over to see a man from the State police standing in the field.

Joel wrapped his arm round your waist, your ankle had gotten worse from all that running and he could hear you wincing as he walked over to the man.

“Help us, my wife, she’s hurt her ankle,” he said and the man was hesitating, hand on his gun, “She’s pregnant, please,”

You both stood there for a second, not knowing what the man was going to do or say. You looked up at Joel, looking into his deep brown eyes for wht you wondered may be the last time.

The man picked up his radio, “we have two civilians, a man and his injured wife, she’s pregnant,” the man said.

They couldn’t hear what the man said though the radio after that but when he received his orders, he held up his gun and you both knew that this was not going to end well.

“Please, we’re not sick, we’re not sick,” he repeated almost begging the man and when he heard the bullet fire, he did the only thing that he could think of doing, he turned his body around to shied you but it was too late.

When he opened his eyes, he looked up at the man who had the gun still pointed at you. The man never shot again and Joel flinched when he heard a gunshot. When he looked at him, the man was falling to the ground and Tommy was standing there with the shotgun in his hand.

The first thing he heard was Sarah’s scream and then he turned to see you laying there. He crawled over to you, tears in his eyes as he looked at the bullet wounds all in your stomach and chest. There was no way you were going to make it.

“Babygirl, babygirl, come on,” he said and when he tried to move you, you screamed. He pulled you into his lap, tears in his eyes as he held his hand to your abdomen in an attempt to save you somehow.

“Joel, Joel, it hurts,” you said through gritted teeth. It was like someone was pulling at you, peeling your skin off completley. You don’t know how you could bear it any longer so you closed your eyes.

“Look at me honey, don’t do this to me,” he said, listening to your sobs. He turned back, tears in his eyes as he looked at Tommy and Sarah, the latter of which had tears streaming down her cheeks, “Don’t let her see, dont let her look,”

He pressed his hand against your wounds desperately no matter how loud you screamed. He was watching his future slip away from him in those last seconds and you closed your eyes, sobs getting quieter.

“Stay with me baby, come on, come on,” he repeated over and over again and you opened your eyes, looking into his eyes.

“It hurts Joel,” you whispered, “The baby Joel, my baby,”

You let out a scream as he pressed his jacket to your stomach in any attempt to save you. He wasnt going to sit idlely and wait, “We’re going to make it darling, just stay with me,”

“I’m cold Joel,” you said, a chuckle escaping you as you closed your eyes, “Its so cliche, I’m cold baby,”

He let the tears flowed down his cheeks and your eyes fluttered open, focusing on him. You thought back to the first time you looked into his deep brown eyes from across the room and wished you could go back there. As the world slipped away, his hand in yours, you let his face ground you.

He let out a guttural scream as he pulled you into his arms, feeling your body go limo against him. Joel couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. He had failed at the only thing he had ever promised you to do. He had failed to look after you.

Even tommy closed his eyes as he watched his brother lose the only woman he ever really loved. He couldn’t watch, he could listen to the sobs from his niece and the screams from his brother as he tried to hold onto any piece of you that he could.

Joels eyes opened when he heard something flutter to the ground and he looked at a crumpled up sonogram that had fallen from your pocket. The pad of his thumb wiped the blood off of it, your blood, as he looked at what could have been his future.

He had lost almost everything in one moment, his unborn child, his wife and the only woman he had ever truly loved. His hand came down to your stomach, hands stained with blood now as he kept trying.

He let out one more visceral scream as he held your body to his. He wasn’t ready to let go and he never would.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x wife!reader #tw pregnancy #cw pregnancy #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us fandom #mj writes nonsense #mj rambles about the last of us

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novashelby · 18 days

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I'm Not Your Wife, I'm Your Daughter-Father!Tommy Shelby x Daughter!OC-Angst

Pairing: Father!Tommy Shelby x Daughter!OC-Evelyn (but honestly, Evie has a little bit of everyone. So, you are welcomed to be Evie...we are all Evie)

Warning: Death, swearing, violence, mentions of sex, very sad

Word Count: 2,761

Summary: Evelyn comforts Lizzie as Ruby gets sick in the hospital. When Tommy neglects his family, his daughter has some choice words for him

I am so proud of this. For the first time in a while, I feel really happy with something I wrote. So, please please please consider commenting and letting me know what you think. I know likes are easier, but I'd really appreciate some comments.

The childrens’ tuberculosis wing was a dark road. In fear of contraction, no one was allowed past a certain point. It reminded Evelyn of the road to hell, but she was older then. She knew better to speak the words in her head. So instead, she said nothing as Lizzie and her stared down the corridor that only seemed to get darker. A simple hand on the shoulder was good enough, whatever that was…good enough. They knew nothing was good. So, perhaps, it was just enough.

No longer able to bear looking down where they took her, Evelyn turned, letting out a large exhale. Out of everyone, she had to be the strong one, the present one, the mature one. There was no room to lose herself. Without looking at Lizzie, her hand searched behind her until she felt the ridges of her checkered coat. Her fingers hooked around the sleeve and tugged. But she was stubborn. If anything at all were to change from then until the end, Lizzie was determined to be there.

“Go home,” she told Evelyn, not unkindly. More so lack of any emotion. But she’d be damned if she left. Evelyn looked at her step-mother, or mother, she was never really sure what any of them were. The woman was young-only eleven years older than she, but her eyes were sunken in and her cheeks lost all and any color. It would have been nice and too easy to blame it all on grief. Evelyn knew better. Her father sent everyone to an early grave.

She shook her head. “No way home at this time.”

Lizzie softened a bit, giving a short head nod. “Very well-”

“Can I get you anything?” she asked. There was nothing left to get. Lizzie needed no more coffee. The two women shared a look of understanding. Lizzie stepped forward and hugged Evelyn; her arms squeezed around her, head tangled in her hair. Stiff at first, Evelyn was taken aback. Her own arms slowly wrapped around, hands hovering for a moment over the woman’s back. While neither were ever affectionate as mother and daughter, Evelyn was bonded to Lizzie by one mutual understanding. One was birthed by a whore and one was a whore. “It’s not going to be okay,” Evelyn said, resting her hands against her back. “It’s going to be horrible.” She could tell the woman was crying from how her shoulders twitched and chest heaved.

“I know,” she said, furiously nodding. “I know, I-I know….” Lizzie did her best sniffing, and wiping the wetness from her face, but Evelyn grabbed her hands. It was okay to cry. Everyone did it. Especially when life handed you a reason with no explanation. “I’m, I’m fine-”

“Let’s sit.” Evelyn walked Lizzie to an empty waiting area that was just as gloomy as the corridor. They were quiet for a while, studying everything there was to study; paint chipped wall, door frame, the chairs, and a lopsided painting of the Dover cliffs. But when Evelyn turned her head, eerily sat next to her was a teddy bear. It was a faded brown with a worn out face. Dried tears left specks of crusty, hard fur. It and her stared at one another for far too long until she turned and found something else to get lost in. “He’ll come-”

“He loves you,” she commented, slowly looking at her. “Out of everything in the world, he loves you more than anything-”

“No.” Perhaps it was true, but Evelyn couldn’t afford Lizzie going down that direction. “No, he loves everything the same, Lizzie. If it was me in that room, he would have been just as conveniently occupied-”

“He’s affectionate with you-”

“My father’s affections are spread thin.” Evelyn looked at Lizzie, forcing a small, thin smile…lips pressed and face tight. She shook her head. “We all fight for what isn’t there. You, me, Charlie. If I was older and wiser, I would have told you none of it was worth it. Him, it, us…none of it.”

Lizzie for the first time allowed herself to laugh. It was awkwardly placed among the hospital grounds, but nonetheless, it was a laugh of sorts. “I would have been just as stupid-”

“Well, if you look at it this way,” Evelyn snorted. “Married John and you still would be without a husband.” As the words came out of her mouth, she regretted it, but Lizzie laughed trying to soak up any humor she could in distraction. Shortly after, they went back to sitting in silence, soaking up their thoughts. Perhaps trying to numb themselves in the midst of it. Evelyn felt so much she was numb.

Sometime around midnight, Ruby had been moved to a different room. One where the family can see her under precautions. Lucky for Evelyn, she had received the vaccine as a child unlike Ruby. They had come out just in 1921 and just a short year later, made their rounds. Lizzie had fallen asleep, slumped in the waiting room chair. She almost woke her up, but decided against it, wanting to slip into the little girl’s room herself for a short moment.

And it was a short moment because Evelyn couldn’t bear to look at such a small life withering away. She slid in the room. It was the first time she saw Ruby for a few days and even then, she’d been thinner looking. Her feet stopped under the threshold, feeling her heart sink down to her stomach. “Ruby,” she whispered, not knowing what she could expect back. The last time the two sisters chatted freely, it’d been about fairies.

First, it was a sneeze and Evelyn helped her blow her nose. Then it was a cough and Evelyn went into her little room with some water. Finally, it was the fever and after the fever, the infection spread over her little body. Both were too busy. Evelyn would never tell a grieving mother, you were also too busy. Her father was too busy neglecting family for work and Lizzie was too busy caring for a man who neglected her. When the fever got too high, she called the doctor. Funny enough, they were home. Both of them in their own world. Own repeating cycle. Tommy had asked why didn’t you tell us? Who could between all the drinking and yelling? But that was then when they were naive of it all.

Evelyn pressed by the threshold and quietly sat down on the edge of the bed. The young girl slept still, head lifted. She’d never seen a child so drained of life; pale and almost tinted blue. Her breaths were spread out and wheezing. Sometimes they’d be like little gasps for air, trying to cling onto whatever was left. Affectionately, Evelyn rubbed the girl's legs to get some circulation moving and propped her up better. She was still fashioning the braids from a few days ago. “You look so pretty, Ruby,” she whispered, sliding to the floor to kneel at the bedside. “I wish I brought a blue bow…I’ll put one in your hair for you’ll always be wearing a blue bow.”

Evelyn thought back to the time she took her shopping in Birmingham. Ruby had just turned five. Look, they have a pink one for your hair. She would have looked so cute with pink. Ruby had taken one look at the pink satin ribbon and turned, pointing to the blue one, I want the blue one. “I’ll always get you the blue one,” Evelyn said when the memory ended and she was left staring at the still girl. Tears leaned heavy on her eyes waiting to fall down her cheeks. It would be the first time Evelyn would have allowed herself to cry, but not for long. She placed a lingering kiss on the girl’s cheek before leaving. When she opened the door, Lizzie had just reached for the door knob. But they only shared a quick glance before Evelyn went back to the seating area.

The bear had seemed to been moved, so when she walked back in, it’d been staring at her like the devil. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” she groaned, swiping it off the chair before sitting down.

Sometime between then and whenever Tommy came, she fell asleep. He peeked in before sliding into the waiting area, kneeling by her sleeping side. Despite being twenty-four years old, Evelyn was still short and able to make a makeshift bed out of chairs, curling up. He was his girl. His baby still. After everything, Tommy still looked at her as he did when she was eight. His calloused, shaking hand rested against her cheek for a moment, his thumb making circles. “Love,” he whispered, placing kisses on her forehead.

Evelyn jumped awake a bit, propping herself up with her elbow. In a tired voice, she said, “you should have been here-”

“I know-”

“No, dad.” Dad. Tommy felt that knife go through him. It had always been daddy, but never dad. “You should have been here!” The words came out like hisses through clenched teeth. She sat up, ignoring the cushion imprint on her cheek. Tommy couldn’t argue with that. He knew. Tommy looked down, swallowing, nodding.

“I had work-”

“Work,” she scoffed. “Ruby is in the hospital…she’s-.” Evelyn stopped talking, noticing the red puffiness around her father’s eyes. She knew then. “Why are you here with me? You should be with your wife-”

“You should go home-”

“You’re deflecting-”

“You should go home,” he repeated, tone a bit more serious. “I’ve called Isaiah to pick you. If you want to have a fight, we’ll have a row when I come home later. Alright?”

Evelyn shook her head. “No.” She was incredibly tired of his shit. “No, dad, nothing is alright.” She slid from the chair and draped her coat around her shoulders, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

Tommy looked over at her. “Remember when you were eight, and you told me something.” Evelyn paused at the door, rolling her eyes to herself before tiredly turning to her father. He was still kneeling at the chair. “You said…you said to me, do you remember? We were laying in the field and it was the first time I had taken you on the caravan-”

“What are you getting at? Huh?” she rushed him, fixing her bag on her shoulder. “I know, we went up north…it was the edge of the season and the mist…we got really wet laying in the grass. But I don’t understand what any of it has to do with you not being here!”

He got up, striding over to her, pointing, “you said…daddy, it’s me and you-”

“Because at that point, you were all I had,” she snipped back. “But guess what, I’m older now and my circle is bigger. I have other people, and in fact, out of everyone…it seems I have you less.”

Tommy cocked a brow. “No, no…you said, in some shape and form with your little girl words…daddy, it’s me and you, and no matter what you do, I will always be by your side.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You did,” he said, pointing. “You said that…it was misty and in September of 1918…In fact, I had adopted you just a month later. Shortly before that, I had came home from France-”

“I was eight,” she sighed. “You can’t hold something against me from when I was eight-”

His hand reached up and massaged her cheek. “I’ve held people for less-”

“Well, you fucking know what, dad.” She swatted his hand away. “That promise wears off when you start to neglect the only people who still love you. And quite frankly, loving you, it’s hard…it’s fucking tiring. Exhausting. You never know the meaning of accountability. You know what you do?” Tommy swallowed, his hand instinctively gripping her wrist. Perhaps deep down he was afraid she was going to leave. Go somewhere further than home. Somewhere he could no longer grab her.

Tommy closed his eyes and sighed. “You don’t understand…no one hates me more than-”

“No one hates you, daddy,” she said. “We're just tired. Everything we have was not worth the cost of what it took. Everyone else is gone.” In one way or another, everyone else was gone. She slipped from his wrist and started to leave.

That is when he said, “I’m glad it wasn’t you-”

“That's an awful thing to say right now,” she whispered. “That was my sister-”

“I loved her…love…and my heart hurts so much right now,” he explained. “But if it was you, I’d be better off dead-”

“And that’s why I mean.” Evelyn had to choke down the tears. It was years of stress and trauma coming forth. Discreetly, she held onto the door frame. “You don’t understand…it’s too much! Daddy, it’s too much…I’m your fucking daughter! But after Grace died, I became everything! I became Charlie’s mother, your wife, your sister, your fucking mother! I became your nurse, your caretaker, your therapist, your fucking everything. It’s been ten fucking years, daddy, and I’m tired…I’m so fucking exhausted!” She walked over to, her hands gripping his arms. “I’ve lived through every stage of life for everyone, but myself…”

Tommy was hardly impressed. He knew what she was saying, but couldn’t accept it. Because he was selfish. “Have I not given you everything you’ve ever wanted? That is your problem, Evelyn, I raised you spoiled…and I will continue to fuckin’ spoil you because it’s too fuckin’ late. So what? I asked you when my wife died to help with your brother? Huh? Is that it?” He pinched her chin. “Do you not remember how you’d sneak out all the time? Get in trouble? Party and drink? I’d have to come pick you up from some random fucking house at three o’clock in the morning! So, don’t give me that bullshit, Evelyn…you lived your youth just fine. You know what I did with mine? Worked and then I went to fuckin’ war…So, I’m sorry, out of all your fun times, I asked you to hold a tad bit of responsibility. Go home-”

“Aunty Polly was always right about you,” she scoffed in disbelief. “You lack all sense of accountability. I had to sneak out because that was only time I was free-”

“And I never once punished you for it,” he interjected. “Never striked you, grounded you, hardly ever yelled at you…Out of everyone in my life, you are the only fucking person I’ve forgiven without consequence.”

Evelyn pushed away. “That’s because everything else has been a punishment. My friends from school are married…I was supposed to go to university, but you needed me home. All the men who wanted to marry have found other wives. Daddy, I am left behind because I’ve devoted my whole life to being your emotional lap dog, and what's sad is, you don’t even understand!” She paused to swallow, taking deep breaths. Tears had dripped down her cheeks, falling to the ground. “Daddy, you only have three people left…me, Uncle Arthur, and Aunty Ada…and some of us already have one foot out the door.”

Tommy nodded, rolling his eyes slightly. He dug into his pocket for a cigarette. “Maybe my curse is my ambition.”

“And mine is that I love you too much,” she replied. “I love you so much that I’ve never left and I probably never will. So I will suffer until you die…I will watch you kill yourself little by little, drink and smoke, and sleep with women you can never afford to love. I will stand by and watch you wear people down until they die, and then have to put you back together because you realize your guilt. It’s a fuckin’ cycle.” Evelyn took a deep breath, fixing her coat before turning away. “Daddy, I love you, but I promised you that when you were making illegal bets on horse races. Not neglecting us for politicians.”

“What do you want me to say, Evelyn?” he asked.

“Nothing. I want you to say nothing,” she said. “But I fucking swear to God, if you bring that blonde headed bitch back to our home and fuck her like you did the night Ruby went into the hospital, you’ll see a side of me you’ve never seen-”

“Daughters don’t get in their father’s-”

She looked at him once more. “I’ll fucking cut her head and stick it on the pillars of the bridge in London like 1600. And with her blood, I will write your fucking name….”

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lovelytsunoda · 9 months

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tell me something girl (are you happy in this modern world) // tom “iceman” kazansky

summary: after thirty years of marriage, heather kazansky reflects on the time she spent and the love she shared with tom as she prepares to write her eulogy and say goodbye to her husband.

pairing: tom kazansky x wife!oc (named heather)

warnings: canon character death (Tom) and mentions of gooses death from the original movie, depictions of grief, mentions of mental health and medication,

authors note: this is the fic I firmly believe I was put on this earth to write. I wanted to do so much more with it, but honestly would have ended up with like 16k words or something like that.

April 2022, Miramar, California.

“is that the admirals wife?”

“jake, shut the fuck up.”

heather kazasnky had never thought of herself as an impressive woman. she always found herself timid, shy and a little anxious. it wasn’t until the first offshoots of gray started to sprout in her hair, and she’d watched all three of her children grow up that she truly thought sh had done something impressive with her life.

she sat alone at a table in the corner of the hard deck, oblivious to the wandering eyes of her husbands trainees as her slender fingers navigated the keyboard of her MacBook.

“heather?”

she started at the voice, cheeks marred with the flush of someone who had just been sobbing as she turned to look at the speaker.

“peter,” she hummed. “it’s good to see you, maverick.”

heather got to her feet, pulling the other pilot in for a tight hug. “nice to see you too, heather. how are you doing.”

“the best I can. the kids are supposed to be coming up tonight to help with the funerals.”

there were always going to be two funerals. the first was the formal military funeral, where her husband would be buried in the same cemetery as nick bradshaw, and the other was more like a reception, something more human and less structured. for the people who knew him not as admiral kazansky, but as tom.

“I miss him, mav. the house feels strange without him in it. I’ve spent so long being heather kazansky, I don’t know how to go back to being just heather.”

maverick shook his head, taking a seat next to her. “you’re still you, heather. you’re still a mother to three incredible kids, and grandmother to two.”

“with another on the way.” she coughed, somehow managing a smile. “joshua’s new girlfriend is expecting. he told tom before he died.”

“congratulations, heather. how are the kids doing?”

“as well as can be expected. as usual, mitchell is the glue holding us together. cassie’s a wreck. she always was her father’s daughter. and for it to happen so soon after she had jamie just seems cruel. tom was going to retire, did you know that? he was ready to put his papers in, we were going to go to greece. it was finally us time again. he gave so much of himself to this country, and I was so excited to finally have him back.”

pete rested a hand on heathers shoulder, squeezing it through the fur of her cardigan. she was strong despite her age, still well built and sturdy, face marred with laugh lines but not a single telltale old woman wrinkle. “I’m so sorry, heather.”

“thank you.”

she turned back to her laptop, showing the other pilot what she was doing. “I’m gathering pictures for the reception. but most of them are of me. tom always had his fucking camera with him. I should have let the kids do this part. all I’m doing is making myself cry.”

she cast her eyes back to her laptop screen, resisting the urge to reach out and run her finger over the photo, soaking in the good memories as they came flooding back. in the picture, she and tom stood on one side of the kitchen counter, laughing with each other as they cut gingerbread cookies.

it had been their first christmas together.

“oh my god,” maverick laughed. “is that iceman in a cable knit?”

“he was so nervous about meeting my dad for the first time. I had to talk him out of wearing his dress whites.”

December 1985, Richmond, Virginia.

they had been together for six months, give or take the few weeks his team had spent deployed in the gulf, and nothing had intimidated tom kazansky more than meeting his girlfriends father. he had wanted to wear his navy dress whites in an attempt to make a good impression before heather had laughed and made him change into jeans and a sweater before they left the apartment.

even then, he had changed sweaters four times before setting on the white cable knit he was currently wearing.

iceman knew how stressed his girl got during the holidays. her family could bring out the worst in her, and they were both highly strung when they walked in the door.

now, she was off to the side with her sister, cradling a mug of hot coco in her hands as she watched him with a smile, chuckling as he dropped a cup of flour down the front of his jeans.

“you really like him, don’t you?”

heather looked back at her sister, who raised her eyebrows as she took a sip of her hot chocolate.

“I do. I really do, abigail. he makes me feel like I’m worth loving, if that makes sense. everything with tom is just so…easy.”

abigail frowned. “he’s a lieutenant, isn’t he? that means he’s going to be deployed a lot. are you sure you can handle that?”

heather sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “we’re trying. he was out in the gulf for a few weeks in september, and we got through it.”

“he’s barely taken his eyes off you since you got here. and when he looks at you, I don’t see anything other than pure, unfiltered love. I bet he’s got a polaroid of you in his cockpit.”

heather laughed, a warm and giddy feeling in her chest. it was clear how much her family loved iceman, and how quickly they were welcoming him into the fold.

“you know I’m losing him for two months in the new year. he’s off to california, got into some fancy fighter jet training program.”

“you can still go see him, right?”

“yeah, I’ve got a few vacation days saved u- oh fuck.” heather cursed, thrusting her mug into abigail’s arms as she saw what her boyfriend was doing. “give me one second, I’ve gotta stop him from screwing up the gingerbread.”

she pushed up the sleeves of her jacquard sweater, socks skidding across the kitchen tiles as she loosely knotted her hair behind her head.

“kaz, sweetie, give me the rolling pin. you’ve gotta knead the dough.” she smiles softly, putting herself between the pilot and the counter.

one of tom’s flour coated hands came to rest as her waist, his chin on the top of her head as she watched her dip her hands into the bowl of flour, and proceed to knead the gingerbread dough by hand. her lovers hands came to rest over hers, his lips soft and warm against her skin as they kneaded the gingerbread dough together.

“see, you don’t always know everything, lieutenant.” she hummed giddily, running her thumb over his wrist.

“yeah, but I know I love you, and that’s all I need.” Tom laughed, gently using his finger to guide her head towards his and placing a soft kiss on her lips.

April 2022, Miramar, California.

heather paused, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "i loved that man so much, pete."

the hard deck was getting busier, off-duty pilots and seamen flooding in from the base at miramar as shifts changed for the day. heather knew all about the dagger squad and the hazy series of events that brought pete mitchell back to the academy, often having to speak for her husband in meetings once his first cancer operation had left him unable to speak for himself.

"auntie heather!" a familiar face looked over from the pool table. bradley bradshaw was a spitting image of his father, right down to the way that his moustache was trimmed.

for heather, it sometimes felt like seeing a ghost.

"brad!" she perked up, waving him over to the table. "how are you?"

when she first came to visit her husband at miramar, somethign about carole bradshaw had pulled heather in. she hadn't known the bradshaw's long, but by the time that goose's accident happened, she felt like she had known that family her whole life.

she did what she could to help carole out afterwards, especially when it came to raising bradley, but as rooster got older and time flew by, it was so easy for carole and heather to fall out of touch.

"you look just like your dad." she hummed, hugging the pilot. "it's like seeing nick again."

bradley nodded solemnly. "i was sorry to hear about admiral kazansky."

"thank you. it had been a long time coming, but there's no way to properly prepare to lose the man you love."

rooster gestures to the group behind him, the mismatched group of people coming to meet him at the table. “aunt heather, I’d like you to meet the dagger squad: jake, natasha, robert, reuben and javy. we knew the admiral well.”

“hi.” heather said weakly, introducing herself. “I’m heather, the admirals wife. or, widow, I guess. I’m still not used to saying that.”

“are you getting ready for the funeral?” jake asked, promptly getting jabbed in the rib cage by natasha.

“what hangman means to say is: we all respected your husband very much, and we would be honoured to help you plan his memorial service.” phoenix corrected, taking heathers hand between both of her own.

“thank you for the offer, natasha.” heather smiled. “bradley, I want to show you something.”

she sat back in front of her laptop, using the touchscreen to pull up a video taken the first summer she came to visit miramar. she had timed the visit to coincide with her birthday, a small selfish part of her unable to fathom spending her birthday without tom.

bradley pulled up a chair next to the table, watching as the screen crackled to life, the date stamp in the corner reading june of 1986. they were inside the o bar, the video opening with heather resting her head on tom’s shoulder, then panning over to the massive birthday cake and sparklers set in front of her. carole bradshaw sat on one side of her, and charlie blackwood was at the head of the table, sitting next to maverick.

“is that my mom?” Bradley smiled fondly. “she looks so full of life.”

“she was.” heather laughed. “and you might remember charlie, she was one of mavericks many lovers.”

“hey!” pete scoffed. “things just didn’t work out.”

“she was always too good for you, pete.” heather laughed, pointing to another space on the screen. the group was singing happy birthday, supported by a rockabilly piano backing track. “bradley, there’s your dad.”

goose was sitting in front of the grand piano, a toothpick hanging between his teeth as he hammered away at the ivory keys, aviator glasses over his eyes.

“happy birthday dear heather, happy birthday to you.”

the camera panned back to heather and tom as she blew out the cake candles. tom pulled her in to a soft kiss while the rest of the table cheered, and then the video cut to black.

“mitchell has been digitizing all of this stuff for us. I caught tom watching our wedding videos before he died.”

“remember when slider and wolfman got absolutely shitfaced at your wedding and tripped down the reception stairs?” maverick laughed to himself “did anybody ever get that on video?”

heather shook her head, a bright smile on her tear stained face as she hunted through the original wedding folder. “I’ve got you one better.”

September 1987, Monterrey, California.

mrs. heather kazansky. she could get used to that.

she was sitting with her sister and tom’s parents, the former two who were conversing with each other in polish. she twirled her wedding band on her finger, face flushed and spirits high as she looked on at her husband.

tom was with maverick and slider, the group of aviators dressed in their best white uniforms, beer bottles lifted high as they drunkenly hollered the words to an old rod stewart song.

“and I know your name is rita, because your perfume smells sweeter.”

abigail was filming, zooming the camera lens in on heather as she asked: “are you sure you don’t wanna back out now? till death do you part, you’re bound to this dumbass now.”

heather laughed, playfully smacking at the camera. “yes, I’m sure!”

“stay with me, come on stay with me!”

sliders voice was three decibels louder than everybody else, and he was also significantly drunker. one of the bridesmaids had her eyes on him, and there wasn’t a doubt in anybody’s mind that ron kerner would have somebody in his bed that night.

iceman’s face was flushed, his arm thrown around maverick as they rocked on their feet, skin sweaty and hair mussed.

but in the midst of all this chaos, he still managed to look over at his new wife, blowing her the softest kiss. she smiled, catching the kiss in her hands and pressing it to her heart, a moment her sister was able to capture frame for frame on digital video.

tom had watched the video hundreds of times as he sat alone in his office, struggling to come to terms with the fact that he’d be leaving not just the love of his life, but his three beautiful children as well.

April 2022. Miramar, California.

“that’s the kind of love that people only dream about.” natasha smiled softly. “you’re lucky you got to spend as much time with him as you did. most couples don’t make it as long as you guys did.”

heather smiled shakily, reaching for her drink. she’d left the sprite so long that the ice had half melted, condensation dripping down the glass.

“he was so good with the kids, you know. I was on and off depressed for a while after joshua was born. my mental health had never been perfect and I was on a low dose anti-anxiety medication for a long time. but after Josh was born, everything just got so much harder and I could barley get out of bed in the mornings. tom would take the kids to school, make their lunches. he was teaching full time at top gun by then, so he took a few days off to stay with me, make me feel like myself again.”

“he was a good man.” robert smiled, rubbing her shoulder.

“yeah, he was.” heather bit her bottom lip, pulling a photo up on her laptop that had the dagger squad letting out a chorus of ‘awe’s’

the picture was taken in 1989. tom was dressed in a gray waffle knit shirt, a pair of pit viper sunglasses on his forehead as he held a smiling baby in his arms. mitchell’s wide eyes looked up at his dad, his tiny fingers wrapped around in of tom’s larger ones.

his name was mitchell ronald kazansky, because tom had made a lame bet with maverick and slider (that he lost) and had to name his firstborn after both of them (because he was a fucking idiot at times, but she loved him anyways).

the boys were both easy children, but cassandra? she was a daddy’s girl through and through, and tom would have moved heaven and earth for his little girl. whatever cassie wanted, she often got, well into adulthood even. she was the spitting image of her father, from her honey blonde hair right down to the birthmark on the underside of her jaw.

when tom walked her down the aisle at her wedding three years ago, he cried all the way to the altar. but not half as much as he sobbed when he held his granddaughter for the first time, cancer-stricken and barely able to speak, but still brimming with joy as he held jamie to his chest.

“he lead a good life. one he was proud of. he used his last words to tell me as much.” heather choked out, overwhelmed by emotions. “I just wish we’d had more time.”

pete placed his hand over hers, squeezing it reassuringly as natasha rubbed her back, and rooster gently squeezed her shoulder.

there was still so much love that heather kazansky still had to give.

still so much love that she was surrounded by.

and maybe that was tom’s way, even from the grave, to tell her that everything would still be alright.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @twinkodium @sidcrosbyspuck @oconso @thatsdemko @lorarri

#top gun x reader #top gun imagine #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x reader #top gun fanfic #tom kazansky #tom iceman kazansky imagine #top gun (1986)#top gun fanfiction #iceman x reader

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k0fii · 8 months

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In every story, there's an anomaly - without it, it wouldn't really be a story at all. Not an interesting one at least.

Maybe the main character has superpowers when they're not meant to, or something disrupts ordinary everyday life. Maybe the apocalypse comes to shake things up, or maybe the world was already ruined from the start. It doesn't matter, as long as it's different from the reader's dull and boring life. As long as they can dream of something larger than their own pitiful lives but not something so far beyond that they can't envision it.

Hence, Han Sooyoung's problem. This kid sleeping away on that damned hospital bed, what would be a 'suitable' anomaly for him?

The world of TWSA was ruined. That's the point of the name but a totally ruined world wasn't what that kid needed right now. His world had already been ruined from the start - born from a father who didn't love him and a mother who loved him far too much.

'Three Ways to Survive a Totally Ruined World'

She had written this title before, somewhere at the start or end of this large loop. It wasn't suitable for Yoo Joonghyuk to just die over and over, maybe that would push that kid over the edge again and he would actually-

Han Sooyoung shook off that meddling thought and the subsequent shaking of her long bloodied hands.

She stood up and paced around the room. She had to write this novel, but those words won't just write themselves (no, she knows this novel would be written no matter what).

At the very least, she wanted to save that kid.

Then Han Sooyoung realized.

The only suitable anomaly for this kid living in a totally ruined world is someone who, despite that, never gave up.

The only suitable anomaly would be someone living, despite it all.

She almost laughed. Somewhere deep in her mind, she probably already knew. Even still, isn't it just so pitiful?

And so, she would craft the visage of a man who embodies the very anomaly of living.

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

Kim Dokja is an anomaly, Yoo Joonghyuk realized very early on. He claims he's a prophet but that's little more than a bold faced lie. He outsmarts Yoo Joonghyuk's at every turn, yet he only does so to protect what he couldn't.

Anomalies were what Yoo Joonghyuk hated the most as a regressor. They were always an extra variable to consider; something that wasn't part of the plan. Somewhere along the road, they would become a thorn in his side and he would regress again.

And yet, perhaps because Kim Dokja was truly an anomaly, Yoo Joonghyuk became afraid to lose him.

He knows that regressing here means he would never see Kim Dokja again. Maybe he was the last mercy Yoo Joonghyuk would ever be given (Is this suffocating yearning truly mercy?). So, he held on.

There is another anomaly too, that short woman named Han Sooyoung. She's brash and abrasive, she always ends up clashing with him. She does a better job with leading the others than he ever did. No one understands his grief better than she does.

And for some reason, he finds himself standing at the forefront of the battle with two mischievous fools now. He finds that he has something to truly lose now, and the blade in his hands feels real again.

Later, he learns that this worldline is different from every other one he's lived out before. He can feel the stares of envy everytime he uses that story. 'Why? Why is it you and not me?' He isn't quite sure either but perhaps selfishly so, he's glad that it was him.

The 1864th worldline was an anomaly, there's no denying that.

There's multiple answers as to why, but maybe it all boils down to the fact that these 3 cursed yet always intertwined souls finally met.

-----------

There is only one anomaly Kim Dokja always failed to consider in those plans of his.

And that was just how much he was truly loved.

Perhaps, the best anomaly would be if you came back and stayed.

Please.

#orv #kdj #yjh #hsy #yhk #anomalies and how you wish for some to be ordinary

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finchesslingshott · 3 months

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I’m so blue all the time — A Binch Comfort Oneshot (co-written by @thegreatbuttoneer)

Summary: Seven years after his mother’s death, Finch mourns over her on her birthday, comforted by Buttons. (Title from Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers)

WC: 1429 words

April 19th.

Finch didn’t want to get out of bed that morning, staring at the ceiling for a solid five minutes, hating the date. April 19th.

It was his mother’s birthday. He honestly had no idea how he still remembered that — it had been seven years since she died, and he never really remembered much of his childhood — but he remembered this date. The nineteenth day of April was burned into his brain, a constant reminder of what he had lost, what was never coming back.

Buttons smiled as he went down the street to the lodge, two stacks of newspapers in his hands. It was decently early in the morning, many folks already on their way to work. When he’d shown up at the distribution gates, he’d spoken to a few other newsies, waving at his friends as he stood in line.

The only thing that irked him this morning was that Finch hadn’t shown up. At all. It was prime selling time after all, and Buttons hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the other boy. He caught Race on his way out, figuring Finch must’ve stayed at the lodge this morning.

“Last I checked, he was still in bed,” Race said, frowning a little. “Did ‘e not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Race shook his head, starting to walk again. “Jus’ go talk to ‘im.” He hesitated, then added, “Be gentle, m’kay? It’s… It’s a rough day fer ‘im.”

Buttons frowned, rubbing his thumb over his suspenders as he continued towards the lodge. Rough day..? He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but hopefully Finch was okay. He’d hate it if the other boy were sick. He’d be out of a selling partner for a few days at least, and the streets of New York weren’t very kind to the ill and weary. Especially not the Newsies.

He jumped up the steps of the lodge, pushing open the door and giving a quick wave to Kloppman before turning towards the bunks. Finch was curled up in bed alone, snuffling every now and then, not looking up at anything. The sight alone broke Buttons’ heart.

He slowed, pulling off his hat gently and watching him. He and Finch had only been dating for about a month, but he already knew he really, really cared about this boy. He hated seeing him sick, injured, in pain — whatever the hell was going on with him right now, he knew he didn’t like it. To Buttons, Finch deserved the entire world, and he wanted to give that to him.

He walked up to Finch’s bed, leaving his hat on the bedpost as he stood, staring at the other boy sadly.

“Hey, birdie–” Buttons paused, not really sure of what to say next.

Finch looked up, raising his eyebrows, smiling slightly when he recognised it was Buttons.

“Hey, angel,” he said, his voice quiet and almost hoarse. He wiped at his face, trying to get any extra tears off. His eyes were red and kinda puffy. He’d been crying.

Buttons gave him a wistful smile back, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. He folded his hand in his lap, fiddling gently with his shirt tail. “You weren’t at the distribution gates this morning, so I asked Racer.. what’s wrong, love?” Buttons let the worried frown creep back onto his face, looking over Finch carefully.

Finch’s eyes darted away, his hand wandering down to hold Buttons’.

“Did Race not tell you?” he asked, really not wanting to have to explain this to Buttons. It made him sound whiny to talk about it, he thought — whenever he brought up his grief, even to Race, who was his best friend in the entire world, he felt stupid. It had been seven years since his mother’s death, and he still felt the pain so freshly, it could’ve happened yesterday. Why couldn’t he just get over it? What was wrong with him?

Buttons shook his head slightly, squeezing Finch’s hand in his own. “I think he wanted me to hear it from you, birdie. I think I’d rather hear it from you, too.”

Finch’s heart dropped. Guess there was no way of getting out of it. “I… It’s my ma’s birthday,” he said quietly, figuring that was a good place to start.

Buttons smiled slightly, rubbing his thumb along Finch’s hand. “That’s great, Finchie. How ol’ is she?”

Finch gulped. “She… Buttons, she’s dead. ‘as been since I were nine.”

“Oh.”

Buttons internally cringed at himself, kicking himself in the shin as he squeezed Finch’s hand tight.

“Oh.” He repeated it again, staring at Finch with a sad look. “Birdie… I’m so sorry, love…” Buttons looked away from Finch, staring at the floor for a moment, unsure of himself.

"'s fine," Finch said quietly, not making eye contact. "'s been seven years since she... y'know. Y'd think I'd be over it by now." He let out a little laugh at the last part, trying to disguise how much he hated himself for it.

Buttons jumped slightly, grabbing Finch’s hands and holding them tight in his own, staring hard at Finch.

“That’s not *fine*, birdie. If I was you, I would’ve been doing the exact same thing.” Buttons frowned, rubbing his thumb over Finch’s hand. “Nobody would expect you to be over it, Finch. Losing a mother— that’s one of the hardest things to go through.”

"I miss 'er," he said quietly, looking up at Buttons with another round of tears forming in his eyes.

Buttons swallowed, reaching for Finch and pulling him up into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Finch.”

He hugged him close, staring blindly at the wall behind him. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut, holding Finch as tight as he could.

Finch melted into the hug, hiding his face in his boyfriend's shoulder and letting himself crumple and cry. He clung onto Buttons like he was the only thing he had left — in this moment, it felt like he was.

Buttons just sat there for a few minutes, arms wrapped around Finch as he cried. He reached an arm up to rub his back, just tracing circles over and over.

Finch didn’t deserve this. Hell, nobody did— but why’d it have to be Finch?

“I’m sorry, birdie.”

"'s okay," Finch mumbled, snuffling and just resting there in Buttons' arms. "I-I saved up enuff where I don' gotta sell t'day." *It helps when you don't gotta pay for meals.* "But you still gotta, angel, you go; I don' want'chu to lose money jus' fer me."

Buttons shook his head, still clinging to Finch. “I can sell in the afternoon. I don’t wanna leave you by yerself all day, birdie.”

He gave Finch a small smile, tilting his head slightly. “But, if you really want to be alone, I can go. Whatever works best for you, birdie.”

Finch hesitated, then shook his head, burying his face in the crook of Buttons' neck. "Don' leave just yet," he said quietly, his voice almost begging. "Please."

“Alright birdie. I won’t.” Buttons squeezed his boyfriend slightly, closing his eyes and gently rubbing Finch’s back.

Finch sighed with relief, leaning up to kiss Buttons' jaw before laying back against him. "I love you," he whispered, already half-asleep.

“I love you too.” He gave Finch a soft smile, pressing a small kiss to his temple before leaning back, still hugging Finch.

Finch managed to fall asleep there in his boyfriend's arms, mumbling in his sleep every now and then. Part of him did feel bad that he was making Buttons stay with him when he should be out selling, but the greater part of him didn't care. He loved him more than anything, and he needed him.

Another part of him wondered how his mother would react if she could see him now, cuddled up with another boy. That always messed with him.

Buttons absentmindedly stroked Finch’s hair, listening to the other boy’s breathing as he slept.

“I love you birdie.” He mumbled it again, leaning against Finch and nearly drifting off himself.

"Love you too," Finch mumbled, turning in his half-asleep state, hiding his face in Buttons' neck. "Sorry."

Buttons grinned slightly, tousling Finch’s hair. “Don’t say sorry, love. Nothin’ to be sorry for.”

"Y'promise?"

“Of course, birdie.”

Finch smiled gently, pressing another kiss to Buttons' jaw, mumbling "I love you" one more time before fully falling asleep.

#binch #binch bitches #newsies oneshot #newsies #comfort #i'm gonna cry #them <3333 #finch cortez #buttons davenport #finch cortez x buttons davenport #save finch 2024

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anonymousewrites · 11 months

Text

Portal to My Heart (Book 1.5) Chapter Ten

Loki x Reader

Chapter Ten: Upon Arrival

Summary: In Norway, Thor and Loki face their father, and then they and (Y/N) face their sister.

(Y/N) hung back as Loki and Thor stepped towards their father as he gazed out over the cliffs, sea, and sky stretching out into the horizon. This felt a significant moment, and (Y/N) wasn’t going to ruin the moment by intruding on the family.

“Father?” said Thor hesitantly, a bit confused at how Odin stared out at the world once more.

“Look at this place. It’s beautiful,” said Odin.

“Father, it’s us,” said Thor.

“My sons,” said Odin.

Loki’s eyes flicked up to Odin’s face. I…am your son? After everything?

“I’ve been waiting for you,” said Odin.

“I know. We’ve come to take you home,” said Thor.

“Home, yes,” said Odin, nodding vaguely. “Your mother, she calls me. Do you hear it?”

“Loki, lift your magic,” said Thor sternly. Loki shook his head, quietly showing this was nothing he’d done.

Odin chuckled. “It took me quite a while to break free from your spell. Frigga would have been proud.” He turned to the fallen log. “Come and sit with me. I don’t have much time.” The three sat down.

“I know that we failed you,” said Thor. “But we can make this right.”

“I failed you,” said Odin. “It is upon us. Ragnarok.”

“No, I’ve stopped Ragnarok. I put an end to Surtur,” said Thor.

Odin shook his head. “No. It has already begun. She’s coming. My life was all that held her back. But my time has come. I cannot keep her away any longer.

“Father, who are you talking about?” said Thor.

“Goddess of Death, Hela,” said Odin. “My firstborn. Your sister.”

“Your what?” breathed Thor.

“Her violent appetites grew beyond my control. I couldn’t stop her, so I imprisoned her,” said Odin. “Locked her away. She draws her strength from Asgard, and once she gets there, her powers will be limitless.”

“Whatever she is, we can stop her together. We can face her together,” said Thor.

Odin shook his head. “No, we won’t. I’m on a different path now. This you must face alone. I’m proud of you both.” He looked at Thor. “You have become a worthy god and a far better man than I could ever be.” He turned to Loki. “And you are finding peace with another.” He gazed out at the sky. “I love you, my sons.” Loki and Thor’s eyes softened. Odin pointed out. “Look at that. Remember this place. Home.”

And in the peaceful silence as the wind gathered, Odin’s body turned golden. He glowed, and bit by bit the light flew into the air as the god let go of his life and left to return to the stars and his wife. Thor and Loki stood and watched the light fade into the distance.

Thunder rumbled overhead as Thor’s anger and grief started.

“Brother,” said Loki as storm clouds rolled in, dark and billowing.

“This was your doing,” said Thor, glaring at Loki. Sparks flew around his fists.

(Y/N) saw the anger building from where she stood and ran forward. “Hey!”

Loki and Thor’s heads turned to her, bodies tensed and ready for a fight.

“He wouldn’t have wanted you to try to kill each other after whatever family moment he tried to have with you,” snapped (Y/N). “Do you want the first thing you guys do after he dies to be disappointing him?”

Thor and Loki paused as the words sunk in. Before they could come to an agreement, however, a green and black swirl appeared out of nowhere.

Thor and Loki stepped forward, Loki moving in front of (Y/N). Thor slammed Mjolnir on the ground, and it transformed back into a hammer and lightning struck the ground, giving Thor his armor and cape back. Green light flitted around Loki, giving him his green armor back. (Y/N) stood beside them in her jeans.

From the green and black light, a woman stepped out. She had a black suit on, ripped in places, with green lines running over it. Her hair was wild and fell in a black mess over her face. Smudged eyeshadow surrounded piercing green eyes. The portal disappeared behind her.

“So he’s gone,” she said, voice commanding. “That’s a shame. I would’ve liked to see that.”

“You must be Hela,” said Thor. “I’m Thor, son of Odin.”

“Really? You don’t look like him,” said Hela.

“Perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” said Loki cautiously.

Hela smirked. “You sound like him.” She cocked her head at (Y/N). “And you…a Midgardian.”

“I have no idea who you are, but I already don’t like you,” said (Y/N), straightforward as ever.

“I am Hela, Goddess of Death, Odin’s firstborn, and heir to throne of Asgard,” said Hela, holding her head high as she looked condescendingly at (Y/N). “So kneel. Before your queen.”

“Loki can already tell you that I don’t take orders very well. And I don’t kneel,” said (Y/N). She had a smile on her face, but the look in her eyes spelled a different story.

Hela’s gaze darkened. “Kneel.” A sword appeared in her hands.

“I don’t think so.” Thor threw Mjolnir at Hela.

She put out a hand and caught it.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. No way!

“It’s not possible,” breathed Thor.

“Darling, you have no idea what’s possible,” said Hela with a smirk. She clenched her hand, cracks spread across the hammer, and it exploded into lightning and debris.

Thor braced against the power, and Loki covered (Y/N) from the explosion. As the smoke cleared, the remnants of Mjolnir fell into a heap on the ground. Hela pushed her hands over her hair, and it collected into a headdress of sharp horns. Both her hands held swords now. She stepped towards them.

“Bring us back!” shouted Loki to Skurge.

“No! She’ll bring Ragnarok!” shouted Thor. But it was too late, the Bifrost activated and drew them up into it.

“Loki!” warned Thor.

Loki looked down with (Y/N) and saw Hela coming after them as they were transported through the rainbow bridge. Loki’s eyes widened as Hela reached up for (Y/N) and she kicked her away. He grabbed (Y/N) and pulled her to him, throwing a dagger at Hela. She blocked it with her sword and threw her weapon up at them. Loki jerked back, but it clipped them, and they were knocked from the Bifrost.

(Y/N) screamed as she hit the side of the Bifrost and fell through it, and Loki’s grip tightened on her. She squeezed her eyes shut as they fell through space in a dizziness blur of teleportation.

“I’ve got you,” swore Loki. “I’ve got you.” It was nearly lost too the blur, but the words came to (Y/N), and her heart skipped a beat.

“(Y/N)?”

(Y/N) groaned and opened her eyes. She lay under a bright sun and blue sky. Piles of random items, junk and heaps of debris, lay around her. Loki leaned over her, gazing at her with worry(?).

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” said Loki.

She sat up, and Loki guided her up. “I think so. My head isn’t spinning.” She rubbed her temple. “I mean, anything is better than being dead. And I thought we were goners when we fell out of the Bifrost.”

“We’re definitely alive,” said Loki.

(Y/N) looked around them. “Yeah, but where?” There was a city in the distance, tall and very futuristic, brightly colored with shiny skyscrapers. “This isn’t Earth or Asgard.”

“No,” agreed Loki. He stood and offered a hand to (Y/N).

She took it and got up. “What’s our plan?”

“I’ve seen ships with strange beings flying around, but they’ve been fighting with each other and…eating each other,” said Loki.

“Okay, so definitely avoid them no matter what we do,” said (Y/N). “Well, I’m not going to argue with not dying as a plan. Seems like a good start.”

“We should head for the city and learn how this place is run in order to avoid trouble,” said Loki.

(Y/N) shielded her eyes from the sun and peered at the city. “Tallest tower always has the ruler in my experience. I think I can get us to it.”

“You can?” said Loki in surprise.

“I don’t sit on my ass all day doing nothing unlike some people,” said (Y/N). She scowled. “And I found that training let me get out my annoyance at stupid politicians and nobles.”

“Well, focus on your annoyance at Hela and being stuck here all you’d like,” said Loki, encouraging whatever it took to have (Y/N) get them out of the junk heap and away from cannibals.

“Gladly.” (Y/N) raised a hand and flicked her wrist. It took a moment to spin into a human size, but a portal appeared in blue light.

“You’ve become quite skilled,” said Loki fondly.

“Thank you,” said (Y/N) with a smile, and she stepped through. Loki followed.

They stood at the city center before a tall skyscraper that scraped the clouds. People of all different races milled around them, not even humanoid at times. Whatever this place was, it was outside of any precise realm.

“…What now?” said (Y/N), looking at Loki.

“Uh…” Loki frowned as he considered. “I’m not sure. We need a reason to get inside.”

“Let’s not beat around the bush then,” said (Y/N), walking up to the guards at the door.

“Wait, (Y/N)!” said Loki, running after her.

“Hey, hi,” said (Y/N) to the guards. “I want to meet whoever’s in charge of business here.”

Loki slapped a hand over his face. For all the good that (Y/N) had done diplomatically on Asgard, she lost every one of her manners and tact as soon as she was given a chance.

“…What?” said the guard in confusion.

The other shoved him. “They want to see the Grandmaster.”

Anyone calling themselves that has to be crazy. Fantastic. “Yeah,” said (Y/N).

Loki quickly interjected. “If it’s no problem, of course.”

The guards exchanged a look. “They’re new.” Apparently that was a big deal.

“He’ll want to see them,” confirmed the other. “See if they’re…worth something.”

Uh-oh. (Y/N) exchanged a glance with Loki.

“Come with me,” said one.

Loki and (Y/N) didn’t break away, and they followed him in, taking an elevator to the top floor of the building. A party was raging within. People, clearly higher-ups favored by the Grandmaster, milled about, smiling and laughing as techno played in the background.

The guard guided them through, standing out in their Asgardian and Earth outfits. He brought them to a small clearing where the band was playing. An older man in a gold robe was playing a keyboard-like instrument. He paused when a snake-like humanoid was wheeled up in a chair.

“Ah, Adderson!” said who (Y/N) figured was the Grandmaster.

“Sssir,” said the snake person.

“It took us a bit of time to find you! You rascal,” said Grandmaster with a grin. “What were you up to, trying to free my…uh…” He looked at the burly woman next to him. “My…?”

“Slaves?” said the woman.

“I don’t like that word!” whined Grandmaster.

“…Captives who work for you?” said the woman.

Grandmaster contemplated. “We’ll workshop it.”

Alright, he has a slaves, don’t like him, no way, thought (Y/N), already plotting his downfall.

Grandmaster turned back to Adderson. “Anyways, you tried to free my captives who work for me!”

“I’m sssso ssssorry,” said Adderson. “It wasss a missstake.”

“I know. And I know exactly how you can make it up to me,” said Grandmaster.

“Really?” said Adderson hopefully.

“Yes! I’m going to free you.” Grandmaster picked up a strange staff with an orange sphere at the top. “From life!” He pressed the staff to the snake person, and Adderson melted into goo as they cried out.

(Y/N) and Loki’s eyes widened. They officially knew they had landed in a really not great land.

“Ewwww,” said Grandmaster, hoping out of the way of the sludge. “Can we get someone here to clean this?” He threw the staff to a worker and turned away.

“Grandmaster,” said the guard stiffly. “We have new arrivals.”

“Huh? Don’t they usually come in a chair or something?” said Grandmaster in confusion.

“Uh…they came in through the city,” said the guard.

Grandmaster sighed. “My scrappers are slacking…” He turned to face Loki and (Y/N) and paused as he looked at them. “Huh.”

“Should I send for shock disks?” said the burly woman eagerly.

“…Are you two fighters?” said Grandmaster.

“No,” said (Y/N), lying.

“We’re better with words,” said Loki with a polite smile.

“Well, that’s good, I’d hate for those pretty faces to get messed up in a fight,” said Grandmaster brightly, grinning at them.

Oh boy/dear… thought (Y/N) and Loki.

“So, who are you two?” said Grandmaster, leaning forward over his keyboard.

“I am Loki,” said the god of lies.

“I’m (Y/N),” said the woman.

“Hmm,” said Grandmaster, peering at them as if deciding what to do. “How did you come to be here?”

“Rainbow portal,” said (Y/N) matter-of-factly. “And a history of bad luck.”

“Family disagreement,” said Loki.

Grandmaster grinned at their answers and chuckled. He gestured to them while looking at the burly woman. “Funny and good-looking! I like them already. You’re definitely staying with me. Wouldn’t want to miss this entertainment by sending you guys to fight.” He eyed them. “I would hate to lose such attractive faces from my parties.”

Loki decided he didn’t like Grandmaster’s look at (Y/N) and put a hand around her waist. “We are honored to be your guests, Grandmaster. Aren’t we, my dear?” He looked at (Y/N).

She stared at him in surprise as she felt the chill of his skin against her hip where her shirt and jeans left her skin exposed. “Uh, yeah.”

Grandmaster grinned. “Ooh, I love young love.” He winked. “And I love to get involved in it.” He snapped and pointed at the guard. “You there, get them to a nice room, like a honeymoon suite~”

Oh, no.

“And you.” He looked at a servant. “Get them some proper clothes. You know the type I like.” Grandmaster looked back at Loki and (Y/N). “You two enjoy yourselves. I have a party tonight, and I expect everyone to have a great time.”

“I’m sure we will,” said Loki, smiling and holding (Y/N) closer.

“Welcome to Sakaar, then!” said Grandmaster.

Welcome indeed…

Taglist:

@alexpangender

@technikerin23

@kikster606

@neenieweenie

#portal to my heart #x reader #loki fanfic #loki marvel #marvel loki #loki odinson #loki #loki odison x reader #loki of asgard #loki x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson #marvel x reader #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #mcu x reader #loki mcu #mcu

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starkraivennemad · 4 months

Text

What's Said And What's Heard

They didn't know it yet - it was their last minutes being alone…

First came the hurt…

"Mummy! What in heavens name could possibly have given you thought of such a connection?" Mycroft Holmes scoffed at the very thought. "He and I? That's utterly preposterous!" "Excuse me?" It was not so much the words spoken, but how they were delivered that caused Greg to lash out. "Oh yes, completely ludicrous. What a pauper can't look at a prince? I can help with that. Maman? Let's go!" Greg glad they had arrived at the booth but had not sat. He grabbed his mother's hand. "Gregory!" "Lestrade." "Greg, wait." Mycroft, Sherlock and his mother called out. Greg ignored the latter two to face a stricken looking Mycroft about to speak. "Don't bother, Holmes." Greg had hidden his feelings from the intimidating man for over a year because of this very fear. I’m not good enough. Hearing it confirmed in words stung. They stung deeply. He’ll never be mine… "Greg!" His mother tried. "Mère, no." Were he not upset and already turned away, he would have noticed her surprised face at being addressed formally, something he only does when he is very upset, as he gently, but decidedly pulled her at her hand. We’re leaving.

Followed by the embarrassment…

"Gregory Michael Lestrade, that is ENOUGH! Unhand me now, young man!" Giselle Lestrade thundered once they were out of the restaurant and in the car park. He had parked near the divider wall between self-parking from one entrance and valet parking from the other side. Whoa! Haven't heard THAT tone since… Academy? He immediately released his hold on her. He had not realized how tight was his grip until she shook her hand. Shite! What are you doing, Greg! "Maman, I… I am so sorry!" He tried to reach for her hand, but she snatched it away. "I don't want to hear it, Gregory. You are lucky we were such a nice place, and I did not want there to be cause of a bigger scene than what was already happening. What is going on in that thick gob of yours?" Fuck it all! This weekend had gone so great, now it's ruined! Head down in shame, Greg ran a rough had through his silver hair, setting it awry. "I can't." "The way you just manhandled me? Boy, you better try!" Greg winced at her words and shook his head. Giselle Lestrade raised her son to fear no one. Then again, his mother had not come against the likes of one Mycroft Holmes. How could he explain someone like Mycroft Holmes? He was an uber intelligent man who suffered no fools. Mycroft will claim he occupied a minor office in the British government and had the documentation to prove it, but after nearly a decade of knowing - Greg certainly knew better. There was nothing minor about Mycroft's true occupation as a global political player of such immense power the world is better in not knowing existed. Mycroft can bring monarchs and presidents to heel with raised brow. Calculating and ruthless, Mycroft was a man willing to make the hard decisions no one else could and execute them for the sake of Crown and Country. He was also a man of droll, yet cutting wit who loved his parents who did not always seem to understand him. Adores his not-exactly-a-baby brother who lives to give him grief at every turn as only a little brother can. The man who publicly scorned sentiment and romantic entangles with a motto of caring is not an advantage. The man whose plentiful condemnations were as cutting as his rare compliments Tall, posh with legs for eons in his three-piece bespoke, pocket watch wearing suit of a man he was madly, but secretly in love with. The man who emphasized the preposterousness of that love ever being reciprocated moments ago. The man I just walked away from. "You wouldn't understand, Mère." Greg sighed as he leaned against his car. "Would it have anything to do with how deeply paupers love princes?" she asked softly. Greg knew by the question his mother had gleaned the answer. Of course, she knows. She the only person who can read me better than Mycroft. And she heard what he said… She leaned beside him against the car. “When did my brave copper of a son become a coward of the heart, hmm?” She was about to say more when voices were heard on the other side of the wall.

But then the surprise…

"Idiot boy! I'm not asking why you haven't told him. I'm sure you've concocted a hundred reasons why not. I'm asking how you, you who sees everyone and everything, have not seen it for yourself?!" Violet Holmes fussed. "Believe me, Mummy. He has excelled at hiding his feelings - even from himself." Sherlock drawled. Oh, HE’s one to talk! "Oh, don't you dare! Pot/Kettle, little brother, Pot/Kettle." "Oh, don't you dare try to change the focus, Mikey." Violet chastised. "And Liam hush! I'll get back to you your doctor fellow another time, don't speak out of hand again." "Yes, Mummy." Sherlock demurred. So, I'm not the only son to completely ruin Mother's Day brunch. Nice to know the Holmes Boys get taken to task by their mum too. “This is about Mikey being intimidated by Greg.” Violet continued. What? Greg looked at his mother and knew by her look of surprise he had not misheard. Mycroft intimidated by me? I am the one who is intimidated! “Oh, I am sure my brother has unconsciously tried his best to intimidate Greg.” Sherlock scoffed. “Are you aware, Mummy, that Lestrade and John are the only people outside the immediate family not cowed by his Iceman glare? I’m sure he’s tried to ward him off with his trademark Caring Is Not an Advantage lark – Ow! You kicked me!” Only because Greg had to stop himself from laughing out loud did it occur to him; he was listening in on their conversation. And I definitely should not be. Best to go before my feeling are hurt even more. “I did say stop speaking out of turn.” Violet huffed, “Besides, Mikey is correct, caring is NOT an advantage…” “Thank you, Mummy.” Mycroft said smugly. “Don’t thank me. I raised you to be wary of the pitfalls of love, yes, but not to disdain it altogether. Since when are you such a coward?” Without even looking at her, Greg saw the smug look on his mother’s face. He was not really cognizant of having moved until he had turned the corner.

Succeeded by the confession…

“Disadvantage or not - didn’t stop you from falling in love with me or I you, did it?” “Gregory!” Mycroft spun around at the sound of Greg’s voice behind him. Greg will treasure the day he caused surprised looks on not one, not two, but all three of the Holmes geniuses. “Maman was giving me the well-deserved what for too.” Hands in his trouser pockets and blushing profusely, Greg tilted his head towards Giselle who joined him. “Sherlock, I know you can charm when you want to. Do it now and please take our mother’s back inside for brunch. Your brother and I will be in shortly.” “I will…” Whatever nonsense was about to fall from Sherlock’s lips evaporated as four sets of eyes glared at him. “I will do my best.” “You better.” Greg gave him no quarter, blithely ignoring the scowl from Sherlock, and the raised eyebrows from the mothers and the three returned to the restaurant. “Sorry for listening in… I…”. “No, before you say another word let me speak, please.” Mycroft approached Greg. “You walked off before I could explain. The preposterousness of out being together was because I never imagined some like you would ever have interest in someone like me. It was NEVER that I have not sincerely wished for such between us. Mummy saw how much it devastated me to realize I had accidentally hurt you and why.” “And I thought someone like you would never be interested in someone like me. Your words, the way I took them sealed it. Maman saw how much I was hurt by you and why.” Greg smiled at his mother, then at Violet. “Nice to know you can’t hide from your Mum any more than I from mine.” “I’m beginning to see neither mother raised cowards, just two blind idiots.” Greg smiled gently. “But I think we’re both seeing clearly now – yes?” “Quite so.” Mycroft returned the smile.

Adding in the touch…

Eyes locked on each other; Greg realized it took Mycroft a moment for it register his hand was being gently tugged. Mycroft looked down to see Greg’s strong fingers slowly grasping to hold his. He and Mycroft have shaken hands countless of times. This was the first time ever they have touched. “You…. You are the first person in YEARS, outside of family or physicians, to touch me…” Mycroft exhaled in wonder. “And to be blunt – you’re… oh sod this!”

With the kiss…

Greg is not sure what surprised him more. Mycroft using such a phrase as Sod this(!) or the kiss suddenly planted on his lips. Okay, he lied – the kiss absolutely was the bigger surprise. Oh, but a much, MUCH more welcome one! “Hello…” Mycroft was quite pink about the ears when they came up for air. “Hey yourself” Greg could not have wiped the smile from his face had his life depended on it. “I feel behooved to inform you that was seen not only by the valet, but at least two security cameras and…” Mycroft pulled out his buzzing phone without looking. “Oh?” Greg grinned was plastered in place as he spied the nearest camera and waved. “Tell Anthea she can give me The Talk on Tuesday.” “Why Tuesday?” Mycroft asked surprised. “Today IS Mothers’ Day and I don’t know about you, but I’m damn sure not telling Maman to fend for herself until she heads back tomorrow .” Greg headed back inside the restaurant. ”So, Anthea will have to wait until Tuesday.” “I do not say this often, Gregory, but I’m not following.” Greg turned around in time to appreciate Mycroft’s sardonic eyeroll in acknowledgement that he was in fact currently following Greg into the restaurant.

Concluding with, the promise…

“You want to tell your mother you abandoned her on Mother’s Day to get railed by your VERY soon-to-be lover? Because once I get your in bed tomorrow, Mycroft Holmes, we’re not getting out of it before Tuesday.” Greg winked. Greg grinned as Mycroft stumbled nearly going offline again. Whoa! Got Mycroft to short-circuit twice in one day! “Follow me now, love?” “Yes, I follow, love.”

…Before the rest of their lives together.

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

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@calaisreno @MayPrompts2024

#MayPrompts2024 - Prompt 9: Intimidate, Prompt 14: Eavesdrop

#mayprompts2024 #mystrade #bbc sherlock #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #sherlock holmes #mystrade monday prompts

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bluejaysandblackbats · 3 months

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Five Stages of Mamma Mia

Fandom: Batfam, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Catherine Johnson is Jason's bio mom and Jason doesn't know who his father is. (Jason Todd is Jason Johnson for fic reasons).

Chapters: 19/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Jason Blood, Catherine Todd Mention, Bruce Wayne, Willis Todd Mention

Relationship(s): Past Catherine Todd/Jason Blood, Past Catherine Todd/Bruce Wayne, Past Catherine Todd/Willis Todd

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Mamma Mia-inspired AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Father-Son Relationship(s), Jason Todd Experiences the Five Stages of Grief

Chapter Nineteen: Chiquitita (Bargaining)

As summer concluded, Mr. Blood helped Jason get dressed for Bruce's benefit dinner. "I hate bowties too, but I can't say you don't look dapper," Mr. Blood complimented as he fitted Jason's cumberbund over his suspenders. Jason hadn't smiled the entire day and spent most of that time hidden away in his room. After Mr. Blood fitted the cumberbund, he tied Jason's tie. Forest green velvet with gold trim. He wanted Jason to look his best. "What's wrong?"

"I'm scared," Jason mumbled. Mr. Blood picked Jason up as if he were a small child. He thought it'd make Jason laugh. Mr. Blood's heart sank when Jason threw his arms around his neck.

"You should be worried about out-dressing him," Mr. Blood casually whispered as he set Jason down. He gave Mr. Blood a puzzled look. "You heard me. Think of all those silly-looking adults drinking wine and making fools of themselves... And then there's you... All dressed up, sober, and absolutely charming. He'll be proud."

Jason let out a relieved laugh. "Yeah?" Jason asked.

"Yeah!" Mr. Blood nodded. He playfully shook Jason.

"Yeah!" Jason shouted excitedly. Mr. Blood laughed and helped Jason into his jacket. Jason held Mr. Blood's hand as they left the room and headed downstairs. "Do you think Bruce missed me this week?"

"Are you joking? Time away from the best boy in the world? It's dreadful!" Mr. Blood exclaimed. Jason giggled as they got in the car. "Before we get there, I want to go over the plan. Before dinner is the silent auction, and since I still owe you a gift for making the honor roll, you can have me bid on three items of your choice. Then, there's the song and dance of mingling before dinner. After dinner, there's dessert and a little touch of dancing." Jason nodded.

"Will I have to dance?" Jason questioned. Mr. Blood shook his head.

"And I think your brother might be there," Mr. Blood added. Jason grinned and swung his feet.

When they arrived at the manor, Mr. Blood grabbed his bidding paddle, and Jason clung to him. "Where's B?" Jason whispered.

"He has to greet some of his guests. It's customary—."

Jason jumped as he felt a pair of hands cover his eyes. "Dick?" Jason asked.

"Hey, Kid. You look snazzy," Dick smiled as Jason jumped into his arms. Dick embraced him and straightened Jason's jacket. "Bruce is gonna be thrilled. Mind if I drop in next to you for the auction? I love watching rich people fight," Dick smiled. Jason nodded, and Bruce entered the room to announce the start of the auction. He stopped mid-sentence to wave at Jason. Jason waved back with a sheepish grin. The auction was two hours long, and Mr. Blood bid on a private museum tour, a family camping trip, and dance lessons. Jason was overjoyed.

After the auction, the real fun began. Mr. Blood and Dick took turns with Jason, mingling among the crowd. "How old are you?" one of the women asked.

"Twelve, but I'll be thirteen next month," Jason replied innocently.

"And where's your mother and father tonight? I have to commend them for having such a smartly-dressed son," she whispered as she pinched his cheek. He frowned.

"Well, uh... My mom's not—. I'm—."

"Unconventional family situation. He's my little brother, but a friend of Bruce's also has custody from time to time," Dick answered. Jason nodded. Bruce wandered over and stepped back to take Jason in.

"We have got to take a picture. Where's Jay—? Mr. Blood?" Bruce asked. Jason grabbed Bruce's hand and stood on his tiptoes. Bruce crouched down to hear him.

"Dad's talking to an old student," Jason whispered. Bruce nodded and squeezed Jason's hand. "Do you want me to go and get him?"

Bruce looked at Mr. Blood from a distance and chewed his lip. "Um, I think Dick will go get him... Won't you?" Bruce asked. Dick nodded and walked off. "I'm so glad you came."

"I missed you," Jason declared. Bruce lit up, smiling from ear to ear as he hugged Jason.

"I missed you too," Bruce replied, "How've you been?"

"Good, I got enrolled in a middle school... A public one," Jason replied, "I start in two weeks."

"I know. Mr. Blood told me all about it. Are you excited?" Bruce questioned as a photographer approached. "Say cheese."

"Cheese!" Jason smiled while he held onto Bruce's hand. Bruce let go after the picture and whispered something to the photographer. She nodded. Bruce waved Dick and Mr. Blood over. They took a family picture, and Jason held his fathers' hands before they all returned to mingling.

Finally, dinnertime came, and they served Jason a large bowl of red soup. "Bruce, what's this?" Jason asked. Bruce shrugged.

"Try it, and I'll tell you," Mr. Blood replied. Jason obeyed and took a deep breath after his first spoonful. "Do you want something else—."

"Nuh-uh. It's spicy," Jason replied. Bruce grinned.

Dick picked over his chicken and ate his potatoes while Jason practically drank his soup. "Boiled fish soup," Mr. Blood whispered.

When the dancefloor opened up, Jason was slumped forward on the table in a deep sleep. A photographer snapped pictures of Bruce and Mr. Blood doting on him before getting a photograph of Bruce carrying Jason to his room. Jason stirred and smacked his lips. "Did you ever find out?" Jason mumbled. Bruce tried to pretend he couldn't hear him. "Am I yours? You had my blood... I know you had to check. I won't be mad." He set Jason down on the steps, and Jason laid his head on Bruce's shoulder.

"I did check... But I didn't want to know. I threw out the results before they were processed. Jason, I love you. Isn't that—?"

"If I'm not yours, would you stop loving me?" Jason questioned.

"Of course not. Jason, no matter what, Mr. Blood and I will always be your fathers," Bruce reassured him.

"Then I want to know. Please, Bruce?" Jason begged. Mr. Blood met them in the hall, and Bruce beckoned him. "Can we please find out now?"

Bruce nodded, and the three of them went to the cave. Jason sat at the foot of the infirmary bed, swinging his feet as Bruce took a cheek swab. Mr. Blood stood with his back turned. He was so nervous he couldn't bear to look. "Dad?" Jason whispered.

"Yes, Lamb?" Mr. Blood replied.

"I'm not gonna cry no matter what," Jason reassured him. Mr. Blood nodded as tears fell from his eyes. He didn't want Jason to see him crying. Bruce did his own cheek swab and processed the samples. Bruce couldn't look as the computer printed the results several minutes later.

"Jason, I'm sorry," Bruce whispered as he walked away from the computer. "I can't look." Jason nodded and took the results, reading them for himself.

Jason sat quietly for a while with the results in his hands, and he choked back tears. After several minutes of silence, he typed something in on the computer. "Jason?" Bruce asked.

Jason pushed past Bruce and Mr. Blood. Once he reached his room, he collapsed. Dick was the first to find him.

#fic #5somm fic #batfam #Jason Todd #Jason Blood #Catherine Todd Mention #Bruce Wayne #Willis Todd Mention #Past Catherine Todd/Jason Blood #Past Catherine Todd/Bruce Wayne #Past Catherine Todd/Willis Todd #Canon Divergent AU #Mamma Mia-inspired AU #Angst #Hurt/Comfort #Long Lost/Secret Relatives #Father-Son Relationship(s)#Jason Todd Experiences the Five Stages of Grief

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they-them-van · 1 year

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i'm thinking about how hozier said "Honey, I wanna race you to the table / If you hesitate, the getting is gone" and how the yellowjackets are racing against time, racing against the wilderness, racing against themselves to find sustenance; one hesitation (misty pulling nat back, nobody bringing jackie in from outside, travis not being able to follow nat) can cost a life.

about "Throw enough rope until the legs have swung" and "Skinning the children for a war drum", how eventually hunted girls will be strung up to drain and how javi's clothes, the second skin of the only child among them, were removed so that the rest of the team could have a better chance of survival.

about "We can celebrate the good that we've done / I won't lie, if there's something still to take / There is ground to break, whatever's still to come" and the celebration of fresh meat, the bacchanal, the way the relief of something to eat drowns out any grief that might be felt; but also, food only makes them hungrier, lets the cracks in their stomachs grow bigger, until they dig pits used to hunt each other and take from their teammates until there's quite literally nothing left.

thinking about "Turning back to shore again / Above the outer atmosphere of a world he's never seen / And looking down to his new home, he feels the rising of a wave / And knows at once he will not weather it", how Lottie, who has led them through so much, doesn't recognize the teammates she crashed with, doesn't know what she's unwillingly created, and seems to sense that whatever the others are swept up in will drown her too --- even 25 years later, all of them are barely keeping their heads above the tide.

about "I looked down into the depths when I met you / I couldn't measure it" and laura lee recognizing something in lottie, taking her in, quite literally looking down at her as she welcomed lottie into her beliefs yet never able to participate in lottie's created belief system in the same way.

about "Measure the silence of a house / The unheard footsteps at the doorway / The unemployment of the mouth / The waking up, having forgotten / And remembering again the full extent of what forever is", how painful every morning waking up to a silent, freezing cabin would be, a team of teenagers reduced to silence by their stomachs in order to conserve energy, the lost members --- a team divided into those who are gone, and those who wake up every morning and wonder when they'll be gone.

about "With each grave / I think of loss and I can only think of you" and how shauna has to confront the reality of the part she played in jackie's fate every single time the yellowjackets hunt, every time another one of them dies for their survival, every time they dig another pit but end up with nothing to bury in graves.

thinking about "Do you think I'd give up / That this might've shook the love from me / Or that I was on the brink? / How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily?", "My life was a storm, since I was born / How could I fear any hurricane?" and van, who took care of her mother and tried to make sense of her life as a teen, taking care of taissa --- following her when she's sleepwalking, keeping her safe even when it brings her close to the cliff herself, trying to understand it so that taissa can have peace of mind --- van, who's in her thirties and still taking care of her mother and taissa and everyone around her and trying to make sense of her life while knowing that she doesn't have much left.

about "I'll tell them put me back in it", van looking into the eye of the storm and gritting her teeth. the woman who's supposed to be dead, burnt to a crisp, taking the crumbling foundation she's been given and trying her best to build it into something she can be proud of.

in conclusion i better fucking hear some hozier in the next season of yj

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets s2 #yellowjackets spoilers #lottie yellowjackets #shauna shipman #misty quigley #taissa turner #natalie scatorccio #van palmer #hozier #eat your young #through me (the flood)#francesca #the parallels between yj and hozier have me screaming crying throwing up

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unadulterated-syd · 2 years

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Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of losing mother, arguing, twd warnings (angst -> to fluff)

Synopsis; Going through a loss, Carl tries his best to help. Even through argument and grief.

Running off on your own was always a bad idea— but after a fight with Carl you hadn't even thought about safety.

He'd argued that you were to unstable for runs, having lost your mom a week earlier you'd become distant, and sometimes insensitive.

You'd told off anyone who'd tried to help you grieve, and on your last run you'd thrown yourself into a hoard out of anger— though you'd been lucky to have taken them on without being bit.

As soon as Daryl had warned Carl of your actions, he'd been on your case. Insisting you take time to grieve, rather than going on runs.

"You can't go out like this, you'll come back dead." He lectured, frustrated and fearful for your safety, "You're being reckless, and stupid."

"I don't give a damn, Carl." You shouted, "You aren't my babysitter, just leave me be."

"Everyone's worried about you, Daryl, Daryl of all people was the one who told me. Daryl's worried."

"I don't care Carl, if I want to go for runs I go for runs. You aren't my dad." You faltered at your own words, thinking of your father whom you'd lost.

Carl paused for a moment, sighing, "Listen, I came to talk to you because my dad's restricting you. He wants someone's eye on you all the time, figured it was best I gave you the option to agree."

"I'm not a child, I don't need that." You stood from your seat, at the kitchen table— frustrated. Carl looked up, watching you.

"Y/n this is because we care, not because we don't trust you—"

"Yeah, sure seems like it. You all blame me, for what happened, god knows I do too. But that doesn't mean I want to risk more lives by being replaced on runs."

You shook your head, looking to the door, "What I'm trying to say is— maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I was next."

"Don't say that." He said sternly, now realizing how serious the situation was, "This is Bullshit. Y/n you need to get your head out of your ass and realize what's going on—

— you almost died last night, because you got upset. You almost got multiple people killed because you can't control yourself."

You looked at him, his words setting in like salt to a wound. It stung, hearing someone you loved so much say something so blunt.

You can't control yourself. It rang through your mind, hanging in the air as realization hit him. Though, he was far to stubborn to admit it. Not until he had time to cool down.

"Control.. myself?" You looked at him, your sadness turning to anger quickly. "Control? You have never once been reprimanded for anything you've done—

— How would you know how I feel? You could commit anything you wanted and it'd be covered up wouldn't it?" You shouted, the tears forming.

"Covered up? Is that what you think of me?" His voice raised, looking at you, "You don't get to dictate how I've grieved, that's not what this is about!"

"Fuck you, Carl. Fuck you, and your stupid ego. You don't get to dictate my grieving either. And I won't let you."

Before he could respond, you were out the door— and here you were back at the beginning.

You fell against a tree, everything setting in finally. You'd just ran from the help you needed, yelled at the opportunity to have such help, and most importantly you'd just lost your mom.

Everything you'd burried inside yourself shone now, in the woods late at night. Your body shook with sobs, your tears fading as you ran out.

Who knew how long you'd been crying, how long you'd been out there, how long everyone may have looked for you.

But, your loud sobs were sure to attract some sort of reaction from the world. And soon you found the noises of a biter crawling closer.

You reached for a rock, wiping your nose weakly. The undead figure appeared in front of you, lurching forward, knocking you flat against the tree as you smashed the rock over it's head.

You were sure you'd earned wounds from such, on your back from the sharp edges of the tree, on your hand from the force of the rock, but you far from cared.

All that mattered to you now was letting it all out— you smashed the rock over the biters head, though it was long dead. You sobbed over the rotting corpse, weakly crying out when ever the rock made contact.

You felt cold hands take your wrists, pulling you from the corpse as you dropped the rock. Carl pulled you into his arms, glad to find you safe— though his heart broke for your state.

He didn't take you home, not yet, he just let you sob. Doing his best to keep you warm as you did so, no words truly needed to explain your feelings.

He rubbed circles into your back, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you slowly soothed— you only acknowledging him when you'd finally calmed down.

"I'm sorry.." You whispered, leaning further into him, "I didn't mean it— any if it I didn't..I didn't. I want to live, I mean it, I do. I don't think you grieve wrong.. you're so—"

"Shhh, I know. I know." He hummed, his hands still running circles into your back. "Let's get you back, you need to lay down."

He helped you up, his arm never unwrapping from you as he guided you back to Alexandria, walking passed people who'd been wondering where you were— where you'd gone.

He gave them nods, assuring you were fine, never once pausing to talk to anyone. He finally stopped when he'd reached your room, gesturing for you to sit on the bed.

He kneeled in front of you— you on the bed, him on the floor. "Are you hurt any? Any more than this.." He asked, examining your beat up hands, holding them in his.

"My uh.. back a little. Damn biter got me against a tree." You watched as his face contoured with worry, fearing you'd been bitten, "He didn't get me, no bites."

He gave a relieved look, "I'll clean you up. Then you can sleep, as long as you want." He guaranteed, standing up and taking off to fetch things for your wounds.

You pulled your shirt off, giving access to your back when he came back. Whilst waiting you glared around your room, everything seemed to remind you of her— your mom.

It hurt so much that you didn't feel the aching in your body, the soreness in your throat, every thought was simply of her.

You blamed yourself, you were on the run with her, and now she was gone. You'd all split up and by the time you'd reached her once more, she was gone— turning.

Carl returned, snapping you from your thoughts. He adjusted himself behind you on the bed, pressing a cloth to the fresh cuts on your shoulder blades, apologizing everytime you winced.

"It gets better." He promised, from behind you, "It never heals, but it gets better. You think about the bad less. Miss the good more."

"What do you remember about her..?" You whispered, listening to the sincerity in his voice. He began bandaging your back as he proceeded—

— "As much as I can, I think of her a lot." He admitted, "She told me I'd beat this world, I try to make it true for her."

"She told me to be good to you."

"What?" He pulled from the bandages, to look at you.

"She did, my mom. Told me her biggest regret was losing my dad— how she treated him before."

Carl didn't respond, fixing the placement of the bandages before kissing your shoulder, "The last thing your mom told me was to look after you. I don't think she knew how or when— but.. i think she knew she was going."

"She'd come to terms with it, is what I mean." he finished.

You nodded, looking down at your hands, "I think I'm ready to sleep now."

He smiled, pulling the basket from the bed, "Lay down, I'll get your hands then you can sleep." You nodded, laying down on your side, you hands spralled in front of you off the bedside.

Once he'd finished, he discarded the basket on the floor, turning off the light and laying on his side to your right— wrapping his arms around you.

You put your hands on his, your intertwined hands resting on your lower stomach. He leaned into your back, head resting in between your exposed shoulder blades.

"I love you." He whispered, promising; "I'll do whatever I can to help."

"I love you too." You squeezed his hand, before fading into sleep.

#carl grimes oneshot #carl #the walking dead #carl grimes #twd #carl grimes x reader #syds page #the walking dead fluff #carl grimes drabble #carl grimes blurb #fanfic

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willows-escape · 2 years

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Hell Hole. - Tate Langdon

Pairing: AHS Tate Langdon x GN!Reader

Summary: Secrets can’t possibly stay hidden in a home that was built on the betrayal of deceit and ruin. Tate had figured that out by now.

ALTERNATIVELY:

Violet tells you about what Tate did, and you can’t look at him the same again after.

Warnings: if you could handle watching AHS, you can handle this i thinks. Angst, no comfort, kind of a cliffhanger ending. A part 2 may be in order if requested lol. This is very not proof read pls forgive it i just wanted to write s o me th in g.

He should’ve known. Really, very truly should’ve known that he wouldn’t have been able to move on so easily. That he wouldn’t have been able to escape the wrongdoings of his past, the horrors of the sins he committed against the innocent. It was only right he was standing where he was right now, mind racing miles upon miles a second as he tried to grasp the reality painfully painted in front of him.

You, who was standing in front of him, tear stained cheeks that were burning red like rubies. Eyes puffy and undeniably sore, strained and stinging as you wiped away the salty manifestations of your grief. It broke him to see his angel so distressed, his saviour in such a state of loss and hurt. He thought he’d been damned the day Violet told him to leave for good, damned to pay for his evil ways; cooped up in the basement with the other poor souls crying for what they had lost.

But then you arrived.

Many families had come and gone before then- ones that were broken, strained and whole. Mothers, fathers, daughters and sons, infants and pets had walked the halls of the house, only to be shortly chased away not long after. Nothing ever was permanent, and nothing ever seemed permanent for Tate, not until you came along. Ben and Vivienne were done chasing homeowners out, they no longer wanted to dedicate their deaths to preventing others from a similar fate. They’d grown tired, like everybody else had. This had only wrongfully convinced Tate further that your arrival was meant to be.

Tate almost wanted to laugh at how stupid he’d been. This light, this saviour, this god, this cruel demonstration of fate, you, were just the world’s way of tragically repeating history all over again. Less in terms of casualties, but in terms of heartbreak? Tate was almost sure he was about to drop dead all over again, if it wasn’t for the sliver of desire he held deep in his heart. What if you did forgive him? Could you be able to look past what he’d done, accept it and love him for all of what he was? Unlikely.

“Violet told me,” you choked, hair a mess and clothes crumpled from the strength of your fists clutching onto them for dear life, “she told me everything, Tate, everything.”

He swallowed the fear building in his throat, eyes nervously darting around the room. He was desperate to approach you, to get closer and cocoon you in his arms and act like this wasn’t happening right now. He shouldn’t have ever come out of the basement, he thought bitterly.

“Come on,” he begged, panting even though he didn’t have functioning lungs to fill. His chest pounding even though he didn’t have a heart capable of beating. “Please, what I did wasn’t me. Believe me, you gotta.”

“Believe you? I saw your fucking picture on the articles, Tate. You fucking killed those students in cold blood,” you hissed, running a shaking hand through your hair. Your temper was rising, didn’t he have shame? Was he even sorry?

“But it wasn’t me!”

“How was it not you? You were the one with the gun! You were the one that pulled the trigger! You were the one who assaulted and killed Violet’s mother! The one responsible for two other people who are doomed here!”

“No, no not like that. I mean-“ he sobbed, “please, i know i did it. All of it. But it wasn’t me. I’m so sorry.”

You scoffed. Tate visibly winced, eyes building up with tears as he shook violently. You couldn’t help but feel disgusted, stomach turning and nose scrunching as you took in his state. How could he have the audacity to be in such despair when he’d ended and ruined lives?

Somehow, you could still see the Tate you knew in him. The Tate who wouldn’t hurt a fly, who would do anything to see you giddy and smiling, who was yours. But knowing the reality, also meant you knew you had to toss that bullshit behind you. You couldn’t feel this way towards him anymore. Your stomach turned just thinking of the monster he was under all the lies he meticulously fed you. He wasn’t innocent and he knew that this whole time.

“I’m going,” you said hastily, hands flying up in defeat as you stormed out of your bedroom. The bedroom you now realised previously belonged to the now dead school shooter and also your recent ex, Tate Langdon. “Don’t fucking show yourself when I come back.”

You didn’t entirely understand everything, I mean, how could you? You’d gone from believing you had a perfect goofy, adorably-odd boyfriend, to finding out he was dead with a criminal record and multiple bodies under his belt. At first you didn’t fully accept Violet’s babbling as she rambled off about all the suffering he’d caused, until she snatched your phone and pulled up what had confirmed your fears. The truth was right in front of your eyes, and there was no option for you to avoid it for it was blinding- and, what was more devastating, a measly google search away this whole time.

You were a fool.

“No! Please, you can’t!” he cried, hands coming up to yank at his blonde strands, his demeanour visibly closing in on himself. His body language screamed frightened, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care.

You ignored his protests, although your tears continued to stream as you listened halfheartedly to his pleas. It wasn’t your place to forgive, and you’d certainly never be able to forget.

And with those last thoughts, you stepped out of your bedroom door and flew down the stairs. Your parents were both at work, so nobody was home to question why you were so frantic to leave the house. You’d have no choice but to be home later, but everything in the moment seemed to be screaming at you to leave.

“You’re all I have! Stay! Please!” he bounded down the stairs after you, pitiful screams narrowly escaping his aching throat. “You promised me! You fucking promised me! You can’t leave!”

Your breath hitched in your throat, door swinging shut as you practically ran out of the suffocating walls of your house. Could it even be considered your home now? Did technicalities even matter when nothing that you’d just experienced was even remotely logical?

You chuckled miserably, kicking the stone littered pavement as you tracked further from the hell hole you’d just stepped out of and closer to some peace and quiet. You’d worry about the rest when you got back.

#ahs imagine #ahs #evan peters #tate langdon #tate langdon smut #tate langdon x reader #ahs murder house #kit walker #american horror story #kit walker x reader #evan peters hc #evan peters headcanon #evan peters x reader

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