#TW: Character death

[dailyflicks]

The Amazing Spider-Man 2 2014, dir. Marc Webb

[tarrynightss]

Thinking about poor Ghost losing his love…

Tw: major character death, blood

The apartment was completely quiet as Simon stepped in, relocking the door behind himself as he always did, pushing down the hood covering his face.

“Love? I’m home.”

He arched an eyebrow as he got no response. Usually you would run up to him, or at the very least call out to him from wherever you were. He called out your name as he stomped through the hallway, not bothering to take off his shoes as his heart started racing. Had you gone out without telling him? Had you fallen asleep? He opened the door to the living room, and all those thoughts turned into mere optimistic dreams.

You sat slumped on the couch, your hands laying flat beside you and your head hanging back at an uncomfortable angle. He didn’t even need to glance downwards at the blood spray or the dark puddle leaking out from under the couch. You were dead.

Simon stood frozen, staring at you, the reality not sinking in. It wasn’t you. It was just another corpse, like many he had seen before. It wasn’t you. Yet even as he repeated that mantra over and over again, his eyes watered up, light catching on the ring around your finger. The one he had used to propose to you to two months ago.

Your name left his throat in a strangled sob as he stumbled forward, crashing to his knee on the couch next to you. He gently cradled the back of your head, feeling his stomach churn at the sickening feeling of the blood and small yet noticeable hole under his fingers. He held you in his arms, taking in the almost peaceful look on your face as you blankly stared forward.

The sob that had been building up finally came out, and despite knowing he shouldn’t move you, he couldn’t find it in himself to care, crushing your motionless form against himself.

“No! No! God!”

He screamed as he pressed your bloodied head against his hoodie, stroking your hair from your face like it might bother you. This was because of him. There was no note, but he was certain of it. Someone had sniped you, clean and from afar, right through the large apartment window. It could’ve been Simon’s job, expertly done.

The sobs he let out wrecked his whole body, hugging you tighter and tighter against himself. The hard reality was right in front of him, yet he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it. Just seven hours ago he had seen you, smiling brightly and kissing his cheek as he left. He should’ve stayed, should’ve been the one to take the bullet, but instead he had left as he always did. ‘I’m worried this job will one day cost you your life, Simon.’ He remembered your words, how you had frowned in sorrow at the thought. You were right. He had lost his life, his light, his everything.

Your skin was already cold as he pressed a weeping kiss to your forehead, fingers swiping gently over your eyelids to close them forever.

“I’m sorry, god, I’m so sorry.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, whispering apologies over and over again like it would change anything. As god knows how long passed, his grief started to get laced with anger, which grew and grew until he was gritting his teeth. Whoever did this would pay. They would suffer, over and over again till it was no longer possible to keep them alive. It would be a small comfort to the pain he felt, but he owed you this much. He owed you revenge.

Slowly, he put your body down on the couch, laying you flat like you were sleeping. It pained him greatly to leave you here, but he had to act fast. He would make sure someone picked up your body and had it taken care of. Before he left, he took your ring from your finger, stuffing it in the pocket over his heart.

“I’m sorry, love, don’t be sad, I won’t be long.”

With that promise, he left, rage and a burning need for revenge making his rattled body move. One step at a time, and then one stab at the time.

[quackity-rp-blog]

Everything had been set in place.

Today, the casino was closed, long enough for the guests to be gone, but for Quackity to still be in his office making up paperwork, so the Dogs stepped outside.

Rotty and Bull had begrudgingly gone along with the plan as Shepherd led them through it. Each stood just outside the property line, their shadows casting long black forms of themselves onto the tall casino walls. Today it would crumble. The boys pushed and shoved each other, playfully. The weight of the situation not creeping in until a text came through. With a breath, the boys looked around. Shepherd stepped forward.

Basset stood outside Quackity's house. He'd ran Cone to Rev's so he would be safe. Alaska was supposed to be here, he was supposed to be the one to blow the lid. But Basset didn't see him. He stood outside Quackity's yard, looking down at the control to his hand. As his phone buzzed, he pushed the button with a small click.

The sand shifted as thousands of pounds of materials were sent sky high. The boys at the casino running from the aftermath towards Shepherd's truck as chunks crashed into neighboring buildings, hooting and hollering at a job well done. Gunpowder and smoke clouded the sky like it had suddenly become night.

Quackity's house crumbled. Glass shot in every direction and a fire screamed out of the rubble. Chunks of foundation and beaten ground, covered the area as Basset tried. To run. He tried. He wasn't ready. The remnants of a family home, shattered into the ground. Basset took cover in a neighboring storm shelter, crying as he heard crashes of the fire spreading.

Under thousands if not millions of pounds of rubble, a heartbeat fell still.

@clinging-to-a-dream

[shanalikeanna]

"....What have you done?" Fic (Bad Ending) Author: @pluck-heartstrings Read the full fic here I'm BEGGING YOU it's really good I promise TW:Blood under the cut

[tamdoesart]

Coming back to a world where your loved one is no more.. it’s cruel.

I joined a wonderful lil discord server recently & took part in an event to create something inspired by the season 2 teasers we got. Since I missed the hayday, I had to squeeze in some Vanco somehow.

Anyway, enjoy the angst! I’m sorry :’D

[halfagone]

Trick or Treat! :3

...hmm no pics eh? Ill be in your dms mwahaha

And I was so happy to see you there 🤣❤️

I don't know what everyone else has been doing for trick or treat in their inbox, but this is my blog and I make the rules. So here's some brain rot:

---

Danny had braced for the pain but it had still left him sorely unprepared. He hissed a breath as the balm, sticky and watery all at once, oozed over his arm in generous amounts. His flesh burned to the touch, Damian's hand on his like a wrought iron brand.

"I blame you for this," Danny muttered, petulant. There was very little heat behind it. He just felt better to get it off his chest. Let Damian know where they stand.

"I'm sure you do," Damian told him. Like Danny was a child meant to be indulged and pampered. It chafed, to be honest. Even if it was kind of true.

Damian had to be ten years his senior like this, not at all the twin he'd grown up with, loathed and loved in turn. Damian was twenty-five. Danny never thought one of them could make it to twenty-five.

His evil version had been twenty-four. Would have been twenty-four, if not for Plasmius. He never would have made it to twenty-five either.

It was so weird. Damian looked so old. He had just graduated university. Danny had always thought of uni kids as grown-ups, adults, people who had already made it in the world. Damian just looked tired, like he wanted to go back to bed. Damian at fourteen had been more put-together than this.

"Do you think if I found myself in this timeline the world would collapse on itself from the paradox?" Danny asked. It wasn't a fit of daydreaming, although Damian certainly seemed to take it like one.

His not-so-twin-twin snorted. "I couldn't begin to tell you what the laws of this universe are. I would not be surprised if its maker were sneering and laughing at us now." Damian rolled his eyes. "You are usually much better at distraction, even at this age. Losing your touch, ahki?"

"It was a serious question," Danny pouted, "you clearly don't want me here. And if this really is the future then I should know Clockwork already and he could just send me back-"

"What makes you think," Damian slid his gaze up to his face, "that I do not want you here?"

Danny made a face. "When have you ever wanted me?"

Damian didn't reply.

He stayed silent as he wrapped Danny's burn marks with an equally generous amount of bandages. Danny tested the limb, brows raised, impressed. Of course Damian was a perfectionist, always had been, so maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. But Damian did so love to make his life difficult.

"You can't see him, anyways. Your future."

Danny blinked, lashes fluttering, and Damian met his gaze head on.

"He's already dead."

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Written for @steddieangstyaugust, day 6 - "Who did this?" Childhood friends Steddie, delayed because I'm still sick and sleeping most of the time, sorry. I will catch up eventually.

When he was eight years old, someone up there sent Steve Harrington a miracle. It was't flashy, shiny or anything, so it took him a while to recognize that it was indeed a miracle. It came in form of a boy about a year older than him, with a mop of wavy dark hair, large brown eyes and even larger smile - Eddie Munson.

Steve was doing well at that time, or so everyone kept telling him. His parents had the money to buy a big house, get him a babysitter when needed, send him to all the activities he wanted - only they were rarely with him. But that was fine. When you have everything that so many others don't, you can hardly complain about something as mundane as feeling lonely.

God, Steve felt lonely.

He was the rich kid, the one with the "nothing is ever good enough" parents, and that rarely won him any friends. They all expected him to organize parties, to get a bouncy castle for the afternoon, to bring a cake whenever they asked, but it felt like they never really wanted him. Steve found the feeling painfully familiar.

It took one gentle rejection of another set of requests and demands, a suggestion that maybe they could just go and check out the fair that was just unpacking nearby, and everyone lost interest in him, called him cheap. Unpacking meant that it wasn't open yet, and that Steve wouldn't pay for the rides. He was just leaving the playground when he heard a high, loud voice call out to him. "Hey, hey you! Yellow t-shirt! Wait!"

Steve stopped and turned around, glaring at the skinny kid rushing to him. "Yellow t-shirt?" he asked, wondering if he should be insulted.

"Well, duh. I don't know your name yet. I'm new here." The boy stopped in front of him with a wide smile plastered on his face. "But now I will. I'm Eddie, I moved in with my uncle a week ago. You are?"

Steve offered him his hand. "Steve. So, uh..."

Eddie laughed and shook his hand. "Hi, Steve. Now, did these sharp ears hear something about a fair?"

Something lifted in Steve's chest, something he never knew weighed so heavily on him. "Sure did!"

His new friend - only friend - beamed at him. "Then lead the way! "

..

It was after they properly inspected all the attractions that the fair had to offer that Steve noticed a bruise on Eddie's arm. It was pure chance - he and Eddie were swinging on a tree branch and Eddie's sleeve fell back, revealing a nasty bruise. It must have been older, but the size and discoloration were still enough to make Steve concerned.

"Who did this?" he asked, pointing at Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie seemed to freeze mid-swing. He dropped to the ground and pulled the sleeve back. "No one. I fell, I'm clumsy like that." He spoke fast and with that carefree smile, but Steve's gut had a mind of its own.

"Eddie. You don't get bruises like that from falling," he said and despite Eddie's protests, leaned in to examine the injury. He'd seen some like that, on kids whose parents tended to fight a lot, or at least according to his parents, "had a nasty violent streak". He always tried not to stare, but he knew what they meant. "It looks...looks like a punch. Did someone do that to you?"

The smile faltered and Eddie dropped his gaze to the ground. He shuffled around awkwardly on his feet, as if he was deciding whether to run. "Uh...yeah. I mean. It's probably not a secret, it's just that it used to? I mean," he added, noticing the confused look on Steve's face, "my dad tends to get angry a lot when things don't go well. He lost his job, mom left us...so yeah. That's also why I'm here, in a new town, new school...my uncle lives here. I'm staying with him."

"Is he..." wavered Steve, "...is he angry too? Will you be OK?"

If there were any tears in Eddie's eyes, they were gone in an instant. "Wayne? Oh no. He's great. He's a bit scary, but he's so nice. You know, he gave me his own bed. I told him I don't need it, but he didn't care. And he gave me some really cool books! You'll never have to worry about Wayne. Or me. That's a promise."

..

Steve didn't think Eddie meant to lie. "You'll never have to worry about me" sounded wonderful, but it never worked that way with them. And Steve found himself asking Eddie the same question over and over.

"Who did this?" he asked as Eddie came to the school with his head shaved, gently coaxing an answer from Eddie that his classmates thought cutting his hair would be a great prank. "It'll grow back even thicker, just you wait," he snickered, but Steve could see his restless fingers reaching out for the strands that were no longer there.

"Who did this?" he asked as he was helping Eddie fish out his school supplies from the pool. Eddie just laughed it off, saying he'd pissed of a bunch of seniors by not lying to their girlfriends about cheating.

"Who did this?" he asked as he saw Eddie with a black eye and his locker painted over with the word FAGGOT. Eddie shrugged and slammed the locker shut. "It's not like they're wrong," he whispered to Steve. When Steve turned up at his and Wayne's trailer in the evening, Eddie hugged him tight, as if he thought he'd never see Steve again over that admission. As if.

"Who did this?" he asked as he was picking Eddie up after his roleplaying club, Hellfire, and seeing that someone cut Eddie's tires. Eddie just laughed and explained that apparently dragons and adventures were the work of Satan now.

"Who did this?" he asked in marvel as he saw Eddie's first tattoo. It was so crooked and imperfect, but so much like Eddie. When he admitted it was his own work, Steve asked for one of his own.

"Who did this?" he laughed as he kissed Eddie for the first time and found a small braid hidden in his mane of hair. When Eddie admitted he made that one himself, that he gets restless sometimes, Steve asked to teach him. So he could always braid Eddie's hair for him when they eventually moved away together.

But maybe the answers didn't matter.

The answer to "who did this?" didn't matter to the mob that gathered after Chrissy Cunningham's death. They decided they knew already.

"Who did this?" didn't matter when Steve raced to the hospital with badly injured Eddie in his car, the wound on his head bleeding onto Steve's pristine window.

"Who did this?" lost its importance when Wayne and Steve waited for the dreaded news.

And knowing who did it certainly doesn't help Steve now, as he and Wayne are picking up a headstone for Eddie's final resting place.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1362

CW: character death.

Blood dripped past Hero’s fingers, mixing with the rain and escaping down the road. Their sidekick lay motionless in their arms, slowly growing cold.

The villain’s laughter rang out through the streets, echoing in Hero’s head. Soon, they saw a different kind of red.

[the-elusive-soleil]

Silm AU with the Feanorian death order reversed

I apologize in advance, but:

Maglor regrets the Oath and kinslaying on the voyage over. He stays aboard the ships, meaning to stow away back, but falls asleep (it's been a long day) and wakes up on fire. His brothers and father become aware of the situation when they hear the screams. Maglor's cries become a permanent echo in that area, much like Morgoth's at Lammoth.

Maedhros does not have the clearest head in the ensuing battle. He gets separated from the others and is beaten into the dust by balrogs. His family isn't even able to retrieve a body.

Feanor is very shaken and very mad. He doesn't parlay with Morgoth, not even for the Silmarils. He and his remaining people spread out across Beleriand and establish fortresses.

Things are chilly at best when the Helcaraxe group arrives thirty years later. Feanor does not yield the crown. The two groups don't fight, because Morgoth's a bigger problem, but they're not working together. Partially because Fingon refuses to speak to the Feanorians after he hears what happened to Maedhros, and Finrod won't even be near them after what they did to Maglor.

Feanor is very careful with his remaining sons.

Time goes on, the Bragollach occurs on schedule, and so does the Silmaril quest, except that C&C aren't in Nargothrond because of the Finrod-hating-them thing, so Celegorm never meets Luthien. She doesn't get Huan, but still manages just fine.

We do still eventually get to the point of "Silmaril at Doriath" + "no Girdle" + "stubborn Dior" = Second Kinslaying. But this time Celegorm's not grudge-fueled and Curufin's not having to cover for Huan and watch his back, and... Amrod and Amras die instead.

Elwing escapes to the Havens. Elured and Elurin aren't left to die, but Feanor has no interest in keeping around Sindar reminders of his dead sons. He has them sent away. (They don't know where Elwing and the Silmaril are, so ransom isn't an option.)

Then they do learn where the Silmaril is, at Sirion. They attack. Caranthir dies.

Curufin has been doing increasingly badly since Celebrimbor forswore him right before Doriath. Celegorm decides the solution is to pick up Elwing's twin sons and get Curufin to help parent them.

Feanor isn't thrilled, but he can't say no when he sees how Curufin latches on.

Love grows after between them, as little might be thought.

War of Wrath happens. Feanor keeps his tattered family out of it, but contributes weapon designs via courier. The Host uses said designs, because even if he's problematic they need this stuff.

Afterward, the claiming and theft of the Silmarils proceeds. Curufin sends the twins to Celebrimbor to preempt another rejection.

He's hollow, disillusioned, attacking the camp. The guards don't have to work very hard to kill him.

Feanor and Celegorm escape. The Silmarils burn them. Celegorm starts laughing and laughing and can't stop, and backs away...right into a chasm of fire.

Feanor flings the Silmarils after him, hating the things he chased so long at the cost of his sons, and staggers to the shore as the sea encroaches.

No one knows what happens to him.

[the-faceless-bride]

Yandere Oc (Valarie) × Reader ⚰️🕊

This series is A DARK ROMANCE/HORROR and may have content that some readers may find disturbing. Triggering. Or harmful. I strongly suggest that if you don't enjoy Dead Doves content this story isn't for you. @pricegouge had inspired me to get into writing like this again for their AMAZING slasher 141 stuff. So thank you for the inspiration to continue this.

Proluge: "Stranger..."

As most times in your life. You're bad decisions came from your friends and their wild ideas. Your boyfriend Mike, your friends, Jessica and Ashley had all decided that this week would be a party week! No rules, no responsibility, no consequences for anything! It was part time.

And it was draining your social battery...

Before your boyfriend you were a homebody. You liked being alone with your music, your fantasies, and your cat... well...

You tried to stay positive, this trip was for you after all. You'd been so sad when your cat Gizzmo passed away, they thought this would cheer you right up. Apparently, they don't know you very well. Not like you thought anyway...

At the moment you were at a bar/club; drained, a bit tipsy, and a bit jealous at the sight of Mike dancing a bit too close on Jessica. Ashley had tried an chatt a bit, you'd always liked her a little more than Jess. She at least checked up on you here and there. Jessica seemed more interested in just coming around for Mike.

"Not having fun?" - a voice calls to you over the music, turning your head you see a handsome man. Shoulder length hair pulled into a low ponytail, his bands and strands falling to Frame his gorgeous face. His voice sweet and seductive like honey. - "not really, and not looking forward to the future either!" - You yell over the booming base of the speakers, - he raises his brow confused on what you mean, - "my friends found some pond they want to skinny dip in after this! My friend Jessica suggested it! I'm not to thrilled to go swimming in a random pond!" - "ah, I see. Not alone then! That's good, i wouldn't wanna go to 'Dead Hookers Lake' alone either!" - Dead... what? - "w-What does that mean?" - You ask scooting over in your barstool to get closer to the tall man. - "Well, It's kinda a rumor y'know? Just something this small town says! Apparently with all the passers-byes some folks end up missing! But they can never really say for sure. This town is almost a ghost town by now! So really, it's just something scary people say to keep pretty girls from wandering out too late at night!" - oh, great. Just what you need. A story that's gonna fuck with your tipsy brain and make you paranoid all night long. Thanks random stranger at the bar. Just what you needed. - "you staying here long?"- you were about to answer but then that paranoia set in, - "I can't tell you." - "...why?" - "cuz you're a stranger."- that just made the man pause. Just... staring at you...

"BABE!!" Mike yelled across the bar, - "LETS GO!!"- he called with the wave of his hand Ashley and Jessica already making their way out. Giving the stranger a short good bye you lightly jogged to Mike before looking back at the strange man once more...

"Are you sure about this?"

You call to your friends and boyfriend, who had already stripped down and gone into the cool muddy water. "Ugh! Stop being a Debbie Downer!! Get in, it's fine!" Jessica called back, making a face to Mike before giggling.

"MHmm," - you make a noise of uncertainty and slight disgust, "the water looks questionable to me!" You respond, "It's fine Babe just drop the tee-shirt already"- Mike said, a bit uninterested. You knew why, he was busy staring down Jess.

Then again, you couldn't blame him, she was very pretty.

Dusty blonde hair, honey brown eyes, plump lips, a full curvy body with great legs and very nice breasts, hell even you looked.

But now, it made you all the more self conscious.

But taking a deep breath, you slowly dropped your boyfriends shirt you had been holding infront of you to hide yourself for a bit longer before the inevitable.

Dead hookers lake. Huh. If you felt anything touch your leg you were gonna flip.

Getting into the water, after many little pep talks you slowly tip-toed through the water to reach your Boyfriend. Every now and again anxiously looking around the water, looking for nothing and everything. Ripples in the water distorting the shadows of the pond, making shapes of horrors just below the surface. Your eyes looking around picturing what could be right there and you wouldn't even know it till something touched you. A fish, a plant, a body, HELL even a crocodile or something! Finally making it to Mike, you pull and cling on to him like a baby koala. Refusing to let go, and slowly the paranoia and anxiety started to disappear.

"What the hell was that-"

Until it came rushing back, "what's what?" Jessica asked a confused and disgusted Ashley, "I think I just stepped in something?" Ashley reaches under, her lip curling up in a grossed out face before starting to rise whatever it was she stepped on out of the water.

"I think it's like a dead fish or something-"

A Hand.

A Mushy. bloated. Discolored. Rotted. Hand.

And everything begins happening all at once.

Ashley is screaming, dropping the hand back into the water, watching the loose skin stretch and wrinkle as it sinks back to the bottom where it once laid. Jessica is rushing out of the water, a never ending stream of- "oh my God. oh my God. Oh My God." 's leaving her soft pleading lips, Mike rushing to get you all out of the water and to your phones to call the cops.

This can not be happening. It just can't. You feel your chest tighten as it gets harder and harder to take a steady breath. You fight the urge to gag as you too begin to rush out of the water.

"They're gone."

Huh?

"What do you mean "'they're gone.'" Mike?!"

"Our phones! THEYRE ALL GONE!"

Everyone is in full panic mode now. Mike and Ashley looking feverishly on the ground to see if maybe they had fallen, Jessica is now telling herself this isn't read. And you're vision is getting Hazy.

Then a Scream.

an ear bleeding, gut wrenching. Scream.

The scream turns to a gurgle, and Jessica holds her neck as she bleeds freely from the new wound. Eventually falling as the tries to press the hole in her neck. Twitching as the dirt and mud covers her naked body, ruining her perfect skin as the rocks under her leave cuts and scrapes against her backside.

"JESSICA!" Mike screams; a mix of fear, horror and anger.

And within a fraction of a second, Mike and Ashley take off running.

Not bothering to fully get dressed. Ashley tossing on her long sweater and Mike is boxers, you clumsily pulling on Mike's tee-shirt and panties as you try and keep up, "wait! Please! Wait for me! Please don't leave me!" You scream out to them, trying to navigate the way out of the thickly packed wood that over casted the dirt trail. And then as you tumble from a tree root a large hard hand grabs you, pulling you to a strong chest and holding you down.

In a panic, unable to use your hands and the large hand comes close to your nose and mouth with a cloth you toss your head back hoping to hit something to make the attacker let go, a man gasps but ultimately it only seems to hurt you more than him... and in that moment a sweet smell hits you, the soft cloth over your face being the only comfort in that moment.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of them. You just rest for now. Goodnight Darling." The voice slowly fades away.

A/n: here is what "Stranger" looks like, you'll get his name in the first chapter.

And here is voice claim. (Let me know if it doesn't work. It's been weird. And dont mind the capcut 🤓💀)

[anticidic]

"Domestic" Soukoku AU where they've been living together for a while (Dazai was the one who had to move in, no way Chuuya was budging in this agreement) and everything's all nice and dandy. They still have their silly banter and Dazai's probably set the kitchen on fire a couple of times by leaving things in the oven and forgetting. They fight over the thermostat. Dazai likes it ice cold and Chuuya wants it warm, reasonable.

It took some getting used to sleeping in the same bed because Dazai likes to thrash in his sleep and kicks blankets off of him a lot. He also rolls over and sometimes Chuuya wakes up being clung to for dear life.

But lately Chuuya doesn't remember the room and the bed being so cold. It's even summer, so it's not the temperature. He still has all those blankets to bundle himself in.

But Dazai isn't there. He hasn't been there for a while. Months. But his ghost has been. Watching. Mourning the loss of touch.

Chuuya hasn't gotten over grieving that loss. Dazai's always there. In spirit.

[triforceluna]

You guessed it

MORE SAMGUMG NOTE SKETCHES (I finished the last one on my pc)

[maevelin]

I just realized...

Edmund Bridgerton: I can't- Violet Bridgerton: You must breathe! Penelope Featherington: Colin... I can't breathe! Colin Bridgerton: Absolute panic! Violet Bridgerton: MISS WILSON! Antony Bridgerton: Get some water! Eloise Bridgerton: Give her some air! Me:

[andromedaspark]

My analysis / headcannons as to what happened to some of the gang. I can go deeper into the actual conditions if yall want me to

Arthur : Pulmonary Tuberculosis

Dutch : Vascular Dementia

Sadie : Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Reverend Swanson : Progressive Supranuclear Palsy

[ohtobeleah]

Damn You Seresin // Jake Seresin

Summary: After a near fatal car accident sends Jake into a coma, you come to terms with the fact that saying goodbye was always going to be tough. No matter the situation.

Warnings: Character Death. Crush injuries. Car accident. Jake Seresin x female reader.

Word Count: 1.5k

Author Note: Day Thirteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Crushed. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Although Jake Seresin was a bit of a risk taker in the sky–he was, if anything, one of the safest drivers on planet earth. He never ran red lights or forgot to look at stop signs. He gave way, checked his blind spots, always drove the speed limit and never, ever drove without his seatbelt on. 

He got his Ford F-150 serviced whenever it was due, he rotated his tiers and changed his oil. He took care of his truck and others on the road hoping that good karma would come back his way and keep him just as safe. 

But it wasn't enough. You got the devastating call on Saturday night. You'd been up late working on your thesis for genetically enhanced proteins. The pros, the cons, the effects. It had been a long night, but any minute you were expecting Jake to pull up in the drive. You were expecting him to come through the front door smiling, ready to take you in his arms and carry you up the stairs. You were ready to hear all about Roosters antics and Fanboys latest obsessions. You were ready to fall asleep soundly in your fiance’s arms like you had done a hundred times before and would do a hundred times more if given the chance. 

But Jake never came home. Although Jake Seresin was a careful driver, it just wasn't enough for the drunk driver who had come around the corner at one hundred miles an hour and smashed into his truck head on. Crushing him entirely. 

“It would have been better if he died in the crash—“ You’d been at Jake's side ever since he’d been out of his many many surgeries. He was barely alive–but there was always hope. “He’d be just as dead, but you wouldn’t be feeling like this.”

The doctor who was speaking barely sounded audible, you couldn't focus on anything but the plethora of machines that were keeping Jake, your darling boy, alive. Just barely. It had been just a week and you missed him to a height that you never thought you could miss someone. He was right there, right in front of you, yet he was a world away. Gone. 

“This way, he died in slow motion.”

“He’s not dead–” You hissed as you gripped your fiance's hand just a little tighter, trying to will him to wake up. Rooster all but let out a sob as he crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. Sure, you were Jake's Medical Proxy– but Bradley was your person. He knew you almost better than Jake did. He knew you knew that it was the end of the line–you just couldn't be the one to make that call. 

“Y/n, just listen alright–you don't have to make a decision right now–but, just listen to what she has to say.” At Bradleys request, you listened to the doctor who spoke almost monotone. Rooster came to stand beside you with his hands on your shoulders comfortingly. He just wanted you to be alright, he always promised Hangman that if anything ever happened–he’d take care of you. Bradley always thought Jake would go out in a burning fire ball of Jet fuel, he never once thought he’d be taken by a drunk driver. There one minute…gone the next. 

“On Monday his heart ruptured and they repaired it but on Tuesday, his lungs collapsed. By Thursday his kidneys failed and the sepsis and infection took three more days to kill his brain.” It was hard to hear a timeline of the father of your unborn child’s medical conditions laid out so clearly—but you needed to hear it to clear the delusional fog that was keeping you from seeing the bigger picture. 

“Okay, alright so we give his body time to rest and he’ll pull through, right?” The room was completely still besides the monitors beeping rhythmically. The doctor, Annabella Davis, just shook her head in response as Bradleys grip on your shoulders tightened. 

“Y/n—if Jake had died in the car accident by the side of the road, if you had seen him zipped up in a bag and driven off, he would be every bit as gone as he is right now—but you would know it.” It was almost as hard to hear as the voice that echoed in your memory from that phone call. That call that changed your life forever. “And you can take some comfort in that. I didn’t know him like you did but I would imagine he would have wanted you to have that comfort.” 

Jake was meant to live a long happy life– but here he was, crushed to death by some drunk driver in the car he took care of so that it would take care of him. None of it made any sense to you. Why him? Why you? Why would your child that you only found out about a week ago, grow up without a father, without a dad who loved them dearly and so tenderly. Jake would have been a great dad—he always said he was scared to be anything like his own, but sitting beside his body, broken and bruised, you wished he knew about the life the two of you had created. 

“I love him so much.” But you didn't want him to suffer anymore than he already had. At this point you were just keeping him on life support for your own benefit. You didn't want to let go–until you looked around and took in all the machines that were keeping your fiance breathing. All the machines that were assisting him, pumping his blood, breathing for him. There was no brain activity. Jake Seresin was gone and had been since you first got to his side. He waited that long, just to see you one last time. To say goodbye. To forever remember your beautiful face. 

“Bring me the papers—“ Now it was your turn to say goodbye, to let go. To start a life without Jake Seresin in it. Something you thought you'd never have to do. All because of a drunk driver. “He doesn't need to be in pain anymore.” The tears had begun and you weren't sure if they would ever stop. “Bring me the papers please, Doctor Davis.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

“Is that–everything?” You asked softly as you stepped towards Jake's hospital bed. The nurses had just finished taking Jake off all the machines that kept him alive. No pain relief, no support. He was just simply him. He looked so peaceful all things considered. 

“Uh yes—yes that’s everything.” Doctor Davis confirmed as she pressed her lips into a fine line.  “It's just a matter of time now.” 

“Okay.” You sighed, taking a seat beside the love of your life for the final time. His hand was cold, unlike all the other times. He was fading. 

“Damn you Seresin, damn you.” Bradley stayed off to the side. He didn’t want to leave you alone but he respected your sorrow enough to give you space. He just wanted to be there—again, just in case you needed him. He had promised Hangman he’d be there, for everything. 

“This is why it took me three fucking years to tell you that I loved you and another three years before I moved in with you.” A small, barely audible chuckle crept through the tears and sadness in your voice as you watched the rise and fall of Jake's chest. He was breathing, but barely. 

“You always thought I was scared of commitment. Scared to commit.” You were a wreck, but you knew that in Jake's final moments you wanted it to be your voice that carried his spirit away. You wanted to be the guiding light for his soul like he had been yours here on earth. “But no honey, no it was never that—it was because I was scared of this, I was scared of just how much I loved you.” 

Bradley Bradshaw had never seen such a love burn as deep and true the way you and Jake Seresin loved one another. Sure he always thought his parent’s relationship was the peak of love. But then there was you and Hangman. And nothing could compare. 

“I was scared of the feeling that I’d never be able to find happiness without you. That’s what I was so scared of Jake. I was scared of this.” In those few seconds where Jake's body completely stilled, you knew he was gone. Your husband was gone and you were all alone. Left to live a life without the one man you never wanted to live without. He was your best friend, your husband, your partner in crime, the father of your child. 

And he was just gone. Without any reason to explain the fact that he was on his way home to you when he was hit, when he was taken from you. When you’d lost the love of your life. 

“Oh my god, damn you.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

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