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julieloves074 · 1 year ago

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Everything (Conrad Fisher x Y/n)

Summary: Y/n had won the battle against cancer at the age of ten but no one expected it to come back. When the truth comes to light the perfect summer crashes down around them. Especially for Conrad, Y/n is his love, his life, his everything

Warnings: Cancer, sadness, swearing, angst

Words: 7.4K

(Not my GIF :))

Summer in Cousins was the one time of year I felt truly free, nothing really mattered there. Then again, everything mattered there. Belly liked to say nothing existed outside of summer, all the other seasons were just a pass by for it, and I couldn’t argue with her.

This was exactly why I wanted one last perfect summer. Mom told me that I wasn’t being fair, that this was going to be worse for everyone but wasn’t I allowed to be selfish? For once? I knew she couldn’t see it the way I did. I wanted Belly to have her first summer of real fun without having to worry about me. I wanted to see Jeremiah and Steven act stupid all summer without feeling like they needed to slow down for me. I wanted to see Conrad to be happy for one more summer, with me.

And everything was going so well, for the most part. Just like any other summer there was drama: Belly with her new friend Cam Cameron and Jeremiah, Steven with Taylor and Shaila but it was our kid problems, nothing more than that until tonight.

“Y/n you are not allowed to go!” My mother shouted as I made my way downstairs at eight o’clock.

“Stop babying me for God’s sake! I’m telling you I feel fine, I’ll be back in a couple of hours!” I screamed back, I just wanted to go to a party with my friends, I knew I had limits now and that I had to be careful. Still, I couldn’t stay locked in forever.

“Y/n you are getting weaker, are you trying to give your father and I a heart attack?” she asked, her voice still raised but there was a falter, it made me turn right around on my heel. There she was, standing on the top step with tears in her eyes. I could feel my own gloss over. I took a deep breath and looked up in an attempt to stop any tears falling, I was only wearing waterproof mascara but still-

“You’re our little girl and we just want to protect you,” Mom said, face flooded now, lowering to sit on the top stair, she was getting more tired now too.

“Mom I’m eighteen, I don’t know if I will make it through chemo this time and I can’t let it make me live in fear. I won’t let it make me hide around my room if this is my last summer,” I said with urgency and plea.

“It’s going to be a long program Y/n, and it’s going to take lots of strength, both physical and emotional but don’t you dare say you are not going to make it. You will beat it. We just don’t want you to get overwhelmed,” Dad’s voice echoed gently as he came out of our kitchen and pulled me into a hug.

“I know-” I paused looking between both of them, my cardigan in one hand and phone in my other, “I’ve signed up for the program and I will fight this cancer again but there’s nothing I can do now but wait around until the first round of chemo begins again, and who knows what I’ll be able to do after it?” I asked, I didn’t know whether I would live, and if I did how long I’d be weak, I didn’t want to miss out on these teenage years.

I felt dad brush his hand down my arm with a sigh, he looked up to mom who shook her head and couldn’t lift her gaze.

“I know, I’m sorry honey, but you know that if anything happens you call us right away, no matt-“ she began, standing up, but I cut her off.

“No matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing and there will be no questions asked,” I finished off for her, she smiled weakly and started making her way down to dad and I.

“Or you call for medical help first depending on what’s happening,” she informed me, at this point she’s said this to me so many times that I have the words tattooed inside my brain.

“I love you guys,” I said as they both squeeze me tightly just before a car horn sounds outside.

“Tell Connie we said hi and ask him to tell his mom we’ll bring that extra table for the barbeque party tomorrow when we come over for dinner,” Mom relayed to me as I slipped on my shoes.

“I will do,” I said quickly opening the door to slide out. I saw him first, Conrad Fisher, sat behind the wheel, his contagious smile and beautifully messy hair. Then I saw them, Belly, Jeremiah and Steven sat in the back all looking at Belly’s phone who sat in the middle, they were all laughing. I couldn’t believe the summer was nearly at it’s end and I got to spend it these wonderful, and slightly annoying, people.

“Omg Y/n you have to see this video Tylor filmed! This girl just found out her boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend so both she and the best friend chucked milkshakes at him! I’m so glad Taylor filmed this!” Belly exclaimed the second I opened the car door, pushing from up from her seat and shoving the phone in my face, I didn’t even get time to look before she leaned back and sat down muttering “Damn, Harry is not gonna have fun at school this year,”.

We all broke into a laughter, I turned to Connie who had his eyes on me since the moment I got in the car, I started relaying my parent’s message about the chairs and he leant over to kiss me.

“Okay we get it, you guys are in love but we have a party to get to!” Jeremiah exclaimed grabbing on my headrest to lean his body forwards into our space. I let out a laugh pulling away from Conrad.

“I love you,” he mouthed to me, I did the same back before he turned to his focus to the car and reversing in my driveway. The journey to the house party, I didn’t even know who was hosting this one, was filled with laughter and teasing to the point that Belly had actual tears running down her face.

“I am so glad you made me invest into waterproof mascara Y/n!” Belly said running her fingers under her eyes wiping away the tears. I loved having Belly around, another girl was great to have around, her being like a little sister to me. Even though it came with both its ups and downs of siblings like all the clothes she would ‘borrow’ and never give back, but she’s a good kid.

The party is looking well underway when we arrive, there’s flashing, changing lights to be seen through the windows and the music is echoing down the street. Some new trending song is blasting as we walk through the door. Belly quickly runs off to meet some friends she made at the country club, Jere was dragged away by some good looking guy whom he looked more than friendly with leaving me, Connie and Steven to head to the drinks table.

“Are you actually gonna drink with us tonight Y/n/n?” Steven asked leaning a cup in my direction. I really wanted to, I couldn’t express to anyone how much I wanted to fully let loose, drink away my worries for the night. But I couldn’t.

“Nah I’m good,” I tried to play it off cool, but he started play arguing with me.

“Alright let it go Steven,” Con said after a minutes, I lay my hand on his arm in a silent thanks.

“Okay well I’ll leave you loser to it I’ve just spotted Shayla coming in,” he announced already walking backwards to the beautiful girl.

“Are you alright?” Con’s voice pulled me away from the vision of Steven wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he had whispered something in her ear which made her erupt into this blooming, true laugh, they made each other so happy.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I said, pulling on a big smile, it wasn’t exactly a lie. I felt fine, more than fine standing here with him right next to me.

“It’s just you’ve not been wanting to drink, and not to pin you as an alcoholic or anything,” he defends quickly, “But you’re usually first to call shots,” he laughs pulling me closer as some guys come to the drinks table, it still swells my heart, his little tics of jealously and protection.

“I told you, it’s been really bad for my skin recently and I am not sacrificing this,” I reassured pointing to my face, “Plus it’s kind of funny being sober and watching everyone else make fools of themselves,”

“Can’t argue that,” he says, we settle into a comfortable silence, Con wasn’t drinking tonight he was nominated DD, so the two of us had to entertain ourselves sober. We weren’t standing around for too long when Getaway Car by Taylor Swift came on and I dragged him to the little makeshift dance floor in the living room.

We sang to each other as he led our little dance twirling me around every once in a while. Loads of the girls including Belly joined us screaming along to the bridge.

“God you’re perfect you know that? I think I’ll be crazy about you forever,” Con half shouted over the last chorus and I just shook him off with a gentle shove

“I love you,” I said pulling him into a massive hug. The second the song ended we noticed Jere and Steven stood in the doorway calling Con over, some kid was doing flip tricks on the trampoline and in their words ‘It was so sick! He’ll probably actually be sick if he doesn’t take a break!’

Connie was hesitant to leave me for a second, but I pushed him to the boys, they deserved his time as much as I did. I turned to the girls, and we danced to whatever song came on next, and the next and the next. By the fourth or fifth song I started to feel lightheaded.

“I’m just gonna find a bathroom real quick,” I shouted over to Belly tapping her shoulder, someone had turned the music up. She nodded and gave me a thumbs up before tipping the rest of her vodka lemonade in her mouth.

The bathroom downstairs had too long of a cue so I headed for the stairs in the entryway. Was someone turning up the music again or was it just the sound echoing in my head? I held onto the railing, but my legs were starting to feel heavier with each step. I had just managed to reach the landing, I wasn’t sure which door led to the bathroom, so I ambled to the closest door, it was a bedroom. A double bed in the center surrounded by deep blue wallpaper. It felt as though I was in the ocean somewhere, drifting away.

The bed frame was not giving me much support, I lowered myself to the ground, there was a small thud as I hid the wooden panels. I don’t think I let out a sound but before I knew it someone was rushing into the room.

“Y/n what’s going on?” the voice asked, I looked up but my sight was hazy, “Y/n?” the voice repeated, it was Steven taking a few careful steps towards me.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine just a little tired, I think I overheated a little downstairs I should have been drinking more water,” I said attempting to shoo him away with my hands, but in reality, I didn’t want him to leave, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get up without him.

“Y/n you’ve been off all summer so cut the bullshit, since when do we lie to each other?” he asked coming closer, his honestly sounded sober.

“My,” I start and feel something bubbling within me, I cried for an hour when I was diagnosed again, then I told myself I wasn’t allowed to again until after summer, I was allowed to be happy and excited for the summer without thinking about- “My cancers back Steven, and I-”

“I’m sorry you what?” Steven asked cutting me off, as if an animated character his jaw actually dropped, he was kneeling next to me in seconds, pulling me into a hug. I shut my eyes wishing that I had left earlier or taken a night off and rested like mom had suggested, “Conrad! Get in here,” Steven shouted repeatedly brushing a hand through my hair.

“What? Y/n? What happened? Steven what happened?” Conrad asked manically flinging himself to meet his body to mine, “Are you okay?” He asked again as he got no answer to his first lot of questions. He brushed his hand down my arm.

“I’m so sorry,” I let out with a sob, shaking my head from side to side, I saw Belly run in confused with Jeremiah behind her. Others seemed to be crowding at the door but Jere quickly shut it firmly, announcing “Nothing to see here! Go grab some alcohol and make out or whatever,” before turning his attention back to me.

Now this was truly my worst nightmare, they were all looking at me, apart from Steven who had curled up and looked at the floor next to me.

“I’m sorry that I ruined our last summer together,” I said

“Y/n what are you talking about, what happened?” Belly asked brushing some hair out of my face.

“It’s back and I- I don’t think it’ll go away this time,” I whisper as if saying it out loud would mean that it was true, that I was hurting everyone around me once again.

“What’s back?” Jere asks nonchalantly at first before a realization hits him “You don’t mean-” at this Belly burst into a wail.

I looked up at Conrad, he was just staring at me, I couldn’t read his reaction at all. I brushed my hands up and down his arms, it was as if he was frozen it time. I needed him to say something, just that action was wearing me out.

“Come on let’s get you home,” Jere said, his eyes red, he was trying to be a voice of reason, be the one who doesn’t break down so he can support the rest of us. When had he become this grown up? “This isn’t a place for a conversation like this,”.

I can’t quite place what emotion was flowing through me as I was basically carried out of the house with one arm around Con the other around Steven. The whole thing seemed in slow motion to me, all the faces in the crowd of my friends and drunk strangers. How many of them realize what’s actually happening and how many of them simply thought I’d gotten hysterically drunk?

The ride back to my house was quiet other than Belly’s phone call to my mom and then Susannah and Laurel letting them know where they were all going. I was ushered into bed by mom and listened to the heartbroken whispers downstairs in the living room under my bedroom.

Mom and Belly were crying, and dad was trying to calm them down. Conrad was adamant to stay with me whilst dad offered to drive everyone else home as they’d all been drinking. When the front door shut, I heard the footsteps that shuffled upstairs.

“Connie,” I said as he walked into my room, his expression filled with sorrow and with the limited lighting of my bedside lamp I could swear he too had tears rolling from his eyes and down his beautiful face.

“You’re okay, you’re going to get better,” he said repeating in quiet whispers, whether he was trying to convince me or himself I was not sure but I let him. I pulled up my duvet and moved slightly to give him space.

He touched my hair, my face, my arms gliding his fingers as if I was made of porcelain. The first time I was diagnosed and fighting cancer I was 10 and whilst everyone was gentle with me then now it felt like a different kind of touch. A mixture of so much love and pain that I would do- give anything to make him better.

“I love you, so so much,” I whispered, pulling one of his arms around me, I wanted to feel him, all of him here in this house, our summer place. I was surprised he hadn’t run, when Con got overwhelmed he always ran, hiding was his protection. If I did anything in my life, helping Connie learn a better way to cope, or to start to was the best thing that I did.

“Don’t say it like that,” he whispered back, his eyes were closed tight shut.

“Like what?” I asked cautiously, somehow, I knew what he was going to say, I brushed my fingers through his soft hair, his pre-summer haircut was always my favorite. It wasn’t too long, not too short, just enough to outline his face and perfectly highlight his eyes.

“Like it’s one of the last times you’ll ever say it,” his voice cracked and I kept running my fingers through his locks, soothing him. It’s funny how I’m the one who this has happened to yet I’m the one who’s been reassuring everyone that everything happens for a reason. Maybe it was because I’d lived enough to know what the purest of happiness was and that I’d experienced honest love even though some never do.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” I kept repeating as if I was counting stars up in the sky or the little sheep jumping over the fence in hopes of falling asleep. I’d said it so much my mouth had started running dry but if that was the price for having this boy, this kind, loving boy in my arms until my end I’d pay it over and over and more.

Unfortunately, the underlying sour mood was carried into the next morning, when I woke up to the glimpse of summer that danced in through the half open curtain Conrad was still asleep. He usually looked peaceful when he slept but this morning even in his most fragile states his brows were creased and his breathing was heavy and uneven. I watched him, when we get back to Boston nothing will ever be the same, and we only have a week left here in Cousins.

I untangled from his arms. I tended to have more strength in the morning but today I gripped onto the white wooden rail as I ambled downstairs and into the kitchen. Walking past the living room I noticed figures asleep on the couch. I smiled to myself when I saw Jeremiah and the Conklin siblings, they never left last night.

The clock hit seven when I walked into the kitchen, mom sat there with her kindle in hand, cup of coffee in front of her, but she stared unfocused at the device The lines under her eyes were darker than last night, she looked exhausted. Dad was at the kitchen counter prepping some eggs, bacon and sausages, the good old English Breakfast. He too looked as though he hadn’t slept.

“Morning sweetheart,” mom said looking up, her whole expression changed from worry to love, and though she tried to hide it the worry was still there, rooted deeply in her skin. I took a step towards her and she rushed out of her chair to grab me into a tight embrace.

A thousand things I wanted to say sat there pooling in my head because I simply couldn’t get them out.

“Your dad went out last night to get some more breakfast supplies, we’re feeding some unexpected- but most welcome mouths this morning,” she conveyed and I just nodded, my head resting in her neck, “I’ve called Princeton this morning and explained the situation, they said depending on how long the treatment is going to take they may move your enrollment to next year just so you don’t fall too far behind,” mom explained and I watched my dad’s feet shuffle towards us. College was the last thing on my mind, everyone here was.

“We also called the hospital and they’ve decided to start your sessions earlier,” dad said, this forced me to pull back.

“What do you mean?” I asked frantically, “We’ve had the date set for the day after we get back! How can I start my treatment earlier if we’ll still be here?” I questioned.

“We’ll be heading back to Boston tomorrow Y/n” mom conveyed, I took another step back. No! I needed this last week here with these people.

“But we agreed-” I tried to reason, to argue.

“I know sweetheart, but your health is more important to us, the doctors were already weary of letting you have the whole summer here anyway,” dad leaned against the kitchen counter with one hand and the other travelled to his forehead, an attempt to brush the physical signs of fear and worry away.

“We’re your parents Y/n, we just want what’s best,” mom reassured, and I knew they were right, they usually tended to be but that didn’t mean I had to be happy about it.

“The moms have organized a day full of fun and the celebratory barbeque dinner tonight,” Belly, who was now leaning against the doorframe between the living room and the kitchen, said.

“We’re all leaving tomorrow Y/n, we’re going to be there with you every step of the way,” Jeremiah said, his stunning ocean eyes expressing the purest admiration, his one hand was around Belly’s waist. A side of my mouth twisted up in a sly smile. I had predicted this years ago, Con owed me fifty bucks now.

“Oh my- come here the both of you right now,” I demanded, I took a few steps towards them but they did most of the work.

“I want in too!” Steven, voice all groggy and half asleep, demanded as he jogged towards us. We stood there hugging for longer than we ever have, it was nice and warm.

We all sat around the table playing a round of uno as dad started to make breakfast, mom offered to help to give us the space, she knew we got far too competitive when it came to this game.

I had two cards left, the least out of all when Jeremiah spoke up from next to me, “Connie isn’t taking it well, he went outside at around three in the morning and he just sobbed, I thought you needed to know” his eyes with sympathetic and glossed over.

“I just don’t want him to shut everyone out now,” I said knowing that the boy had a thing for bottling up his emotions until they finally explode. He stayed last night but who knew which was his mood would sway today.

“He’s going to be around, he’ll be here for you, we all will,” Jeremiah reassured.

The day went by faster than anyone wanted, Conrad came down perfectly in time for breakfast, he pulled a chair to sit next to me. Just like his usual self he wanted to be near me, touching me at all times, whether it was his shoulder brushing mine, a hand on thigh or his head on my shoulder. After breakfast we when back to Susannah’s house and sat on their private stretch of beach. Then we competed in a murder mystery game that us kids created when we were twelve. It was actually pretty intriguing even for the moms and dad.

“I can’t believe you kept stored away for six years mom,” Jere said to which Susannah replied with a knowing motherly smile and pulled another clue card.

Then we went to the pier, had ice cream and I absolutely crushed everyone at the arcade games winning most of the challenges, the great showdown occurred yet again even though Laurel banned it all those years ago. Then we headed back for dinner at the beach house, Jere and Steven operated the grill, we all sat around talking and I managed enough energy to play a quick round of water polo in the newly upgraded heated pool.

Through the whole day Conrad was never more than a few feet away from me. He managed to upkeep a smile most of the time, but when he thought I couldn’t see it faltered. I always knew he was a good one.

At around eleven mom and dad headed back home whilst the rest of us cuddled up on the couches to watch some romcom on Netflix. About halfway through Belly decided she wanted popcorn, so we took a pause and Susannah said she wanted to brush my hair. She loved doing both mine and Belly’s hair, we were her honorary daughters so of course I let her. One of the many things I love about her is that no matter the weather, or what was going on she was a ray of sunshine. I don’t mean that she was always happy, but she always held out hope and guided everyone to the other side of any storm cloud.

After the movie had finished and we got a good hour into the titanic most of us were dozing off, Susannah started shooing everyone off to bed. She too went upstairs leaving Conrad and I sat on the sofa. I looked at him as soon as the whole floor was clear. My eyes asked the quiet question, begged the questions.

“Are you sure? Do you feel like you have enough strength?” he asked, and I smiled, my brain scanned through images of this boy as we grew up, side by side and through all of it he stayed true just like his mom.

“What have we been doing for the past four hours if not sitting and laying around?” I asked lifting my brows in a giggle.

He shook his head slightly and half a smirk managed to make it onto his face, “It’s been a long busy day, that’s all I’m saying,” he defended himself.

“I know, but I’m fine I promise, let’s go!” I encouraged lifting from the couch and pulling him up by his arm. It didn’t take much convincing, when he stood, he gave me a long, slow kiss before resting his arm around my shoulder. We fit together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle finally put together.

We walked down the sandy path towards their private part of the beach, nudging each other and giggling just like the night Conrad first kissed me, just like the night he had asked me to be his girlfriend. Most, if not all our important milestones happened here at the beach house.

“Do you know what?” He asked breaking the silence, even just the sound of his voice was enough to press my body and mind into total peace but also force my heart to beat at an ungodly speed, still after being together for two and a half years.

“What?”

“One day, the day we get married, I’ll scoop you up like this,” he pauses turning to me, I look at him confused for a second as he coddles me in his arms like a princess, I let out a giggle, “and I’ll carry you into this house,” he pointed to the summer house, “then I’ll carry you out back and all the way to the beach and kiss you until the sun goes down and the moon hangs up high in the sky like tonight and never let you go,” he whispered into my ear as we neared the beach.

“Connie,” I began but he shushed me

“I know, I know you don’t like planning that far ahead, but this is non-negotiable, you said we’re allowed one non-negotiable each. You have yours and I have mine,” he said in a manner of fact way, I just laughed and leaned up to kiss him.

“You do know, I know that was all a ruse so that I didn’t have to walk,” I said and he just smiled, “You’re amazing and I love you but please put me down,” I asked, not because I didn’t love to be treated like a princess but because I felt good and I wanted to experience this with him in the way it’s always meant to be.

When we got onto the open part of the beach it was much windier, Con took off his coat leaving him in his jumper and wrapped it around my arms. We listened to the song of the water and watched the waves.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he announced into the night, he’s sat half leaning on his legs.

“Why’s that?” I asked, there were so many things both of us had to be thankful for.

“That I met you, that I have you, that you chose me and let me hold and love you, I think I’m the luckiest man on the planet,” he says, his gaze drifting to the stars above us. Not a single cloud in the sky tonight.

“Do you know what I think is lucky?” I asked laying my head on his shoulder, my eyes getting tired now.

He finally turns to me and smiles, “What?”

“That we both live in Boston,” I said and he shook his head, clearly not what he was expecting. But it was true, our grandparents met at the Cousin’s country club years ago, our grandmothers were friends which then meant our moms were friends, they went to collage together, it was both of their dreams to live in Boston so they moved out there together not expecting to both live in that city for so long but I was so thankful they did because that meant that I got the Fisher boys and Susannah all year round.

It was around the time that we could see the first shades of yellow and orange of the sun that we decided to head back, his sheets were cold but his arms around me were more than enough to keep me warm in the breezy summer night.

The next day mom and dad came round for breakfast, it was a feast ranging from cereal and toast to pancakes with fresh fruits and muffins which Jere and Belly had gone for a morning run for. Just as fast as the breakfast had disappeared, we were all packing up and getting ready to leave.

As I watched the scenery leaving Cousins, I felt guilty that everyone was cutting their trip short, no matter how much they tried to reassure me that it was okay and that they didn’t mind. Still Laurel, Belly and Steven had agreed to say in Susannah’s house in Boston for the week which meant we still got to have that time together before everything went back into motion in September.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

It was a week after the Conklin’s left that I was told I would be better off shaving off my hair now with it being earlier in the process in order to avoid more emotional highs later on which could affect the medication.

I’d agreed on the terms that Susannah would be the one to do it, together we supported and acted for a hair donation charity which turned hair into wigs for children with cancer, so that’s exactly where my hair was headed.

It was a Friday night, which is always Pizza night, whether ordered in or homemade, one week at our house one week at the Fisher’s. It was that night that I was going to shave all the hair off, the thought wasn’t as scary as I remember it being from the first time around, but I would miss it.

I sit with a towel around my shoulders looking at myself in the mirror of the master bathroom, the boys were both sat in there with my mom, Belly was facetiming us and Susannah stood behind me with the scissors, this was harder for her than for me.

Mom held my hand and dad stood in the doorway with a tight smile. Susannah had braided my hair into two braids and after a nervous laughter and whispering ‘I love you’ she cut the first one, the snip of the scissors was loud in my ears as she worked through the thick of one braid. A breath escaped my lips and quickly enough we were on the second braid. Now Conrad held onto my other hand, the corners of his eyes creasing. And then the other was gone too.

In a way it felt like a weight was lifted off me, I mean it literally had been, my head felt lighter, and I was left with uneven scraps all over my head.

“Hey I dig the short hair!” Jeremiah says hand extended to fist bump me, I felt obliged saying, “Now we know I could steal your hairstyle and still be cooler than you,” I remarked and he pulled a smirk.

“Listen up Y/n/n at least my cut isn’t so uneven,” he laughs

“Well, mine’s about to be more smooth than yours, what you gonna do?” I play intimidated as mom placed my braids into the zip lock bag ready to be posted.

“Some little girl or boy is going to be really happy when they receive that hair you know that Y/n” Susannah said squeezing my shoulders after plugging in the razor. This time I closed my eyes and squeezed Connie’s hand tighter.

When half my head was done, I felt a bit of a breeze but I didn’t want to open my eyes yet, I’ve said many times that hair wasn’t a determining factor in my life but at the end of the day it was a part of me.

“All done,” Susannah said and I could hear a fragile smile in her words, I nodded with my own smile.

Then after a second the sound of the razor when off again and my eyes shot open, before I could stop it I saw Connie’s soft, brown hair falling from his head. He has run a strip right in the middle of his hair.

I leaped out of the stool. But it was too fast, everything around me started spinning slightly and my knees had gone weak. I grabbed the counter in front of me and both mom and Jeremiah leaned forward for support.

“I’m okay,” I say after a second, I closed my eyes and steadied myself, what was actually a matter of a minute felt like hours, but then I was stood again with another reminder: slow.

“Connie what were you thinking?” I asked incredulously and he was just shaking his head smiling, a glimpse of tears in his eyes.

“I’m in this with you, I told you I would be here every step of the way and I will,” he stood right in front of me, his deep blue eyes staring right into my soul, how had I been so lucky to have been granted the love of this boy and everyone else in this room. I pulled him into a tight embrace, retaining his warmth, his touch.

Jere jerked taking the turned off razor out of his brother’s hand and worked it through his own hair. This time everyone gasped, Jeremiah loved his hair.

“Never have I ever thought I’d see that happen. Jere, you obsess over your hair, you love it!” Belly expressed through the phone, now Steven was leaning over her shoulder.

“Yo- you lot are brave!” he exclaimed with laughter; this was how he processed grief. He made jokes and laughed because otherwise it was much too bare, I didn’t blame him, in fact I found it comforting.

“I love my hair but you mean much more Y/n” Jere announced turning back to me and I couldn’t help but let the tears roll down my face now, pulling Jere to join the hug. He will be exactly the one for Belly, he’ll treat her well. I was sure of it.

Now it was my turn to sit on the edge of the tub, Susannah’s arm around me as we watched both her boys get their heads shaved by my mom.

“Well now we’re all gonna look like weirdos every time we leave the house,” I laughed looking at dad.

“And we’re gonna look like some cult parents who forced their kids to shave their heads,” he added back laughing

“I mean we could shave yours too David,” Susannah added, “Then we’ll confuse the narrative,”

“Only if your hair is next,” he challenged and I squeezed Suze’s hand, I would never let anyone come near her beautiful, golden hair.

“I think we’ve shaved enough heads for one day,” mom announces pulling the razor momentarily from Jere’s head, “Remember we have that dinner reservation in like two hours and I’d like to get changed from these sweats and t-shirt,” she goes back to Jere’s hair but before she’s able to make any progress she turns back around again, “Actually that’s a lie I could live in this outfit for the rest of my life I’m just not sure the people at the restaurant would appreciate it,” she says and every in the room laughs.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

The hospital room I’d been in for the past week and a half has become a familiar sight, considering that I’ve only left it to go to other similar looking rooms in the hospital. I look at the clock, its five in the afternoon, I must have fallen asleep again. The November chill was visible outside by the frost on the other side of the glass.

On the other side of the room behind the wall I hear mom talking to someone, dad has gone to work for the day, they’ve started switching days, so I can only guess it’s Susannah or the boys.

“It’s been getting worse,” her voice quivers and a part of me wishes I could mute her out, still be asleep. I know the truth, a part of me has known it since I found out the cancer came back those couple of weeks before we departed for Cousins that summer, I wasn’t going to get better.

“There must be something they can do,” another voice said, this time my body hauled me up a little. Conrad. I’ve been letting him visit me, he wanted to be here all the time but I asked Susannah to pace him. He was here this morning. It was meant to be one visit a day.

I know that makes me sound horrible, and it makes my own heart shatter piece by piece but it wasn’t because I didn’t love him or because I didn’t want him to be here. I knew there would be a time where he would have to move on, life would continue and he has such a bright future ahead of him, so many people to meet and experiences to be had. In my head if the distancing started now maybe it would be easier for him, even still the image of him with any other girl made me feel sick.

“Is she awake?” Is what I hear when I break out of thought.

“She wasn’t when I left to get changed and grab some food, but it’s been a couple of hours so she should be waking up soon if you want to go in,” mom said and I silently battled with the thought of pretending to still be asleep.

Before I had the time to make the choice the door was opening and then Conrad’s and my eyes met and he was coming to sit next to my bed, quickly pulling his hand into mine.

He bought a bag of games with him, we started with some card games, then snake and ladders, then four in a row and so on for a couple of hours. I was glad he came for the second time today.

“What?” He asked, I was staring at him but it wasn’t like he wasn’t staring back

“No nothing, just wondering how I managed to score such a hot boyfriend,” I say fanning myself with one hand, “And he’s a teddybear and sweetheart.” I added and watched him cringe at my words.

“I’m the one who should be asking how I managed to get a girlfriend as stunning and kindhearted as you,” he said but I just rolled my eyes. As much as we did this over the top thing as a joke we both knew we meant the words.

We talked and talked that night, he held my hand through it all. I didn’t realize how late it was but mom had come to sit in the corner of the room, she’d been having trouble sleeping recently but she’d managed to snooze off.

“I love you so much Connie, I’m thankful for you everyday, never ever change,” I whispered holding back a sob, he was half asleep on his chair next to my bed too.

“I love you too,” he said leaning up to kiss me gently. Then Connie and I whispered to each other until I too was fading away into sleep.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

Conrad’s POV:

I never thought I’d be stood here, looking at all these people and her picture in front of a casket. I took that photo the day I asked her to be my girlfriend on Cousins beach, all her teeth were shining pearly white and her hair was blowing in the wind framing her face like a masterpiece statue or a goddess.

“I think you all know that Y/n meant more to me than anything and anyone in my life, alongside my family. We grew up with each other. We were there for each other in the good and bad times even before we were together romantically. She is- was- one of the most integral pieces of the puzzle of our lives. I think I can speak on behalf of our families,” I pause, tears rolling down my face, and a sob building up in my throat, “I don’t know how I will be able to go day by day without seeing her, hearing her voice and her passion. She inspired me more than anyone and I will love her until the day I die and even further into whatever comes after death, I will do everything in my power to make sure all her goals for the many charities and organizations are complete, I will build a new charity in her name, I will make sure she gets the remembrance she deserves, because- because more than anyone I know she deserved all happiness and love. She will be missed more than I could ever have the words to express” I finished and turned to the casket, “Please don’t leave me, come back to me,” I whispered.

There was more I wanted to say, I could speak about her for days and nights on end, about how wonderful and bubbly and kind she was and yet I couldn’t. These faces in the crowd, some knew her better than others but no one like our little families, Belly, Jere and Steven were all sat next to each other crying. Mom was holding her arms around Y/n’s mom and dad as they stared at me, thankful for my words.

I broke into tears too, leaning onto the stand in front of me for support. Mom rushed towards me now, holding me close and helping me down to the seats. There I sat numb, tears flowing as the pastor finished the ceremony after which we all filed out and watched her get lowered into her grave. It read ‘Y/n L/n. Daughter, friend, love. An inspiration to all’

I can’t believe it’s been two weeks since I was holding her hand the night she passed. Two weeks since I’ve lost my everything.

Masterlist

#The Summer I Turned Pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty x reader #TSITP #tsitp x you #tsitp fanfic #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #Jeremiah Fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah fisher x you #tsitp jeremiah

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girl-next-door-writes · 2 months ago

Text

Criminal

Characters: Steven Grant/Marc Spector x reader

Summary: Heartbreak lingers after Marc Spector shattered your trust. Seeking revenge, you turn to Steven Grant, his softer, kinder counterpart—never expecting to fall for him. But secrets can’t stay hidden for long, and when Marc forces the truth into the light, the lines between love, guilt, and betrayal blur.

Now, caught between two sides of the same fractured man, you must face a question you never anticipated: Are you willing to hurt Steven to get back at Marc, or has your heart already chosen sides?

Word Count: 1672 words

Prompt: Criminal- Fiona Apple

A/N: This is one for the wonderful @caplanbuckybarnes for the decades challenge. I know it’s taken me a while, but I hope it’s worth the wait.

You were a terrible person, you knew this, felt it acutely in your heart as your eyes looked into those rich, earthy ones that were both so familiar and also completely foreign. There was an intensity there that was hard to read. At one point you would have attributed it to passion, but that time had long since passed, hadn’t it?

“Marc…” you managed to whisper, your tone bordering on a whimper as you pressed further back against the wall, trapped between the solid brickwork and his muscular frame.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He growled. His chest heaved with each labored breath as he pushed closer. Heat radiated from his body, sending a shiver down your spine.

Six months ago, you would have melted into him, given him everything without hesitation. He was right—this was what you had wanted. To make him so jealous he’d claim you as his once more. The man before you had broken your heart, shattered it into a million pieces. And somehow, every piece had still yearned for him.

But now… you weren’t so sure. You’d wanted him to feel the same pain, to be consumed by jealousy, to want you the way you had wanted him. Maybe then, you thought, you’d feel whole again. But things had changed. You’d changed.

A potent wave of guilt washed over you as your gaze fell on his soft, plump lips. You had been careless, reckless even—so focused on hurting Marc that you hadn’t considered the damage you’d do to him. To Steven. The plan had seemed simple enough when all you could see was Marc, when the only goal was to make him jealous enough to take you back.

But now… your eyes flickered back to meet his, and suddenly Marc was gone. All you could see was Steven—gentle, unaware, and so heartbreakingly kind. The heat of Marc’s presence still lingered in your mind, but the memory of Steven’s breath was soft, steady, as if he didn’t know what had passed between you and Marc made the guilt twist even deeper.

You knew it was wrong—had known from the moment you set this in motion. Stephen didn’t deserve to be caught in the fallout of your history with Marc. But you couldn’t stop, could you?

You should have walked away, shouldn’t have ever walked into the museum gift shop that first day, intent on making Steven fall for you. But that was before everything got tangled—before his kindness broke through the cracks in your anger. What had started as a simple plan, a way to hurt Marc like he hurt you, had spun out of your hands. Now, you weren’t sure if you were still trying to get back at Marc, or if it was something else entirely.

It had seemed so clear at the time—make him jealous. Make sure you were still a part of his life in a way he couldn’t remove. But somewhere along the way, you’d lost control of it. Of yourself. Because now, the only thing you couldn’t remove was the guilt. It clung to you like a second skin, pulling tighter with every moment you spent with Steven.

You kept telling yourself you could stop anytime. Walk away before it got too messy. But the truth was, you were in too deep now, and a part of you knew—when it all came crashing down, someone’s heart would be broken. Each day, each moment with Steven, it was as if you were gambling with something too precious, and the stakes kept getting higher.

Steven had been so sweet, so bashful when talking to you, like he hadn’t believed his luck when you gave him your number—despite him knocking over a stand of stuffed dinosaurs in his rush to impress you. There was something endearing about him, something that tugged at you in a way you hadn’t expected. A total contrast to Marc, all of Spector’s hard edges melted away in Stephen’s presence. And that should’ve made this easier, shouldn’t it? But it didn’t. Not anymore.

He hadn’t believed his luck, but the truth was, you hadn’t either. You’d walked into that museum gift shop with a plan, but after, watching his cheeks flush as he stumbled over his words—and those stuffed dinosaurs—you couldn’t help but feel something more, something deeper than you ever intended.

There was something so different about him—a softness that clung to him like warmth, the opposite of Marc’s intensity. Where Marc was composed and calculated, Stephen was unguarded, like he didn’t know how to hide behind walls the way Marc did. And that… that made everything harder.

Marc pressed his body against yours, his hands on either side of your head, trapping you between him and the wall. His breath was ragged, and you could feel the tension radiating off him, like he was barely holding himself together. His chest was hard against you, the heat of his body making it difficult to think straight. Every inch of him felt familiar and dangerous all at once, and the scent of him—clean, with a trace of cologne—made your head spin.

You should have pushed him away. You knew you should. But your body betrayed you, frozen under his touch, your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a reminder of the messy tangle of feelings you still couldn’t untangle.

"Steven," you whispered brokenly, the name slipping from your lips like a lifeline you weren’t ready to let go of. But even as the sound escaped you, Marc pressed his body harder against yours, the rough heat of him a sharp contrast to Stephen’s softness. Your heart stuttered, tangled in a mess of emotions you couldn’t control, couldn’t unravel.

"We both know you don’t want him," Marc growled, his voice thick with possessiveness, as if he could still read every part of you. His breath was hot in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "He can’t touch you the way I do. This has always been about us—you and me. It’s always been me."

His words settled over you like a heavy weight, sinking deep into the cracks of your guilt.

You pushed against his chest, and a flash of surprise crossed his face, breaking through the confident mask he had worn since the moment he cornered you. For a moment, his body tensed under your hands, as if bracing for something he hadn’t expected. His breath hitched, and the certainty in his eyes faltered. He had been so convinced—so sure that all it would take was this moment, his hands on you, his body pressing into yours, to prove to Steven that this was all some game.

"I fucked up," you said, the words catching in your throat. Admitting it felt like a weight crashing down on your chest, but you couldn’t keep running from it. "I know I fucked up, but I can’t do this to him."

You frowned, pushing Marc again, harder this time, putting more space between the two of you. His eyes darkened, frustration flickering across his face as he stumbled slightly, his hands dropping to his sides. This wasn’t how he had expected this to go, he’d thought you’d show your true colours and then you would be out of his life, out of Steven’s life.

"You’re right," you continued, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I went looking for Steven because I wanted to hurt you. I thought if I could make you jealous, maybe it would make things right. Maybe it would make you feel what I felt. But it’s not right. And it’s not fair to him. I don’t want to hurt him."

The man in front of you changed before your eyes. His shoulders slumped, his entire frame folding in on itself as if he was shrinking under the weight of everything you’d just said. The hardness in his face melted away, replaced by a look so lost, so broken, it made your heart ache. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and retreated until his leg hit the sofa, stumbling slightly as though the ground beneath him wasn’t stable anymore.

"Steven?" you whispered, your voice cracking as you tried to hold back the tears rising in your throat. His wide eyes met yours, filled with confusion, hurt, and something deeper—something you weren’t sure either of you could name.

You swallowed hard, guilt twisting deeper in your chest. You had wanted to hurt Marc, but now, standing here, watching Steven fall apart in front of you, all you wanted to do was take it all back.

He just looked at you, his lips parting as if to say something, but no words came. His breath was uneven, his hand still tangled in his hair, like he was holding on to that single gesture to keep himself from falling apart completely. The room was thick with a fragile kind of quiet, the kind that could shatter with the next word.

"Steven," you said again, softer this time, your heart breaking with every syllable. "I have no defense for what I’ve done. But please, know that what we have… it’s real. It’s always been real." Your voice faltered, the words on the tip of your tongue heavy with meaning. "I—I lo—"

"Don’t." He interrupted, his voice small but steady, the weight of his hurt in every syllable. His eyes dropped to the floor, fists clenching at his sides. The words he had longed to hear from you for so long were hanging in the air between you, bittersweet, poisoned by everything that had led to this moment. He shook his head, stepping back slightly, as if to create some distance from the pain.

"Not like this."

Your breath caught in your chest, the space between you feeling insurmountable now. You could feel the tears rising, but you swallowed them down, knowing he was right. No words could make this better—not yet.

#Marc Spector x reader #Steven Grant x reader #cappys decades challenge #my fic #gndw fic

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leggerefiore · 3 months ago

Note

self aware pmex au prompt... accidentally poking them at somewhere weird like their chest or thigh to get their attention

cw: self aware/ddlc au, very short

character: Ingo, Emmet, Cyrus, Volo, Guzma, Grimsley, Rika, Steven Stone

▲Ingo▼

● He knows you are not aware that he is aware, but he cannot help the blush that spreads across his cheeks when poke his chest. Why…? He lets one of his generic game dialogues play since he has no idea how to process or react to what you did. Were you even aware? It seemed like a purposeful tap from his point of view... You even grinned? His “heart” raced in his chest. Did you know? You must have… He simply is too embarrassed to give any outward reaction, but internally, he is ever flustered by this. If you even dare touch his thighs, he might just crash the app with how many confused thoughts rush through his mind.

▽Emmet△

○ He giggles to himself when you tap his thighs. Oh? What was on your mind? He knew you were unaware that he was actually conscious, so this was something you must have done for your own amusement. His dialogue was something close to his preprogrammed ones, but somehow, with an undertone of flirting. He so desperately wished to openly tease you about it. But… Alas, he must be careful about how much he lets you know that he knows. So, he silently ponders why you did that, much like his brother. Though, while Ingo becomes so flustered by it, Emmet simply wishes for more. He knows you know what you did. If only he could safely question you on it. When he can, however, prepare for some unscrupulous comments.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He tenses up the second your finger taps at his chest. His distress does not actually cross his face, and he allows his preprogrammed generic dialogue to play. Why would … you do that? Did you suspect something? Was this to get a reaction out of him? Were you trying to figure him out and delete him? He refused to go out that easily. But… When he observed you more closely, he realised you were grinning. Not in a malicious, “got you” kind of way, but in a mode giddy, mischievous fashion. He wanted to sigh. It seemed you were still – thankfully – unaware of his consciousness, but you had some kind of fascination with him. Or his chest. He recalled some images of him that you had apparently liked online. It seemed… you must quite enjoy his design. Fine. That was fine. As long as he was in no danger of existential threat. (For now. When you do it again, he may find himself more perturbed. Why are you still doing that!?)

💫Volo📜

⭐️ When you poke his thighs to catch his attention, he cocks up a brow. My, what was this? Interest? He certainly hoped so. He was fully aware that you seemed to like his character, but he pondered just how you would react to his consciousness. Whatever, he allowed himself to make some light teasing line about only doing things for a fee. His trousers quite exaggerated his thighs, so he supposed curiosity was a natural thing in response. He only wished he could do more than subtly make more direct comments, but he was not going to risk his precious existence just yet. That time was coming – especially if he kept observing your interest in him. Though, he wondered just what you would think when he wanted to pole at your thighs. His plans could not come faster, alas.

��Guzma🕶

□ When you poke his chest to catch his attention in game, he does not hold back his comment about directly asking what you want instead of letting some generic dialogue string play. He was not doing a good job of hiding his sentience, but his general character made it harder to determine at least. Part of him was smug at your flustered reaction to his words, but another wanted to know why you poked his cheat in the first place. Did you want to feel it? He was pretty buff, he felt. He could understand the inclination. Guzma wanted to touch you horrible. Being some weird digital thing was obnoxious. He wanted to just talk to you, but he worried that you might delete him. That thought terrified him. Ugh, he would just keep things as they were for now. At least he felt confident in your interest in him.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ When you poked his thighs to catch his attention, his gaze was instantly observing your face through the screen. He carefully detected your emotions – able to see through even the best poker face. Oh? You thought it was a bit funny, but was that also interest that he detected. Interesting. He grinned and gave a careful remark about seeking thrills. It was too tempting to just reveal his hand to you – to bet that you would not delete him and rather would be fascinated. The gambler felt the need to risk it all swirling inside him. But, he resisted. Self-control winning for once in his life. Instead, he sits smugly, aware that you are interested in him and wanting so badly to tease you about this. The time would come soon enough. He could not wait.

🌶Rika👔

🟤 She nearly jumps when you poke your chest. Of course, it is not like she can really “feel” it, but she saw where your finger went. After the initial surprise wears off, she lets some generic dialogue play from her. Internally, she was flustered by your actions, but outwardly, she would admit interest. So, you did like her? It had been her assumption from creeping through your phone, but an actual, more direct confirmation was a bit more onto her ego. The only issue was her fear of revealing that she was aware. You clearly still did not know (or at least she hoped you would poke her like that so casually if you were). What if you deleted the whole app? The last thing she wanted was to “die.” Rika knew she needed to really think of how to break the ice with you, but it was nerve-racking. Well, she was reassured, at least for now.

💍Steven💎

🪨 He was a bit confused by your actions. His… thighs…? He was not particularly… gifted there. He let his dialogue play about his usual fascination with rocks as he debated just what you were doing. It was intentional – that much he could determine. He would grow flustered by it, but he was not exactly easily affected by the kind of thing. Mostly, he assumed it was just a bit of a joke. You smiled after all. He really does shrug it off as you being bored and looking for small fun. He does not really give any reaction in the end. But, he does wonder if you are becoming more aware of his consciousness. He was still coming to terms with it, so he had yet to really speak with you properly. Desperately, admittedly. Maybe he should just bring it up.

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #cyrus x reader #volo x reader #guzma x reader #grimsley x reader #rika x reader #steven stone x reader #pokemon/reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon cyrus x reader #pokemon volo x reader #pokemon guzma x reader #pokemon grimsley x reader #pokemon rika #pokemon steven x reader

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imfinereallyy · 1 year ago

Text

“Good morning, Robs.” Steve nods to Robin’s sprawled figure on their couch.

“Good morning, dingus.” Robin looks up at Steve with a sleepy smile into her morning coffee.

“How was your date last night?” Steve makes a cup of coffee and walks over to the couch. He lifts Robin's legs and lays them across his lap as he settles into the worn-down furniture.

“Oh! It was so good.” Robin perks up. “God, it’s so nice to actually know other gay people in the city and have safe places to go, unlike Hawkins. Violet was so sweet, and she took us to the little lesbian bar on 4th, and we just talked and drank for hours! I felt bad at first about missing movie night with you and Eddie, but I’m sorry, babes, but it was worth it!”

Steve smiles at his platonic soulmate with as much love as he can muster. He’s so happy for her, finding herself in college, especially after the disaster that was Vickie and the post-apocalypse. Besides, he really couldn’t be mad she missed out. “I’m glad you had a good night, Birdie.”

“Steve! You have no idea! She wore this cute skirt with knee-highs, and oh god, I could see her thighs! You know how I feel about thighs.” Robin gave him a pointed look, and Steve couldn’t help but hum in agreement. Thighs were nice. “And she gave me the softest kiss while we were still inside the bar like she wasn’t embarrassed by all my rambling and thinking out loud. Which she said she thought was cute, after I said that out loud. And Steve, I need to tell you about the less soft kisses we had later, but first, I have a question.”

Steve laughed lightly at Robin's antics. She had no idea the power she had. It was hard not to fall in love with her, platonically or romantically. “Sure, Robs. Shoot.” Steve took a sip of his coffee, not thinking much of it.

Robin ever so calmly stated, “Why do you have a hickey on your neck?”

Steve choked on his coffee. He had to lean forward to stop himself from going blue. Robin pushed herself up and pats his back. Steve barely managed out a spluttered out, “What?”

Robin put down her coffee and gave him a kind but pointed look. “The giant ass hickey on your neck. When did you get that.”

“I do not have a hickey on my neck!” Steve’s voice went a pitch higher than normal, not particularly helping his case.

Robin gave him a ‘seriously’ face before she reached over and dug her fingers into the bruise on his neck.

“Owww!” Steve slapped her hand away.

“Want to explain what that is then, Steven.”

Steve scrunched his face up, “Ew, don’t call me Steven.”

“Stop avoiding the question. Why do you have a hickey? As far as I’m concerned, I’m the one who went on a date last night. You only had Eddie over for movie—“ A look of realization crossed Robin’s face before it broke out into pure glee. “No! You didn’t!”

Steve spluttered again, despite the coffee being nowhere near him. “I didn’t do anything!” He continued to deny it.

“Oh you did! You finally did! You made out with Eddie!”

Steve knew it was useless to fight her on it, but he couldn’t help it. He was stubborn. “Ssshh, nothing happened. It’s just a bruise. Stop making this bigger than it is.”

Robin cackled, “Oh Steve, I know I should be mad you’re trying to lie right now. But I can’t be; I’m just too happy. First Violet, and now this? This is the happiest, gayest day of my life!”

Steve put his head in his hands, no longer denying.

“Besides, why are you shushing me? It’s not like there is anyone else here…” Robin trailed off, and Steve could tell the moment she put it all together. If he thought she looked happy before, now she looked straight up devious. “…Oh my god! Steve! Is he in your bed? Is he naked?” Robin was shaking Steve with excitement. At this rate, he would get a concussion from his brain being smacked around his skull.

“…no.” Steve said shyly as images of the night before came to his mind.

The boring movie. Eddie’s head thrown back at Steve’s jokes. The leaning together. Eddie’s grip on Steve’s thigh. The nose brush. The crash of lips. The tearing off of clothes. The stumbling to the bedroom. The moans.

Now is not the time to get a boner. Not while his best friend is still shaking the shit out of him.

“No? Really, so if I go into your room right now, I won’t find Eddie in it?” Robin stared at him. They both got completely still. It was as if that weird telepathy thing the kids always think they have, was actually true. Because Steve can sense it. Can sense that Robin was going to make a break for the door.

She took off in a dash, but Steve was quicker. He tackles her to the ground with a loud ‘oof’. “Get off me, dingus! I need to know!”

Steve tried to pin her to the ground, but she was freakishly strong and yanked him by the hair, “No, Robin, let me have some privacy!”

They tumble around for a few minutes, yelling and scrapping at each other. Neither of them truly got the upper hand. Then suddenly, a door opens. Both Robin and Steve’s heads snap up in the direction of footsteps approaching them.

Then, in front of them, is Eddie in only boxers covered from head to thigh in hickies. “I always forget you two are morning people.” Eddie rubbed the early hours out of his eyes, leaned down to place a kiss on top of Steve’s head, and made his way into the kitchen.

A blush makes its way to Steve’s face but he knows he’s sporting a goofy smile.

“Wow, Dingus. You really marked your territory.” Robin snorts below him. Then Robin leaned over to the side to peek at Eddie’s back. “Is that hickey in the shape of a heart?!”

Steve leapt off of Robin and into the safety of the kitchen, behind the said bruised back.

“So much for soft mornings with you and Robs.” Eddie giggles into his coffee.

Steve just huffed a laugh into the crease between Eddie’s spine and shoulder.

***

happy pride! wanted something soft to get me back in the groove of writing and the start to my pride month pieces.

#steddie #platonic stobin #just three goofballs figuring out life #why Eddie doesn't pay rent is beyond robin cause dude practically lives there anyway #domestic fluff #my writing #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #the three muskequeers #stranger things #kisses #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #lesbian bisexual solidarity

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geralallfandoms · 1 month ago

Note

hi hi. could i request mark sloan x a reader that survived the plane crash? mark stopped fighting because lexie died, so something with him surviving bc the person he loved did so he has something to fight for would be so good. preferably w a happy ending or fluffy!! other than that up 2 u! love ur writing :)

Another requests yey🕺 omg I love the idea!! Please tell me if you like It , if it's what you expected or if you would like me to change something! I would really love to hear your opinion and if you liked it!!🫂 Tysm, I hope you enjoy it!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

°The selfish man°

TW: Blood, wounds, plane crash, death, shock, spoiler. (I hope I didn't forget anything)

Song I heard while writing this:

It all happened too soon.

From one moment to the next, laughter turned into screams, happiness into fear, tranquility into silence. In less than a few seconds the path of history had completely changed.

Most of those on that plane were unable to understand in time what had happened. In the blink of an eye, nature surrounded them.

After the great sound of the machines, after the plane fell onto the green grass, after it dragged itself along, taking with it trees and everything else in its path, silence reigned again.

While some were still unconscious, others were already aware of their surroundings.

The sky was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. Everything was confusing, and the ringing in your ears prevented you from hearing your surroundings, so you couldn't understand why you were in a forest.

You could see movement at your side, you slowly tilted your head to see how Christina moved things, maybe she was looking for something. You didn't know. You didn't know why you were in the woods, still sitting in an airplane seat.

"Reader! Hey! Hey- can you hear me?! React!" Christina screamed over and over again in your voice. The shock and adrenaline kept her alert and energized, but you couldn't understand her, you couldn't hear her.

After a while, you saw how she simply walked away from you and walked towards Meredith, who was sitting on the floor, a few meters away from where you were.

While everyone else seemed to be 100% sure of where they were or what had happened, you struggled to maintain consciousness.

But the darkness, the whispers telling you to stop fighting, got the better of you, and you decided to relax.

___________________________________________

You wished that the hand touching your shoulder and your face was your mother's, that she had simply come to let you know that breakfast was ready, that in a few minutes they would go to the beach to spend the day.

But when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw were worried faces. Faces of... your friends?

"Reader...hey hey here I am...do you know who I am? Can you talk?" Dereck asked while holding your face in his hands.

"She's fucking deaf..." Christina said as she pointed to your bloody ears.

You wanted to tell them that you weren't completely deaf, that you could hear them faintly, but that the pain didn't let you think, speak.

Pain?

"We can't get her out of that chair..." The blonde girl said...Meredith?

You tried to understand what they were talking about, and why their faces looked so scared, but you just tried to relax, not panic. Although really, you were terrified of knowing what they were talking about, of looking down at where the pain was coming from.

Tears were pooling in your eyes and all you could think about was Mark. Where was he? What had happened to his seat, which was next to you. What had happened to Lexie, who was in front of you.

Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours? You didn't know. But you were conscious enough to realize that you were still in the airplane seat, with your seatbelt on, that you were in what was left of the plane, that you had an iron rod going through your stomach, that your ears hurt, that you couldn't move or feel your left leg, on the same side that the bar was, you could now tell that night had already fallen, that Meredith, Christina and Derek were near you, with a campfire.

You could now tell that Mark wasn't there. You couldn't see him anywhere.

"Ma-mark..." You said in a whisper, but loud enough for Derek to hear.

"You can't do this to her. You can't do this to your girl. Mark! You have to react. She has a fucking bar running from side to side of her body, she may not feel her legs, but she's awake. She's been awake for four hours, she's fighting. You can't leave her." Derek told Mark, who had refused to leave Lexie alone, who had died in front of him a few minutes ago.

"I can't leave her...Derek please...it's little Lexie..." He said trying not to look where you are.

"I know it's not easy but, fuck... I know you're not going to like it but someone has to tell you. She doesn't feel anything anymore, she doesn't suffer anymore, okay? You can let her rest, we'll give her a burial...Mark, it's Reader. Your Reader. She's suffering there, alone, she doesn't know what's going on, she hasn't spoken in four hours, she's disoriented and in shock...you can't do that to your girl..." Derek said before turning around and walking away.

"I'm here..." Mark said, who upon hearing your voice, quickly stood up and approached you. "My girl...you're okay, I'm with you..."

Mark had a bandage on his arm, and one on his torso. Because after thinking about what Derek had told him, he couldn't help but approach where Reader was. Because when he saw her awake, looking at the sky, calm, fighting to remain conscious, he knew he couldn't do that to her.

He knew he couldn't let himself die. He couldn't leave her alone. He knew she was fighting for him and it would be too selfish of him not to do the same

So he turned around and walked over to the others, confessed the pain in his chest and let them help him. He decided to keep fighting for her.

"A-are yo-you...oka-okay?" It was the first complete sentence you had managed to say all day.

Mark couldn't help but smile as he saw how, even in the condition you were in, you cared more about him than yourself.

"I'm fine honey...don't worry. Don't get stressed okay? I'll stay with you..." He said moving your hair from your face while his other hand slowly took yours.

"Thank you...f-for...ke-keep fighting..." You said, caressing his hand.

Mark was speechless.

"I know...I know something's not right...I-I can see it on your face..." You took a deep breath and continued. "I know you...I know th-that you are tired...but you are still here..." You said between ragged breaths, trying to ignore the pain.

"I will never be able to understand how you manage to guess everything... my sweetness, I am so sorry..." Mark said as he approached you until your foreheads were touching. "I've been selfish...but I won't leave...I promise..."

And Mark kept his promise, because days later, when rescue finally arrived, Mark was still with you, watching over your fever, your breathing, feeling every beat of your heart.

Because even though he had lost little Lexie that day, even though darkness and death had clouded his thoughts, he couldn't abandon you. And he never would again.

He never abandoned you. Not when you had to get hearing aids to hear better, or when you had to go to your therapies to regain mobility in your leg. He was always there.

And would be for the rest of his life.

And that's all! I hope you liked it! Remember that I'm delighted to read your opinions!!🫂

#marksloanxreader #mark sloanxreader #mark sloan x reader #mark sloan #greys anatomy x reader #greys anatomy #grey's anatomy x reader #grey's anatomy #grey's rp #Grey's anatomy mark sloan #derek shepherd x reader #derek shepherd #meredith grey #lexie grey

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astroboots · 1 year ago

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period sex with soft marc☹️☹️🥺🥺 him being so sweet n praising you😭😭😭😭 hed take such good care of you<3 i need him

Take Care of Me

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Content: explicit as fuck. Period sex, Marc's competence in overdrive.

Word count: 3k words

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMS' MASTERLIST |MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

Painful is an understatement.

If you had to describe what your period felt like to an alien who had no understanding of human biology this is how you might describe it:

Imagine a battalion of tiny sumo wrestlers duking it out inside your uterus.

Imagine a never-ending game of tag between a horde of stomp-happy elephants using your stomach as the running ground.

Imagine the two allegories combined, but multiple it with three, and imagine having it every month from the time you're a young adolescent until (if you're lucky and god is merciful) it will end when you're in your fifties.

As you lie in your bed, curled up with a hot water bottle tucked to your lower belly, and whine into your pillow, you are convinced that this is some kind of divine punishment. You must have been bathing in virgin's blood to retain youth in a past life. Because you don't know what else you could've done to deserve this. And if you weren't, then if there is a god in heaven, they had better beg for your forgiveness when you get there.

"Want me to make you a cuppa love?"

You drag your face from where it's buried in the pillow to peek up at Steven's worried face.

Big brown eyes gaze down at you with so much concern, he must think you are on your death bed. He's been taking care of you all day. Pampering, coddling, and fussing over you.

He's been refilling your tea before you have time to even empty the cup. Reheating the hot water bottle every twenty minutes before it even has a chance to drop in temperature.

It's incredibly sweet. But you're so tea-ed out at the moment, you think 90% of your body composition is tea at this point.

"'m good."

He frowns, biting down on his lip, and you can sense his worry from bed. "If you don't want tea maybe some hot chocolate? I can even toast some marshmallows on top and I have a packet of biscuits."

You consider his generous proposal for a second or two.

In all honesty, you feel too sick even for chocolate, but you have a feeling that turning down chocolate will truly make Steven think you're dying and try to call the ambulance. So instead you answer, "that sounds lovely Steven."

His whole face brightens up, and he leaps to his feet and darts towards the kitchen.

You close your eyes to the raucous sound of pots and pans being pulled out. In the background, the sound of something crashing clanks out from the direction of the kitchen. It's followed by Steven's familiar comforting voice cursing "bugger" and "oh no," but you're too tired to check for yourself what's going on, as you drift off to sleep.

In your dream, you're wrapped in a comforting warmth. There's a gentle pressure on your stomach and limbs that takes all the pain away. Strong and tender, all at once, you want to linger in this sensation forever.

It's not forever, of course. But your nap lasts long enough that you get a bit of respite from the pain. When you wake again, it's to the distinct smell of burnt sugar lingering in the air.

Strong hands traverse over your hips and stomach, kneading at your sore and aching muscles with a perfect pressure that feels like heaven.

He's sitting at the foot of your bed, with a posture so upright, it's almost militant. The man doesn't need to open his mouth with his Chicagoan accent for you to know it's Marc who's sitting next to you right now.

"Where's Steven?" you ask.

"Put him on a time out. Nearly burnt down the place, trying to torch some marshmallows."

You smile at the image Marc is painting for you. That explains the burnt smell.

"How are you feeling," Marc asks. His hand roams from your stomach to the plane of your thighs. It has everything tingle pleasantly inside of you.

"Better," you tell him. "It feels really good when you do that."

His hand stills for a second, eyes drifting to his own hands. "Want me to keep going?"

You barely have to nod before he starts up again. Large hands covering the insides of your thighs as he presses down with just the right amount of strength.

The sensation spikes across your nerves and rides up your spine until the tense knot in your stomach that has been terrorizing you all day unfurls.

You gasp at the sensation, back arching into his touch for more. "There, there, don't stop."

It's maddening how good it feels. Marc knows your body like a map of a continent that he's explored every corner of. His hand drifts ever so slightly, fine-tuning his touch that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It's the relief you've been begging for all day. Each press of his hand erasing the blunt ache that's been digging into your flesh since you woke up this morning.

That large hand of his, smooths over your bare stomach. The sweet warmth of it soothing any leftover pain that is still there until he cups over the soft fabric of your underwear and replaces it with an altogether different ache that has you squirming and squeezing your legs together.

His hand stills. "You want me to stop?"

"No!" you shout, louder than you intended or expected.

You clutch at his wrists to keep them on you. You're pretty sure that if Marc stopped touching you, you'd combust and die from frustration on the spot. Pretty sure that whatever the equivalent of blue balls is for ovaries is about to descend upon you.

"No, I just..." you flounder for a minute, not entirely sure what to say. Face warm as you say try to find the words. You don't know why the thought is so mortifying to you.

"I'm on my period." You manage to mutter out.

Marc cocks his head to the side, one eyebrow raised. He looks genuinely puzzled at what you've just told him. "I know...so?"

"It'll make a mess," you tell him, and you don't know how he's so casual about this. God knows your neat-freak of a boyfriend hates a mess. "I don't want to ick you out".

Ick him out? Why do you sound like a kid on the playground talking about cooties?

There's no worry in Marc's eyes as he observes you. None of the big round doe-like eyes of Steven. His eyes are narrowed, honed in on your face.

"Fuck the mess," he says.

There's a simmering heat in his voice as he says it that makes everything between your legs slick and achy as he leans even closer to you. "I want to make you feel better. You okay with that?"

You nod and the tip of his fingers skirts the edge of your panties before slipping inside. Despite your earlier embarrassment at the idea, your breath stutters with anticipation.

You're so fucking wet. Slick and hot, as his thumb presses down and has sharp electricity crackle down your spine. You find yourself spreading your legs wider for him, and Marc is more than happy to take it as an invitation.

Two fingers slide inside you, filling you perfectly, until you realize you feel a slickness trickle down the heel of Marc's hand.

"Fuck, Marc-- wait, it's--" you squeak in alarm as you feel it drip between your legs. "It's gonna get on the bed."

He doesn't stop, fingers continuing its languid pace on your clit, as he keeps stroking it to the pace of his liking. His mouth is on your neck, hot and humid as he murmurs into your skin.

"You really think a little blood is gonna keep me out of that pretty little pussy? Open up for me baby, let me take care of you."

And god...

You do. Of course you do, you'd do anything Marc asks and wants from you when he speaks to you in that tone and register. Your legs spread even further, tilting into his doting touch as he slides his fingers deeper.

Heat simmer all along the length of your spine, brandishing it with pleasure that has you struggling for breath.

His other hand comes to cup your face, while his fingers are still busy circling and gently strumming at your clit. He makes it seem so effortless as he does it.

There's no hesitation in his movements, two fingers bracketing your clit and he gently slides and teases you there that has that all familiar warmth already furling in your lower abdomen. Insistent and never rushed, you feel his fingers everywhere, until he brushes over something devastatingly good that has your vision go white for a brief moment.

"That's it baby, you're alright. So good for me, you don't have to think about anything else. All I need is for you to feel good. Come on my hand," his voice rasps in your ear.

Smooth and calming. Loving and commanding.

You don't stand a chance.

It's all it takes.

You drown in it, your climax claiming your limbs as the sensation streaks down your legs and wraps around your bones. You shake and jolt in his arms but he holds you there to him, not letting you pull away as you squirm away from the overstimulation and makes you ride the high against the palm of his reassuring hand.

He comforts you through it. All gentle caresses and soothing hushes as he presses his soft lips on your forehead.

"That's my good fucking girl."

Through the haze of your bliss, you reach for him. One finger hooking onto his belt to drag him closer.

You're too out of it to fully register what you're doing or properly express what you want. All you know is you want more of him. More of Marc. More of his sturdy firm weight on you. The warmth of his skin pressed against you. Of him, inside you.

"Want my cock baby?"

You nod, and much like before, Marc immediately complies.

He always does. Never does deny you of anything.

One hand comes to the front of his jeans, and you don't have to wait long for him as he pulls himself free of his jeans. Cock hard, and jutting up proudly that has you salivating at the sight of it.

Gripping his cock in one hand, Marc kneels over you, notching the fat tip against your entrance. The moment you feel him, you forget about any shred of hesitation you had just moments earlier about making a mess.

Because right now you don't care if you ruin Steven's sheets and leave a crime scene behind you. Every single thought in your mind has been replaced by the overarching need to have this man inside you.

He leans over, arms bracketing you in as he presses into you, stretching you, inch by perfect, beautiful, fucking, inch that has you seeing stars even in the daylight.

You feel him everywhere, every slow thrust and cant of his hips pressed so deeply into you, you're not sure you can breathe. You cling to every inch of him, legs wrapped around his waist, not wanting to let go but not sure you can take more of him either.

Full, you feel so fucking full.

"Too much?" Marc asks, eyes examining you, making sure you're alright.

You don't know how to answer him. It is a lot. So much, with all of him, every perfect inch of him filling you to capacity. It's too much and yet you want all of it and more. Want more and want him to never stop. So you tell him exactly that.

"No. Don't stop, don't stop," you beg. "Keep fucking me, please."

One big, warm hand settles low on your stomach, before it wanders, brushing teasingly through your folds and oh-so-gently over and around your clit until you think you might scream.

You bite down on your lip, worried that if you actually do scream, he'll stop out of worry. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, trying to calm yourself but it only makes it all the more intense.

Behind closed eyes, the pleasure surges through your chest, and you can feel every careful and calculated movement that Marc makes as he slowly drags his cock out of you, until only the fat head rests inside you. Then he pushes back inside again, just as slow and it has tears stinging your eyes.

Slow and thorough. Deep and controlled. He's murmuring in your ear the whole time, his voice low and rough.

"Relax for me baby," he tells you, "I'm gonna take care of you like I always do. Fill your pretty pussy with my cock until you feel all better, okay?"

Better doesn't begin to describe it. You feel good. Feel so good you're overripe with pleasure that seems to be bursting along the seam of your skin.

The hand on your stomach, presses and holds you in place as you start to squirm against him to goad his fingers to where you need them.

But even when he complies, giving you what you like he always does, zeroing in on your clit, his caresses stay light and gentle. His thumb barely brushes over you, as he keeps the pace agonizingly slow and soft that have you shivering and shaking in his arms.

The taunting pleasure builds ever so slowly in your core. The light and teasing touches too much and not enough all at once, and your oversensitive, overwrought cunt clenches and flex endlessly, squeezing down around the thickness Marc’s cock.

You can feel his body jerk over yours each time, and you revel in the soft grunts and gasps you’re driving from him, because surely, surely now he’ll let go and fuck you fast and hard until you're crying.

But he still doesn’t. Doesn't lose control. Just presses gentle kisses to your shoulder, murmuring over and over again. "It’s okay, I got you, Going to make you feel so good".

He says it like a promise. As if he isn't already doing exactly that. He's making you feel so fucking good. So good that you can hardly stand it. So good that you're writhing in his arms, clutching and clawing at his arm and hand and wrist, not sure if you're trying to push him away or pull him closer. But it doesn't matter, he might as well be a stone statue for all the hope you have of moving him anywhere he doesn't want to you be yet.

You can feel the all too familiar tension in his body. Those strong thick thighs as hard as iron between yours. You swear you can feel the furious pounding of his heart where you're pressed back against his chest. Or maybe that's your own pulse pounding loud and frantic in your ears, but it doesn't matter, because you know he's close too.

"Fuck you feel so good," he murmurs into your skin and if you didn't know better you'd think he sounded shaky.

The pleasure builds, streaking up your torso in little lightning bolt pulses that tighten your nipples to achingly hard little points and steal the breath from your lungs.

The heat of Marc's body against you is unbearable, his hot breath and lips sliding over your shoulder, your neck, the curve of your jaw, and all the while, his fingers, those clever, competent fingers keep up their slow, ruinous circling, driving you higher inch by devastating inch.

You can't breathe anymore, can't see, can't think to the point you're pretty sure you can't feel your feet. Do you even have feet anymore? The only thing that's grounding you is the security of Marc's arms wrapped around you, the quiet cadence of his voice, whispering low and soft and still oh so sweet in your ear.

It's too much. Everything in you winding higher and tighter, filling you so full of pleasure that you swear you'll burst, but somehow still you don't. Can't. You need–

You clutch at Marc, gasp out a garbled sound that might be his name. You want to tell him that you can't stand it, that you need more, need all of him, everything that he has to give, but you've lost the ability to speak.

Instead, your body tells him for you, your cunt squeezing down around him, and refusing to let go. All of you drawn tight, tighter, tightest.

There's a breathless, "Oh. Baby. Fuck." in your ear, and Marc's hips jerk against you. Just once, the tiniest upward hitch. But it's enough. It's more than enough.

The unbearable, blissful tension holding your body hostage shatters, and wave after wave of unparalleled rapture roll though you, sharp and sweet and endless. The breath you didn't think you had left leaves you in a loud keening cry, that's echoed by a low, pained groan, and you can feel Marc's cock swell and pulse as he spills inside you, unable to resist the calling of your body's climax.

You ride out your orgasms together, your hips grinding needily into his, his fingers gripped harshly into your flesh, until the seemingly endless pleasure finally releases you both from its grip and you collapse back against Marc's solid bulk.

The arms around you relax, his clean hand smoothing over your belly and thighs. His voice hoarse and low, but still so, so syrupy sweet and gentle as he reassures you that you're okay, that he's got you, that he'll always be there when you need him.

You're boneless against him. Arms lying limply by your side on the damp mattress. Every bit of tension wrung out of you, like an old flannel that been wetted and twisted dry one too may times; worn out, but warm and cozy and relaxed.

"Feeling any better?" Marc asks eventually, arms tightening ever-so-subtly around you.

You don't have it in you to answer him with words, but you manage a small, contented giggle, snuggling back further into his embrace and tilting your head back to nuzzle his jaw.

That seems to be enough for him. He cranes his neck to press a soft kiss to your lips, then settles back, and the two of you stay there, cuddled together, warm and content and sated.

Content... just so fucking content, except...

Content is an understatement to what you're feeling wrapped in Marc's arms like this.

If you had to describe what this moment felt like to an alien who had no understanding of human emotions this is how you might describe it:

Imagine snow falling outside and you are wrapped up safely in a heavy blanket around your tired limbs.

Imagine the smell of freshly made pancakes and coffee brewing (just the way you like it) in the morning after a hangover.

Imagine all of that combined and it still wouldn't even begin to do it any justice.

A/N: Thank you nonny for this ask, literally when you sent it I was having the period from actual hell and was in tears and wailing and crying in bed. This was a really nice escape to write this oneshot with TWP.

#oscar isaac #moon knight #marvel mcu #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #marc spector #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you

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katkalis-the-horror-fanartist · 6 months ago

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Fun facts about Steven in your AU?

My Steven Fun Facts/Headcanons!

This guy is tough as nails. His father is also endlessly proud of him, even gloating about him every chance he gets. He's everyones ideal pilot, able to do a few tricks in the air as well. He's the kind of hero that you'd hear about on the news landing a crashing plane safely or using his charisma to calm down a passenger freaking out and threatening a safe flight.

• Many people enjoy how kind he is to let the occasional passenger into the cockpit to experience what piloting a plane is like.

• He usually keeps to himself out of work, focused on keeping a healthy schedule of taking care of himself. He also often declines close relationships, as he gets busy often and feels as if he can't be there enough for a partner.

• He knows his way around many a gun, and sometimes hunts when he has time off. Most of what he hunts is shared amongst the apartment building as well.

• His tough exterior definitely harbors a soft interior. He shows a great deal of love for his father and helps him any time he needs it. Basically a gold star son. He is also great around kids.

• If the topic of "Who would you have on your team during a zombie apocalypse" ever arose from people in the apartment, most would call Steven. Most everyone knows how helpful he would be, as he's both a good shot and can handle himself in an up-close fist fight.

• He has a slight weakness for puns. They're a good out-of-pocket way to get him to at least smirk, huff, and shake his head. Bonus points if they're plane or pilot related. Dad jokes can sometimes work too.

#i added an image cause luckily i had the spoons to make one!#just thought this art was a GREAT idea for a wholesome boy like steven!#ask answered #thats not my neighbor #tnmn #tnmn steven rudboys #headcanon #my art #fan art #my headcanons #headcanons #fun facts #tnmn mclooy rudboys

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bigdan2005 · 8 months ago

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Stayed away for a while here are the Francis Mosses headcanons

𒊹︎When it comes to delivering milk he face the weirdest costumers in town, like once he encountered a person who wanted milk to see if it can explode on its own and poor Francis thought this guy might be a doubleganger

𒊹︎HE. NEVER. GETS. SLEEP

𒊹︎He always try to get a day off but his boss doesn’t let him have any, so only the very late night is his time to try and sleep in it, even though sometimes he can’t

𒊹︎He’s best friends with Steven and Angus, they’re abit close to eachother ages and mostly both Steven and Angus try and help Francis as much as they can because they know how tired Francis can be from his job

𒊹︎He might seem he’s just a guy who wants a break from work and doesn’t care about anything, but he’s so into gossip, he’d sometimes ear drop on some of the other neighbors and then would talk about it with Steven and Angus, not in a bad way really, probably either for fun or to try and help the other neighbors, and for that he’s known to be such a sweet guy

𒊹︎As mentioned in the last point, he’s known as a sweet guy for the other neighbors, once Arnold fell sick and he’s wife Gloria had to take care of him and took a couple of days off, Francis ended up getting them groceries on his way back from work to make sure they have everything in need since Gloria couldn’t leave home

𒊹︎surprisingly for a tired overworking person like Francis, his apartment is always clean, he’s a very clean guy that prefers to stay in a dessert then in a messy party or something

𒊹︎He hates, and I mean HATES when Steven and Angus tease him about not dating, he’s more of a loner, yes, but he didn’t really asked for it, it just he didn’t find someone who can keep up with his uncontrollable coldness, or him arriving late from work, or falling asleep accidentally anywhere

𒊹︎And as I said, he falls asleep anywhere, literally anywhere, he once fell asleep while driving with Angus they almost crashed, so Angus let him sit in the passenger seat and sleep while he drove back to their apartments

#thats not my neighbor #milkman #francis mosses #tnmn

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crooked-wasteland · 1 month ago

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Sir Pentious and the Importance of Narrative Structure

There are some aspects of Hazbin Hotel that leave me genuinely blind-sided. Like standing on the sidewalk when you suddenly witness a catastrophic car crash only for someone on the other side of the road to get distracted from rubbernecking and cause a second collision . That is the only way I can describe the feeling I get whenever I think about how the series handled Sir Pentious.

I have never seen a show fumble such a big plot point, not once, but twice and in the same exact way. First in the episode where the characters are engaging in “trust exercises”; the narrative entirely neglects the cast of Husk, Pentious, Angel, and Nifty for a very rudimentary plot that feels straight out of season one Steven Universe for Vaggie and Charlie. Instead it skips to them returning to the roof as a group and Angel Dust carrying Pentious and that is the end of the series attempting to show this bond until the second to last episode. Which also just does nothing with the first opportunity to watch that assumed relationship actually come together.

We never saw them actually help each other during the Turf War, but there was an opportunity that would have worked even with zero changes to the rest of the series to rectify that fact and it would have only cost at most 90 seconds of screen time:

Just have these characters talk to each other and treat it like it means something.

And it’s not hard to figure the reasoning of the writers was to have the reveal that the side characters didn’t leave be the big cherry on top this episode’s happily ever after. Instead, it's a completely forgotten plot point that only keeps the audience from ever believing these characters cared about each other enough to mourn one of them being killed off in the most abrupt way.

Sir Pentious’ death was pathetic. The heroic buildup to him buying the others time is undercut by his actual uselessness. And that compounds the problem with the fact his death is an intentional joke, but simultaneously supposed to be an impactful character moment? That isn’t how you get an audience to laugh while crying.

The art of achieving that dram-ody effect is fundamentally based on two grounded principles: familiarity to the character and pacing. Building up to sadness is a process, and trying to achieve something as primal as sadness requires some surprisingly complicated setup. In an undeveloped prefrontal cortex, the brain is still hardwired to mirror as a form of empathy. It’s why so many young fans can say without irony that Pentious dying is “Sad”, because they are caught off guard by his sudden passing to then be inundated with the named characters crying and being sad. They are sad because the characters are sad, but there was no one crying for Pentious like the characters are, not without a psychologically concerning degree of parasocial attachment. It’s “Sad” as in its “disappointing”, but the animators intentionally attempt to highjack the wave of disappointment to convince a child audience that they are feeling a different kind of grief.

And it didn’t need to be anything special, even a cookie cutter “Power of friendship” scene would have still fixed that gap enough to at least allow for a course correction later on and presenting the characters as more fleshed out. If time constraints were really that large of an issue, setting yourself up to succeed by laying the foundation to fix these narrative gaps is the only way to rectify it. Especially with announcing an already pre-approved second season that the crew would have been parallel planning for and thus had knowledge on where to save certain aspects for later.

To be frank, this is why people remember Helluva Boss’ first season so favorably, but it ultimately suffered the opposite issue. Season 1 of HB had a better grasp of setting up plot points early and giving themselves enough space to keep people theorizing and allowing them the opportunity to adapt the characters and narrative dynamically. The whole allure of the series originally was anticipating the payoff for these “mysteries”. It is just that the series had no intention of utilizing those mysteries for any meaningful narrative and quickly killed them off to focus on a predictable and uninteresting ship.

And I am sorry to snatch those rose-tinted glasses, but the first season wasn’t good, we just had clear narrative gaps that felt intentional and anticipated a story/arc/effort where there was no intention behind the scenes to really dedicate any resources to it. And alternatively HH is being handled far less skillfully from the jump, so it attracts the audience that will dedicate themselves to it (children) without any expectations in regards to quality.

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin critique #hazbin criticism #vivziepop critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #vivziepop criticism #vivienne medrano #spindlehorse critical #vivziepop #Call me Emma because I am Stoned #sir pentious #sir Pentious critique #snake boy deserved better #rants from mt Everest

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piratefishmama · 1 year ago

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Fake it till you make it | Part 11

“Be careful, Eddie” were Wayne’s words as he hugged his nephew goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t see him for a whole week and honestly still being a little worried about it “if you think even for one minute that something’s off, just… just get out of there, alright?”

“I know, I know, I’ll bolt through the woods and hitchhike my way home, I know the way, Wayne, I got this.” He could read a compass, he’d be able to get a map from any gas station and head home, he was resourceful, an adult, he could handle himself.

“Damn right you got this, son. But… be careful in other ways too, alright? Steve’s a charmin boy, but… remember this ain’t real.” Eddie had bitten his bottom lip at that one, brows furrowed in thought, those big brown eyes of his swirling in emotion, he never did hide his feelings well, it’d always be a little real for him. “Protect this” Wayne poked his chest with a gentle prod, right over Eddie’s heart “okay?”

“Mhm, I will…” he’d try to anyway. Steve really was… charming. An his kisses? God his kisses… but also... it really was the closest he’d ever been to what romance ought to be, what a relationship ought to be, he never thought he’d have that.

The world didn’t appear to be moving fast enough for him to truly experience romance as most people did.

He had to remember that he didn’t have that.

“Eddie! C’mon you’re in the back with me!” Steve called from the garage door, behind which the car was rumbling, their bags packed into the back, Steve’s parents already inside, ready to go. The longest Eddie had ever been away from Wayne since arriving in Hawkins, was three days during a weekend trip to Indy with the band to play at a slightly bigger venue than the Hideout as a one off.

A favour for his favourite gay bar when a live act they’d scheduled pulled out last minute. It hadn’t gotten them a lot of exposure, but it’d been a fun and enlightening night for the band.

“Best get on, son, I’ll see you in a week. Call when you can alright? Don’t care if you wake me up or about no damn time zones, just call, I’ll answer, an if I don’t, you know the plant’s number.” Tight lipped, strained smile, Eddie nodded quickly then turned on his heel and graced Steve with a brilliant smile, game on.

“I don’t wish to alarm anyone, but... did we miss a turning?” Eddie may have been unusually quiet for the first leg of their journey, nerves having hit him like a truck the second they pulled out of Loch Nora, but he was paying attention to his surroundings.

And those surroundings, were all too quickly, Fort Wayne International Airport.

“You don’t honestly expect rich people to drive the whole way to Canada do you?” Steve’s voice was amused and came from so very close to his ear that he actually jumped, quickly turning in his seat, back plastered against his side of the back seat, eyes wide as he took in and processed what Steve said. “Plus, what would you rather do, spend nearly two days in a car with my parents—”

“We’d make wonderful road trip companions, don’t be rude Steven” came his mother’s interruption

Steve ignored it in favour of continuing his point “—orr… around ten hours in one of those with a brief stop off in Chicago.” Steve leaned inward, uncaring of personal space as he pointed to a plane, ascending into the heavens from the runway.

“I don’t—” he didn’t know. He’d never been on a plane before. Trips like that, across country, they were the stuff of road trip legend, but Steve had a point…

Two whole days of a trip stuck in a car. Or just ten hours. Eddie’s eyes skipped to the window again, to the plane now disappearing beyond the overcast cloud cover.

“It’ll be okay, Eds, I’ll sit right next to you the whole time, you’ll be okay.”

“What if we crash? What if it falls out of the sky? What’ll you do?”

“My best to keep you safe.” It was so earnest, coupled with Steve gently taking his hands and giving them a squeeze, eyes so full of raw honesty, of understanding, it hit Eddie directly in all his soft gooey bits. “I’ll hold your hand through the whole ten hours if you want.”

“Even during the stop in Chicago?”

“Hah, yeah baby, even during the stop in Chicago.”

“They’re a lot more openminded in Chicago too!” Lynda spoke up without turning her head, allowing Eddie to not get stuck on baby for too long “might get a few looks from people passing through the airport but nobody will say anything, and if they do, they deal with us.”

“If we had enough time during the stop we’d have taken a trip around the city, let you boys see some of the sights we’ve seen, but alas, our connection gives us an hour at most depending on everything being on time, and that’s just enough time to get us from one gate to the next.” John added as he pulled into the long stay parking lot. “Maybe some other time, some other family trip, eh Eddie?”

Eddie’s wide eyes turned to the front of the car, then back to Steve again, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Not surprise over the words used, but the feeling those words caused. Family trip. They were including him on future family trips.

Steve’s eyes quickly snapped from him to the front of the car and back again, then a warm smile blossomed on his lips. He lifted his hand and ever so carefully brushed a stray curl back behind Eddie’s ear, and asked so softly as his thumb lowered to brush along his jawline. “Right, Eddie?”

“Y-yeah… yeah I’d… I’d love that.” He turned his head fully toward the drivers seat, he’d never been too good at hiding his emotions, so maybe he was just a little choked up when he accepted the offer “I’d really love that.”

“Great!” The car came to a stop in one of the many parking bays, ignition off, driver side door opened “It’s settled then.” Settled. Eddie would privately mourn the knowledge that it’d never come to fruition, but… on the surface he could pretend he was excited for a future trip for the sake of the ruse. “Now boys if you could get the bigger bags out the trunk that’d be a big help! This back of mine isn’t as sturdy as it used to be.”

“You’re forty-six and go jogging almost every morning, don’t be stupid John.” Lynda whapped her husband with her handbag in gentle, semi-amused admonishment before getting out of the car.

Followed by her husband who, in a hushed tone replied with “don’t tell them that, Lynda, save us the work.” Leaving the two boys to breathe soft laughs between themselves before they too joined the older couple out in the parking lot.

“Steve...” Eddie hissed as they neared check-in.

“What?”

“I have weed” said through his teeth.

“What?” Steve paused.

“I have weed… I have weed in my suitcase.”

“You have what?!” Steve rounded on him, sentence ended with a pointed hiss

“I didn’t know we’d be flying to Canada, Steve, maybe you should tell people when you’re planning on launching them into the troposphere in a death tube!”

“Why would you bring weed on a holiday with my parents, Eddie?!”

“SHHHH, be quiet. I thought I might need it to chill out if I was freaking out at some point during the week like right now, I could really do with it right now.”

“Oh my god.”

“Steven? Is something wrong?” Lynda’s voice had them both snapping to attention, eyes wide, caught in the act. Luckily she had no idea what that ‘act’ was.

“Nope! No, uh, Eddie’s just gotta… use the bathroom real quick.”

“Well, there’s bathrooms in the business class lounge he can—"

“No! It’s uhm, it’s urgent, can’t wait, he’s uh…”

“Nerves, it’s uh, it’s nerves, I think imma hurl” she looked between them with a small frown on her face, assessing them both, it seemed like whatever she found wasn’t worth arguing about though, because she waved them off with a quick flick of her wrist.

“Alright fine, hurry up. Steven you know where the closest ones are go on now quickly before we’re late for check in, we’ll double check everything here.” John was already pausing to check through all their documents like a regular airport dad, it was the third time he’d done it since entering the airport.

“Alright let’s go, Eds, lets deal with your little problem.” At least he was soft-handed when he manhandled Eddie to the nearest bathroom, patchy suitcase with a squeaky wheel wobbling away behind them. Once inside, he checked each stall individually, before quickly turning on a wide eyed Eddie. “Where is it?” Eddie pointed down at the suitcase, and Steve snapped to action, lifting, and placing Eddie’s suitcase down on the slightly damp row of sinks. “Did you pack any liquid soaps?”

“Uhhh…” Eddie was too busy staring at the flex of Steve’s arms as he just. Lifted that whole very packed suitcase in one hoist. Fuck.

“Any shampoo? Conditioner?”

“I—I feel like my answer is going to make you mad so I’m just not going to answer.” Which on its own, was a pretty damning answer, and Steve’s expression told him as such “I don’t have a twelve step hair care routine like you do, Steve! I just… I have drug store shampoo and conditioner and that’s really only when it’s on a two for one sale! Usually I just—"

“If you say you water it down to make it last longer I’m going to throw the first thing I find in this suitcase at you.”

“Shutting up. I just thought I’d buy it there if I needed it, or just borrow yours, I know you brought some, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I figured that… if I borrowed yours it’d make it seem like I just… wanted… to smell like you?”

“You just made that up.” Eddie just smiled, all teeth and dimples, scrunching his shoulders inwards in an unfairly cute display of mischief. “You’re a menace, Munson. Get your stuff out of there for me. Don’t ever put weed in checked luggage.”

“But—”

“TSA does random checks on checked luggage all the time, an while they’re not usually looking for weed, it’ll get launched and you might get fined. Whereas you can hide weed in just about anything in a carry on, just shows up as vague blurred shit on the x-ray scanners. Just be cool when you shove it through.” Steve was rummaging in the front of his own bag now, “be cool, and act natural.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Mn once or twice, Tommy was a dick, but his cousin worked for the TSA for a few years, gave us all kinds’a neat tricks to get things through the airport.” Tommy’s cousin had gotten fired and a year inside for attempting to smuggle narcotics out of the confiscated items lock up, but that was neither here nor there. “Gimmie what you have.” Hand outstretched, Steve waited until Eddie placed the single baggie containing three roll ups and a few loose buds “Christ Eddie.”

“I knew I’d be nervous! Stop being mean to me!” Steve rolled his eyes before taking the three roll ups out of the baggie

“Your smokes, give em.” Plenty of room in the pack to slot the three roll ups, and as for the buds, Steve emptied out his travel sized bottle of hand lotion into the sink and stuffed the whole plastic bag into the little bottle, then screwed the lid on tight. Nobody would look twice at a rich kids hand lotion. “Now wet the ends of your hair.”

“What?”

“Your hair butthead! Wet it, we told my mother you’d be in here hurling your guts up, so… you got some in your hair, it’s a good extra to add to the ruse, now do it.”

“So my own boyfriend wouldn’t even hold my hair back if I threw up? Where’s the romance, where’s the commitment, where’s the care and—”

“Dude you have a lot of hair, I doubt I could get it all in my hand at once.” Although now that thought was in his head… could he? Could he get a good fistful and hold it there? Not important. “I’d drop bits.” A flimsy argument, he wouldn’t drop anything.

“Uh-huh, sure you would, big boy.” Eddie quickly dampened the tips of his hair, and ran a wet hand through his bangs quickly in a bid to fake flop sweat, theatrics over and done with. “Zipper-up, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Part 13

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #lmao this was getting long so i'm splitting it up

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grapejuicestyless · 1 year ago

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Can You See Right Through Me?

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: You, Belly and Stevens older sister, realize that as everyone grows older, you have become less and less important. Suddenly, everything you’ve never felt comes crashing at you.

The past summer and every single one before that had led me to this moment now. Standing alone in an empty room in the dark while everyone else ventured off to a bonfire.

It was like a switch had went off in my brain, coming down here this summer. Everything I knew becoming wrong. Everything I was so sure of becoming the unknown.

I thought I knew everything, but I knew nothing. I was wrong about everything.

The way Jeremiah’s eyes carried a special sparkle as my sister and brother piled out of the car in front of me. His lips curled into that same pearly white smile and his eyes crinkling in the corners like always. His wrinkles a permanent tattoo of his life and his happiness that he carried with him.

I knew Belly was pretty. She always had been. I’d been the one to express that to her. Being her older sister, even by only a couple years, I could see it far before anyone else could. I could see how gorgeous my little sister was with her long brown hair and her contagious laughter. She would grow into herself, I promised her that and I couldn’t have been happier watching as she found that new confidence in her appearance the older she grew.

Still, the joy I felt for her could not overpower the sting that settled in my chest the moment I realized that Jeremiah’s warm welcome was not directed towards me like all the years before. His eyes drawn to Belly. The newer, prettier Conklin. The youngest, the most at ease with her surroundings. The one who took everything with a grain of salt.

And suddenly it made sense. If I was the stars in his eyes, then Belly was the sun. The bigger, brighter star. How could this boyish ray of sunshine fall for the more mellow sister when he had his perfect reflection right in front of him?

Realizing that was what caused the downward spiral, I think. That was the turning point and suddenly the switch went off.

I wasn’t ugly, I knew that. I once had a few boyfriends back home, all of which took great interest in me, but all of which never stuck. And it was obvious as to why. My head knew it would be good to try something new, but my heart was suffocating in the love I had felt for Jeremiah. I couldn’t love someone else if my heart belonged to another.

Only, Jeremiah’s heart belonged to Belly. It was obvious. The way they laughed. The way they talked. The way they touched. I wanted him to touch me like that. I wanted his arm slung around my shoulders and I wanted his hand resting on my thigh. I wanted him to whisper his secrets into my ears again. I wanted all of it, while Belly treated it like a chore.

Like she was bored by the constant affection and the strong attraction they had for one another. Yet, even with the heaviness in my heart, and the bitterness at the tip of my tongue, I wasn’t the one he was holding down on the beach. And that could never be me. I was the sister standing in my room back at the summer home, a bikini tied around my chest as a top, jean shorts hanging low on my hips while her fingers pulled at the skin on her stomach and pushed against her stomach to make it impossibly flatter.

A routine I’d developed since the beginning of summer. Sleeping in later, staying up longer. Skipping meals by accident and curling up as small as I could while everyone else ate dinner. It was almost as if I didn’t exist. And maybe I didn’t because it seemed like nobody cared.

That was my greatest fear. What started as a minor jealousy and a spiral of undiscovered insecurities morphed into a pool of fear. Not for how I looked, but for who I was. Now that everyone was growing up, now that Conrad and I were going off to college, would anyone still need me? Belly was confident now, she didn’t need my pep talks. My mom had her best friend and Jeremiah had Belly. Nobody needed me. Nobody cared.

Knock, knock.

Or I thought nobody cared.

“Hey, Conklin?” The voice was quiet, afraid to pierce the peacefulness of the silence.

My hands slipped away from my body, my posture straightening and my eyes making friends with the ground.

“Oh, hey. Aren’t you supposed to be at that bonfire with the others?” I didn’t make a point to turn around, staying stuck in place. “I didn’t want to be there.” He confessed.

“Oh.” His eyes caught mine in the mirror. Body leaning against the doorframe and hands playing with his tied hoodie strings.

“Besides, it’s boring without you there, you know? Don’t really enjoy being there without my beer pong partner.” We laughed, my eyes averting his quickly while it died down back to a comfortable silence.

Footsteps treaded across the furnished wood floors, socks padding carefully, closer.

“Hey.” The call was gentle and not in the slightest bit pushy or pressured.

I bit my lip, feeling suddenly naked with Conrad so close. My arms came to wrap around my torso like a blanket to shield my most vulnerable parts of myself.

“Hey, no. Come one y/n. Don’t do that. Don’t hide.” His hands found mine, covering them in his warmth, pulling away at each finger that dug into my skin slowly. Pulling off that divider I’d placed between us.

His head found my shoulder. His chin tucked comfortably on top of my shoulder blade, his arms hugging around my body, loosely, but enough to relay that he was there. He was close.

“What’s going on with you?” I felt his eyes looking at me, even from the floor. I shook my head.

“Nothing.” I lied through my teeth.

“I know you better than that, Y/n. You’re my best friend.” I nodded, feeling the tears piling on my waterline until everything was a watercolor version of itself.

“You avoid everyone but the moms and me. You don’t surf in the mornings anymore. You skip dinner to go be by yourself some more. You’re dropping weight scarcely quick. This isn’t like you. Something’s bugging you. Why can’t you just let me in?” My response wasn’t something I planned. His confession something I wasn’t prepared for. The low gravel of the mumbles. So quiet and normal that it was like he never even said it. But I knew he had because there he was, looking over my shoulder to watch me through the mirror. Admiring each part of what I had to offer like it was gold. How could I have been so blind to how much Conrad cared? How his touches lingered longer than before, how he cared for me like Jeremiah once did.

A sob wracked through my body, lips parting and chest heaving as I crumbled beneath his touch. My hands grasped onto his arms, clawing at him in panic. Trying to hold onto him. He let me hold onto him.

He lowered us slowly to the ground, his breath fanning off of my face and his body giving mine a home as I curled up impossibly close to him. Still it wasn’t enough. I needed to be closer, to not be alone. To not feel like the world was constantly out of reach.

It was beyond Jeremiah and Belly. It always had been. It had only been my wake up call to how quickly things were moving and how soon I would be unimportant. How soon I would be alone.

Conrad didn’t try to shush me, or talk to me. It was like a silent conversation, confirming all his suspicions. He always knew me better than myself. He always knew there was something wrong deep down. He always saw right through me.

I saw right through me.

It was hard to tell when the tears stopped and turned into dried out cries muffled into the collar of his shirt. Who knows how long ago I became dehydrated. But Conrad stayed put, sitting with me silently until my last cry came out in a soft sniffle.

Lifting my head, I looked to him, a mess. And I saw he was crying too. His eyes were just as wet as mine and his cheeks streaked with past tears. His lip didn’t quiver like mine, but Conrad was always better at holding it together.

So, he didn’t sob like me. No, instead of breaking down like I had when our eyes met, he pulled me in. And he didn’t let me go no matter how hard I squirmed. It was like he breathed me in. And suddenly, in the moment of silence, I heard a whisper against my hair. Only a short sentence, but one that meant everything. One that made me feel less alone as I realized Conrad felt the same way.

“Help me hold onto you.” He begged.

And suddenly, everything I was insecure of, everything that I had let slip, seemed unimportant compared to the boy on his knees for me.

#tsitp conrad #conrad x reader #team conrad #conrad fisher #conrad fisher angst

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ivystoryweaver · 1 year ago

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With You part 10

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Married, back in London, Jake comes crashing back into your life

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is married to the system.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/notables: A n g s t, complicated relationship stuff, cursing. Alcoholism, violence, injury, blood. Lmk if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

Leaning down, he brushed his lips over your cheek in a tender kiss... the softness of you electrifying him utterly.

"I'll never let him near you," he vowed, his fingers reaching up to trace his lips where your skin had touched. "And I'll never let him take Marc away from you."

“Read to me, husband," you purred into Steven's ear, curling close to his side.

His eyes cut over to you and he grinned, reaching to lace his fingers with yours. You sighed, your heart overflowing as your fingertip traced over the gold band he now wore.

"Long flight, darling. You sure you don't want to rest a bit?" He suggested, gazing at you adoringly.

"Maybe I will if you read to me," you teased, pulling your intertwined fingers to your mouth, your lips grazing his ring.

You may have been on an airplane, but it still felt like your own little world.

After a few chapters about ancient Egypt, and a long nap, you awakened to your husband watching an 80's action film on the screen on the back of the chair in front of him.

Marc.

Latching on to his arm, your fingers found his again, just to toy with his wedding band.

"Hey, baby," he softly greeted, kissing your temple. "Steven bore you to death reading about the pyramids?"

"Absolutely not," you playfully defended, "I just find the sound of his voice soothing."

"You know what's soothing?" He pointed to his screen with a grin. "RoboCop."

You groaned. "How much longer till we land?"

"We're not even halfway," Marc replied, glancing at his watch.

"Maybe RoboCop will put me back to sleep."

Your honeymoon was magical.

All your hard work, saving and planning paid off, and you and your husband had the time of your lives. Sun-drenched days, passion-filled nights, nothing but relaxation in paradise. Playing games with Marc, reading with Steven, delicious food (and a delicious husband).

It was just the refreshing reset you needed to kick off married life.

Truthfully, you wondered about Jake - you missed him, and the tiniest part of you hoped nothing would interfere with your little bubble of temporary heaven.

Everything seemed fine - you made it back to London refreshed and ready to proudly sport your wedding band everywhere you went. You didn't care if it seemed a little old fashioned. You were proud and thrilled to have a wonderful, dreamy husband.

Steven transitioned into summer session classes at uni while you contemplated advancing your nursing career. Marc seemed steady, albeit a little quiet. Not brooding quiet - more like...observationally quiet.

The two of you had discussed what he might like to do. After all, he had spent years as a man of action. But he insisted he was content in his current role, making sure Steven got the education and credentials he deserved.

Still...something about him seemed a little off. There was no evidence of him drinking, and, even in his darkest times, drinking was never something he hid from you. It was a bit difficult to hide anyway, but he never even attempted to. So you didn't suspect alcohol as the culprit.

After insisting he was fine for a few weeks, he finally admitted how hard he had been trying to communicate with Jake. You were a little surprised at first, but only at first. After all, Marc had never enjoyed the feeling of not having control - whether over himself, his life, or just in general.

By now, an eternity had passed since you last saw or spoke to Jake. When Marc admitted that he had spoken to Jake quite a few times since your wedding, you had to bite your tongue to keep from asking, 'Did he ask about me?'

You already knew the answer. Jake was not interested in all things you. Besides, this wasn't about you anyway - it was about Marc as a system. Instead, you asked Marc why he didn't say something sooner to you about speaking to Jake.

"I didn't want to upset you," was his explanation. Fair enough.

Instead of starting an interrogation with questions like, 'Does he still work for Khonshu?' and the like, you kept your focus on your husband and asked, "Is that why you've been so quiet?"

Chewing on his lip, he waited a minute before replying, "Maybe. Just trying to figure some stuff out."

The look on your face clued him in to the fact that he was being vague at best. So he knelt down in front you as you sat in Steven's reading chair, took your hands and said, "I'll tell you more soon. I'm working really hard to figure out how we can all be happy - how we can all coexist and really be safe, and free of Khonshu for good."

Oh.

If Marc was working on something Khonshu-related, then his contemplativeness tracked. He was so earnest in trying to confess this little piece to you, that you decided to believe him and not prod too much right now. Just for now.

The very next night, you came home from work a little late - a night quite reminiscent of the one when you had found Marc drinking - to find your flat dark and mysteriously quiet.

Calling your husband's names, you headed to the bedroom to get changed when you heard a thump and a groan from inside the bathroom. Panic shot through your body as you bolted through the door, shoving it open to find...Marc? slumped over the closed toilet, shirtless, clutching his side and groaning in pain.

"Baby - what happened?" You gasped, kneeling down and switching into triage mode. That's when you saw blood pooling around his hand, oozing through his fingers.

What the hell...

"Shit, you're bleeding," you cried, stating the obvious while jerking the nearest towel off the rack to press to his side.

He grunted, reluctantly dragging his crimson-coated fingers away, hissing as you pressed the cloth into his side to staunch the bleeding.

Tears burned your eyes at the sight of your wounded husband, but only for a second, as your medical training kicked in. You noticed right away that his knuckles were bloodied, as if he'd punched a wall. His lip was split, his eyebrow was cut and there were even a few angry scrapes across his cheek.

"Hold this here for me, baby, I need to get the first aid kit," you sniffed, pulling his hand back over the towel covering his bleeding side. Most of what you needed was in the bathroom with you, so as soon as you were ready, you sat down and reached for his fingers.

"Here, let me see," you instructed. You gasped at the deep, angry gash in his flesh. "Okay...okay, I need to stitch this up, honey, it's deep." Pausing for a moment, you realized it was a horrible idea to tend to your husband, especially with tears stinging your eyes.

"Actually, here," you pushed the cloth back over his wound, making him groan in agony. "Come on. We need to get to A&E - "

"No," he firmly protested. "You do it."

You shook your head. "Marc, listen, I really should-"

"No," he repeated, his eyes finding yours. "Too many questions. No police."

Shaking your head in frustration, you grabbed your first aid kit, which was really a small medical bag, containing enough supplies to be useful in an emergency.

You would do anything for Marc, but right now, you were confused and growing more worried by the moment. "What were you even doing? How did you get hurt?" You huffed, gathering the supplies to mend his wound.

He didn't answer, and that pissed you right off.

Pausing just for a moment, you glared at him, before gathering some clean towels. Without a word, you hurried to the kitchen to set the kettle to boil, just in case you needed to sterilize anything the old fashioned way.

When you returned to your husband, you had calmed down a little.

Pulling the bloody towel away from his side once more, you started to clean the angry gash, attempting to get ready to close the wound.

A few minutes later, you instructed Marc to move to the bed. You certainly weren't going to stitch him up on the bathroom floor.

Pausing for a moment, you granted him a reluctantly sympathetic smile, brushing his sweaty curls away from his forehead.

"This is going to hurt. I don't have anything to give you - anything to numb the pain," you carefully explained. "Are you sure you don't want to go to A&E?"

He nodded once, but still wouldn't speak to you.

"How did you get hurt, Marc? I thought you still had...healing armor or whatever. From Khonshu." And why was he acting so weird?

The instant you had the thought that Marc really didn't seem himself was the moment you knew.

Staring into his eyes challengingly, you whispered his name. "Marc?"

Swallowing hard, he drew a trembling breath. "Not Marc."

All the blood drained from your face. You blinked rapidly, completely blindsided and so confused.

"Jake?"

Averting his gaze, he gave you another nod.

Despite all your medical training, you froze. Lips trembling, you reached up to his face, carefully minding his scrapes and cuts as your fingers traced his jaw. It had been so, so long...

"You're hurt," you whispered, as if it were new information. In a way, it was. Because a moment ago, in your mind, Marc was the one hurt. That was bad enough, but now, after weeks on end of hearing nothing...

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his eyes drifting closed at your touch. "Please help me."

Releasing his jaw, you covered his hand with yours, squeezing gently before nodding.

"This will hurt, Jake," you reminded him, as if he wasn't there a minute ago to hear your warning.

"'S okay. I deserve it." Closing his eyes, he laid his head down and waited for the pain.

You were going to fucking kill someone. Either Jake, for asking you to stitch him up rather than go to A&E while you were reeling, having not seen him for so long. Or Khonshu for honestly being a giant pile of dicks. Maybe even Marc. You weren't sure why you were mad at Marc, but you had a feeling he was involved in this steaming pile of shit somehow. The only one who might get a pass was Steven, unless he was in on this Khonshu bullshit too.

Jake could feel your anger. It was rolling off of you, electrifying the whole bedroom. But your hands remained steady, tender and professional, dancing over his wounded flesh. The dichotomy of your righteous anger and your healing mercy made him burn for you.

Each stab with your needle felt like a consequence for how he'd failed you. Failed Marc.

It was silent torture, but finally you finished, cleaning and bandaging the wound. You had thought he might pass out from exhaustion or pain, but he simply stared at the ceiling and said nothing.

Not one fucking word of explanation, or even a cry of pain.

With a sigh, you left the room to wash up and get rid of some of the bloody dressings and instruments. The sutures were not your best work - after all, you didn't stitch people up on a daily basis. But it would have to do.

Feeling exhausted in every way, you readied yourself to tend to the rest of Jake's injuries, bracing yourself for stone cold silence. It fucking hurt, but he was more than clear on the matter of not communicating with you.

Returning to Jake's beside, you said nothing. You simply lifted his hand into your own, carefully cleaning his bloody knuckles. You thought about making a joke along the lines of 'I should see the other guy, right?' but ultimately decided against it. It seemed pointless to even try.

Grabbing a couple extra pillows from your side of the bed, you handed them to Jake, who had been watching you warily.

"I need you to prop up so I can take a look at the cuts on your lip and over your eye," you explained.

He obeyed, shifting the pillows into position before protesting. "You've done enough, cariño, you don't have to - "

"Like hell I don't," you snapped. "My husband's body is hurt..." you exhaled shakily, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "You're hurt, Jake. I'm doing this."

At first, he wouldn't look at you. You tended to the cut over his eye first - it was the worst one. "You'll need a bandage here...and it might even leave a scar through your eyebrow."

"I'm sorry," he repeated his apology from earlier. He didn't know what else to say.

"For what exactly?" You questioned, cleaning the scrapes along his cheek. You were close to him now, fingers brushing, eyes flickering, gazes locking. His breath ghosted over your hand.

"For everything," he offered, his own hand stretching out to grasp your elbow.

You jerked away. "That's really fucking specific, Jake. Thanks."

"Mi vida -" he started.

"Don't!" You bit out, glaring at him, your chest heaving. "Don't call me that. Just...just tell me how you got hurt. Tell me why you're not healing. Is Khonshu gone?"

Jake shook his head. "No. But our armor is."

"Why?" you gasped. "How can you...do your job if he doesn't protect you? I thought that was all part of the avatar package."

Jake didn't exactly feel comfortable with this line of questioning but he honestly didn't know what to do anymore.

"I think..." he started, clearing his throat. "I think it's...punishment."

Every negative and intense emotion coursing through your body narrowed to one. Terror.

"What?" You cried, placing your hands on his bare chest. "Khonshu did this to you?"

"No. He did this to Marc."

If there was anything Jake hated, it was causing you pain. He had made a sort of strange peace about staying out of your daily life, to protect you and Marc. He viewed returning your unopened letters as a mercy - as a way to let you off the hook.

But as you lay your head down on his chest, grasping his hand desperately, your warm tears flowing onto his bare skin, he knew he had utterly failed and completely misunderstood what you needed. After endless weeks of silence, it took one choked sob and desperate plea from you for him to break.

"Why would he hurt Marc?" You pleaded, clinging to Jake like a child would to a parent after a bad dream. "Please...please tell me what he did to my husband."

Jake smoothed his hand over your shoulder, rubbing your arm in a small attempt to comfort you, electrified by the nearness of you.

"I...um," releasing a shuddering breath, he decided you deserved to know. "Marc has been...talking to me. And Khonshu."

Jake went on to explain how Marc had been staying up late, attempting to maintain control of the body. How he had even gone out at night and summoned the suit -several times, in fact.

"Why?" You sniffled, leaning into Jake's embrace.

"I think he's trying to negotiate our freedom," Jake explained. "But...I don't want him to."

"Because it's your job," you spat, accusingly.

"No, mi amor," he gently corrected you. "Because the first night he put on the suit, he completely panicked, and almost bought some liquor."

You cried harder. What the hell was going on with them?

"He didn't drink," Jake clarified. "I was able to take the body after he started walking home. And the reason I don't want him doing all this is because I can't protect him if I'm not Moon Knight. If I'm not in control. If Marc is out there, and gets hurt, Khonshu doesn't care. He doesn't care if Marc drinks - in fact, he probably prefers it that way."

Easing his arms around you, Jake hissed at the stretch he felt in his stitched injury.

"Khonshu doesn't want me distracted," Jake explained. "By Marc or by you. He wants someone completely devoted to being his fist - to watching over the travelers of the night."

"That's bullshit," you argued, though most of your ire had given way to a form of despair. "If he was protecting people, he wouldn't have done this to Marc. He wouldn't have hurt him."

You and Jake lay on your bed, completely wrapped up in one another. He had tried to stay away for your sake, but if you needed this from him, he would gladly give it.

"He didn't hurt Marc directly," Jake went on. "He just..." blowing out a sigh, he mustered the courage to tell you. "He told Marc he was a worthless weakling and that he would pay for interfering. So..." Jake couldn't go on for a moment.

"What?" you whimpered, nuzzling your face into his neck as if you could hide from the horrible ancient deity.

"Khonshu waited until Marc was in the middle of a fight - he was trying to save a woman from...it was three men. Assholes..." His jaw clenched in fury. "Khonshu decided then to take away his armor. So...they beat the hell out of Marc and...they stabbed him. Cut him with a piece of glass. That's when I took the body." Too fucking late, as it turned out.

You broke down. You couldn't take it anymore. When would your husband ever be free of this torment?

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Jake said mournfully. "I tried so hard to protect him. To protect you from exactly a moment like this. I'm so sorry, mi vida."

He held you for a while, soothingly rubbing your back, thrilled and bewildered by the chance to hold you like this. To be able to give you some measure of comfort. To bear the injury Marc had sustained.

"Why do you call me that?" You softly questioned after your sobs had quieted. "Mi vida? Mi amor? I'm not."

Ouch. Jake's heart splintered.

But you went on to explain. "I've respected your choices, Jake, and your life on your own. But why do you call me those things if you don't even want to know me?"

"I told you - I do know you," he reminded you, his voice filled with conviction. "I think about you every day."

Propping up on one elbow, you peered down at him. "Then why won't you let me know you? Why did you return my letters?"

"To protect you," he insisted, wincing as you rolled your eyes. "From Khonshu. From everything. It was my fault Marc was drinking again. All of this pain, everything was because I wasn't doing enough - "

"Then let us help you, Jake," you pleaded. "Let's figure this out together."

"Marc tried and look what happened!" Jake fired back, flinching away from you. "He got hurt. He could have gotten us killed!"

Trying to sit up, Jake hissed in pain, his skin burning as your hands fussed over him, trying to help him.

"What happened tonight is exactly what I've been trying to prevent. No one is listening to me!"

"Because you don't fucking say anything!" You cried, climbing off the bed, scrambling around to stand in front of him. "All you do is play the martyr - lay down every piece of your existence on this sacrificial altar to a spiteful god! You don't talk to anyone, you don't know anyone, you don't do anything here but sleep!"

Tears streaked down your face as your lip trembled. "No one can listen to you because you've made yourself a ghost! You can't hear a ghost, Jake. You can't see or know a ghost. You can't love a ghost..."

Wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, you whispered woefully. "But I love you anyway. I'm here and I'll listen to you. You just don't say anything. And I know it's because of me. I know you can't stand to be around me - I guess you despise me - but you could at least try harder with Marc and Steven - "

"What did you say?" Jake breathed, his voice cold. With tremendous effort, he pushed himself off the bed and stood before you, eyes wet with fresh tears. "You think I despise you? How can you..." He trailed off, raking his fingers through his curls. "You really have no idea, do you?"

Shaking your head mutely, you stared up at him, so sweetly broken.

"You're right," he finally said, his head dropping in shame.

With a small whimper, you started to sniffle again, thinking you were right about how he couldn't stand to be around you.

"I haven't said anything to you. I've tried so fucking hard not to."

"Why?" you whispered. "What did I do wrong?"

He completely melted, reaching out for you. "Nothing, mi alma. Not one thing, ever."

Still confused, you shook your head mournfully. "Then why don't you..."

Murmuring your name, he brushed tender fingers over your cheek. "I was trying to keep you out of this - to keep you safe - to set you free - but I can see now - I only made everything worse."

Touching his forehead to yours, he wrapped one arm around your waist. "De verdad lo siento, mi amor. Por favor perdóname. Te amo."

He normally only spoke English with you, simply because that's what you spoke with Marc and Steven. But in his overflow of emotion, that's what came out.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"I understand," you whispered, your eyes wide, with a sliver of hope. "But you can say it again."

Tracing your lips with his thumb, he tried to show you everything inside his heart. He didn't deserve you, but he couldn't live without you anymore.

"I'm so sorry," he translated, brushing his lips over yours. "My love... please forgive me." Rubbing his nose against yours tenderly, he breathed against your mouth. "I love you."

next->

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