#I didn’t mean to wound the boy— despite his parents he was. he was a child. who did not have anyone to teach him better | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitchlessdino · 6 months ago

Text

put it in writing (m)

In collaboration with @camandemstudios Pairing: college student!seungkwan x Fem!TA!reader Genre: humor, smut Word count: 7.8k tags: college au, TA x student dynamic, push-and-pull, mentions of TXT's soobin, mentions of Ryan Gosling, a lot of fucking lying, explicit content, unprotected sex, hair pulling, cream pies, oral, cum-consumption, pet names (baby, good boy), praise kink Summary: You keep things professional--as you should--even if one of your students is someone you hooked up with one night before the college semester started. Meanwhile, Boo Seungkwan is anything but honest--he's a writer after all--but if he is honest about one thing, it's about wanting to write a new story with you. a/n: thank you @highvern @sluttyminghao and @strxwberry-skiess for beta reading <3 (late note: I wanna thank @gyuswhore @highvern and @haologram for the brainstorming if I forgot to mention anyone I’m sorry. They’ve been a really big help and we’re super motivating and supportive the entire process I love yall 💕)

You don’t go out. Period. As simple as that.

Until tonight.

Summer is almost over, and once it ends, you’ll be Professor Yoo’s newest TA. You've worked hard to get to this point and despite the inevitable late-night grading sessions, you expect the experience to be rewarding and maybe even inspirational. You’re sure this achievement would make your academic-forward parents proud. Their daughter, at the top of her class, brimming with excitement and potential, jobs coming in from left and right, all while on her way to...a Writing degree.

The one downside: they didn’t believe a writing degree would lead to anything substantial. Not like Biomedical engineering or Accounting. The one degree worse than Art. You almost forgot that writing was useless in their eyes because who couldn’t just pick up a pen and paper to scribble some words down?

You down another cheap shot of tequila, muttering your grievances under your breath as your friends revel in the club's pulsating atmosphere. They are only mildly concerned with your drinking habits, accustomed to your tightly wound, studious nature. Typically, you are the one buried in textbooks, rarely venturing into the party scene. Yet tonight, you surprise them all with your ironclad liver, effortlessly downing shots without a hint of a stumble.

“You, okay?”

You scoff, taking yet another shot, “Really depends what that means. ‘Okay’ as in life or ‘okay’ as in financially, mentally, emotionally, sexually, and-slash-or physically fulfilled with proud parents that love me unconditionally?”

“Oh, boy.” Hyeri tries to tear you away from any more alcohol and lays you flat against the back of the leather booth, twisting the top of a water bottle before putting it on your lips. “Let's get you hydrated, hmm? Can’t have you hungover the next day. I’ll be the one you’re complaining to.”

“Suffer my consequences!”

“Of course, darling.”

Hyeri, your steadfast friend since high school and now a new TA from another university, is like a sister to you. She knows your every habit and inclination, no matter how shit-faced you decide to get. “Don’t look, but there’s supple skin, high cheekbones, and a pretty smile looking directly at you.”

You subtly fix your gaze and accidentally meet the young man’s eyes as he nurses a highball glass between his lips. His eyes narrow back at you with interest. You muse back at him, mimicking his action with the water bottle in your grasp. As you drink with your eyes glued on his expression, the water passes over your lips, with the excess trickling suggestively down your chin and neck, your skin glistening in its sheen.

His lips part, dropping in a smug smile–and my, was it prettier than anticipated–and tilt his head as if quietly beckoning you closer.

“I’m going over there.”

Before you could get up from your booth, Hyeri is there to immediately tug you back down, eyes full of concern. “Are you sure, hon? You had quite a bit to drink.”

Your eyes crease as you smile back at her reassuringly. “I’ll be fine.”

“He looks young, he probably doesn't even know what a 401k is.”

“Do any of us?” You leave off before striding in the direction of the pretty boy, who still can’t keep his eyes off you.

You weave through the sea of sweaty bodies, sidestepping spilled drinks and the pulsating lights of the dance floor, your eyes locked on him. His gaze trails you with every step, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes, speaking to you like an incantation. When you finally reach his feet, the distance closing with each heartbeat, his smile grows wider, more inviting. The moment your legs brush against the softness of his leather couch, he leans to maintain your locked gaze, a now more playful glint in his eyes. Your smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Is this seat taken?”

“Only by you if anyone else asks,” he smoothly responds.

You gently lower yourself beside him, lifting one leg to cross it over the other, feeling the cool leather beneath you. His eyes follow your every movement, lingering on the curve of your thigh as it presses against the other. You lean in slightly, your curiosity evident in the arch of your brow. “Why all alone? With a face as pretty as yours, I’d expect someone to be all over you by now.”

He shifts his body toward you, his eyes drinking in your appearance, savoring every detail from the whip of your hair and to glitter on your legs. Meanwhile, the subtle spicy sweet scent of his cologne mingles with the ambient aromas of the club, and you can’t even breathe the air without the desire to jump his bones. Especially one in particular.

He regains his smile, a slow, confident curve of his lips, and extends a hand toward you. “I could say the same for you. I’m Seungkwan.”

You take his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch and the gentle caress of his thumb against your knuckles. With a graceful nod, you gave him a firm handshake. You return the gesture by introducing yourself, your voice smooth and inviting, matching the rhythm of the music that pulses around you, and that seems to only grow his interest. “What a pretty name. You’ve been here long?”

“Just long enough,” you say, your voice carrying a playful challenge.

“What is it that someone like you does to want to let loose in a place like this?”

“Mmh, I don’t know. It really depends on how much you’re willing to share,” you reply, narrowing your eyes and taking in that body begging to be undressed.

“Well, if you must know, I work somewhere…uncommon,” he says, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

You lean in too, resting your elbow on the back of the couch and propping your chin on your hand, your fingers lightly brushing your lips. “Do tell, Seungkwan.”

“Don’t be surprised, but I’m a bit of a big deal, especially around here,” he brags.

You raise an eyebrow, ready to bite. “That’s very vague. Mind elaborating?”

He briefly shifts his eyes to glance around the room, the smile never leaving his lips. He leans in closer, his breath warm and tickling against your ear, making it burn. “Just know I know the ins and outs of this club,” he whispers, his voice a tantalizing murmur. “Some information you might find even surprising that no one else knows.”

You pull back slightly, your eyes locking onto his, a spark of intrigue dancing between you. “Sounds like you’ve got some secrets,” you murmur, your voice low and rich. You reach for his drink from the table in front of you, your fingers brushing against his thigh for balance as you lift the glass to your lips. You take a slow, deliberate sip, not minding that its rim has touched a stranger's lips. “How sketchy,” you dare insult with a playful glint in your eye as you set the glass back down.

“Care to find out?”

“What part of ‘ sketchy’ did you not understand?” You softly laugh.

“I promise it’s harmless,” his voice brimming with mischief, poking the inside of his cheek playfully. “Or at least, you’d have a little fun.”

You hum amused. “Define fun.”

He takes you by the hand, his touch firm yet gentle, leading you away from the pulsating dance floor to a secluded corner of the club. The music echoes softly in the background, its bass reverberating through the walls. You follow him through a maze of dimly lit corridors and alcoves, catching glimpses of other partygoers lost in their own worlds.

The air changes as you enter an empty private space, cooler and quieter than the crowded main room. Your eyes fall on a single secluded corner with windows going ceiling to floor, flooding the room with skylight. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of alcohol and the crisp air of a cracked open window too high to reach.

As you settle into a seat in front of the windows, you observe the city through the crystal clear glass, drinking in the scene of small tables adorned with flickering candles, and erotic artwork adorning the walls. The music from the main floor is muted here like the world behind closed doors fell silent for this moment, and only you two are left in the room to bask in it. If temptation was room, this had to be it.

There’s a subtle shift in his eyes, a flicker of something unreadable—resembling pride—before they revert back to his calm suavity. He assumes the seat next to you on the plush velvet couch tucked into a private nook that touches the light of the stars. The soft glow of ambient lights casts a warm, intimate ambiance around you, contrasting with the pulsating beats of the club music that drifts in from the main floor.

“It’s a V.V.I.P area,” Seungkwan explains in a low voice, “Some of the employees don’t even know it exists.”

“But someone like you does?” you inquire, your voice tinged with intrigue.

He shrugs nonchalantly, a hint of pride evident in his demeanor as his body dipped into the leather. “I have my way around here.”

“Really?” you tease, growing slowly more convinced.

Seungkwan meets your gaze with a playful grin. “I obviously can’t tell you everything,” he says, his tone brimming with mischief. “Just know that I’m involved in ways that keep this place running smoothly. The club would die without me.”

You chuckle softly, savoring his playful confidence, and leaning against the cushions, head turned to him. “What can you tell me?” you ask, your voice growing softer. Your finger traces a teasing path down the collar of his shirt, undoing a button with deliberate slowness. “Humor me,” you exhale, your breath brushing against his ear and your gaze locked with his.

You can hear his breath hitch, and finally, you have him right where you want him. He fixes on the way your legs cross, tracing the curve of your calf up to where they disappear under the hem of your skirt. He seems momentarily captivated by the subtle movement of your flesh as they collide against each other, giving hardly any brain capacity to cumulate words.

You notice the furrow of his brow, a slight tilt of his head—as if he were mentally dissecting his thoughts. The dim lighting cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes tried to regain clarity. You can almost visualize the gears turning in his mind, each cog clicking into place as he forms a coherent story, if any.

Each word comes out in complete shambles and he is saying more nothing than anything. Whatever the truth is at this point, you don’t care. Seungkwan is just too cute to pass up.

The clearing of his throat tells you he’s finished, the tilt of his smile growing less confident and more anxious as your weight pushes against his chest. He tries to come back from his stumble, picking off strands of hair in front of your face and playing with their ends before changing the subject. “Now tell me your work. What is so amazing that you do?”

“I’m—“ a teacher’s aid in massive debt on their way to graduating with potentially a useless degree neither of their parents is proud of because, although you love it, you’re too proud to say otherwise, “—a indie movie producer with one of the films up for a reward. Super lowkey right now, but…we got Gosling.” You shrug, impressed with your own lies. “So, things are looking up.”

“That’s quite impressive.” he hums, intrigued and interested in hearing about more. “Is he as nice in real life as he is in interviews?”

“Ryan’s got a screw or two loose, but pretty okay guy. At least not into Scientology or anything.”

“Interesting,” He gaze dips towards you, being drawn to you immensely, if not locking eyes with you, scanning over your features, particularly your lips that wished to be claimed. “You call all big-name celebrities by their first name?”

You shrug, the lying coming more and more naturally than anticipated. “Only the ones I’m close with.”

His palm hugs the curve of your cheek, thumb softly brushing against your bottom lip. “I wonder what getting close to you entails.”

“Are you planning on finding out?”

You give each other a long look, one that keeps waiting and ushering the other until your lips decidedly crash into his. His lips part, making way for your presence, the heat of the kiss flushing your skin and pleased shivers running throughout your entire body. Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth pulling your flesh and a soft sigh escapes his lips before his hand creeps behind your head and muffles a moan that neither were sure from who.

You lift your body from the couch, chasing his pace, and pull him closer, kissing him deeper with all your might. You crawl over his lap, straddling his hips, hands in his hair, breath on his skin. Your chest tightens as he presses you closer by the small of your back, to which you gasp as you part from his lips.

He finds your gaze, his round and glistening eyes meeting yours in soft urgency. “You okay? Something wrong?”

You shake your head, palm clasped against your burning face. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He lets out an amused scoff. “Keep up, Miss producer.”

Your lips reconnect, and fireworks play in your like it’s the fourth of July. Popping and popping. Your lip lock only intensifies as your tongues brush against one another, entangling deeper and soon you realize Seungkwan wasn’t one just to kiss with his lips.

You ball his clothes in fists when his hands use your hips, running them over his lap, the friction so tantalizing you could hear temptation like a devil on your shoulder. You let him take you, moving towards him replicating crashing waves against sand. Loud. Harsh. Seamless.

Clothes come off soon after, starting with the delicate unbuttoning of Seungkwan’s silk top–donning the torso of one fond of sports and sprayed in excitable perspiration–before then he levers you up and slides slacks down his thighs hurriedly. His bare legs crushed underneath yours, you readily pull up your dress, bunching at your waist as feel him unzip the back, the metal chill against your spine.

“Fuck,” he softly mutters, eagerly digging his fingers in your exposed flesh and whimpering against your kiss. “Don’t hold back with me.”

“Hold back?” you repeat with a chuckle, your fingers that threaded through his hair pulling his head back, angling his head so that he was forced to look up at you in what currently looks to be in awe. “You don’t have to worry about that with me.”

“Shit stirrer, huh? I guess that’s why you’re the one handling production.”

Your lips begin to trail down his jaw, front teeth nipping his skin. “Real question is, would you let me handle yours?”

“I’d let you do anything to me,” he mumbles, earnest in every word, every inch of his body vibrating off yours, including the hardening presence between his legs pressing against your stomach. “Just don’t stop.”

Your dress abandoned on the floor, Seungkwan claiming your tits in either hand, kneading them between his fingers as he’s rolling his hips against your plush flesh and feeling your radiating core slide against his shaft. He involuntarily moans through a bitten bottom lip, imagining you ride him just like this until the end of time, thinking he could cum from this alone until he feels you move the tip of his size towards your entrance. “Oh god,” he gives out, the head of his cock readily grazing over your slit, quickly pleased. “So fucking wet. Fuck…”

“I want you inside me,” you admit, not bothering to subdue your desires. “I want to put you inside me and make me feel every inch of you.”

“Fuck…me…” he presses into your skin flushed against one another, lips curled downward in impatience, gripping your full thighs to either of his sides. “I wanna fuck you so bad. Please give yourself to me.”

“You promise you’ll handle it like a good boy?” You tease, pushing his tip only a centimeter deeper.

“Please, please, anything. I just wanna feel that pussy choke me please.” He begs.

Your hand clamps against the couch enthusiastically, “Fuck you’re so needy. That’s so hot.” Gingerly, you reward his pleas, feeling his raw length make contact with your contracting walls, squeezing around his girth and making Seungkwan flip his eyes before he starts guiding your hips.

“Fuck that’s so good, baby.”

You lightly scoff. “Baby? A little soon don’t you think?”

“Thought we found some common ground when you decided for me to fuck you. My mistake,” he chides.

You catch a tendril of his hair between your fingers, “Maybe it’s how you fuck me that grants you such a term of endearment.”

“Better up my game then.” He lifts you up, tangling your legs around his waist before he pushes you on your back, swiftly slamming his hips against you.

Your head crashes deep into the leather, the musky scent of sex now invading your nose as you drown in heat. “Shit.”

“Making sure I get the advantage.” He folds forward to press against you, your breasts back in his hands before his lips wrap around a nipple, his tongue attacking your sensitivity before he inevitably sucks. He leaves you in an ache, your hips thrusting back into him conveniently in time for him to regain his rhythm.

“S-Seungkwan…”

His moan vibrates against your skin, teeth pulling your nipple as he thrusts deeper, grazing your deep end just perfectly not enough. Fucking tease.

You whine beneath him, squirming. Your legs tighten around him, attempting to make friction, and finding a growl in your throat as a hand of Seungkwan’s squeezes your behind. A whole ass cheek in the clutches of his well-groomed hands, squeezing and memorizing its swell, while he’s splitting you in half to deduce you to a bumbling horny mess.

“Where have you been all my life?” He mumbles with glee.

You clench your fists behind him as he heightens his pace, melting into the tender assault of his lips that burn your skin and silence your voice. He ruts into you deeper, pounding away his frustrations and when he makes it known he’s found your spot, you make it clear as day.

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping him tighter. Your jaw drops slack, silent screams coming out of you, and you cling to him like in desperation to maintain that high as you claw against his broad back.

“That’s so good. Is it right there, am I hitting your spot, baby?” he asks with an exhausted grin.

You nod, softly pleading for more, and he generously grants. In an attempt to intensify your core’s pleasure, his hand cups just above your slit, fingers finding your blossoming bud. Your breath is shot, feeling the caress of his thumb press down before rubbing your arousal around your clit. Your hips thrust into his touch, gripping him by the shoulders, feeling your combined sweat drip from your sides and squeaking against the couch fabric.

“Oh my god, oh my god…” You can’t control it anymore. Seungkwan isn’t just pushing you past the edge, he's shoving you off.

“Like that, baby. Yes, what good girl cumming all over my cock,” he sweetly praises.

You reach him by the back of his head and propel him forward, colliding lips in a fervent liplock. Your moans drowned between one another, your climax coming in tenfold as he didn’t for a second stop, even well after you came.

Yet, it isn’t enough. Seungkwan shifts and tugs your legs to border his torso. He lifts himself from the ground, his feet flat, shutting your legs tight, having the sweat of your thighs chafe against another unsettlingly. It then becomes completely overlooked with his hips, his cock starts pushing in and out of you, and folding himself into you with your closed legs as your pussy choked around his cock. Your walls pulsating around him, hot and lush, he death grips your body and watches your flesh recoil back against him deliciously.

“Fucking shit,” he groans, plunging deeper as your cries moisten your cheeks and he brings you to a foreign level of ecstasy.

His release from what you can tell is thick, warm, and inviting. Your legs find a mind of their own when they decide to lock the stranger in place, feel every ounce of pure pleasure shooting down inside you, coating you in your collaborative efforts, and residing peacefully deep, deep in your sore heat.

Your lover collapses against you, eyes barely managing to open as he guides your bodies in a more comfortable position, his cum and cock still inside you.

He’s softly pant, red on every inch of his face, residual from his raging orgasm and…fluster? “I…I don’t usually—“

“I don’t mind,” you gently reassure, brushing away the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. “I wanted that to happen.”

“But what if—“

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” you hint and fortunately he gets the clue, cuddling up to you closer.

“Good.” He nods, sounding off in relief.

You play with his ear, thumbing over the flaming red tip. “That was really good.”

The boy can’t help but grin, “I make good on my promises…and if you want, we can do it again.”

Your movement stops. “Oh.” Now you’re panicking. “I don’t think we should.”

His cock slips out of you with ease at your confession, both flaccid and disappointed as cum drips down the leather. “Why not? I thought you liked it.”

You begin sitting up, taking Seungkwan with you. “Of course I do! It’s just…my schedule doesn’t allow me to date—let alone see people outside of work—so, this wouldn’t work.” You offer him an apologetic pat on the back, feeling the muscles pulse against you before you regretfully pull away. “This is actually my last night in town, I was gonna leave soon for another shoot…but this was wonderful.”

You cup his cheek, flushed red and soft as can be, and kiss its fullness, letting your lips linger. “I’m so sorry.” For absolutely lying about everything about me when you gave me the most incredible orgasm I’ve had in centuries and to myself for cutting lose the hottest fucking man fiction and nonfiction you’ve ever fucking met.

“No, I get it,” he answers, a hint of sorrow in his gaze. “You got things going for you. That’s ok. Just let me know when you’re in town, hmm? We can get together again, maybe?”

His sense of hope is admirable, something you saw in yourself a few years ago before the toppling towers of crippling debt fell on you. “I don’t think so, handsome.”

He sighs. “Alright. I get it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head with a knowing smile. “Don’t be.”

“You ended my vacation the best way you could’ve,” you egg on, “Couldn’t have ended my last night in town any better.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, finally a light flickering back in his eyes. “Then maybe I can give you a parting gift.”

You raise an eyebrow, following his figure leaving your body and find his knees back in the ground and between your legs, “Seungkwan?”

“Can’t have you leave a mess.” His hand glides over your thighs, gaze flickering from you and your cunt oozing in cum, and his full lips kissing your inner thigh, tingling legs and garnering goosebumps down your shins.

“Are you actually—“

His tongue scraps on the skin just next to your lips, a mixture of your climax settling on his tongue, and you mewl at the sight. He kneads your flesh, his moans tickling your skin and admiring it how he knew how: worship.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His fingers play against your sensitive folds, tension pressed on your clit. “You’re everything I could want…tasting you and pleasing you is the least I could do.”

His mouth wrapped around your lips before sucking, tongue parting what’s between, and sighing at the harmonious flavor dancing inside his mouth. Your worn walls contract around him, it feeds his desire as he pushes his face deeper inside you, and melts at your hands finding hair in soft strokes.

Your voice aches for another release. The sensation of his jaw locking and nodding in your heat as his tongue fucks his cum back inside you drives you to up a wall. You squirm the faster he flicks his tongue, legs pulling back and forward, overwhelmed by Seungkwan’s mouth until he holds either one at either side, locking it around his neck.

His eyes ooze with determination and his face falls from color. The compromising position he put himself in is not one free consequence, but for the last single of the most greatest fuck of his life, losing a bit of oxygen was worth it, and his efforts are soon proven.

When you cum this time on his tongue, Seungkwan has never tasted anything sweeter, or rather bittersweet knowing this would be the last he’d get the chance to. He’s tasting you, savoring you, worshiping you. From the scent of your body, to the face you make, from what you feed him. If he knew how impossibly decadent you just were–only for you to leave–maybe he wouldn’t have done this. Or maybe he would.

Reluctantly, Seungkwan breaks apart from your lips to reconnect with another. One last shared, heated breath of this spontaneous exchange. One that he’d remember for a long time, and think about over long nights. Tenderly, your foreheads are the ones to kiss in a silent farewell, sad smiles on both your faces.

“Thank you…for reminding me what it feels like to live my own life.”

The pretty boy softly scoffs, kissing you once more, the tingle his lips lingering on yours. “Make your stories magical as you’ve made my night. Take care, Miss Producer.”

You quickly get dressed before the sexy stranger pulls you right back in his trace and you drag your friend and club attendee all the way back home, giving you the pleasure of finally resting in bed, body still aching from the sweltering sex hours ago. Sadly, without the warm body you enjoyed so much tonight. He made a lasting impression on you and you hope maybe one day on better circumstances you’ll meet again and the lie may someday be true. If you’re so lucky.

Eventually, summer takes its final laps and you’re entering the college semester and start working closely with the professor you’re aiding. The matter that your life is slowly being sucked away becomes more real the longer you look at his lesson plan and although you love writing, you know you’re about to dread the long evenings of paperwork to come.

The first day of being a TA: get in the building by the car you have barely hanging on, meet with the professor, get in lectures and “TA”, skim through your new work for graduate classes, and sadly eat your late lunch/dinner alone because you know the ziplock of trail mix marinating in your backpack would not be enough. That’s the plan. Easy to follow.

Students start trickling into the classroom about twenty minutes before actual lecture time, some with nervous faces and excited expressions. Then a few minutes before the lecture starts, hoards of students are coming through, the classroom getting louder and louder as there is not enough space for white noise. You feel your heart beating increasingly–admittedly more nervous than anticipated–finding yourself focused on papers to avoid eyes with the other students until you can’t anymore.

With over 100 students, you start to feel like an imposter, a kid playing dress-up in her mom’s closet. Normally, you're not one to get nervous on the first day, but being a teacher’s assistant makes this situation different. You’re terrified of screwing up, whether it’s a big mistake or a small one. You tell yourself you need to get out of your head.

When roll call becomes necessary, the professor hands you the clipboard, forcing you to introduce yourself and make your presence known. Your hands tremble from natural nerves as you call out the names on the list, doing your best to pronounce each one clearly and coherently. Then your gaze lands on a name all too familiar, one that’s been on the tip of your tongue before. You can’t help but look up, eager to hear the voice that responds.

He stares at you, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, his lips curling up at the corners as his eyes gleam with intrigue—just like that night before.

You clear your throat, quickly averting your gaze, and resume roll call. You decide right then to ignore him for the rest of the day, the semester, and possibly the rest of your college career, if you can help it.

When you finish, you don’t dare look up again, telling yourself it’s because it’s the first day. You’ve done everything you needed to do for now.

As the lecture wraps up, it’s time to leave. The professor dismisses the class and exits the room, leaving you to pick up the pieces and answer any lingering questions from students. You just hope this particular student isn’t one of them.

“I had a question, Miss LN.”

You’re reminded that hope is just another word for wishful thinking. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. His voice is already etched into your memory, feeding the part of you that wants to respond, and you clench your thighs at the memory.

“Sure, what… um, what is it?” you respond, still not looking up.

“It’s about the syllabus. I was hoping we could discuss it in private?” His tone carries a hint of something familiar, something that doesn’t belong between a student and a teacher’s assistant.

“The syllabus is pretty self-explanatory,” you reply, trying to keep your voice neutral, though your pulse quickens.

“But I wanted to ask, just in case I misinterpreted anything.”

You make a show of straightening the papers on your desk, the crisp shuffle loud enough to make it clear you’re not amused. “You're a writing major. I’m sure you understand everything just fine.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check,” he says, a casual shrug masking the intent behind his words.

You sigh, knowing you won’t easily shake him off. Finally, you meet his gaze, catching the anticipation simmering in his eyes. With a resigned breath, you gather your belongings and stand. “Fine, follow me.”

As you lead him to a tucked-away corner, your footsteps echo in the quiet hallway. You glance around to ensure there are no prying eyes before stopping. He waits until you’re both out of sight before speaking, his voice lowering in that familiar way that sends a shiver down your spine. “So, how’s the indie film coming along, Miss Producer?”

Your arms cross instinctively, a barrier against the playful look on his face. His eyes sparkle with amusement, as if this is all a game to him. As if your college career and your career career didn’t hang on the very balance of this conversation and your history. “Very funny,” you reply, glaring at him. “Just two big liars caught in their own webs of lies. How serendipitous.”

He chuckles softly, the sound unnervingly familiar and instinctively arousing. “I know why I lied, but why did you?”

You plant a hand to your chest defensively. “Excuse me, I never anticipated seeing you ever again. It’s natural I’d lie—wait, why did you lie?”

“To get laid. Duh.” He answers as if it was the obvious thing in the world.

You roll your eyes, back knocking against the wall behind you. “Of course, fucking dumbass college boys.”

“You fell for it, so who’s the dumbass now?”

“Still you? Were you even drinking age?”

“Uh, yes that’s how I got in, otherwise they never would’ve let me in.”

Your palm runs over your face in embarrassment, cringing for long nights of thinking of your student of all fucking people. “I fucking knew you didn’t own the Gemstone.”

“Yet, you fucked me anyway.”

You rush towards him, your breath catching as you pin your fingers in front of your lips and hiss, “Will you shut your mouth?”

He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Why? You’re a TA, not a professor.It’s perfectly kosher.”

“It’s still highly frowned upon to fraternize in that manner, regardless of whether I’m a TA or a professor. I grade your fucking papers,” you shoot back, your eyes narrowing as the frustration rises in your chest.

He just shrugs, that infuriating grin never leaving his face. “Hey, if it gets me a good grade…”

“Or watch me fucking fail you,” you snap, stepping even closer, your voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever speak a word about that night again, got it?”

His smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, geez.”

“Good.”

But he can’t resist one last jab, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “My lips—and pants—are sealed.”

“Seungkwan!” You hiss his name, barely keeping your voice down, your cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and something else you refuse to acknowledge.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, it’s been a while since you screamed my name.”

You grit your teeth and speak through harsh whispers, your patience wearing thin.

“I will drop-kick you if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

He grins wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leans in just a fraction. “Like I said, I keep my promises. See you on Wednesday, Miss TA.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, seething, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hallway. The air still buzzes with the tension between you, and you take a moment to collect yourself before heading back, wondering how you’re going to survive the rest of the semester with him in your class. If all your encounters are like this, you might as well quit now.

As expected, that initial confrontation isn’t the last you see of Seungkwan. While being your student, your forced interactions have become a bit of a spectacle among other students, especially considering Seungkwan stares back at you every lecture like you’re the only two people in the room. His routine of pestering during and after lectures has become something his peers have look forward to and you wonder if this kind of thing is normal for a teacher’s assistant.

It seems to have stirred up varying opinions, even among students from other classes—ones far removed from your department, who typically wouldn’t give a second thought to your work. The rumors have even reached the ears of other TAs, the ones you’ve built strong camaraderie with, turning casual conversations into whispered speculations. Some of those speculations have been harmless, fueled by curiosity and mild intrigue. But others? They’ve taken on more confrontational, and their tense gazes have you questioning just how far these rumors have gone.

But is it really a rumor if its all true?

"So, you and that Seungkwan kid, what's that about?"

You give a grand sigh, the weight of your colleague's curiosity pressing down on you as he peers at you, eyes alight with nosy mischief. His intent is clear—he's fishing for details about your relationship with one of your many students. But Seungkwan is different. Far different, even if you’d never admit that aloud knowing how your reputation would stand.

"Really not your business, bud," you reply, trying to keep your tone light, though it’s hard to miss the edge beneath your words.

Your colleague, Soobin, raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed by your attempt to shut him down. "Funny enough, I’m in the business of making things my business."

You scoff, fingers curling tightly around the handle of your freshly brewed coffee, the warmth of the cup your only source of comfort in this conversation. The rich aroma wafts up, offering a brief distraction. "He's my student, obviously, and he’s going to stay that way."

The words come out sharper than intended, the finality of your tone surprising even you. You take a long sip of the coffee, letting the bitterness anchor you. This conversation is tiptoeing too close to a line you’re not ready to cross.

Soobin raises his hands in mock surrender, though there’s a knowing glint in his eyes. "Okay, okay. No need to be so defensive. Good thing you’re keeping it professional."

"I know that. Why are you mansplaining, Soobin? Don’t you have work to do?"

"Of course. Just wanted to point out—it’d be a real problem if you did."

"Uh, yeah. Obviously."

"Good."

"I just wouldn’t want to lose anything over it."

You narrow your eyes at him. "What now?"

He hesitates before continuing, grinning sheepishly. "Okay, okay. There might be a bet going around about whether or not you and that kid sleep together again."

"What the—again? Again? What are you talking about?" You gape at him, incredulity painting your features as you struggle to process his words.

"Oh, come on, don’t play dumb," Soobin says with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows."

You blink, your mind racing to catch up. "…Everyone?"

"Everyone." He nods emphatically, the corners of his mouth twitching as he takes in your stunned reaction.

Your face falls, and you run a hand through your hair in frustration, your shoulders slumping. "Well, fuck." The words escape you like a dismayed exhale, your voice tinged with disbelief.

"And I bet that you wouldn’t. At least, not until the end of the semester."

"You bet money on me?" You’re seething, anger now directed at him.

"Not money," Soobin says quickly, raising his hands in a defensive gesture, as if to ward off any further criticism. He leans in slightly, his tone taking on a pleading edge. "But seriously, just don’t do it, okay? Be a good TA and a good friend. Don’t sleep with the boy. Just... don't."

You glare at him, incredulous. "I oughta do it just to make you lose."

"Please don’t! It wasn’t money I bet!"

You narrow your eyes further. "What did you bet, then?"

Soobin shifts uncomfortably. "Just... test answers."

"Soobin."

"Please! Just help me win this. I’m begging you!" Soobin’s voice is desperate, his eyes wide and pleading.

“You could jeopardize your scholarships with this kind of bet.”

“So don’t let me lose this one!” His frustration is palpable, his hands clasped together as if in prayer.

“I could just hit you,” you threaten, though the words come out more resigned than menacing.

“But I’m so lovely. Don’t you think?” Soobin’s attempt at levity falls flat, his forced grin barely concealing his anxiety.

“Soobin, this is seriously messed up.”

He continues, undeterred, “The money I could win could buy me a new apartment to rent out. I’d finally be able to move off-campus.”

“This is so fucked up,” you mutter, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I know, I’m literally on my knees here, dude,” Soobin says, lowering himself as if pleading for mercy.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to stave off the growing irritation. “Fine, damn it. Okay. I hope you’ve fucking learned your lesson and won’t pull this kind of stunt again.”

You meet his gaze head-on, your patience visibly thinning. "Are we done here?"

He nods vigorously, a small, almost imperceptible smile of relief tugging at the corners of his lips. "Of course."

As Soobin walks away, you watch him go, the remnants of the conversation hanging in the air like the fading scent of coffee. You take another sip of your drink, this time more deliberately, letting the warmth seep into you. You try to channel your remaining energy into something productive, determined to salvage what’s left of your day. The knowledge of the bet and the weight of your friend’s reputation hanging in the balance makes every decision weigh heavy on your shoulders.

Despite the sprawling campus and the vast number of students, gossip is as vibrant and pervasive as ever. Seungkwan doesn’t help matters, especially with the frequent discussions you’re having about his late assignments. No matter how stern and resolute your tone becomes, he meets you with a gaze that’s both wistful and enigmatic. His eyes, filled with a mix of wonder and intrigue, follow your every movement. They start by meeting yours directly, then drift downward, lingering on your face, then lower, then lower, and finally–

"Are you paying attention, Seungkwan? Or am I going to have to talk to Professor Yoon about you finally dropping the class?"

Seungkwan leans against the auditorium chairs, averting his attention to the sharp expression on your face, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "No, nothing of the sort, Miss TA. Please, continue to lecture me about what an awful student I am."

Your eyes narrow as you cross your arms, forward on your desk, tapping your foot with growing impatience as you shuffle through to gather your belongings. "I will—and starting where your assignments have been showing up several days late. I can’t keep making exceptions for you."

"Why not? You’re so good at making me feel special," he teases, head tilted, his voice dripping with a sultry sarcasm.

Your patience snaps as you sharply tap the stack of aligned papers on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. "Stop it, will you? Your grade is sinking fast, and at this rate, you’ll be repeating the class."

He shrugs, that maddening grin still in place. "Would that really be so bad? You’d get a whole new semester with me."

You scoff, standing upright, pacing a few steps as frustration simmers just beneath the surface. "Are you seriously going to waste your tuition money just to fail? At least pretend to make an effort. Chatgpt exists for students like you I’m assuming."

He tilts his head slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief. "If only someone wasn’t so distracting, maybe I could. You’d understand, Miss TA."

You stop mid-step, spinning to face him, your voice sharp. "Enough. And stop calling me that—it’s like you get off on it."

"Oh, I do." The playful tone in his voice is laced with something else now, something heavier.

Your jaw clenches, heat rising to your face, thighs sealed against one another.. "Your assignments. On time. By the end of this week, or I’ll recommend to Professor Yoon that you drop the class."

"Fine," he mutters, his tone nonchalant, the smirk still lingering lazily on his lips as he halfheartedly stuffs his books into his bag. His movements are careless, and a few sheets of notebook paper slip out, drifting lazily to the floor without him even noticing.

You sigh, bending down to pick them up. As you straighten, your eyes unintentionally flick over the handwritten lines—only for something to catch your attention. You freeze, blinking at the words on the page. "What the...?"

Seungkwan’s demeanor changes in an instant. His eyes widen, and he lunges forward, panic flashing across his face. "Don’t read that!" His voice is more urgent, almost desperate.

But you dodge his grasp, holding the paper just out of reach, your brow furrowing. "What is this? And why is it actually... interesting?"

"Give it back," he says, his tone softer, pleading now.

"Why don’t you put this much effort into your assignments?" you ask, glancing up at him, your curiosity overtaking your frustration.

Before you can react, Seungkwan steps closer, his movements more deliberate this time. He snatches the paper from your hands, but his proximity catches you off guard. He’s standing close—too close—backing you into the edge of your desk. His face is flushed, his breath coming in shallow bursts, and you can see the embarrassment in his narrowed eyes, the tips of his ears burning red.

Your heart stutters in your chest, your breath hitching as the space between you seems to shrink. The air feels thick, charged with something you know too fucking well. For a moment, neither of you moves, your eyes locked like you’re frozen. You’re acutely aware of every small detail—the way his fingers clutch the paper tightly, how his chest rises and falls with each breath, the warmth radiating from him as he towers just slightly over you.

Suddenly, he stumbles, his foot catching on the leg of the desk, and you gasp as his weight nearly knocks you backward. Your hands shoot out, gripping the edge of the desk to steady yourself. Your glasses slip down your nose as you blink up at him, your pulse quickening, his face inches from yours.

"Sorry," Seungkwan mutters, quickly pulling away, flustered as he hurriedly gathers the fallen papers, stuffing them into his bag. "I’ll do the assignments. Just... don’t fail me. And don’t repeat whatever you think you read."

Without waiting for your reply, he storms out of the room, leaving you standing there, your chest heaving, the ghost of his presence lingering in the suddenly too-quiet space.

You try to steady your breath, ignoring how ragged it had become, and the unsettling way your blood pulsed—not just through your heart, but in places you'd rather not acknowledge. You forcefully push those thoughts aside, desperate for any distraction. Tonight, that distraction would be class assignments.

With an iced coffee marinating at the corner of your office desk, the papers in front of you blur as his face flashes through your head. You can’t help but recall the way his lips looked—full and slightly parted, the way his eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and something else entirely. And the warmth of him—how heavy and undeniably right he felt as he leaned over you, his presence lingering even after he was gone.

You shake your head, determined to refocus on grading, gripping the red pen a little tighter. But your mind drifts again, this time to the words you’d glimpsed on that crumpled page. The writing had a familiarity to it, something deeply personal that tugged at the corners of your mind. Reminding you of how much you remembered that night. Specifically how good that night felt.

‘Her whispers, haunting, breath heavy. She gazes at me with eyes full of want, strands of hair falling over her forehead, tantalizing and wild. Her cheek is warm beneath my hand as I pull her closer, our lips meeting, tasting the sweetness of something long desired but never claimed. For this night, she is mine—even if it's only for this night alone.’

Your cheeks flush as the memory hits, the realization settling in with a mix of shock and something you can't quite name. The words were unmistakable—vivid, intimate, dripping with a desire that mirrored the tension between you two. You recognized the inspiration behind them immediately.

He’s writing his own fanfiction. And it’s about you.

Suddenly, you’re not so much thinking about the bet Soonbin warned you about.

#svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #seungkwan smut #boo seungkwan smut #seventeen smut #boo seungkwan #seungkwan #seventeen #seungkwan fanfic #boo seungkwan x you #boo seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan x y/n #seventeen fanfic #seungkwan x y/n #seungkwan x you #seungkwan x reader #seventeen x reader

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steviewashere · 25 days ago

Text

Filling Static in the Dead Air

Rating: General Pairings: Robin & Steve, Steddie, Robin/Original Female Character CW: Robin and Steve Being Assholes To Each Other, Friendship Breakup Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, No Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Unhappy Ending, Dialogue Heavy, Phone Conversations, Letters, Steve & Robin's Friendship, Time Splitting Up Friendships, Platonic Stobin, Steve Harrington Loves Robin Buckley, Robin Buckley Loves Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart Am I basing this off of experience? Maybe. Is this kinda out of character? Probably. Anyway.

☎️—————☎️ *BEEP*

“Hey, Robbie…it’s…well, it’s Steve. Um, I-I’ve been trying to catch you for a while now…seems we’re missing each other a lot these days, huh? No big deal, I’ve been busy…you’ve been busy. I get it. So. Just wanted to call and say that I…I really hope you have a good day. Think that’s all I say nowadays, but I mean it. Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. And…and I hope that exams go over swimmingly. You’re, like, the smartest person I know—don’t tell Dustin I said that, if you…if you, um, still keep in touch with him—anyway. You’ve got this. You’re gonna do amazing, I know it. Soooo…yeah. Yeah, that’s all. If you need anything from me—or even Eddie—or um…if you just wanna talk to your favorite dingus, I’ll be here. There’s a gap in my schedule, new job on the horizon, hopefully. I’ve got the time for you, that’s all I’m saying. Yeah. I…I think that’s it? Love you, Robbie. Call me soon?”

——— Steve can admit—now that it’s been a couple of years—that when Robin said she was going to college out of state, his heart and stomach dropped out of him to the floor. It was a sort of sixth sense he’s adapted to. This aura, a curdling sick sense, that would sit dormant until the words left somebody’s mouth. “I’m leaving.” That’s all it took.

Not the kind of leaving when a hangout was over. Not the kind of leaving when the party came to a halt. Not the kind of leaving when the day’s been run through.

No, it was the kind of leaving that meant business trips and a stale home, playdates by himself on his knees in the wood chips, and friends going over yonder from grass fields and tornado sirens.

His brain was kind enough to flip an hourglass distantly for him. Once the sand dwindled from one side, it was over. And that had been approaching a while with Robin. He always knew that it would happen in the aftermath of one of those Upside Down free-for-alls. Just…he didn’t expect it so immediately. When Vecna crumpled into himself like a paper bag, wounds scarred over, and July came rolling on in.

And then 1987 passed.

Followed by 1988.

Now, in the dead winter of 1989, during the big college winter break season, before a whole new decade rolled in, he’s not so sure about this friendship anymore. That’s not to say that it wasn’t a good one. That he didn’t laugh and spill his secrets and have weird proximity sleepovers in his basement—despite having the guest rooms upstairs. No, he loved Robin with every coiled fiber of his soul. To the moon and back. All those cliche things.

She was the only girl that ever mattered in his life nowadays. He dreamed of her. Wept over her. Celebrated with her. They chatted for hours after she lost her virginity, whisper calling while her hook-up (now girlfriend) snored in the background. Robin was the first one to hear about when he was eventually kicked out of his parents’ place, when he hauled ass to a dingy shoebox apartment near a dilapidated McDonald’s that didn’t survive Vecna. When he stirred up forgotten feelings in his chest, he laid star-spread on his bathroom floor, spooning melted ice cream past his lips, sobbing about a boy. And, eventually, when he had Eddie problems? To Robin he went.

He knows that she’s busy. Always is. Between foreign language club meetings, study sessions in her college’s library, and having brunch with the girls…Robin’s not a free bird anymore. She belonged to the college life, to sorority parties where she frenched her girlfriend in a linen closet and managed handstands over kegs. Sometimes, he’d be lucky to get a call at those parties, Robin’s syrup slurred voice and her hideous hiccups like muffled laughter over the speaker. Other times, he just had to hope she made it back to her dorm okay.

It’s partially his fault, too. Been switching rapid between jobs. Family Video to RadioShack to Circle K to Walmart. Then, after that, he fell into his couch with a pink slip in his hand. Too many tardies. Too many late nights where he fought sleep as if it were Billy Hargrove’s racist mouth, but he couldn’t call Robin those nights and he couldn’t curl into Eddie the right way. So. He misses her calls, he wipes his answering machine because it gets too full, he’s between jobs on his sorry fucking couch, and Robin’s too busy nowadays to reach out.

But he keeps trying. Boy, does he keep trying.

——— *BEEP*

“Steve…Stevie…*sniff* hey, um, I’m sorry. Keep missing you, dingus. I miss you like crazy. It’s…this place isn’t right without you. But I spent kind of a lot of money to be here. And I think I’m gonna be in debt until the day I fucking die and—*sniff*—sorry, shit. My new roommate this semester…god, can you believe it’s been a whole semester since you called me? I’ll try and get better on that, swear. Anyway. My new roommate is a colossal bitch, just capital B Bitch. Had, um, th-that nightmare about Scoops? You know the one. Where you…yeah…um…she hates that I cry in my sleep. That I—*sob*—do that, sobbing. And then I try and call you on those nights, but either you aren’t home or you’re busy doing Eddie or something or…or she yells at me for calling you. But…but I swear, Steve, I miss you, too. And if I could, I’d come bother the fuck out of you. Finals went well. January’s being January over here. Snowing like crazy. Anyway. Just called because you did, to say I’m sorry, to just…I was hoping to hear your voice. Make sure that you’re not…I’ll call you, okay? If I don’t…if I don’t, I’m sorry. My schedule’s out of my control most days. Yeah…yeah, I’m sorry.”

——— “You’re gonna burn a hole into that phone if you keep staring at it, Steve.”

He blinks, eyes dry, and looks over to Eddie. Backlit by the bright snow through the windows, hanging up his wet coat by the door, stepping out of his shoes. His cheeks are rosy, blushed by the cold. The soft smile Eddie flashes him makes his chest cave, words caught like thorns in his throat, his already pink waterlines burn fresh.

Taking his silence for what it is, Eddie shuffles through to the living room where Steve is sitting hunched on the couch, and bends down to kiss the top of Steve’s head. His left hand comes up to brush through Steve’s tangled hair, stringy and unwashed. “How long have you been out here, baby?” Eddie asks softly. “Look like a leaf that could fall any moment.”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “Robin called.”

“Oh?” Eddie takes a seat in the armchair diagonal to the couch, mismatched blues they are. “After her voicemail the other day? Or were you listening to it back?”

“No, after. It’s just…we had nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing? You guys have all this time apart, how is there nothing to talk about?”

Shrugging, Steve mumbles, “Don’t know.” He runs a tired hand over his face, through his hair, messing with the knots at the end of it. Can’t even bring himself to look Eddie in the eyes. “Chatted about her school. Her new roommate. The foreign language club she’s got. And then we got to talking about me and…and I had nothing to say. I’m in between jobs, I clean all day because I can’t just lay around and do nothing, I can’t sleep at night…told her about how our neighbors argue. Then, well, then I just talked about you.”

Eddie hums. “It’s okay, you know,” he murmurs, “if you guys can’t find stuff to talk about? That’s okay.”

“Is it? I just”—he sighs—“she’s been my best friend for years. We’ve got nothing to talk about. Like we’re just acquaintances on the bus or something. It’s dumb. It’s so stupid.”

“Honey…” Eddie coos. “Steve, what’s stupid about that? There’s nothing dumb about having a stilted conversation every once in a while.”

“It’s not just once in a while, though, Eds!” he snaps. Affronted with himself, Steve curls tighter, shoulders up to his ears. “Every time, now. When I wanna talk to her, there’s nothing. My life is so…so dull and dumb and…I feel so small compared to her now. Which isn’t fair of me to say, because she’s out there following her dreams…And…” He trails off with another shrug.

Once the room goes completely quiet, Steve pushes himself back, deep into the backrest of the couch. He puts his face in his left hand, pointed away from Eddie, and looks off. Nowhere in particular. No more words to dredge up.

“Steve?”

“I think I’m gonna write a letter. Maybe…maybe the phone’s too easy to forget.”

——— Robbie,

New thing. Letters. It’ll be easier, yeah? Just put what I wanna say out to you.

So. No new calls coming for me about my applications. Think a bunch of firings on my resume has employers turning away. Can’t even use my mom as a reference anymore, kinda lost on that end, I guess. Reached out to Hopper, though. Maybe getting a cop’s reference will look good? They’ll see me come in with Jim Hopper’s signature and number and they’ll think, “That kid must be a goody two shoes,” or something like that, and they’ll want to hire me. You think it’ll work? You know better than I do.

Watched The Apartment finally. It’s a good movie. You know, Fran kinda looks like Vickie. I found you out, Robs. You’ve got a big secret lesbian thing for redheads. Who would’ve thought? Does your current girlfriend look like Fran? I’ve been dying to meet her. I feel bad, I can’t even remember her name right now. I hope she treats you good.

Eddie treats me good. Made spaghetti last night for me, meatballs and everything. He burnt the hell out of the corn I bought, though. Ended up with just spaghetti, some beer, and a couple pieces of garlic bread. I’ll make a chef out of him one day. Though, gotta admit, I feel bad somedays. He goes out and works all day, brings home most of the money, and then also cooks sometimes. I try and keep up with him. Do some chores or something. You know, so I don’t look like a bad partner.

Anyway. There isn’t much else to say, really. Just hope you get this. Maybe you’ll take the time to answer?

Your cursive is the only cursive I can read, so. If you do write back, make it pretty for me? I like the way your letters curl.

—Steve

——— There’s been no new mail in weeks. Other than the bills and Eddie’s paychecks. He got one call from the manager of some local, newly built steak restaurant. Got the job as a new waiter, so that’ll be thrilling for him. More customer service.

He gathers the mail that comes in their little mailbox, runs back up the stairs to their apartment, and snuggles next to Eddie on the couch. An arm thrown over his shoulders. Hands passing through envelopes like he can manifest a returning letter.

“Damnit,” he eventually mutters, tossing the envelopes onto the coffee table. Steve leans back, nestled deeper into Eddie’s side, and pouts. “There’s nothing, Eds. What the hell.”

“Give her some time,” Eddie gently says—ever the reasonable one, oddly—“she’s probably still settling into her new semester. Almost a college graduate, babe, not a lot of time on her hands.”

“She could call, you know. Now she’s gonna respond and I’m gonna be too busy with work. This is bullshit.”

Eddie sighs next to him. Heavy and tired. “You’ll find the time, Steve. You always do.”

——— *BEEP*

“I got your letter, Stevie. Listen, I’ve gotta make this call quick, but I just need you to listen. I can’t write back, I’m sorry. My mind’s already scrambled with a million essays and other assignments right now, so letters aren’t really a priority for me. But I’ll call, okay? I missed you this time, but we’ll get it right eventually. I know it. Uhh…yeah. Oh! Yes, my current girlfriend, Rita, she definitely looks like Fran. You got me, dingus, I’ve got a thing for redheads. Anyway. Shoot. Sorry, I gotta go. Rita’s taking me to this new queer place in town. Gonna get drinks! It’ll be awesome. Okay, Stevie, bye. I love you, bye.”

*BEEP*

“Steve…Steeeeveee…I am very drunk right now. And sweaty. So much dancing. *hiccup* Just wanna tell you that you’re a good friend, m’kay? Rita…ooo, Rita ordered nachos. This payphone is crazy sticky. Bye, dingus!”

——— *BEEP*

“I hope you got home safe. Thanks for not answering. [silence] I can’t have you calling in the middle of the night anymore, though. Okay? I love you to pieces, Robs, but seriously. Eds and I were sleeping, we have work today. [disgruntled silence] And if you’ve got homework or whatever, then you should probably stay back at your dorm and do it, right? Instead of getting shitfaced at the bar? I—[*a large sigh*]—Eddie’s trying to tell me I shouldn’t be mad at you. That I should just give you time to reach back. But.

"This is just getting…it’s bullshit, okay? I call you and you don’t answer. You call me, I try to get back within the next day. And that’s what I did the last time you called me. And then…what? I start writing you letters, but you’re too piled up with homework to respond? Oh, but you’re not too busy to get shitfaced on a…Wednesday? A Wednesday, Robin. Wednesday? I know you’ve got class today, should you really be out…Never mind. I’m not your parents. I’m not. I’m just your good friend, Steve. Your good friend from back home who you don’t visit when you’re on break because you don’t have enough time. [silence] Promise me you’ll take some Advil and have a few glasses of water? I’d bring you a bagel or something, but…just take care of yourself, Robin. Please just take care of yourself. I have to go to work. Maybe I’ll get some big tips from boyfriends on late Valentine’s Day dates. Send you flowers or some shit. I love you, Robin. Even when you piss me the fuck off, I love you…Bye, Robs.”

——— “You don’t answer either, Steve.”

“Well good evening to you, too, Rob”—

“Don’t be a bitch. Just because I found the time to go out with my girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m fucking ignoring you like you’re…you’re my spoiled little dog.”

Steve tosses a glance over his shoulder, standing with his back to the front door just as Eddie comes through it. He shields himself, shadowing over the phone with his head lowered. “Robbie, can I call you back, please? I’m about to have dinner with”—

“Oh, so you can have dinner with Eddie? But I can’t have drinks with Rita? Fuck off, Steve. You know that’s a bunch of horseshit, right? I’m supposed to make time for you, but you can’t make time for me when I call”—

“Oh, when you finally call me back—what is it—three days later? Sorry, Robin. Guess I have some double standards that I didn’t know about! Guilty as charged!”

Over the line, he can hear her take a steady, deep breath. He imagines it, her face red with anger, and feels a sick lick of satisfaction deep in his gut. “Don’t be such a little fucking brat, Steve.”

He rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. “Like insulting me is gonna keep me on the phone with you. I’ve got chicken that’s thawed in the fridge right now and it needs to be made tonight. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna make dinner for my boyfriend and I”—

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder. He jerks in surprise, turning swiftly with the phone in his tight grip. Eddie’s behind him, furrowed eyebrows and eyes narrowed in concern. Steve throws up his free hand as if to signal, ��What.’ Instead of a huff or an eye roll, Eddie’s soft with him. Petting his hand down his back. “I’ll make dinner,” Eddie whispers, “I want you to figure this out with Robin.”

Steve muffles the phone with his empty hand, pulling it away from his mouth. “She’s being an asshole, Eds. I don’t want to”—

“Baby, I don’t want you guys to lose each other. You two matter to one another. Figure it out…even if you have to argue, figure it out.”

With a pat to his back, Eddie steps away. Steve sighs, relenting—knowing Eddie’s reasonable and right, damnit—and brings the phone back up to his ear. “You still there, Robin?”

“Yup.”

“Listen…Robs…I-I don’t know what to say to make this better, okay? I’m gonna be honest. I don’t know what to do.” He shifts awkwardly on his feet. Eventually, though, within a matter of seconds, he decides to plop down onto the closest couch cushion. Hunched over his knees, pinching between his eyebrows. “I miss your calls, I know that. And I’m sorry, okay? Shit, I’m…I’m really fucking sorry”—his voice wavers, eyes burning despite trying to pinch the waterworks closed—“there’s no excuse. I’m not in college. I’m not, like, busy with my family or anything. I just. I’m just Steve. With his stupid minimum wage job. And I’m really fucking boring now, okay? I get busy with my shifts and I forget to answer. I try to get caught up in Eddie, trying to—shit, you can’t let him know this, okay? I’m gonna drop my voice”—and he does just that—“I get caught up trying to distract myself from…from myself. That doesn’t make sense, I know it doesn’t. And it’s not an excuse. Sometimes, Rob, sometimes”—and here come the blubbering tears…—“I just stand at the phone and wait for you to call me. Then you don’t. All I do is…all I do is work and sleep and wait.

“I miss you so fucking much, Robin. You…it’s so fucking pathetic…you’re my only, like, adult friend other than Eddie. But he’s in his own category, y’know? So. It’s just. Shit. I don’t know what I’m trying to say, Robs. I just miss you. I wait and I miss you.”

For a moment, there’s a steady stream of stilted silence. Then, quiet, Robin breaks with, “I miss you, too. But…Steve, I can’t be your only friend. And…and you’re not my only friend anymore. I know I’ve been shitty with answering the phone, responding to your letters. Things are busy. And I don’t have the time. And when I find time for myself, I’m sorry, but I don’t think of you first anymore. You have to…you have to understand that, Steve.

“Believe me, I try to reach out to you. When I have the time, when I…when I remember, I call you. You aren’t the first person that comes to mind anymore, okay? I have to be honest with you, too. I’m sorry. I can’t say that enough and I also think I’ve said it too much.

“But I’m about to graduate. Rita and I…we’re moving in together once I get my diploma”—

“Will you send me your new address? If you remember?” God, he can’t believe he just said that. He can’t believe he’s been…forgotten. “Maybe I can send you some congratulatory flowers or something?”

She takes a deep breath. Noticeably settling into something.

He sorta hates that he can picture her, shimmying into her spot. Getting comfy. Can imagine her in her dinky pajamas, the same ones she’s had since freshman year of high school. Thinks of her with her makeup freshly washed off, hair neatly brushed, relaxing in her bed. Wonders if she’s reading anything.

But he won’t ask. It doesn’t feel like that kind of conversation.

“I’ll give it to you before I graduate, okay? We’re gonna settle on an apartment before I’m done here. Um…yeah. Yeah…

“I’m sorry for being an asshole, you didn’t deserve that.”

“I’m sorry, too. You didn’t deserve it either. Just, y’know me, I get in my head.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. And it hurts, only a little—like a minor burn from the edge of a frying pan—that she didn’t reassure him. “I know I called, but I’ve gotta go. I have a test in the morning. And I’m ready for bed, so…yeah.”

“Okay…yeah…that’s—I’ve gotta help Eddie with dinner so”—

“What are we gonna do?”

“Hm?”

“…What are we gonna do? I don’t know when I’ll be able to call again. And I know you’re getting busier. I won’t have a break until, maybe, June? I don’t wanna leave you like this…but I can’t promise anything this time and”—

“I don’t know,” Steve softly interrupts. “We’ll figure it out, though, okay?”

There’s a long lull of silence. Longer than any he’s experienced with Robin. Softly, “Okay,” she says. Though, it doesn’t quite reach his ears the right way. It’s not a hopeful sound. It’s…tired and broken and weepy.

He knows that, after this, they won’t hear from each other anymore.

It’s a claw to the chest. A knife in the gut.

If he removes it, he’ll die. If he lets it linger, he’ll die. The way the word breaks in his head, her soft okay in his ear, he’d rather the knife remain. The pain, the blood, the simmering ache.

“Robin?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A murmur, “I love you, too.”

The phone crackles between them. Those are the last words he hears before the line goes dead. “Bye,” he whispers into the plastic, to nobody on the other side. And with the receiver gripped tight in both hands, nestled between his legs, he lets the burn behind his eyes engulf.

Tears sluggishly worm down his cheeks. Hot and burning.

“Steve?” Eddie softly calls to him. “You okay?”

When he looks in the direction of his name, Eddie is sitting next to him. A hand between his shoulder blades, the other reaching for the phone. Without much thought, Steve is turning into Eddie’s chest, dropping his grip on the receiver.

In one sweeping motion, Eddie brings him in, burying him closer. “I gotcha, baby,” he whispers into Steve’s hair, “I’ve gotcha.”

“I lost her,” he sobs, “lost my best friend.”

With Robin’s words floating through his head, the soft crackle of her raspy voice, that image of her comfy in bed, he breaks. Coughing, gagging, and crying, he breaks against Eddie’s neck.

——— November, 1985

“Steve? Do you think we’re best friends in every universe?”

“Hm…if we aren’t, I’m glad we’re best friends in this one.”

They’re holding hands, sprawled on his mattress, both sweat drenched from Scoops nightmares.

“Me too,” Robin whispers, “I love being your friend.”

“I love being yours,” he matches, “we’ve got each other for life now. No way to get rid of me.”

“Like we’re ever going to be apart.”

“Yeah,” Steve laughs. “No way is that happening. We’re stuck on each other like glue.”

☎️—————☎️

#stranger things #platonic stobin #stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie #eddie munson #angst

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sorrowfulrosebud · 1 year ago

Note

I hope you know you've given me puppy hybrid Bakugou brain rot, so you get another ask as a repercussion u3u

Whats the scenario or head canon of why we had to start putting a muzzle on hybrid Bakugou when going out? Did he bite, start a fight, did something out of spite? (Yes, that was a purposeful rhyme)

Gimme the tea 🫖

Blue? Wolf? Angel? 01? However you wish to be referred to, I LOVE YOU AND YOUR BIG SMART BRAIN MWA MWA. Also this got long hehehe

Warnings: bratty kid, animalistic Bakugou, wounds, reader passes out

I imagine Katsuki would have to start wearing the muzzle as soon as he left the shelter. In my AU, he was in a fighting ring (original, I know), so he still snaps when he gets frightened or angry. He doesn’t mean to, not in the slightest. But when you have to fight to the death for scraps, or a ratty blanket to keep you warm in a cramped and filthy dog cage, it becomes a nasty habit.

You try to keep it off him as much as possible unless you’re going out. It was a very long process to get him to relax even slightly with you, which was honestly a feat in of itself.

You listen to his body language. He comes to you when he has a problem. If he tenses when you’re petting him, you retract your hand and wait for the signal for you to continue, if any. You leave his food alone, because it’s his. You allow him to nap, knowing the poor creature needs some proper sleep.

It’s easier in the privacy of your own home, in a comforting environment that Bakugou can explore a million times over and never find anything new. In public though, when the screaming child demands to touch his sensitive tail, or when the shih tzu hybrid is sniffing him, it can be so overwhelming for the pup.

“Are you all ready to go, sweet thing?” You smile at your new puppy boy.

Katsuki growled lowly, his collar and leash loose on his neck. The muzzle was wrapped around his lower face, protecting himself from a future lawsuit. He tugged at the metal bars irritatedly. You sigh in empathy.

“I know, sweetpea. I’m afraid that until the padded muzzle comes, it has to be the one provided by the shelter. On the bright side, you can come outside for a walk! It’s a lovely day outside and you can meet the neighbours!” You explain happily.

Katsuki chuffs and rolls his eyes, walking ahead and pulling you on the leash as you squeak in surprise.

“See, I told you it was nice! How’s your collar feeling, honey?” You ask him gently, not wanting to overwhelm him. Katsuki’s pupils were blown with all sorts of new smells and sounds.

He never knew what squirrels sounded like. They scurried in the trees a lot more delicately than the rats in the compound. The screams of children were from fun as their parents chased and played with them. The new pups in the compound were snatched from their mother and sold or… Katsuki shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that place any more.

It was all so bewildering for him, but he seemed to be enjoying it as he threw you a nod.

“Aw I’m so glad!” You laugh softly. You stop near the local convenience store, the thought of a cold ice cream tickling your fancy. You call out to Katsuki to stop as he obeys.

“Do you fancy an ice cream? It’s such a hot day today, and you’ve taken everything in so wonderfully,” you ask him.

Katsuki cocked his head, not knowing what “ice cream” was. He had sometimes heard his old handlers talk about it, but he’d never been able to try any. You felt a pang of guilt at the realisation that he’d never had the sweet treat.

“Let’s go and get you one. I’m sure you’ll like it,” you promise him softly, allowing him to walk in first. He jumped slightly at the little ding-dong of the door, growling at it as you explained what it was.

Despite his grumbling and the occasional bark, he was behaving himself remarkably.

The ice cream freezer was thankfully stocked full to the brim, with flavours of nearly every description.

“Ah, here they are! I hope they have some that’s hybrid friendly. Katsuki, why don’t you come take a look and see what you want to try,” you encourage him. Katsuki froze a little. You were… giving HIM the choice? Was this some sort of trap? Your soft smile made him feel slightly at ease.

Plus, you would never hit him in a store, right?

He takes a look at the flavours in the freezer, entranced by the huge red strawberries and slabs of chocolate. He was about to grab an ice lolly with a motif of a raspberry when a shriek pierces his ears.

His hands slap to his head, covering the fluffy things as he snaps his head at the source. He lets out an automatic growl as his teeth curl back. A small child, not much older than 6 is staring back at him with a delighted look. In his sticky hand held a melting ice lolly.

“Doggy!” He shrieks excitedly, jumping up and down. A woman, whom you presume is his mother, is taking a phone call further down the aisle.

Katsuki pressed further into you when the kid tries touching him with sticky fingers. You immediately stand in front of him, trying to calm the puppy boy down and deal with the kid.

“Hi there sweetie, I’m sorry but Katsuki doesn’t like being touched,” you try to explain carefully, getting on the child’s level. You’re taken aback when the little monster’s face goes red and he lets out an ear-piercing scream that has Katsuki starting to hyperventilate a bit.

“NO! WANT TO PET THE DOGGY! MAMAAAA!” The kid wails, the woman walking to her son. She looks you up and down as she holds her son by the shoulders.

“What seems to be the problem here?” She sneers. You make sure Katsuki has space to cool down as you try to explain.

“Your son here is trying to pet my hybrid, but that is not something that he is comfortable at all with, so I’m trying to explain-” you were cut off by the woman.

“So? The beast is muzzled and leashed, why can’t my angel pet him?” She gave you a dirty look, as if she could look past your puppyboy who looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Katsuki is really not comfortable with that. It’s his first time out of the house in a long time and-” you were once again cut off by the woman’s snooty laughter.

“Well if he’s such a ‘rabid beast’ then he shouldn’t be out of the house,” she snarls viciously. You didn’t even notice the kid sneaking behind you until Katsuki lets out a vicious growl, and the sound of 2 screams fill the air.

Katsuki waited for the paramedics to bandage you up as they took you to hospital. They found you bleeding in Katsuki’s arms, his claw marks identical to the ones in your chest.

Turns out the little bastard had snuck behind you and yanked on Katsuki’s leash. Being already wound up and anxious, the sharp leash tug threw him into a frenzy as he instinctively went to claw the threat. You pushed the kid off in time, taking the blow instead.

Katsuki could only stare at you as cotton filled his mouth. His mouth twitched as he started trembling. He had … hurt you…

Your shriek of pain could never leave his head, him not even registering that he had made you bleed until the metallic smell hit his nose. The kid started wailing after being shoved on the floor, the mother picking him up and running away.

You look at him, then at the blood and you try to smile. You swallow, the shock of the pain making it difficult to see.

“D-don’t worry K’s’ki! I do- I don’ blame you,” you start to slur out, the shock and blood loss making you woozy. You slump against your pup, breathing shallow and light. Katsuki whined anxiously, looking for help.

A witness in the same aisle came forward slowly, aware of Katsuki’s hyperventilating and anxious state. He clutched you close to him, sitting on the ground as he trembled and nosed your face. Blood was everywhere, staining everything.

The customer slowly made his way to Katsuki, clicking her tongue softly to get his attention. Katsuki looked wild as he snarled savagely, pulling you tighter. She held her hands up slowly, demonstrating she wasn’t a threat.

“I’m going to call for help. I need to make sure that your owner is okay. I’m going to be super duper careful to make sure I don’t hurt them any more. You can still hold them, I just need to make sure their pulse is still there. Is that okay?” She spoke slowly and calmly, getting emergency services on her phone.

Katsuki snarled, but the claws digging into you relaxed slightly. The customer let a small smile out as she checked your pulse and referred everything back to the emergency services. She was slow and methodical, careful not to move too quickly and scare the trembling pup.

“There we go, all done. I saw everything you know,” she said quietly, kneeling near the two of you. Katsuki whined quietly, chuffing your hair.

“You were scared, and that monster of a boy didn’t listen. There are cameras everywhere, so I’m certain nothing will happen,” she said firmly.

Her hand slowly lifted up, paying close attention to his body language. Her hand slowly found refuge in his hair, slowly petting his ears. Katsuki could feel his heartbeat slow down, just for a moment, before it spiked again at the sound of the siren of the ambulance.

The paramedics filtered through with animal control, surprised to see a muzzled hybrid already collared and leashed holding on to the patient. The lead paramedic slowly approached you, the uniform and sterile smell making Katsuki snarl loudly and pinning you back to him. His eyes were like pin pricks as he held you tight.

“Heyyy, there you go buddy. Is that your owner there?” The paramedic questioned him quietly, bringing the cart to carry you beside her. Katsuki snarled as they got closer.

“I know, I know. It must be scary being in this situation. The lady on the phone told me what happened. You didn’t mean it, did you?” the paramedic prayed her words were getting through to him.

It seemed her prayers were answered when his grip lets loose slightly.

“You were frightened, weren’t you? The kid yanked on your leash? That must have hurt,” she murmured to him, getting more on his level. She was making slow progress to you, getting anxious when she sees the amount of blood lost.

“But now your owner is hurting. Can we take them to get all fixed up? You can ride with us in the ambulance,” she promised, holding her hand out. Katsuki growled, but with a small whine, relinquished his grasp on you.

The paramedic smiled at him, slowly picking you up as she dashed you to the cart, strapping you in as she rushed you to the ambulance outside. Katsuki whined and followed you, desperate to keep your pained face in his vision.

He rode with you the entire way to the hospital, whining when he couldn’t see past the curtain of the emergency room.

The next few hours were hell. He sat next to the curtained room, jumping up when the nurse talks to him.

“You’re very lucky. The wounds were relatively deep, but it was the shock that made them pass out. We stitched up the wound, so now we’re going to monitor your owner in a different room. Would you like to come with?” He asked. Katsuki nodded frantically.

He couldn’t help the whimper when he saw your bed being wheeled out, the bandages reaching a good way across your chest. You were docked into your new room. All Katsuki could do was wait for you to wake up.

Katsuki was a mess. He couldn’t stop whimpering to himself, scared shitless. You were the only person to ever treat him with such kindness, to talk to him like a person and not a dog. You were kind, and gentle, and-

Probably gonna hand him back to the shelter. He knew what that meant though, considering this was his ‘saving grace’. He wouldn’t get any more chances. He tried to toughen himself up, beating his leg in rage as he prepares himself for your rage.

The rage, however, never came. Katsuki must have fallen asleep, since he was awoken by the gentle call of his name. His head snapped up, mixed emotions when he sees your confused orbs.

“What… happened?” You slurred out, sleep still overtaking your system. Your eyes snapped open at the recollection of events.

“Oh god! Are you alright?!” You gasp. Katsuki looked at you dumbfounded. His body trembled. Even when he had hurt you… made you pass out… you still wouldn’t say a bad word against him. Your eyes softened as tears breached his waterline, making his beautiful lashes clump together.

“No no no no, sweet thing! What’s wrong?!” You coo at him, sitting up. He looks pointedly at your chest. You let out an “oh”.

“Katsuki, this wasn’t your fault. That little boy wouldn’t leave you alone, completely ignoring that I said to leave you alone. He still did, despite you being clearly upset and went to yank on your leash! I couldn’t have them take you away from me, so I chose to take the blow instead,” you said firmly, placing a gentle hand on his clenched fist.

“I would do it a million times over for you,” you murmured to him, softly wiping his tears. He flinched slightly, before shakily nuzzling his hand into your palm.

“You’re my good boy, my sweet Katsuki,” you preen, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. His chest rumbles as he slowly ambles into your bed. He makes eye contact with you, something within him trying to force himself to stop. Your warm eyes don’t however, simply shifting along to make room.

He cuddles into you, careful of your wound as he licks your neck gently.

“M-miiiine,” he tried, the word new as it rolled on his tongue. Your head snapped to him, amazed at his first word. Your eyes watered as you pressed a kiss to his head.

“That’s right, puppy. You’re mine.”

@archer-fb had to expand the first word babe 🤭

#🥀 rambles #pretty flower bluewolfangel01 🌷#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader fluff #hybrid bnha #hybrid bnha x reader #wolf hybrid bakugou #wolf hybrid bakugou angst #bakugou x reader angst #bakugou angst #bnha angst

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thewulf · 11 months ago

Text

A Safe Place || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request - Can you do a Dally or Darry x female reader where reader is having a really difficult time at home (mom and dad are kinda like Johnny's parents and beat up physically and mentally on reader?)... Read Rest Here

A/N: As long as I live I will forever write The Outsiders. Such a unique group to write. This one is tough but I really love it!

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader (Johnny Cade Sister)

Word Count: 3.3k +

TW: ABUSE, talks of abuse, hitting, bruises, cuts, blood, threats of violence, general Outsiders warnings

As you stumbled through the door of the Curtis household the entire greaser gang turned to look at you. Their expressions shifting from surprise to concern in an instant. Dally was the first to react, his eyes widening in realization as he took in the extent of your injuries.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Dally's voice was gruff but there was an underlying edge of worry as he approached you. His movements were surprisingly gentle as he took in your battered appearance. His usually stern expression softened which revealed a glimpse of the concern that lurked beneath his tough exterior.

You could feel the weight of their stares. Their unspoken questions hanging heavy in the air. It was clear that they were shocked by the state you were in, and the realization only made you feel more vulnerable. Because for as bad as you felt you just knew you looked 10 times worse. It wasn’t the first time he’d laid hands on you, but it was the first time he didn’t seem to want to stop.

"I-I... I had a run-in with my old man," you managed to choke out. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you fought to hold back the tears brimming at the edge of your eyes. You’d done so good escaping it was suddenly catching up to you what you had just gone through. The words tasted bitter on your tongue. A painful reminder of the nightmare you couldn't escape.

Steve's jaw clenched tight with anger as he took in your bruised and bloodied face, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "That bastard," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with rage. "He’s gonna pay for this, I swear."

Dally's expression darkened at your words. His features contorted with a mixture of anger and sorrow. "I'll kill him," he growled, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought to contain the rage simmering just beneath the surface. His words hung heavy in the air as it was a promise of retribution that sent a shiver down your spine. The scary part was that you knew he would kill him given the chance. It was one thing with Johnny… but when he saw you so battered he found a rage not even he knew he had.

Instinctively you flinched at his declaration. The raw intensity in his voice triggering a flood of memories you wished you could forget. You had already endured so much, the wounds—both physical and emotional—still fresh and raw. The thought of more violence only served to deepen the pit of dread that churned in your stomach. Sure, you grew up with the greasers but it never made the violence and threats of it any easier.

As if sensing your reaction Dally's eyes softened with remorse. A pang of guilt flickering across his features. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering uncertainly over your shoulder before finally making the gentlest contact. He was afraid of the bruises underneath your clothes, the ones he couldn’t see. "Hey," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his earlier words. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For all his tough exterior there was a vulnerability in Dally that few ever got to see. A glimpse of the boy beneath the cocky attitude that he showed all too often. As you looked into his eyes you saw not just the anger and the pain, but also the deep-seated compassion that he tried so hard to conceal. His presence was a balm to your battered soul. A reminder that you were not alone in your struggles.

Dally's sharp gaze hardened as he turned to the group just staring at the scene unfolding before them. "Get the hell out of here if you ain’t gonna be useful," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding. "Give us some space guys." The rest of the gang exchanged uneasy glances before nodding in agreement, understanding the need for solitude in such a vulnerable moment. With one last look of concern, they filed out of the room leaving you and Dally in a cocoon of quiet solidarity.

As Soda made to leave with them Dally stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. "Soda, wait," he said, his voice softer now, filled with urgency. "Get the first aid kit and a warm towel. We need to clean her up." Soda nodded in understanding, a determined look crossing his features as he hurried off to retrieve the supplies.

As Soda hurried off to retrieve the supplies, Dally turned his attention back to you, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "Hang in there, sweetheart," he said softly. His voice laced with reassurance as he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "We'll get you patched up real quick."

You managed a weak smile. So grateful for his comforting words amidst the raging emotions swirling inside you. Despite the pain and the fear that still lingered there was a sense of relief knowing that you were in capable hands. You were being taken care of the boy who cared deeply for your well-being.

A knowing smile just ghosted over Soda's lips as he returned with the first aid kit and a warm towel. He was silently acknowledging the unspoken bond between you and Dally. He knew how much Dally had loved you for so long. And seeing the two of you together now filled him with a bittersweet sense of pride. He’d never seen Dallas so gentle.

With practiced efficiency, Dally and Soda set to work cleaning and dressing your wounds. Their movements gentle yet purposeful as they tended to each cut and bruise with care. Dally's hands were surprisingly gentle as he worked. A stark contrast to the roughness you had come to expect from him. However, even he wasn’t perfect. There was a moment when Dally accidentally pressed a little too hard on one of your bruises causing you to let out an involuntary yelp of pain. Instantly his expression shifted. A look of sadness crossing his features as he realized his mistake.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he murmured. His voice filled with genuine remorse as he gently pulled back, his hands hovering uncertainly over your injured skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be more careful, I promise."

You could see the sincerity in his eyes. It was layered with a depth of emotion you hadn't seen from him before. A stark reminder that beneath his tough exterior there was that vulnerability he tried so hard to conceal. You saw not just the pain and the regret in his eyes but also the profound sense of care and affection that he held for you.

"It's okay, Dally, really" you reassured him, your voice soft as you reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I know you didn't mean it. I’m so lucky to have you."

His gaze softened at your words. A small flicker of gratitude passing between you as you shared a moment of understanding. Despite the rough edges and the scars that marked his soul there was a gentleness to Dally that few ever got to see. A side of him that he reserved for those he held closest to his heart. A side that only seemed reserved for you.

With a nod of appreciation Dally resumed his careful ministrations. His touch lighter and more cautious than before. And as he worked to tend to your wounds with a renewed focus, you couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for the boy who had always been there for you. Always, no questions asked.

As Dally apologized profusely and you reassured him, Soda noticed the exchange between you two. Sensing the depth of emotion in the room he took a step back giving you and Dally a moment of privacy. There was that knowing look in Soda's eyes, an acknowledgment of the connection between you and Dally. With a subtle nod Soda retreated to give you both some space. His intuition telling him that this was a moment that needed to be shared between just the two of you. As he busied himself with tidying up the first aid supplies before exiting the room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth fill his chest for the two of you.

Once Dally finished tending to your wounds with careful precision a flood of emotions washed over you. Threatening to overwhelm your fragile composure. The physical pain had subsided only to be replaced now by a tidal wave of raw emotion that surged through your veins like a raging river. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to contain the torrent of feelings that threatened to consume you. It wasn't just the pain of your injuries that brought you to tears, but the weight of everything you had endured, the fear, the loneliness, the relentless cycle of abuse that had plagued your life for so long.

You cried for your little brother, lost and alone in a world that had turned its back on him. Your Johnny. You cried for the father who had betrayed your trust as his fists rained down upon you with a cruelty that knew no bounds. But most of all you cried for Dally, for his unexpected gentleness and the overwhelming sense of safety and comfort that he had provided in your darkest hour.

As you sat with Dally in the quiet intimacy of the room you felt a sense of release wash over you. A cathartic release of pent-up emotion that had been building inside you for far too long. And as the tears flowed freely down your cheeks you knew that you were not alone. That you were loved and cherished by the one person who had always been there for you, offering his unwavering support and understanding in the face of adversity.

As your tears flowed Dally's heart ached with a depth of emotion he had never allowed himself to fully acknowledge before. Without hesitation, he shifted, pulling you fully onto his lap, cradling you against his chest with a tenderness that was so different than his tough exterior. His arms wrapped around you protectively creating a safety that enveloped you both.

He rubbed soothing circles on your back. His touch a comforting reassurance of his unwavering support. In the quietness of the moment, he whispered words of comfort and encouragement. His voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room.

Feeling your sobs intensify he tightened his embrace. His hold on you was firm yet gentle as if trying to absorb some of the pain that wracked your body and soul. With each shuddering breath you took he squeezed you tighter. His touch was a silent reassurance that he was there for you. He would never let you face your demons alone.

"You're safe now, sweetheart," he murmured. His breath warm against your ear. "You don't have to be strong all the time. Let it out. I'm here for you."

His words were a lifeline in the darkness, a reminder that you were not alone in your pain. With each gentle stroke of his hand against your back, he offered you solace and understanding, his touch a silent promise of his unwavering support.

"It's okay to cry," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room. "I've got you. I won't let anyone hurt you again, I swear it."

His heart broke for you, for the girl he cared for more deeply than he dared to admit. In that moment, as he held you close, he wished he could take away all the pain and suffering you had endured, to shield you from the cruelties of the world with nothing more than his love.

As time passed your sobs gradually subsided leaving behind a lingering sense of emptiness and exhaustion. In the quiet aftermath of your tears, you took a shaky breath. Your chest still tight with emotion. Dally held you close.

Feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear you found solace in the warmth of his embrace. With a heavy sigh you finally found the strength to speak. Your voice trembling with the weight of the words you had kept buried deep within your heart.

"I miss him," you spoke. Your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke of your little brother, lost and alone in a world that had turned its back on him. "I miss Johnny so much it hurts."

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, threatening to spill over as you thought of your brother who had been forced to run away. His pure innocence stolen by the cruelty of the world.

"I miss the way things used to be," you continued. Your voice filled with longing as you spoke of a time before your father's descent into darkness, before the alcohol and the violence tore your family apart. "I miss when my dad wasn't a drunk, when he was still my dad, you know?"

Your words hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the innocence you had lost, of the life that seemed so distant and foreign now. In the safety of Dally's embrace, you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of the past, to grieve for the family that had been torn apart by forces beyond your control.

As you spoke of missing Johnny, Dally's embrace tightened. His arms offering you a sense of strength and stability amidst the chaos of your emotions. His voice was gentle as he responded. His words a quiet reassurance in the face of your pain.

"I know, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "We all miss him. But you know Johnny, he's resourceful as hell. And with Pony by his side? Those two can handle anything."

There was a quiet conviction in Dally's voice. It was a steadfast belief in Johnny's resilience that offered you a glimmer of hope in the darkness. Despite the uncertainty of his fate, you found comfort in Dally's unwavering confidence. He was a reminder that you were not alone in your worries for your brother.

"And your dad..." Dally trailed off, his voice heavy with sympathy as he spoke of the man who had once been your protector, now reduced to a shadow of his former self. "He's not the man you remember, I know. But that ain't your fault, darlin'. None of this is."

His words were a lifeline in the darkness, a reminder that you were not to blame for the sins of your father, that you deserved love and happiness just as much as anyone else. In the safety of his embrace, you allowed yourself to mourn the loss of the past, to grieve for the family that had been torn apart by forces beyond your control.

But even as the tears continued to fall, you knew that you were not alone. That Dally was there for you and always ready to offer his unwavering support and understanding in the face of your pain. As you clung to each other in the quiet darkness you found solace in the simple act of being together.

As your emotions opened you realized your love for him wasn't triggered by a simple moment. But rather by a complex series of events that had been building up over time. It was the culmination of countless conversations, shared moments, and lingering glances that had slowly but surely chipped away at the walls around your heart.

It started with the little things. Like the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you laugh or the way he would brush a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that took your breath away. It was the late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning, the whispered confessions and shared secrets that bound you together in ways you couldn't explain. But it was also the bigger moments. The ones that left you reeling with emotion and uncertainty. There was a time you called, and he showed up at your door in the middle of the night. No questions he was there as his face drawn and tired, and you knew without a doubt that he would always be there for you, no matter what.

As you looked into his eyes and saw the depth of his feelings reflected back at you, something shifted inside you. It was as if all the pieces fell into place like a puzzle finally coming together after years of searching. And in that moment, you knew. You knew that you couldn't keep it to yourself any longer, that you had to tell him how you felt, no matter the consequences.

So, you took a deep breath. Steeling yourself for what was to come, and you let the words spill from your lips in a rush of emotion. It was messy and imperfect, but it was real. It was true. And it was exactly what you needed to say.

"I... Dally, I just... I don't even know where to start," you began. Your voice trembling with emotion as you struggled to find the right words. "But I can't keep it in any longer. I think... no, I know I... I love you. Like, really love you."

Your admission hung heavy in the air, a confession so raw and honest that it left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. But as you looked into Dally's eyes, filled with a mixture of surprise and tenderness, you knew that you had made the right decision to speak your truth.

"I know it sounds crazy," you continued, your words tumbling out in a rush. "But it's true. You've always been there for me, through thick and thin. And it's not just because you're always there to clean up my messes or protect me from the world, although you do a damn good job of that. It's because... because I genuinely care about you, Dallas Winston. I care about you more than I ever thought possible. And it scares me sometimes, how much I care."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you bared your soul to him, laying your feelings bare for the world to see. But as you spoke, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that you had finally spoken the words that had been weighing on your heart for so long.

"And I know it's a lot to take in," you concluded, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I had to tell you. I couldn't keep it to myself any longer."

For a moment, the air felt thick with anticipation. The intensity of your confession hanging between you like a tangible thing. And then as if a switch had been flipped, the hardness in Dally's eyes melted away. Replaced by a warmth that seemed to radiate from deep within him.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth gradually blossoming into a grin that lit up his entire face. It was a grin like you'd never seen before. A grin that reached all the way to his eyes filling them with a light you hadn't realized was missing.

His fingers brushed gently against your tear-stained cheeks. His touch tender and affectionate as he cupped your face in his hands. There was a sense of wonder in his expression, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening, as if he had never dared to hope for this moment.

"Damn, sweetheart," he breathed. His voice tinged with awe. "I never knew you had it in you. Talking like that. But I'm glad you did. Because, hell, I love you too. I always have."

His words sent a rush of warmth through you. A feeling of elation that bubbled up from deep within your chest. And as you looked into his eyes, shining with a happiness you had never seen before, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, something real and true and utterly perfect.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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click 'here' to unlock the other boyfriends!

You had thought you were perfectly content with love being expressed silently until you met Nico Hischier.

For you, love and silence had always been interchangeable throughout your entire life. You weren’t sure when it clicked, when the realisation had been set in stone in your head and never to be argued with. You just knew that silence usually meant good things, that it meant positive feelings. At least, you liked to assume.

When it came to your parents, the silence meant there was no scolding or nitpicking. They were never shy at the way they pointed out your flaws, your mistakes, your errors. It was hidden under concerns and wishes for you to thrive, but the pressure just felt as suffocating and overbearing as them. The silence was a relief from the constant remarks.

In school, it was like the teachers and professors just expected you to do well. They saw a bright child, so the second the grades started to matter, the assumption was made that you would just thrive. That pressure returned, and you hated the disappointing and disapproving talks you would get if you did badly. Once again, the silence was a relief, it meant they left you alone and that was what you wanted.

It followed as the same in almost every aspect in your life: in your friendships, in your relationships, in your careers, in your achievements. Silence had become so intertwined with love, success and praise in your life that you knew nothing but.

Until Nico Hischier.

Maybe it was the captain in him, or maybe it was just the kind of guy Nico was. It was almost comical to think back upon the early stages of your relationship, when everything was so new and his words left you overwhelmed—but in a good way, in a way you didn’t think was possible.

“You didn’t have to wake up with me,” Nico said as he wandered into the kitchen.

Unlike you who was still in your pyjamas, he was dressed in some sweatpants and a hoodie—the Devils logo and his number standing out on both. His gym bag was dropped at his feet before he wandered over to where you stood by the stove.

It was early. Dreadfully early, in fact. And despite every cell in your body screaming for you to stay in your warm, cosy bed when Nico’s alarm blared for his early morning practice, you wanted to do a little something for him for once.

“I wanted to make you a proper breakfast,” you shrugged, letting out a soft sigh as he wound his arms around your waist, his chest pressed into your back as the warmth of him washed over you. “An apple and a protein shake isn’t enough.”

“It’s worked alright so far,” Nico grumbled, his head dropped to your shoulder as he watched you cook. “But thank you. You’re amazing, schätzi.”

You snorted. “You mean having a proper breakfast is amazing.”

“No,” he said, his voice firm but sincere. “I mean you are amazing. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

And maybe there was still a part of you that wasn’t used to Nico’s constant praise and affection. You could do hugs and kind acts and thoughtful gifts but, fuck, the words really got to you.

It just baffled you how easily the words could pass his lips. It came so naturally to him, so fucking easily that it made you question how you went your whole life having people struggle to even give you basic appreciation but this boy seemed to be able to praise you for something as simple as making him a meal. But it went beyond that.

Nico did it with everything.

You look gorgeous, baby, that dress was made for you.

Fuck, schätzi, doing so good f’me. Just like that.

I’m so proud of you.

You’re doing the best you can, baby, you’re so strong.

He wasn’t shy about his appreciation for you. He showed his love in so many different ways that made him the absolute perfect boyfriend, but the words that left his lips were the most consistent and—though you didn’t have the courage to say it yet—your favourite.

“You’re a sap in the mornings,” you commented, because whilst you were used to hearing them, it would still take time to fully accept them and not deflect instantly.

He knew that. If anything, he thought it was adorable. It prompted him to do it more often just to see how flushed you got, just to see the way you were somehow caught off-guard every single time.

“Maybe you should wake up with me more often,” Nico retorted, swaying your bodies together in the chilly kitchen. “I could use a shower buddy.”

You snorted. “You would never make it to practise on time.”

“That is a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Nico shrugged, but you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn’t see it.

“You’re gonna set a bad influence, captain,” you teased, shaking your head.

Nico let out a low groan. “Don’t start calling me captain, I have to leave in fifteen.”

“Think of it as motivation to do well,” you countered as you plated up your breakfasts and lightly nudged him so he would allow you to place them on the breakfast bar. “I’ll be in bed waiting for you.”

Nico shot you a look. “You’re a temptress.”

You grinned back.

“A gorgeous, sexy temptress that I can’t wait to come back home too,” Nico continued, pleased at the way your face flushed in response.

“Dick,” you grumbled but you happily accepted the kiss he placed on your cheek as he thanked you for the breakfast.

And, much to his delight, you were in bed waiting for him after he had come home from practice, eager to climb in with you.

#nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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soapyghostie · 1 year ago

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Hey! Absolutely random request, but imagine reader being a tired person that out of wounds and stress they just fall asleep when they're being carried, about to go on a hook. How would the dbd killers(any, really) react?

Like, imagine. Being carried, without anything under legs can already make someone sleepy if they don't have adrenaline pumped through their veins. Plus, i know that having wounds(aka blood loss) can make people very tired.

Since this request it a little vague, I decided to get a little creative with it and wrote some angst because I’m a sucker for angst with dad slashers (except Frank is your big brother in this request). 😭 Hope you enjoy!

The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson

Danny would be confused at first, bloodlust still kicking through his veins even after killing all our teammates as he carries you, his injured daughter, to the hook (Sorry (Y/N), he’s just doing his job. No hard feelings). He’ll pause for a moment, trying to process the fact that you feel asleep on his shoulder.

As he realizes that you fell asleep due to exhaustion and stress from your wounds, Danny’s demeanor would soften and his parental instincts within him kicks in. He’ll gently adjust you in his arms from being thrown over his shoulder to being carried bridal style, ensuring that you’re comfortable even as he still proceeds to hook you.

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state would stir up a lot of internal conflict in Danny. He’s torn between his role as a merciless killer and his love for you as his daughter as he hesitates to sacrifice you to the Entity. Danny’s had a lot of bad performances in trials lately and he really needs the 4K. However, to get the 4K he needs to sacrifice you. Of course it has to be you: the Entity is so cruel.

As to not get punished by the Entity, sadly, Danny will throw you onto the hook. Danny would feel a pang of remorse and sadness. He knows that he’s the cause of your pain and exhaustion, and seeing you in such a vulnerable state serves as a painful reminder of the life he’s subjected you to. He silently reflects on his actions and their consequences. He’ll gaze at your sleeping form dangling from the hook, grappling with the complexities of his emotions and the choices he made.

Despite his conflicted emotions, Danny remains committed to his role in the Entity’s twisted game. However, Danny’s determination to protect you remains unwavering. He’ll play the Entity’s game and continue this dark path as a killer if it means to ensure your safety as he doesn’t want you to be harmed as a result of his shortcomings…

The Legion/Frank Morrison

Frank would be initially shocked and panicked to see you, his younger sister, in such a vulnerable state. Despite his tough ‘bad boy’ exterior, he deeply cares about you and seeing you hurt triggers his protective instincts.

The sight of you falling asleep from exhaustion and stress while carrying you to the hook fills Frank with anger and frustration. He’ll curse under his breath, feeling powerless to protect you and frustrated with the situation at hand. First off, your god damn heavy after going unconscious and, secondly, he has no choice but to hook you due to the amount of failed trials he’s had lately to try and please the Entity.

Despite his anger, Frank, also like Danny, would feel a sense of inner conflict. On one hand, he wants to lash out at the Entity for throwing her into a trial with him, but on the other hand, he knows he has to get the 4K by hooking you so you end up safe and sound at the survivor camp instead of the agony the Entity threatened to put you through if he didn’t start stepping it up in trials. You’re the reason he has the strength to keep going in this awful, twisted game of cat and mouse.

Frank would grapple with the feeling of guilt and responsibility for your condition. As your older brother, he feels entitled to preventing you from getting hurt in the first place and blames himself for everything that has happened to you. Despite his conflicting emotions, he would carefully and gently place you on the hook, making sure you're as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. As he watches you sleep on the hook, Frank would have a quiet moment of reflection. He reminisces about y’all’s childhood together and vows silently to himself to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

Seeing you vulnerable would only fuel Frank’s determination to perform better in trials. He would be even more relentless in his pursuit of survivors, driven by the desire to protect you from the Entity’s hungry claws.

The Shape/Michael Myers

Michael would pause, a flicker of confusion crossing his expressionless face. The sight of you, his daughter, falling asleep despite the dire circumstances briefly disrupts his usual relentless pursuit to satisfy his murderous desires.

Deep within his obscured psyche, a conflict brews. While Michael is driven by an insatiable urge to kill, his parental instincts stir, conflicting with his murderous impulses. This momentary hesitation leads to a brief internal struggle, the likes of which observers of Michael would never perceive.

Despite the task at hand and the chaos of the trial, Michael momentarily freezes, holding your unconscious body with an eerie stillness. His iconic breathing momentarily ceases, as if he too, like Danny and Frank, were contemplating the peculiar situation.

In a rare display of tenderness, Michael gingerly adjusts your position, ensuring that you're comfortable even as he prepares to hook you. His movements would be precise, almost caring, as if he’s trying to shield you from further harm, even in your unconscious state. As he gazes upon your sleeping form, fragments of memories flicker through Michael’s mind. Images of you as a child, innocent and untouched by the darkness that now envelopes you both, momentarily soften his gaze, perhaps even cause a subtle twitch at the corners of his mouth – a long-forgotten smile. You are his world.

Ultimately, the weight of his desire to kill and the futility of his attempts to connect with you wash over Michael. With a heavy heart hidden beneath his iconic mask, he proceeds with the task at hand – sacrificing you to the Entity. With a solemn determination, Michael carries you to the hook, his obsession with killing eclipsing any semblance of any paternal sentiment.

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kinardsheart · 4 months ago

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@marvelousbuckley prompt !!! buckley fights and whatnot

—————————

Everyone knew that when all the Buckley’s were at a table together, shit would go down.

Buck’s jaw tensed, teeth grinding against eachother in an effort to not snap. To not flip the table like some overdramatic movie scene and flee, get far away from whatever was happening right now.

Maddie’s worried eyes flicked from their parents to him, eyebrows furrowing as she no doubt was thinking of ways to de-escalate the situation, ever the mediator.

“What did you say?”

“We just think that you’re rushing into things. What, with all your past relationships, isn’t this a bit different?”

Pain surged through his body as he bit his tongue to bite back the venom he was about to hurl. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms, keeping him from disassociating back into the same little boy that always came back.

“Mom, I think it’s a bit late. Jee-Yun’s asleep, I think we’re all a bit tired.”

His mother shook her head, bony hands resting over his fathers still ones moving to tuck a stray hair back into her neatly styled bob. Maddie sighed, leaning back in her chair uncomfortably, facial expression not moving from it’s worried state. This was happening.

“Why so?”

“Well… you know.”

An eyebrow raised as he stared them down intimidatingly, daring them to continue. “I don’t. Continue.”

Philip sighed wearily, as if Buck was the one who initiated the topic. As if Buck was the problem. Like always, his stupid son. Always causing problems. The thought made his stomach churn, queasy, nails digging deeper into his palms.

“Enough, Evan. This is just another rash decision like you always make. It won’t mean anything, you’ll snap out of it, son.”

Son. Like he was the one who taught him to tie a tie for his highschool formal. Ran around football fields with him as the sun glared above them, exhausted laughter as they collapsed on the fields and got ice cream on the way home. Held him as he cried and told him he was still a man. Images of makeshift father figures, his maths teacher, Bobby. Tears pricked at his waterline as he stood up, too exhausted to fight. They were never going to change.

Despite calls of his name as he walked out of the chilly apartment, maybe it wasn’t cold. maybe the chill came from the use of evan from mouths who didn’t deserve to it, he moved on autopilot. He was almost out; through the kitchen and about to open the front door when a smaller hand landed on his arm. Concerned, familiar brown eyes met his.

Memories of broken bikes, aching wounds, warm hugs and pinky promises swam around in his mind as he looked down at her.

“You know they’re just worried, right?”

His blood ran ice cold.

“Are you on their side?”

She flinched at his tone, shaking her head while her hand dropped from his arm, taking the warmth with it. “No, of course not. But they’re just worried, Evan. You don’t have to go, they don’t mean anything.”

The threat of his previous tears returned. “That’s the thing, Maddie. They never mean anything. They don’t care, and when they do, it’s never good.”

A deep breath, then he continued.

“You wanna know why they don’t like Tommy? Because I’m happy. They don’t like that. Why should I be happy when I’m not even the son they wanted? They said it themselves. I’m their reminder that the one they wanted is dead, looking them in the eyes.”

Her head tilted with her lips turning down in an upset frown.

There was nothing left to be said, he supposed. The bickering from the other room quietened as he opened the door, giving her one final look.

“Goodnight, Mads.”

——————

He doesn’t remember how he ended up here, at Tommy’s door. All he knows is that now there’s a dishevelled, clearly was just asleep firefighter in front of him, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.

“Evan?”

Guilt flooded his senses. He shouldnt’ve come.

“Sorry, you’re tired. I’ll just go.”

Tiredness shifted into concern, a big hand reaching out for his as he turned to walk back to his jeep, no doubt in for a relentless night of tossing and turning.

“No, stay. You just woke me up, no need to go. What’s wrong?”

What was wrong? Everything, nothing?

His head hung low, the pang of pain from his nails digging into his palms returned. He flexed his hand, wincing in pain as the small wounds opened back up.

Tommy, ever so vigilant, didn’t miss this. The older man reached for his hands, gently bringing them up and turning them upright. A small frown formed, which was so wrong on his face. He deserved to smile. Buck was bringing him down.

“Oh, honey.”

The gentleness of the name, like Buck was something to care for. Something to be held, and loved. It broke him. Nobody deserved that burden, but maybe if Tommy wanted to carry it, he’d let him.

Buck fell forward into his outstretched arms, sobs wracking his body as he was just held, hands racking up and down his back soothingly.

Later, when he was settled, in a comfy bed full of content and love, he would tell him about the dinner. About Daniel. But for now, he could just cry. Tommy wouldn’t leave him for it.

#9-1-1 #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buckley parents #maddie buckley #I LOVE YOU MADDIE #not maddie bashing #thats my baby

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tomanyhusbandz · 1 year ago

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His Girl

18+ no minors

David x Black fem reader

Summary: David McCall spots you one day at the mall with your friends and find you the most intriguing. sneaking in your room, one night your father lectures you through the door, and David’s possessiveness kicks in, and he decides to stake his claim on you while your father speaks on the opposite side of the door.

Author’s note: yall know the drill straight off the top (of my head)

Black fem reader,smut ish, possessiveness,kissing,biting,smoking

Mini flashback

You had not to long ago moved to this VERY suburban neighborhood with your mother and father who where both big shot lawyers and it was really awkward for you and your parents but you figured since they had so much money it shouldn’t be a problem to blend in. You had made a couple a friends on your first day at the new neighborhood school shockingly everyone was trying to get a piece of but you’d just roll your eyes and go on about your day not wanting to be anyone’s token black friend, despite that you met Nicole and Lora and they seemed pretty chill then one day you three where out and about at the mall when you notice a group of guys. They looked sketchy too sketchy for yours and Nicole’s liking but Lora was a free spirit you where fiddling with your nails when you noticed the silent one staring at you like his undressing you with his eyes.

He smiled with his eyes mysteriously watching your every movement down from your Mocha brown skin,Chanel pumps and frilly socks to your short black plaid skirt showing just a peek of your bow tattoos behind your thighs and that oh so neatly short button up white dress shirt you tied at the bottom making your curves teasingly entice anyone you walk past. You were like a siren you already had him hooked and he didn’t even know your name yet it made his breath catch and his heart flutter just from you rolling your eyes at him.

“Lora come on les go .. before I slip over this one’s drool” you say pointing over at him with your thumb making Nicole laugh covering her mouth one thing about you is your very out spoken something Lora couldn’t top you in

“So it’s like dat .. I can’t admire your beauty without you insulting me I’m wounded baby” The sexy stranger says with a million dollar smile on his face making you mentally bite your lip he was the hottest white boy you’ve seen in this town with a Jersey accent to top it off, doesn’t mean you ain’t gonna play hard to get

“Don’t call me baby i ain’t no body’s baby you have to earn this .. your cute though ciao !” You say linking arms with Nicole and Laura making sure to swing your hips as you walk away

“Ha! Well I’m David what’s your name!” he says shouting biting his lip as he follows running he catches up silently behind you his eyes watching your hips like a cat clock

“Y/n and that’s all your getting” you say laughing at his sudden per suite of getting anything he can from you

“Oh my gosh hooked already and she hasn’t gave you anything” Laura says a bit annoyed but humored as you all finally make it to your Ferrari which you let Nicole drive because you’ve seen Laura drive and it wasn’t the best

David silently watches you all climb in before quickly grabbing your hand and helping you climb over the seats watching you sit you look up at him and his grin with a sudden charm, a dangerous charm like he was hiding a bit of malice behind it but you shook the feeling as soon as he leaned both arms on the car supporting his chin he laid on top of them.

“So you gonna let me take you out .. or I gotta beg” he says his eyes low lidded and dark something about that you liked made your chest burn from the inside

“Mhmm I don’t know as much as I’d like to see you on yo knees I’d rather not .. but yeah you can take me out” you say biting your bottom lip the car revving up in the background you both ignore that signal from your friends you grab your receipt and write your address down and number handing it to him

“Good I’ll see youuu tonight ? but before you go you gotta give me something” he says in a whisper you both close to each other’s lips your French tip nail tracing his lips

“Do I ?” You say leaning closer to kiss him then the car slowly pulls off and the girls cackle along with you as you blow him a kiss

You watch from the back seat of the low top rrari he stands in the parking lot smirking as if he won the game you to just played you knew he was going to be trouble but you didn’t mind it, it was more fun for you that way you couldn’t piss your parents off anymore than you have.

Mini Flashback over

Ever since then you to had been inseparable where ever he went is where you went and same went for you. But sometime you needed space and that’s when David’s controlling side came out and he wanted to argue or try and manipulate you and make you feel bad about going out without him but he gave up on that when he realized you were going to do what you wanted anyway. No matter what he did you wouldn’t leave him even when your parents disagreed about him you kept seeing him and when they grounded you, you snuck out or he snuck in you where down for him and he was down bad for you.

Currently you where both in your room after you where grounded for the six time for joy riding in your dads new bentley with David and his friends your parents think his a bad influence on you but you didn’t care. Music played silently in the background as you blew smoke from your mouth and into David’s while you straddle him he laid under you examining your face, you scored some weed from his friend for free so you both were just silently mellowing out in your room while David rubbed his rough hands along your soft semi naked thighs fingertips sneaking under your pajama shorts, This was promptly his fifth night sneaking in and you were sure your dad knew but again you didn’t care.

“What ? .. you starin at me” you said smiling while the blunt hangs from your lips slapping his muscular chest his yankee cap backwards on your head

“Nothing you just look good on top of me” he says biting his lip and slapping your butt then taking the blunt from your lips

You giggle at his response before he could put the blunt to his lips you lean down and kiss his lips. He kissed you back possessive wrapping his hands in your hair tightly making you wince a little but shiver at the same time before he released you and took a hit then blew it out.

“So Lora has these too friends that wanna buy from you or maybe get it for free buttt they say they don’t like yo creepy rockstar friend” you say trying to slide off of him but he presses your thighs down so you can’t move keeping you in place with one hand

“Well then they don’t need a buy from me .. besides you the only one getting anything for free cause you mine “ he says in a growl almost intimidating you but making you excited at the same time

Before you could answer him you hear footsteps outside the door sounding like expensive dress shoes which only meant it was your dad again coming to lecture you about making good choices and dropping David.

“Are you smoking in there ?” He says frowning from the other side of the door that smell was familiar to him it reminded him of back when he was a teen the same reason he didn’t want you around David because of the stupid things he did

“NO! Daddy please not tonight i get it okay” you say rolling your eyes you look down at David who sits up on his elbows whispering for you to come closer which you couldn’t say no to he got a kick out of asserting dominance on you

“ Don’t get smart with me .. im just hear to tell you im sorry i just want what’s best for you” he says taking a deep sigh laying his forehead on the door in frustration

“Mhm ..” you say throwing your head back as David nibbles on your neck licking over the purple mark he left from earlier now sitting all the way up with you still in his lap he hold your waist making you grind against him

“And so does your mother we don’t want you knocked up and throwing away your future for some psycho your my little girl i just don’t wanna see you hurt ” he says sounding as if his waiting for your response not being able to hear much over your music playing in the background

“Mmh Dav … stop his right on the other side of the door” but he didn’t stop David’s hate fire was fueled by your fathers hateful words towards him he was right, David was a sick but he was sick for you and you for him, he knew you where down for whatever he asked you to do even if it meant pissing your parents off.

“Mh so .. I hope he hears us just so he knows’’ he says slipping his thumbs into the sides of your shorts bringing them under your butt revealing your satin panties, as he watched your eyes shut from his rough yet soft nibbling on your skin, your back arched over the edge of your bed a little

“ k-knows what” you say out of breath for his overstimulating bites and groping

The bed creaking from his slipping you off his lap and taking off his pants revealing his toned legs then he slips off his jersey showing his toned abdomen and wide shoulders. he turns around and bites his lip at you as he watches you from the bed, lean back on your elbows with your legs wide open and your shorts fully removed and just your panties on. Something his always imagined seeing you in he had just been playing nice since the first day you met the little cat and mouse game you would like to play, and he wanted to wait until you were ready but he could tell by that love drunk look on your face you wanted nothing but him.

“What’s that noise in there … is someone there and you’re lying to me again y/n!!” Your dad shouts from the outside turning the handle but it wouldn’t turn David smirked again and went over to you standing between your legs you lay back and slide your hand down his toned chest while yanking at his boxers eagerly.

“ That your my girl .. “he says watching your hands yank at his boxers pulling them all the way down as your dad hollers banging on the door in the background making David’s revenge all the more sweeter

#imagine #fear 1996 #mark wahlberg #90s #imagines #x reader #90s boys imagines #90s boys #black reader #black fem reader

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the-name-is-z · 1 year ago

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SKELETONS | ch. 10

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: The group preemptively settles in at the farm. Iris finds herself risking her life once more, only this time it's a little more futile. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; surgery on a young boy, blood donation, memorial for a murder victim, iris drinks a lot of juice, planning search parties for a lost child, discussion of zombie contaminating drinking water

Chapter 10 - At What Cost

Hershel continued to check Carl’s vitals as the sun set. They were all holding off as long as they could, but they could only wait so long before Carl’s life was at risk.

“Pressure’s dropping again. We can’t wait much longer.” He warned.

“Do you need more blood?” Iris asked, offering her arm.

“No, you can’t give much more.” Hershel denied.

“I should go.” Rick mumbled.

“Go? Go where?” Lori asked, blinking.

“He said five miles. They should be long back by now. Something’s gone wrong.”

“Are you insane? You’re not going after them. Your place is here. If Shane said he’ll be back, he’ll be back. He’s like you that way.” Lori assured.

“I can’t just sit here.” Rick protested.

“That’s exactly what you do.” Lori snapped. “If you need to pray or cry or tell God he’s cruel you go right ahead, but you’re not leaving, Rick. Carl needs you— here. And I can’t do this by myself. Not this one. I can’t. I can’t.”

Hershel allowed each of them full access to their facilities, meaning soap and a hot shower, which they were grateful for. Rick told Lori and Carl stories as they waited for Shane to make it back. Iris ate, for Carl’s sake, even if she felt guilty for it. Maggie made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was the best thing she’d tasted in months, aside from the orange juice. She’d even slept.

At one point, Glenn and T-Dog showed up to get his wound treated and to bring a few antibiotics and pain killers they’d found.

“How you doing?” Iris asked as T-Dog ate across from her.

“We should be asking you the same thing.” Glenn stated. Iris shrugged, on her eighth glass of orange juice.

“Drinking them out of house and home.” She replied, wiggling the glass. He chuckled. “T-Dog?”

“I’m alright. It hurts.” He replied. Iris nodded. “You’re pale.”

“Thanks.” She replied, grinning.

“Iris!” Lori cried from the room. Iris stood abruptly, feeling her head rush.

“Woah.” Glenn helped steady her, taking her into the room. Carl’s blankets were mussed and Rick was straightening him back out across the bed.

“He needs another transfusion.” Hershel said quietly.

“Okay. I’m ready.” She agreed, sitting down in the chair.

“If I take any more out of you, your body could shut down. You could go into a coma. Or cardiac arrest.” Hershel explained. Iris didn’t have to look at Rick or Lori to see them staring at her. Neither one of them asked her to do this, nor did they want to ask her for more. But seeing Carl… He was such a hopeful kid. Happy. Eager. Despite everything. Iris didn’t hesitate.

“Do it.” She stated, offering her arm. Hershel set up the transfusion again, Carl’s parents at his side.

“He’s still losing blood faster than we can replace it. And with the swelling in his abdomen, we can’t wait any longer, or he’s just going to slip away.” Hershel explained after a while. Iris sat, staring up at the ceiling. “I need to know right now if you want me to do this, because I think your boy is out of time. You have to make a choice.”

“A choice?” Lori asked, horrified.

“A choice.” Rick nodded, turning to look her in the eyes. “You have to tell me what it is.”

“We do it.” Lori decided. They held each other tight, Hershel nodding to his daughter, Beth.

They moved Carl to a metal table, Patricia pulling a lamp close by, bringing the surgical instruments. Just as Hershel gripped the scalpel, Otis’ truck pulled in. Iris sat next to Carl, waiting as they brought the instruments in. Rick and Lori waited outside.

It was a couple hours before it was done, Hershel going back out to announce that he was stable. Iris was barely lucid in the chair beside him, but she was glad to be there with him.

“Iris.” Lori whispered, walking in.

“He’s doing good.” Iris whispered. She was white as a sheet, her lips paler than Carl’s. Lori sobbed, kneeling beside them and taking Carl’s hand once more. Shane appeared in the doorway, some sort of relief on his face. He looked up at her, nodding.

“Stay.” Lori whispered. Shane paused before nodding. When she turned away, he disappeared. Iris sighed, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Fuck me.” She muttered.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Lori whispered. Iris only nodded, and Lori took her hand, too.

By the time the morning came around, Iris was already feeling much better, though they wouldn’t let her help as the others collected rocks for Otis’ burial. Apparently something happened on the run, and Shane had returned without him. Wouldn’t be much of a burial.

Iris sat on the porch railing, watching the others work. The roar of Daryl’s motorcycle sounded in the distance, and she watched him pull up with the RV, a new SUV in tow. T-Dog went inside to get Rick and Lori so they could have a group conversation.

“How is he?” Dale asked, the lot of them gathering on the lawn.

“He’ll pull through.” Lori said, smiling in relief. “Thanks to Hershel and his people, and Iris.”

“And Shane. We would have lost Carl if not for him.” Rick added. Dale sighed in relief, bringing Rick in for a hug. Carol embraced Lori fairly quickly.

“How’d it happen?” Dale asked.

“Hunting accident.” Rick replied. “That’s all, just a stupid accident.”

“You look like shit.” Daryl said quietly, approaching Iris on the porch.

“Boy, do you know how to sweet-talk a girl.” She replied, looking up at him. He half-shrugged.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She huffed. “Just waiting for my body to make some more blood.” He nodded. He stepped forward, and Iris raised an eyebrow as he awkwardly patted her shoulder. She grinned, almost ready to bust out laughing.

“Alright.” He said simply, turning back to the others.

Once they were ready, they all walked a ways down the road to a large oak tree, where they’d brought the stones they collected. One by one, everyone placed a stone on the growing pile in memory of Otis, while Hershel read a funeral passage.

“Blessed be God, Father of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Praise be to him for the gift of our brother, Otis. For his span of years, for his abundance of character. Otis, who gave his life to save a child’s, now more than ever, our most precious asset. We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived. In Grace. Shane, will you speak for Otis?”

“I’m not good at it.” Shane mumbled. He wore Otis’ old clothes, his head newly shaved down to the scalp. Iris raised an eyebrow at his refusal, leaning against Glenn, who had offered himself for support. “I’m sorry.”

“You were the last one with him.” Patricia stated, through her tears. “You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning.”

“We were about done.” Shane murmured. “Almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limping. It was bad, ankle all swollen up. ‘We’ve gotta save the boy.’ See, that’s what he said. He gave me his backpack, he shoved me ahead. ‘Run.’ He said. He said, ‘I’ll take the rear, I’ll cover you.’ And when I looked back…” He paused, limping forward toward the wheel barrow of rocks. “If not for Otis, I’d have never made it out alive. And that goes for Carl, too. It was Otis. He saved us both. If any death ever had meaning, it was his.”

Once the memorial was finished and the group dispersed, Rick gathered a few volunteers to talk about their search for Sophia. Hershel joined in, curious as to what the situation was.

“How long has this girl been lost?” He asked, Daryl, Iris, Shane, Andrea, and Rick all standing around the hood of the station wagon.

“This’ll be day three.” Rick replied. Maggie came over, laying out a map of the area on the hood of the car.

“County survey map. Shows terrain and elevations.” She stated, spreading it out. She placed stones on the corners to hold them down.

“This is perfect.” Rick murmured. “We can finally get this thing organized. We’ll grid the whole area, start searching in teams.” Iris opened her mouth, but Hershel pointed at her.

“Not you.” He said firmly. “You gave three units of blood. You wouldn’t be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out.” He turned to Shane as well. “And your ankle— push it now, you’ll be laid up a month, no good to anybody.”

“Guess it’s just me and Rick.” Daryl stated. Rick nodded. “I’m gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there.”

“I can still be useful.” Shane insisted. “I’ll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back.”

“Alright. Tomorrow then, we start doing this right.” Rick nodded to Iris, who huffed.

“That means we can’t have our people out there with just knives.” Shane stated. “They need the gun training we’ve been promising them.”

“I’d prefer you not carry guns on my property.” Hershel stated. “We’ve managed so far without turning this into an armed camp.”

“All due respect, you get a crowd of those things wandering in here…” Shane warned.

“Look, we’re guests here.” Rick shook his head. “This is your property and we will respect that.” He looked at Shane pointedly, who exhaled sharply through his nose. Rick put his revolver on the hood of the car, waiting. Shane slammed his pistol alongside it but stared right through Hershel. Iris raised an eyebrow, carefully placing her gun down. “First things first: Set camp, find Sophia.”

“What happens if we find her, and she’s bit? Or… worse?” Iris asked quietly. “How… how do we handle that?”

“You do what has to be done.” Rick replied.

“And her mother? What do you tell her?” Maggie asked in disbelief.

“The truth.” Andrea replied. Hershel shook his head at Maggie as they exchanged a look.

“I’ll gather and secure all the weapons.” Shane offered. “Make sure no one’s carrying until we’re at a practice range, off-site. I do request one rifleman on lookout. Dale’s got experience…”

“Our people would feel safer, less inclined to carry a gun.” Rick explained, looking to Hershel questioningly. The old man sighed, nodding. “Thank you.”

“That stuff you brought… got anymore antibiotics, bandages, anything like that?” Maggie asked.

“Just what you’ve seen.” Andrea replied. Maggie pressed her lips together.

“We’re running short already. I should make a run into town.” She stated.

“Not the place Shane went?”

“No, there’s a pharmacy just a mile down the road. I’ve done it before.” She explained. Rick turned around, motioning to Glenn, who was helping Lori set up her tent.

“See our man there, in the baseball cap?” He asked. “That’s Glenn, our go-to-town expert. I’d ask him along, just to be cautious.” Hershel nodded to Maggie, who nodded back as she walked over to him.

Iris made her way to where Dale had laid out a tent for her. It had belonged to Jim and Jacqui, but they didn’t really need it anymore. She took her time setting up the tent, sitting on the grass and enjoying the shade. She watched as Daryl and Rick had a brief conversation near the porch before Daryl stormed away, obviously mad about something, like usual. It was nice to have a moment to herself, a moment to relax.

But of course, moments like that were fleeting, and soon Dale and T-Dog came running from out in the field, where Maggie had directed them to the second of five wells on their property. The two of them led Iris, Maggie, Lori, Glenn, Andrea and Shane to the well, where the old wood boards had apparently rotted and broken, a few telltale raspy growls from inside the well telling Iris everything she needed to know.

Shane shone a flashlight down into the well, and for the first time in a while, Iris felt sick to her stomach at the sight of a walker. He’d been there a while, clearly, as his flesh had ballooned up with water, bloating in the most unsightly way.

“Looks like we got us a swimmer.” Dale mused.

“You don’t drink from here, do you?” Iris asked, glancing to Maggie. She shook her head.

“We use it for the cattle.” She muttered, scowling.

“How long do you think it’s been down there?” Glenn asked.

“Long enough to grow gills.” Andrea replied, cringing.

“We can’t leave it in there. God knows what it’s doing to the water.” Lori replied. Iris tilted her head, taking the offered flashlight from Shane and angling it downward.

“I don’t see any open wounds, but its hard to tell from here.” She pointed out.

“We gotta get it out.” Shane said plainly.

“Easy. Put a bullet in it’s head.” T-Dog replied.

“Well that’s a real quick way to contaminate the drinkable water.” Iris said, looking up with an amused expression.

“She’s right. Can’t risk it.” Shane agreed.

“So it has to come out alive?”

“So to speak.” Shane replied with a smirk.

“How do we do that?” Maggie asked. Within a few seconds, they had fashioned a rope with a loop at the end and a fishing line with a canned ham hooked at the end. Iris had plainly stated that this wasn’t going to work, but the rest of the group argued that they may as well try. The walker was very disinterested.

“He’s not going for it.” Dale observed.

“Because a canned ham don’t kick and scream when you try to eat it.” T-Dog replied.

“He’s right.” Lori agreed. “There’s a reason the dead didn’t come back to life and start raiding our cupboards.”

“So, what, we catch a squirrel or something for live bait? Where’s Daryl when you need him?” Iris scoffed, looking around the farm.

“Well, we need some kind of live bait.” Andrea said, turning to Iris. She looked up, glancing at her companions as they all nervously looked to her.

“Oh, really? I’m glad that I’m the sacrificial lamb in all of your eyes.” Iris grumbled.

“It’s not—“ Dale began, but Iris waved him off.

“You’re light and you don’t turn tail at danger. You’re a good fit.” Shane stated, shrugging.

“Gee, thanks. Just give me the damn rope.” She mumbled. They looped one end of rope around the metal spout of the pump and Iris braced her feet on the pipe spanning the diameter of the well. Shane began tying the rope around her legs in a series of knots she didn’t know the names of, assuring her they wouldn’t come undone. “Have I mentioned that I love the new look?” She joked, trying to brush off the nerves.

“Don’t stress. You got it, sweetheart.” Shane assured, patting her on the back.

“Yeah, I don’t like that.” Iris replied.

“Me either. Felt weird as soon as I said it.” He agreed, flashing her a grin. Iris smiled back, shaking her head.

“I’d like to be mostly unharmed when I go to bed tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dale offered a nervous smile. They all took their places along the rope, as if it was a game of tug-of-war.

“I thought you’d make me do it.” Glenn whispered to T-Dog over his shoulder.

“I guess you owe me one, Glenn.” Iris called, earning a nervous laugh from the boy.

“We got you.” Andrea assured.

“You people are crazy.” Maggie groaned, worried.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Iris challenged.

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

comment or send me a message to be on the taglist! <3

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x original character #skeletons #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl dixon #thenameisz #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc

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fangirlofallthefanthings · 1 year ago

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[Continuing on. A very eventful dinner] When Odysseus met the princess, he finally learned her name, Adelina. The next few days were spent getting to know her and her family. She seemed shy but friendly. Sometimes, she would come out of her shell and show signs of solid authority. Odysseus thought she would make a good queen someday. Just… not his queen.

After Adelina and her family left, Odysseus’s family had dinner. The other royals of the kingdom were invited to celebrate the first meeting of the betrothed. The men and boys sat on one side of the table, and the girls and women sat on the other. The king and queen sat at the head of the table on their respective sides.

When everyone was settled for the meal, Odysseus was relieved to see his parents arranged the seating so that his two best friends, Eurylochus and Polites, could sit beside him. He hadn’t seen them since Adelina arrived, and he felt the pressure hanging over him lessen slightly.

The small feast was quiet for the most part, disregarding the small talk and odd conversation. However, Odysseus couldn’t stop thinking about his future duties. It’s been staring him in the face for the past few days, quite literally. He didn’t quite feel a connection like his mother assured him he would. He quickly lost his appetite as his thoughts consumed him, despite his stomach flipping in hunger.

Soon, the conversation turned to the root of his racing mind.

“So?” his mother asked, “What do you think of Princess Adelina?”

“She’s nice,” Odysseus shrugged.

“Just nice? I know you have more to say than that,” his father piped in, “What else did you think of her?”

“She’s pretty. There’s no argument about that,” Odysseus replied, picking at the food on his plate with his knife, “She’s an adequate match, I guess.”

“Adequate? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well… I’m not quite sure what to say. That’s all.”

“That’s a first,” Odysseus’s sister said under her breath.

“Shut up, Ctimene!” Odysseus snapped.

“Odysseus! Don’t raise your voice at your sister,” his mother reprimanded, “And leave your brother alone, Ctimene.”

“Right. His responsibilities,” Ctimene said, rolling her eyes, “Wandering around the castle and causing trouble.”

Odysseus stood quickly and stared his sister down. The rest of the nobles’ attention turned towards the head of the table at the violent clanking of Odysseus’s disturbed plate and utensils.

“Watch it, Ctimene…” Odysseus bit through clenched teeth.

“Odysseus. You’re causing a scene,” Eurylochus whispered, “Just sit down and eat. You barely touched your food.”

“I’m not hungry!” Odysseus shouted.

“That’s the loudest he’s gotten in the last week,” Ctimene remarked, “I was starting to miss it. I hope I can get a chance to thank Adelina for bringing some peace and quiet around here.”

Odysseus felt something inside him snap as he grabbed a handful of peas from his plate. He wound his arm back to throw them at his sister, but Polites stopped his arm.

“Odysseus! Calm down!” he begged, trying to get Odysseus to sit.

“GET OFF OF ME!”

Odysseus shoved Polites away to a chorus of gasps from the table. The enraged prince stormed off without another word, sprinting to his room.

Previous (1) || Current (2) || Next (3) Pt. 1

#tagamemnon #odysseus #polites #eurylochus #ctimene #laertes #anticlea #greek mythology #the odyssey #epic the musical #medieval au #epic the musical fanfic #greek myth fanfic #char writes #fanfic #adventure awaits

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finn-m-corvex · 1 year ago

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Whumptober Day 20: Found Family

Day 20! This one was very fun to write, and is a continuation of Day 16 because I can <3 Bruise angst my beloved and I really dug into it in this batch. You guys will see the fruits of that labor in a couple hours.

Taglist: @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @ghostwalloper @toastingpencils37 @lightning-chicken

Words: 2.3k

“Are we brothers?”

The question caught Cole a bit off-guard, and the training dummy plowed straight into his arm when he stopped paying attention to it. He rubbed at his arm, glancing over to Jay as the other boy stood on the steps with his hands on his hips. Jay looked troubled, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and hands clenching and unclenching. They had been together long enough for Cole to recognize the signs of Jay’s anxiety.

It was a weird question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jay looked down at the ground, “say my parents just called me and I called you my brother, would you be mad at me?”

Cole raised his eyebrows in surprise. He didn’t think that they would’ve been close enough or spent enough time together to call each other brothers. Although, now that he thought about it, they fought at least once a day over the stupidest of things that could be solved in an instant; he would put Jay in a headlock and give him noogies all the time; every time there would be a chore that Wu would give them they would start fighting over it like screeching cats until one of them eventually had to do it, but at the end of the day they would still sit on the couch and play video games until Jay was knocked out with his head on Cole’s shoulder and the earth ninja would have to carry him to bed.

He never had a brother, and he knew Jay didn’t have one either. So how could either of them know what brothers were supposed to be?

“No,” he said honestly, “I wouldn’t be mad. Why?”

“I, uh, may have just done that.”

Figures. Jay wouldn’t have been asking him otherwise. “Do you think we’re brothers?”

Jay rocked on his heels. “I mean, I don’t have any. But I think that if I did have a brother, I would want it to be you.” He looked panicked for a second, probably worried about Cole’s reaction. “Is that weird? Oh that’s probably really weird I’m sorry-”

“Woah!” Cole said, stepping forward and taking his friend (brother) by the shoulders. “Hey, now. Calm down, Jay, I already said that I wasn’t mad. I-I’m really flattered actually.”

“Really?”

“Really. And hey, I’m happy to call you my brother any day of the week.”

Cole cringed in his waiting room chair as the memory finished playing in his head, the plastic seat hard and uncomfortable. It wasn’t the first time he had been here, and it wouldn’t be the last, but you would think that after all the trips they’ve had to make to the emergency room they would’ve started to bring seat cushions for the long waits in-between. However, it was the first time that he had been alone in the waiting room since he was a small child and his mom was sick. He couldn’t say that it brought back good memories to be back here.

His mind kept flashing back to just a few minutes ago, watching as his brother convulsed on the gurney in terror, fighting against the nurses trying to hold him down. Cole was angry, insisting to the nurse that he needed to get to Jay, and eventually he stormed past her despite her saying that only family was allowed behind the scenes.

Jay was his brother; it didn’t matter whether there was a stupid piece of paper to prove it or not.

His little brother had been so scared, terrified of the strangers’ voices connected to faces that he couldn’t see with their hands all over him, but especially the oxygen mask that they had strapped to his face. Cole pushed down the anger that threatened to bubble over, choosing instead to focus on getting his brother to calm down so they could treat his stab wound.

Kissing his forehead well after Jay had gone back to sleep, Cole watched as his brother was wheeled back to somewhere that he couldn’t follow just quite yet, trying to channel the natural patience that came with his element.

“Excuse me?” a nurse called from the door, and Cole picked his head up to look at her. “Are you here for Jay Walker?”

“Yes, I am.” Cole said, getting up from his chair and feeling his back pop as he did so.

“Are you family—”

“He is my brother,” Cole said shortly; part of him felt bad, but the other part didn’t care, “and if you try and keep me from going to see him just because it’s not on record, I will have to ask you to step aside.”

The nurse looked terrified. “O-Of course, you may go see him now. He’s in the third room on the right.”

Cole thanked her, and she stepped aside to let him pass through the door. Walking down the hallway brought back memories from years ago, and Cole could feel himself continuing to shut down with every step he took, and this wasn’t even the hospital where she passed. He couldn’t imagine how strong the memories would be if he ever went back; all it had taken was one trip and a meltdown before the team unanimously agreed to never visit unless they absolutely had to, and if they did then Cole would stay home.

But what happened to his mom wasn’t going to happen to Jay.

The door opened easily, making no sound as he stepped into the room, and Cole sucked in a breath when he saw his brother lying on the bed.

Jay was pale, making his auburn hair stand out against the stark white of the pillow. There was a cannula on his face instead of a full mask, and Cole was grateful that there wouldn’t be another meltdown. Beeping unsteadily, the heart monitor stood alone in the corner, opposite of the IV line hooked into Jay’s arm. The room was as blank as any other room that they had ever been in, and Cole was grateful for the bare walls. Her room hadn’t been barren because of how much time they spent in it.

Standing next to the bed, Cole brought the room’s one chair with him, its legs scraping against the floor with a sound that made him cringe. Making sure that Jay stayed asleep, Cole sat, taking his brother’s hand in his own and starting to play with the blue ninja’s fingers.

“Would it kill you to go on one mission without giving me a heart attack?” Cole asked, getting no answer other than a soft wheeze. The others were still chasing down the bad guys, Cole having been designated as the one to take Jay to the hospital after taking the knife to the gut.

It was almost too common at this point. Jay never used to act so recklessly, throwing himself in front of every possible danger as if he couldn’t die. Recently, there were too many missions ending with someone taking him to the hospital, or bringing him to the medical bay on the Bounty to get treatment well into the wee hours of the night. He knew that the others were starting to notice, trying to intervene before Jay could throw himself to the wolves so he would stay safe.

He and Nya had spent too many lengthy conversations about it. Cole knew something was wrong, but he didn’t even know where to start pushing to find out what it was.

Groaning, Jay cracked open his eyes. “Cole?”

“Yeah, bud,” Cole answered, standing back up and making sure that Jay could see him.

Jay squinted, his freckles standing out against his pale skin. “What happened?”

“You got stabbed. I took you to the hospital and you’ve got to stay here for the next couple days to make sure your stitches and whatnot don’t get infected.”

“Oh,” Jay closed his eyes, leaning into Cole’s hand when it cupped his cheek, “where are the others?”

Cole bit his lip, and he really hoped that the rest of the team wouldn’t make a liar out of him. “They’re on the way, they should be here soon. Do you need anything?”

Licking his lips, Jay brought his hand up to his face, and Cole saw how he relaxed when he shot a small bolt of lightning between his fingers. Did he really think that Cole would’ve let the hospital staff put the vengestone back on? “Is there any water?”

There was a small pitcher and some cups on the other table. “Yeah, I’ll get you some.”

Picking it up was a bit of a hassle with his new hands; he kept forgetting that it really hadn’t been that long since he was revived. You would think that would be something you would remember, but it was just another day in Ninjago when Cole was concerned. Filling the cup to about halfway, Cole brought it back to Jay, helping him to hold it when the blue ninja’s hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Actually, Jay couldn’t stop shaking. “Are you cold? Do you need another blanket?”

“It’s probably the blood loss,” Jay said, and he wasn’t entirely wrong, “don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“Jay, you’re my brother. If you need a blanket then I can get you a blanket—”

“I said I’m fine, Cole,” Jay said quickly, and Cole was surprised to hear his brother’s voice crack mid-sentence. “Stop worrying about it, please.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cole helped his brother sit up enough to bury his face into Cole’s shoulder, resting a hand on the blue ninja’s back while Jay’s fist latched onto his uniform. Kissing the top of his head, Cole sighed, remembering that Jay was probably a little loopy from the pain meds and that he would need to be gentle. “Bluebell, it’s fine. I wouldn’t be offering if I didn’t want to do it. What’s got you so worked up?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He sniffled, and Cole could feel tears start to soak into his gi. “For getting hurt and making you take me to the hospital and I know I’ve had to go here a lot recently and I know it’s probably super expensive but I can get a second job if I need to since it’s not fair that it has to come out of everyone’s paychecks—”

And Jay kept rambling, words flying so fast that Cole could only catch every fifth word, but he didn’t interrupt his brother. Clearly, Jay had been bottling this up for a long time, and Cole knew that if he wanted to get a rational explanation from Jay then he would have to listen to the panicked word vomit version first. It was just how Jay worked.

Rubbing his back, Cole stayed quiet and nodded when he was supposed to and hummed whenever Jay “wanted” a response. It took almost ten minutes for Jay’s words to finally run out, and he slumped against the black ninja, exhausted. Cole kissed the back of his head, tucking Jay closer to his chest and laying his chin on Jay’s crown. “Thank you,” Jay said softly, shivering.

“You’re welcome,” Cole said, “now I’m going to get you that blanket, and you’re going to repeat everything you just told me but at a quarter of the speed. Or you’re going to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Helping Jay to lay back down against the pillows, Cole ruffled his hair and gave him a small smile before leaving the room to try and find a nurse. There was one right outside of their room who looked friendly enough. He could’ve just used the call button, but he knew Jay, and he knew that the younger male would appreciate a couple minutes to himself after having a breakdown.

“Excuse me?” Cole said, and the nurse turned around. “Are there any of the warmed blankets left?”

She led him to the heater and grabbed one, folding it up neatly and handing it over. Thanking her, Cole made his way back to Jay’s hospital room, but not before pulling his phone out and dialing Nya’s number to update them on the situation.

“Hello? Cole?”

Shifting the blanket in his hands, Cole smushed the phone between his cheek and his shoulder. “Hey Nya. Are you guys on your way?”

“Yeah, we’re in the car right now. We had to make a quick pitstop to patch Kai up but we should be there soon. How’s Jay?”

“Fine,” Cole sighed, “you might have a little trouble getting back here. They wouldn’t let me go through until Jay started having a meltdown.”

“What? Why was he having a meltdown?”

He reached Jay’s hospital room, so Cole lowered his voice. “They put an oxygen mask on him and then slapped on some vengestone. He started panicking pretty bad but I got him to calm down. No one got hurt.” Too badly, anyway.

Nya growled on the other end. “I don’t care if they were hurt or not, I’ll maim them myself.”

“There’s no need for that,” Cole said, “you guys are gonna have enough trouble getting to his room since they’re only letting family in. Don’t cause any more.”

“I’ll cause as much as I want to,” Nya paused, and Cole knew that she was thinking, “but fine. We’ll be there shortly.”

She hung up, and Cole stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Opening the door to Jay’s room, Cole noticed that the blue ninja had found the remote and turned on the tv to some cartoon channel, and now the blue ninja was fixated on watching the goofy events unfold on screen.

“Jay?” Cole asked, not wanting to startle him. Jay shushed him, still watching, and Cole chuckled at the rare focused expression on his brother’s face.

Silently, Cole made his way to the bed and climbed into it next to Jay, spreading the still-warm blanket out over the both of them. Jay leaned into his big brother’s side, yawning, and Cole wrapped an arm around Jay’s waist while being careful of his stitches.

If Jay wanted to watch cartoons for the rest of the day, then Cole could wait for their conversation.

#ninjago #ninjago jay #finn's writing #ninjago cole #whumptober day 20 #whumptober 2023

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weirdestbooks · 7 months ago

Text

Parental Rage (Wattpad | Ao3)

Companion Oneshot to The Time Spent In A Gilded Cage

James could feel America’s worry as they walked to the room where the treaty would be signed and where America would finally be able to reunite with his son.

“America, I know you’re worried. I am, too, but we have to remain calm. If Britain finds out how to get under our skin again…” James muttered, trailing off.

“How can I not worry after everything?” America murmured. It was rare that America was present when he wasn’t in control of the body, as America tended to just not be there when he wasn't in control. It seemed he was making an effort to be present without having to be in control.

“I know, I know. I don’t like him either, but we can’t let him get an advantage.” James said, thinking back to the decades of traumatic memories he was kept away from everyone else, memories of abuse and manipulation. If Michigan even went through a fraction of what they did, there was little that would stop James from tearing Britain apart.

“You can’t let the war restart. We are just getting my brother back, and I can’t lose him again!” Illinois protested, his voice painfully young. James sighed.

“Don’t worry, Noi Boy. I won’t ruin our chances of getting Michigan back,” James said before entering the room, wincing at the pain in his arm, the still-fresh burns being stretched by the action.

Michigan was standing next to Britain, pressed into his side, traces of fear on his face. But he quickly pulled away as they entered, back straightening.

“If that bastard hurt my son, I’ll—” America began before he was cut off.

“Do nothing unless you want to restart the war,” Indiana said lightly, fear in her voice.

James took a moment to drink in the sight of his nephew. Michigan was taller and older, no longer looking seven or eight but instead thirteen or fourteen. His wings, covered in fluffy down feathers the last time James saw him, now had all the feathers fully grown in.

It was a welcome sight but also a sight that made James far too aware of the time that had passed.

“Britain,” James said, his voice cold.

“United Colo—I mean States of America. How is independence working for you?” Britain asked.

“James, let me take control. I need to have words with Britain,” America said, his voice filled with an anger James had never heard from him as James tried to keep his facial expression from changing.

“Papa! You can’t. We can’t risk Michi now. Look how scared he is!” Missouri said, and James felt America back off. But something seemed off about what Missouri said. While he was right, and Michigan looked scared, that fear was directed at them, not Britain.

A sick feeling began in James’ stomach as he tried not to throw up at the thought. He had a sinking feeling that it was not Britain Michigan was afraid of. But since he had nothing to prove it and didn’t want to send America into another rant, James kept it to himself.

“It could be better if you respected it for once,” James said. Britain laughed.

“I am giving you all the respect you deserve. How are your burns? And that delightful little bayonet wound that my dearest Lower Canada gave you? I know they were terrible injuries, and I wonder why you aren't resting. Do you perhaps have something to prove?” Britain asked. This time, James’ expression broke as his anger, and that of almost every other person present flooded through his body.

“We wouldn’t let injuries keep us away from finally getting Michigan back,” Mississippi spat.

“And we have nothing to prove to you! Why can’t you just get out of my life forever!” America yelled, voice teary, the exact reason why James was in charge and not America, despite the fact that America usually handled the political situations.

“I’m here for Michigan. I’m not here to prove anything to you. I don’t care about your opinion. I care about Michigan,” James said, summing up Mississippi and America’s points as he stalked forward until he and Britain were nose to nose. Britain smirked.

“Of course. You care about him so much that you left him to fend for himself, and when he was surrendered, you did nothing to stop it. Yes, you clearly care about him a lot, don’t you?” Britain asked. James scowled as cries of outrage echoed in his skull.

“I didn’t know, you damn bastard. If I had my way, Michigan would have spent the war safe in my head,” America said.

“Let’s sign this damn treaty unless you want to continue the war,” James said, eyes narrowed as he snatched the pen off the table, quickly signing America’s name.

Britain sighed but picked up the pen and sighed his own name.

“Now, I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but please don’t hurt Michigan. The poor lad’s been through enough,” Britain said, pushing Michigan towards James.

“HOW DARE HE?” America yelled so loudly that James almost couldn’t suppress his wince, “I’m not like him! I would never lay a finger on any of my babies.”

Michigan shot one more look at Britain, fear still present in his eyes as he walked over to James.

“Ironic, coming from you,” James commented, his voice full of venom before he put a hand on Michigan’s shoulder, squeezing it as he did so, trying to provide some comfort.

Instead, Michigan froze, and the sick feeling in James’ stomach only grew.

Britain had hurt Michigan. There was no doubt about it.

Michigan then relaxed some, probably realizing that James wouldn’t hurt him. Still, James needed to get Michigan out of there and, after two long years of stress and pain, bring the young boy home.

“Let’s go home, Michigan,” James murmured before guiding Michigan out of the room. Michigan shot a look at Britain as they left but didn’t say anything. In fact, Michigan walked silently, something eerily different from how he had been before. Michigan always used to be so loud and curious, not silent and scared.

“Something bad happened to him, Uncle James, didn’t it?” Illinois asked tearfully. James didn’t answer, as he was more focused on getting Michigan home safely.

“Are you ready to go home?” James asked. Michigan nodded, and in an instant, the two of them were in America’s room, where America’s cat lay on the bed.

Michigan remained quiet, and his face remained blank. It was scary.

“Michigan, are you alright?” James asked, releasing his grip on Michigan’s shoulder so he could walk forward and look Michigan in the eyes. Michigan nodded silently. James frowned, “If you’re scared to talk to America, don’t worry. It’s James. America’s here, but I’m in charge.”

America laughed, “Why would he be afraid of me, James? I’m his father. I raised him.”

Michigan looked away and remained silent, and James knew his worst fears had to be true.

“Did he hurt you, Michigan?” James asked again. Michigan still remained silent, “Michigan.”

James’s fear leaked into his voice, and he could tell the others were equally afraid of the answer to the question. None of them wanted it to be true, but…

“Grandfather didn’t hurt me,” Michigan said quietly.

It seemed like everyone froze at that as horror ran through James.

“Grandfather?” America exclaimed, his tone strangled.

“Britain’s not our grandfather, Michi! What are you talking about? What did he do?” Missouri exclaimed, sounding like he was crying.

“Grandfather?” James asked, horror in his voice before his face twitched as America tried to seize control. James knew that it would only end badly if America tried to talk to Michigan now without figuring out the whole story. Michigan nodded as he shrunk in on himself, looking terrified.

“James, please. I need to talk to my son. Please!” America begged, and James relented, sinking back into the world that existed inside their mind.

“Michigan,” America began, his voice soft and gentle. Michigan froze, and America’s worry only grew. He wanted to pull his son into a hug and protect him from all the dangers in the world.

“Michigan, are you okay? Did Britain hurt you to get you to call him that?” America asked. Michigan’s face suddenly changed to one of pure rage.

“What?” Mississippi gasped as the expression was so unlike Michigan.

“NO! My grandfather taught me where I belong, and he taught me not to fall for your tricks! He never hurt me! Grandfather loved me more than you ever did! Why did you have to take me away from him? I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Michigan yelled, stomping his foot and flaring out his wings.

Before America could even begin to comprehend the hateful words, the words that sounded so much like his former father, his eyes were drawn to Michigan’s wings, and his jaw dropped in shock and horror.

“What happened to his wings!?” Illinois yelled, horror in his voice.

For you see, Michigan’s wings had been clipped, the flight feathers cut in a way that would prevent Michigan from flying. Not forever, just until they grew back, but still, it was a twisted thing to do. America had never felt such rage before.

“Careful,” James whispered, “he’s scared.”

Britain took away his son’s ability to fly. He stole it from him. Why? For control? To scare Michigan into obeying him?

“Michigan…what happened to your wings?” America asked, his voice thinly veiled with horror. He tried to keep his face calm and the rage he felt for Britain under control.

Michigan smiled, and America’s horror grew.

“Grandfather clipped them!” Michigan said proudly, crossing his arms. America wanted to vomit as he began to feel unsteady on his feet, the horror overwhelming him, “To help me show my loyalty to his empire. To show that I will never be an American but a loyal citizen of the crown.”

“Lord have mercy, what did Britain do to him?” James said in a horrific whisper.

“Daddy, does that mean Michigan hates us?” Illinois asked, sounding like he was crying.

“Dad, we need to go beat up Britain for this!” Indiana said.

Tears appeared in the corners of America’s eyes, and America was on the verge of sobbing. Michigan just smiled, like he didn’t understand the horrific consequences of what he was saying.

“Oh, son, what did he do to you?” America asked, hoping to figure out what Britain had done so he could fix it and get his child back.

“I’m not your son!” Michigan yelled, “I’m not American! He didn’t do anything to me! Just leave me alone, you traitor!”

And before America could do anything, Michigan rushed out of the room.

“Oh, he did hurt the poor boy,” James murmured, and America knew the man was probably doing his best to comfort the children.

“I can’t—well, I can believe Britain would do this. But it’s only been two years. To hurt him this badly…” America didn’t even want to think of what Britain had done to turn…turn his son into that.

“Martial law?” James suggested.

“I—he wouldn’t,” America said.

“He did it to you. Why wouldn’t he do it to Michigan? Especially if Michigan fought,” James pointed out.

“If Michigan fought and Father put him under martial law, it was to protect him,” Rebecca said, joining the conversation.

“By taking away his free will?” Missouri protested.

“At least with martial law, Father wouldn’t have to hurt him to teach him how the world works and Michigan’s place in it. Michigan knows his place now! This is good! When Father takes us back—” Rebecca began before Indiana cut her off.

“He won’t. We’re independent.” Indiana said firmly.

“And we’re going to stay that way. We’re never going back to that man.” America said.

“Just call him your father, Colonies. You know you want to.” Rebecca murmured, the cadence of her voice reminding America so much of Britain.

“Shut up, Rebecca. I don’t. Britain’s not going to…he’s not as all-powerful as you think, Becca. You have to see that eventually.” America said.

“Maybe not all-powerful, but definitely did something to get into Michigan’s head,” America heard Vermont say as the country-turned-state approached them.

“What do you mean?” America asked.

“Michigan ran into me. He…he thinks you’re gonna hurt him, Papa. And he…and he thinks of Père–Lower Canada is his only father. Apparently, he was adopted by Lower Canada,” Vermont said, sadness in his voice. America froze the words cutting through him. Michigan…Michigan…

Tears pricked at America’s eyes, and it only took a few seconds before he was crying as America did his best to wipe away the tears and compose himself.

“Johnathan, you can cry,” James said, using America’s human name, just like he always did when he was trying to comfort America.

“I need to go speak to him,” America began, marching forward before Vermont stopped him.

“You can’t!” He said.

“Like hell, I can’t! My son’s been hurt, and you want me to do nothing!?” America asked, his voice incredulous. Was Vermont perhaps still hiding some hidden love for Lower Canada and Britain?

“He’s thinking about Michigan, I think,” Mississippi said.

“He’s scared of you, Papa! Do you really think that barging in there and demanding for him to be the person you lost will help? You’ll only further drive in whatever that bastard said to make him so afraid!” Vermont snapped.

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” America said, an edge to his voice.

“Then don’t act like I’m wrong,” Vermont said sharply, crossing his arms, refusing to let America pass.

“He’s right. We need to be careful. You can’t let emotions blind you to—” James began.

“How can I not be emotional? That’s my son! I know firsthand what Britain is like—”

“And that’s why you know you have to take it slow. You came around. Michigan will do. You just have to let him come in his own time. Michigan will see Britain was wrong, and he’ll return to normal.” Vermont said, sighing, “I don’t wanna wait either, but unless we want to make Michigan willingly walk back into that hellhole…”

“We have to be patient,” America sighed, “But I…we can’t…we want to make sure he’s okay, we want to see him. We’re all worried.”

“He’ll come to you when he’s ready. I can keep you updated, but right now, he thinks my room is the only place where you won’t hurt him. Papa he needs time to understand. The best way to help is by…just being everything Britain said you weren’t. I’ll try to convince Michigan to come out and see you interacting with our siblings and remind him of your kindness. But I can’t make it like you again.” Vermont said.

“I know you can’t. I just…I wish that I had been there. This is my fault.” America murmured.

“Daddy, you weren’t there. You didn’t even realize something was up until Michigan was gone. You didn’t want this,” Indiana said.

“But I should of—”

“Thinking about what could have happened won’t help. We need a plan for now, not a plan for two years ago,” Vermont said, cutting off America’s train of thought.

“Yeah…I…yeah. When did you get so wise?” America asked, smiling at his son. Vermont smiled back.

“I’ve always been wise,” he said teasingly. “Now come on. Let’s help my little brother learn to love his family again.”

#oneshots by weird #countryhumans #statehumans #countryhumans america #statehumans michigan #statehumans vermont

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dumbass-tumbler-cryptid · 2 years ago

Text

Mama’s boy chapter 5

Plot summary: Spider works up the courage to ask Quaritch about his mother. He’ll quickly learn that his mama was just as feral as he is.

Relationships: Spider Socorro and Miles Quaritich Paz Socorro/Miles Quaritch

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45725335/chapters/115720492

____________________________________________________________

By the look on his son’s face Quaritch could tell that Spider didn’t find this story of his parents as amusing as the other members of their group. There was quite the mix of emotions there. Bewilderment for sure. Disgust. Anger. The boy was speechless and completely oblivious to the light hearted chatter of the rest of the team. Quaritch said nothing, simply watched his son, waiting for his response.

After a beat, Spider looked up at him, glaring. He hissed “What the fuck is wrong with you.” Quaritch held his gaze but said nothing in response. “You gave my mom a concussion!”

Quaritch shrugged “She gave me a concussion too. I don’t see you getting all upset on my behalf.”

Spider looked revolted. He sprung up, stalking away from the circle as fast as he could. Quaritch stood, turned towards his son's retreating form. “I don’t know what you're expecting here kid. Your mama and I were like a wildfire and an oil rig. Explosive. Volatile. If that makes you uncomfortable then quit asking about her.”

Spider didn’t face him, but Quaritch could still hear the boy's angry snarling, see the tension in his muscles and his clenched fist. His son’s earlier words echoed in his head. What’d you do to her. Spider was probably thinking he was a monster.

He can think whatever he wants. It didn’t matter to Quaritch. He knew the truth. And if Spider couldn’t handle that, well then, Quaritch would just stop telling him. He promised himself then, with the image of his son’s disgusted horrified face burned into his mind forever, that he would never tell Spider a thing about his mother ever again.

-————————————————————————————————

He knew before even opening his eyes that he was in the med bag. He could hear the steady beeping of machines. Smell the disinfectant in the air. Feel the bandage around his head and the I.v in his arm. His head was pounding but despite the pain he opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings.

The room was dimly lit. He looked to his left, his head screaming in protest of even that simple movement. Nothing but empty beds. He set his jaw and with many grunts and heavy breaths turned to his right. And there she was, sleeping in the bed next to his, a bandage on her right temple, face peaceful, completely oblivious to the pain she was about to be in when she awoke.

He laid there just studying the plans of her face. A nurse had undone her braid, letting Paz’s long curls splay out around her. It was probably the concussion talking, but he really wanted to reach out, and take one of those curls in hand, feel it slip between his fingers. The image of her fiery brown eyes was running through his mind as he stared at her, willing her to open those eyes.

Finally the sound of her breathing changed as she began to stir. A long, deep groan signaled her return to consciousness. He chuckled ruthfully at her expense “Serves you right.”

She glared at him with bleary eyes. “Go fuck yourself, and die. Rat fucking bastard.” Miles chucked again at her insults. Her heart hadn’t been in it, she didn’t really mean it.

Their voices allerted the nurses and doctor to their patients' return to consciousness. The doctor stood in front of both their beds out of view of both of his patients, who were in too much pain to sit up. “You two got into quite the fight from what I’ve heard.” Miles grunted, Paz pointedly stared at the ceiling. “You both have a concussion. We’ve patched up all your wounds. You both should be completely fine in a few weeks. For now we have to keep you here for 48 hours just to be sure your head injuries aren’t more severe then we first thought. Any questions?” He was answered with heavy silence. “....alright then. There's a remote attached to the side of your bed with a button you can push if you need anything.” With that he left.

For a long time they just layed there, staring at the ceiling, completely silent. Every moment felt like an eternity. His head pounded like a drum, making his vision fuzzy and ears throb. It wasn’t the worst he’d endured by any stretch, but damn did it suck.

“What’s your favorite color?” Her sudden question both physically and mentally surprised him.

“Why?”

He saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye “You read my file. You know all about me but I don't know shit about you. After all this bull fuckery, I think I deserve some answers.”

Miles scoffed “Entitled ass brat. You don’t deserve shit.” She didn’t respond to that. He wished she would fire back with some biting comment but she didn’t. It made a knot twist in his stomach. “Green.”

He heard her smirk “Army green I’m guessing.” He didn’t respond.

There was an awkward pause. Just to fill the silence Miles asked “what about you.”

“Eh, I’m not picky. They're all nice I guess.”

“But if you had to pick one..”

“ aaahhh…red I guess…if I have to pick one.”

That fit her, Miles thought, a fiery color for a fiery lady. In the back of his mind he couldn’t stop himself from thinking, she’d look damn fine in red. He killed that thought quickly feeling slightly embarrassed with himself.

“Okay favorite genre of music” Paz said “wait let me guess. You like country and dad rock.”

“Now that’s just profiling. Besides what's wrong with country and dad rock.” She giggled at that. An honest to god giggle. It made him smile. They went back and forth like that for hours. They had next to nothing in common. But they did share a knack for quick comebacks and sharp wit. It felt like they were sparring again, even though they were just talking. This time though the objective wasn’t to take the other down. It was to make them laugh. Time slipped away, the pain slipped away. He never wanted to leave this moment.

“Did you leave anyone back on earth?” her voice got slightly higher when she said that. The only tell that she was nervous to ask it. “Family? Wife? Kids?”

Miles scoffed “Hell no. I’m not dumb enough to get caught up with a wife, let alone kids. Too busy for all that.” He swore he saw her relax at his words. Miles went on “My parents have been dead for years now. We weren’t close. I wasn’t really torn up about it.”

“Finally something we have in common.” he gave her a questioning look.

“We’re both orphans!” Paz looked so happy over this new piece of information. Miles had to laugh at her.

“I guess so.”

“Do you ever think about going back to earth?” Something somber seemed to pass between them at the thought of returning to their dying homeworld.

“No” That one word carried the weight of thousands. My fights here. I’m needed here. I’m dying here.

“What about you? Barely been here two days and already gotten into one hell of a mess. Do you regret coming?”

“No” I’ve got nothing on earth. I’m alone. There's no hope of a life there. But here? I can fight. I can carve out a future. I can live.

#avatar fanfiction #Miles Spider Socorro #spider socorro #Colonel Miles Quaritch #Miles Quaritch #paz socorro

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eponymousfics · 9 months ago

Text

To tide you over during AO3 maintenance, have a deleted/alternate scene from the latest tsp chapter (33)!

This would've been the opening to the chapter but I wound up rewriting it because it didn't flow right.

A conversation between the family while Ichi and Reader were out buying beer:

Despite the differences, disagreements, and general dysfunction of their dynamic, the Matsuno family was a closeknit unit. Whatever happened in the world, that they were all together as a group was the one constant in the stream of minor entropies that was Life. It was insular and cozy and never saw more than superficial changes.

Until recently.

Just about as soon as the front door closed behind Ichimatsu and his partner as they went to buy more beers, Mom and Dad collapsed against each other in tears.

“Did you see that! Did you see how he already sounded like a real son-in-law? Isn’t that amazing! Isn’t that wonderful!”

“You boys have a lot to live up to when you finally get partners!” Dad said.

“Oh really? I thought you totally gave up on us already,” Todomatsu said, sounding unimpressed.

“Well—I mean, yeah—” Dad said, sending arrows through their chests, “—but, well, of course, I mean…right?”

“’Right’ what, Dad?” Choromatsu asked.

Their parents exchanged looks.

“Well, you know…if Icchan can do it…” Mom said meaningfully.

“What? That’s a horrible thing to say about one of your sons!” Choromatsu protested, although he did agree.

“Man, it’s gonna be hard to top a ski vacation right off the bat though,” Osomatsu laughed, sounding surprisingly care-free about it. Choromatsu glared at him, put out that he wasn’t more put out about it. How was Choromatsu supposed to be the reasonable emotional anchor when Osomatsu didn’t even seem remotely at sea anymore?? Why did he always do this?!

It was especially bad because everyone was right—it was going to be hard to top Ichimatsu’s achievements here. He just seemed to be piling them on lately, and it didn’t seem like any amount of hard work or diligence could possibly get the rest of them caught up anymore. How could silent grumpypants Nyanmatsu secretly be the most suited to normie life?!

“True—maybe one of you can find someone who already owns a home,” sighed Mom wistfully.

“In this economy?” Todomatsu joked, which infuriated Choromatsu because he was going to say it unironically. Smart people talked about the economy.

“What about a car?” Dad added, also looking wistful. “At least a motorcycle—one of you should be hanging out at biker rallies!”

“That’s why you should buy me a hog!” Karamatsu said, waving his arms excitedly. No one acknowledged him.

“Maybe one of you can get a janitor job at a big office building so you have a better chance at meeting a salary worker! Or better yet, at a café in a big office building! You could get to know someone over their lunch order—”

“Hahaha—have you been reading romance novels again Mom?” Jyushimatsu asked.

“Wh—ahahaha! Of course not, I don’t—I certainly don’t read those kind of—”

“Me and Karamatsu did some dramatic readings of a bunch of them a while back,” Osomatsu said casually. “Super gross, Mom.”

“What?! Why on earth would you do th—” Mom sighed deeply, a hand on her forehead. “This is why you boys need to find partners, I can’t keep you in line forever!”

“That’s a bad reason to date someone, isn’t it?” Choromatsu said, frowning.

“Yeahhh…but it’s true and you know it, nii-san,” Todomatsu replied, idly tapping the side of his beer can with a delicate little tck tck. “If we don’t marry rich, we’re gonna die.”

“Only one of you needs to marry rich,” Mom said, reaching across the table to put a hand on Todomatsu’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you, Totty.”

“On it,” he replied with a grin. “Now that Ichimatsu-niisan is out of the way, maybe I’ll have a better chance.”

“Oh my god, you dry monster!” Choromatsu accused. “We shouldn’t be talking about our potential romantic futures like this!”

“Choromatsu is right. Where there is passion and true love, life will find a way!” Karamatsu said.

“…I feel less good about it when you put it like that, but yeah, kind of! We’re not a pack of olden time daughters who need to find husbands to provide for us!”

“Aren’t you? Aside from the gender stuff?” Dad said, entirely too frankly.

“I am!” Osomatsu drawled, holding up his beer in a mock toast.

“Me too!” Todomatsu added.

“Don’t be proud of that!” Choromatsu hissed. “How do you guys keep finding new ways of digging us deeper in the ‘shitty NEET’ hole?!”

“Ahh, like you’re not down here holding a shovel with the rest us,” Osomatsu said, swigging his can and evidently finding it empty.

“We should keep an eye out at the resort. Anybody who comes to ski must have some disposable income,” Todomatsu said.

“That-a-boy!” Dad cheered.

Choromatsu glared at the table. This was all wrong.

He prided himself on being the rational one, even though he went about it in the most irrational way. He was a champion of contorting logic round to frame it in the way that looked best at the time, which admittedly tended to backfire on him, but someone had to try and keep up appearances around here!

But Ichimatsu wasn’t just “keeping up appearances” anymore. He had…substance. He had you. He even seemed to have…just a little bit of self-worth, even though it was wildly antithetical to who he’d been for the last several years,.

It was amazing. Inspiring. Sickening. And deeply infuriating, from a dark, starved place where feral need sprang with claws out.

Choromatsu had to believe that it could happen to any of them, if it could happen to Ichimatsu. That meant this relationship with you had to go well, and that if the rest of his family was going to start getting serious about dating—meaning actually making moves rather than just whining at home—it needed to come from a better place than find a wealthy spouse so we can stay NEETs forever. They shouldn’t be talking about this whole free ski trip thing like it was the ultimate goal of having a relationship. It wasn’t right.

And if you or Ichimatsu ever heard them talking like this, it would definitely fuck things up, and they’d all be back to square negative one hundred.

Fuck, maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.

“What about you, Choromatsu-niisan?” Jyushimatsu yelled in his face, happily.

“Wah!” Choromatsu fell over, and briefly couldn’t get up as his whole head spun in its marinade of alcohol. “What about me?! I’m doing fine with all of this!!”

He could tell that was the wrong answer from the raised eyebrows and subtle looks the others gave each other and scowled.

“…Sorry, what are we talking about?”

“Are you gonna try skiing or skateboarding??” Jyushimatsu said.

Choromatsu frowned. “Don’t you mean snowboarding?”

“Ahaha, oh that’s right. That champagne was better than I thought!”

Was this bad for them? Given the financial difficulty, it was extremely rare for all of them to be able to go on trips as a family, so it was only natural that everyone was excited, but…maybe getting spoiled like this would bring out the worst in all of them. His family tended to get carried away, and deep down he knew he was no exception.

How could they possibly manage not to embarrass themselves if they went? They didn’t ski, they weren’t skiers, who did they think they were?! They wouldn’t know what to do at a ski resort, they wouldn’t be able to conduct themselves properly, and the best case scenario was no one got injured. The worst case was total humiliation, both for his and your family, and possibly everyone in a hundred-mile radius, and maybe several dozen miscellaneous shattered bones.

…Shit, was he going to try to cancel this trip?! Everyone would hate him if he even implied it! And he did want to go! Skiing was a cool person sport, even if he personally thought it looked ridiculous! How could he look a gift cat in the mouth? Argh, but the whole thing was so weird!

Ichimatsu had sounded so…normal on that call. Like…like a real person! It was worse than remembering how he’d been in high school, because at least you were allowed to be weird in high school, even if “weird” in this case actually meant “normal.”

It was not normal for Ichimatsu to be normal and Choromatsu was deeply afraid of the meaning behind it, and possible consequences. How much effort had it taken him to pretend for that long? Was the repressed stress of it going to come out later as murderous intent?

Or worse…was it going to become a habit?

“I…don’t know yet. I’ll have to do some research before we go,” he said, as he realized the others were still waiting for an answer. He couldn’t imagine Ichimatsu being like that all the time. It was so wrong. It couldn’t possibly be natural.

“Haha, that’s just like you to say, niisan.”

Was his brother’s whole relationship with you even a good thing, in that case? Did he feel pressured to not be himself in order to be with you? Didn’t they always say you should only be with someone long-term that you could be yourself around? How much of himself did Ichimatsu have to hide from you?

“You know me,” he said vaguely, eyes firmly fixed on his inner monologue.

Sure, you seemed to have a relatively high tolerance for weirdness, since you were still here, but maybe Osomatsu had a point. Maybe they did need to test you. It was for Ichimatsu’s sake in the end, after all, wasn’t that what a good big brother would do?

No, no, no…that couldn’t end well. But what could he do? What should he do?

#eponbehindthescenes #the silence purrs

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