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worldofkuro · 3 months

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXXI

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Aah… Those chapters are getting more and more enjoyable for me to write. I hope you will enjoy this once as well. Please, do give me your thoughts. Oh, also, congratulation.

Alice…

You woke up with a gasp, soaked in sweat. You sat up, hiding your face in your hand, trying to calm your breathing. Once again, you had that dream… You looked at the afternoon’s sunlight shining through your window.

It’s been a few months since Alice’s passing. Her funeral was beautiful but so.. heartbreaking. You could still hear her father’s sobbing as he did his speech, talking about his daughter like she was still a little girl. When you walked toward her coffin to see her one last time, you tried so hard not to break down, not when Trey was sitting not too far away from the scene.

Thank God Alastor stayed with you. He gave a speech that made you smile a little. He talked about Alice, saying she was like an annoying little sister he wished she could keep on annoying him.

Then of course, came Alyzée. You didn’t tell her that Trey was the one who took Alice from her. You couldn’t. Not yet. She looked at Alice before turning her head toward the rest of the people, smiling even if tears were streaming down her face. She only said one sentence.

“ Alice won’t let her killer rest, she will make his life a living hell.”

She then stared at you and you could almost hear her, pleading for you to do justice. You knew Alice never told a soul about your killing’s hobbit, you knew that, she would never. But at that moment, you felt like you were alone with Alyzée, and Alice’s spirit, smiling at the both of you, like she was asking you to help each other to take revenge on her killer.

You hugged Alyzée as they lowered Alice in the ground, you shall never see her face again but in the picture you have taken. She was sobbing against your chest but you were looking at Trey that was wiping his tears. That bastard was crying, he was crying even though he was the one who created this moment. He worked for it since you were a teenager, since you were fifteen years old

You felt Alastor’s hand on your eyes, whispering in your ears.

“ Don’t show darling. Not yet.” You nodded at his words, knowing your eyes were burning red. If you could, you would scream at everyone the murderer was crying on the grave he dug for his wife.

John gave a speech too. He seemed really sincere but you couldn’t trust your instinct right now. You never felt like Trey was a bad person, a monster. How could you trust your instincts now?

After the funeral, Alastor drove you home and your usual three spirits were waiting for you.

“ Little lady… I’m really sorry.” uttered Papa Legba, his usual warm smile no longer on his face. Your eyes welled up again but you just nodded toward him. Legba tried to help you against Trey, you were thankful for that. You looked at your shadow and Alastor’s as they were looking at you, clearly worried about you.

“ Were you… the one making me.. levitating?” you asked, as Alastor made you sit on the sofa and went to make you a hot chocolate while listening to the conversation.

“ As Alastor is getting stronger, your power also goes up. Not as powerful as Alstor, but still impressive for you. Levitation is a new skill of yours. I did help you. I didn’t want you to use too much energy and pass out with this new power of yours.”

Alastor sat next to you, placing his hand on your knees, his eyes never leaving your form. You could hear him talking in your mind but you couldn’t understand anything he was saying. You just wanted to close your eyes and sleep.

But for Alice, you would stay strong, she was killed alone, scared, you couldn’t be this weak right now. You concentrated on Alastor’s voice in your mind.

‘Please, look at me…’

You turned your face toward your husband whose body relaxed when he saw your eyes on him. You knew Alastor was worrying about you and that made you feel bad. You smiled at him, it wasn’t your usual beaming smile but this smile was meant to say you were doing… okay.

“ That was impressive, little missy. I thought you were going to kill this man.” laughed Kalfu, sitting on one of your chairs.

You clenched your fist when you heard Kalfu’s voice. You wondered if he knew that it was going to happen..? You looked at Baron Samedi who was staying strangely quiet since you came back home.

“ Did you know..? Did you know about Trey?”

“ No.”

“ Would you have told me if you did?”

“ You aren’t my protégée…” said the spirit.

You nodded. You should feel angry but in a way… You could understand. you looked at Legba, already ready to ask the same question.

“ I didn’t know. My priority is your safety. When I’m in the spirit realm, I don’t care about what is going on, on earth.”

You nodded and then looked at Kalfu who was smirking at you, waiting for you to ask the question.

“ I know you wouldn’t have said anything.” you spat at him, Alastor squeezing your knees, making you calm down after your words.

“ I wouldn’t have even breathed a word, little missy.”

You leaned against Alastor, stroking both his shadow and yours. You could see they were worried and … sad? You looked as your shadow touched your belly with a worried frown. You gasped before holding your belly, making every head turn your way.

“ My… My baby..?”

“ It is safe.” Baron Samedi said, confident with a small smile. “ I healed it.”

Both you and Alastor looked at Baron Samedi, surprised. Well, you were surprised while you could see Alastor smirking like he knew it was going to happen, he seemed satisfied. Well, you weren’t surprised, Alastor always knew things before you even saw it.

You made a deal with Baron Samedi for his powers, but unlike Papa Legba, you didn’t really have a close relationship… So why? Why did he save your baby? Did he want something in return?

“ I told you, didn’t I? I don’t like children dying. They should live for as long as they can. I won’t ask anything in return, it was a selfish wish.”

“ And Alice’s baby..?”

Baron Samedi sat on the floor, smoking his cigar. You knew you were looking at him like it was his fault, and you knew that he knew what you were thinking. He was the spirit that was handling the dead, he was the one saying that this person could die, or this person should stay on earth. So why? Why did Alice and her baby have to die?

“ Because her soul wasn’t mine to collect.” Baron Samedi sighed. “ The baby and.. Alice’s soul has been used for a ritual. That’s what I felt. Trey earned more power by this kill… Even if I think he only wished for the child’s death.”

“ And you can’t do anything about it?” Asked Alastor.

“ I could. We all can. But this is a silent law, if a soul is spoken for, you don’t touch it. The soul has to reach for you for us to be able to do something.” Baron Samedi sighed. “ I don’t even think Samael knows he has souls that are spoken on his name…”

You frowned, did that mean Alice belonged to the devil? How terrified she must feel !

“ Can we save her soul?” you asked, a new fire burning inside of you.

“ Haha! Go to hell, little missy. Maybe you will be able to do something against Lucifer.” Kalfu laughed mockingly. You wondered how you didn’t jump at the spirit to strangle him… Maybe because Alastor's hand was still stroking your leg, keeping you attached to him.

“ But…”

“ I’m sorry, little lady. Alice’s life was meant to end sooner than she expected. She lived well,even if her love for this dame, Alyzée, was just like a spring flower, attached to the ground, who wished to love a leaf attached to a tree’s branches. They both loved each other unconditionally, but winter came. The flower died, but the leaf still weakly attached to the tree shall stay strong before meeting the flower in death.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until Legba’s gentle hand stroked your cheek. His warm smile was once more on his lips.

“ You don’t have to feel guilty. Alice was a beautiful flower.”

You cried in Legba’s arms, and you were quite surprised that Alastor didn’t stop Legba from touching you. But then, Papa Legba’s had always been like a grandfather to you, he helped you, even when you didn’t ask for it,he listened to your worries and protected you…Hearing his gentle words about your friend healed something inside you.

He then took a step back and you watched as the three spirits were standing in front of you and Alastor, they seemed powerful, menacing for some, welcome for others.

“ No matter what way you are choosing, we shall help you.”

When they vanished, Alastor and you took a warm bath. Alastor asked you if you wanted him to stay with you, if he should take a break from work but you kissed him, saying you shouldn’t show any kind of weakness about Trey. He stared at you before smiling at you.

“ Let me handle it. At least, let me do my hunt alone.” He whispered against your naked skin. You closed your eyes before nodding, you knew he would find any information about Trey before coming to you with a plan to dispose of him.

And this is where you were now, months after this nightmare. Your belly had grown bigger, and you felt your baby move inside of you. The first time it happened, you screamed so loudly that Alastor almost tripped as he ran toward you. His shadow was already at your side, snarling at everything and anything.

His eyes were burning red as he entered your room and you gestured him to come closer, placing his hand on your belly. He seemed confused, still smiling, but when he felt your baby kick, he gasped, taking back his hand. His shadow, though, was eagerly touching your stomach, with childish curiosity.

Alastor’s eyes were wide, his stare not leaving your belly. You giggled as he touched your belly once more. He seemed so lost, like he was finally understanding that he was going to be a father, that you both created something that was living.

Baron Samedi stayed with you a lot during your pregnancy, when you asked him why, he would always tell you he loved seeing pregnant women. For him, it was the most beautiful faith in humanity: Creating life.

You kept Eamon by your side, always hugging it against your chest. It would help with your emotional burst sometimes. Alastor had to go to work of course, and you enjoyed listening to his voice through the radio.

Alyzée would come, in the beginning you were both seeing each other to grieve Alice, now, even if Alice’s death was looming above your head, you were able to talk about simple things without bursting into tears.

You left the bed, taking Eamon with you and smiled as your shadow followed you quickly, looking at your belly. You walked down the stairs, Alastor’s shadow touching you to stop you if you were to fall. Because yes, Alastor said he would keep working but his shadow shall stay with you until your pregnancy was over.

You thanked it before walking into the living room. Your back was hurting, so you laid down on the couch. You couldn’t wait for Alastor to come back home and massage your legs, your back and your feet. You closed your eyes, ready to sleep some more before you heard someone knocking. You opened one eye, was Alyzée already there?

You stood up and walked toward the door and opened it before slamming it closed.

John.

John was here.

Should you kill him?

“ Please… I.. I want to ask you questions about my cousin.”

You peeked at your shadow and Alastor’s which were ready to throw themselves to the man but you stopped them with your hand. You closed your eyes before opening the door once again. You knew John would never hurt you, so you shall fetch some information.

“ Come in.” You said, holding Eamon against you before walking into the living room. you wouldn’t give him coffee or things to eat, he could chock, you didn’t care.

“ I see you still have that plushie… It still looks great.” John said, trying to look calm but you could almost smell how nervous he was. You sat on your rocking chair, staring at him as he stayed standing in the middle of the living room. “ I.. I.. Can I sit?”

You scoffed before gesturing to him to sit on the sofa. You would have to clean it as soon as he left.

“How is your pregnancy going? From what your father said, it's almost time…” He observed, smiling at you even if you could see it was a little strained. You rolled your eyes at him.

“ Talk, what are you here for?”

“ I.. Okay. As you know, I have taken Alice’s case,” you flinched when you heard his voice saying your friend’s name, “ but.. I have nothing. It’s like the killer walked into the place, like they owned it, killed Alice and then left.” You looked at him like he was the dirt under your heels. “ I know, you must think: Ask her husband. But… He can’t have done that–”

“ If you don’t believe me, then leave.”

“ Please, wait! It’s just… My cousin– Trey Felleur was seen in Terrytown with his coworkers. He has an alibi. So… After looking for any other suspects… it leaves me with.. you.” He winced when he saw your expression turn from confused to angry. Wait, wait… Trey was seen somewhere else the night of the murder..? Wait, did John just said–

“ Are you telling me you are suspecting me… to have killed Alice?” You asked, as calmly as you could.

“ You knew the house like it was yours! You were at the murder scene before my cousin according to what he said. And I’m sure Alice knew that Alastor was a murderer.” John spat staring at you.

You stayed composed. You didn't know if John had real clues against Alastor or it was his obsession with you and your husband that drove him to this conclusion.

“ Clue, John. Give me clues and Maybe I shall listen to your nonsense.”

“ I went to his old house in the forest. I dig once more where you stopped me once. Under the deer bones, there were human’s bones. I’m sure it’s his fathers. He killed him and then buried him, here!” He said with a big smile, like this would make you believe him.

“ Why didn’t you go to the police then?” You asked before smirking when you saw him looking away. “ Because you knew you trespassed again. You knew no one would listen to you.”

“ But you… You want to know the truth, right…?” He stared at you. “ So you will help me. We will make it seem like you found the corpse and you came to me because we used to be friends and then we can lock down Alastor for good.”

You tried to keep yourself from laughing. It was almost cute…

“ What if I don’t?”

“ Then, I’ll think you killed Alice with Alastor and you tried to protect him.” He spat. You frowned, you didn’t know if John could have you arrested because of that… Would he? You bit your lips, damn it! How were you supposed to play?

“What do you say, Mrs Sanglar?” he asked.

“ I say you should leave my dear daughter in law alone.”

You both turned your head toward Marie who was standing near the door of the living room, looking at John with a frown.

“ Mister John Felleur, was it ? I think this is not the first time I hear you trespassing on my property. I shall ask my dear daughter's father for help.”

You smiled at Marie as John’s face fell. He grimaced before standing for the sofa, took his hat before leaving, saying his offer was still opened for you. Marie stared at him until he closed the door and went quickly toward you as you sighed.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

“ I’m okay Marie, he just… upset me.”

“ Well, I can understand. From what I hear, he was quite an impolite man!” She said, frowning. You smiled at her, you were thankful for Marie. She and your mother always came to check on you when you didn’t feel like leaving your house. Marie talked with you, and even told you she began to work with spirit since you told her Trey was the killer. She said you needed protection so she asked the spirit to protect you if you were to be in danger in the forest. That warmed your heart.

You both talked, sitting under the porch, until you saw Alastor’s car coming. You sighed in relief as your husband stopped the car and walked toward you. He hugged his mother before kissing your forehead. Marie didn’t stay for dinner, she already agreed to dine with your mother. She kissed your cheeks, like she used to do when you were just a child before Alastor drove her toward her destination.

You walked inside your home and decided to do something light for dinner. You stroke your belly with a small smile.

“ What should we prepare for Daddy, huh?”

You felt your baby kick you and you laughed, caressing the spot where you felt its foot. Maybe you should do a salade de fruit. It would be fresh and you had enough ingredients to make a lot of it. And you craved it so bad you might eat it all, then cry and Alastor would have to comfort you, saying he didn’t want a Salade de fruit so you could eat his part.

Hum…

You began to cut the fruit, Alastor’s shadow helping you while your shadow was caressing your baby, trying to smooth it. You didn’t know why but it seemed like your child was reckless today.

You lifted your head when you heard Alastor coming home. He walked toward you and hugged you from behind, kissing your neck before lifting slightly your belly. You moaned when you felt the weight being taken away from you. You almost cry because of the sensation. Where did Alastor learn that..?

You turned your head toward him to ask him but he kissed you. A kiss so gentle you felt like you were walking on clouds. You turned around and crapped your arms around his shoulder, kissing him back with the same gentleness he was giving you. You almost whined when you felt him step back.

“ Mhn?” He looked at his shadow. “ John was here?”

“ Oh, yes… Let me tell you.”

You both sat on the sofa in the living room, eating your salade de fruit, Alastor already giving up his bowl to you as you already finished your second bowl while telling him what happened. You smiled as he made a face so fakely shocked that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“ He didn’t. How could he think I did this all alone? I was helped by an angel.” He said, smiling as he kissed the back of your hand. You giggled as he began to talk about you like you were the strongest person that managed to take down all of your foes.

“ An angel, huh?” you smirked as you ate from Alastor’s bowl.

“ A fallen angel then. I saw you flying high in the sky… you seemed so out of reach, you seemed to enjoy yourself..” you looked at him as he seemed lost in his own thoughts. “ So of course, I had to drag you down to me so I could admire you closer.” He smirked down at you. “ You didn't really try to run away, dearest…”

“ Well, maybe it was because I saw you down there. I was curious, you looked almost as proud as if you could fly yourself. So when you decided to take me, I accepted because I didn’t want to fly in a sky where you weren’t.” You smiled at him.

You saw his pupils dilate before he squeezed you in his arms, being mindful of your belly. You laughed as he bit your shoulder and your neck. You knew he liked to do that when you overwhelmed him with your words or your actions.

“ Alastor… How is our child going to be? I wondered…” You looked at the ceiling as you felt your husband’s hand on your belly.

“ Mhn… Let's say. for their own good, they should have your innocent face so they can easily trick people. They should have my way with words. Darling, you are too emotional sometimes, so they should have my patience…” He mused as he looked at you.

“ Mhn… Are we going to show them Voodoo..?”

Alastor stayed silent for some minutes, which gave you time to nuzzle against him, waiting for his answer. You wished for your child to know about Voodoo, it was Alastor’s culture and… You would be kind of sad if your baby couldn’t interact with Papa Legba or your shadow…

“ Mhn… I… Would you?” He asked you, his voice a soft whisper. You smiled, you didn't know Alastor was still unsure about how you would perceive him depending on his answers…

“I would.”

“ Well, that’s perfect! Because I think they should work with Kalfu because–”

“ No way Alastor, our baby isn’t going to work with Kalfu.” you said, looking at him in the eyes. He almost pouted which almost mad you grin.

“ But, they would work with a powerful spirit,” he mumbled. “ don’t you think? For their security?”

“ They could work with Papa Legba.” You said, with a happy grin. Alastor rolled his eyes at you, making you laugh. You kissed his cheek and you both kept talking about your child’s future until it was time to go to bed. You took Eamon with you and walked toward your bedroom.

You changed into your nightclothes and then you went under the cover, laying on your back. You couldn’t wait to lay on your belly once again… You turned your head toward Alastor who laid next to you with a book in his hand, reading. You closed your eyes and fell asleep with a little smile.

You woke up with a gasp, soaked in sweat. You sat up as you groaned in pain. Damn it, maybe eating so much fruit was a mistake…

“ Darling?”

You looked next to you and find Alastor, still reading his book. How much did you sleep? You groaned as you felt pain in your stomach once more. You took the blanket off you, you needed to go to the bathroom.

“ Fuck…”

You looked at Alastor, surprised. He wasn’t the man to use bad words like this. You almost laughed but you were soaking wet, you needed a shower… and the bathroom. But as you tried to stand up you froze when you saw the mess between your legs.

It felt like time froze, nor you or Alastor was moving, you could only hear the noise from the clock.

Tic-tac tic-tac…

“ Water, my Alastor broke!” you screamed, completely scared out of your mind. You didn’t know what to do, how to do it ? You heard Alastor stumbling out of bed before ordering his shadow to take your things as he kneeled next to you.

“ Alright darling, breathe with me okay? You are okay, you are splendid.”

“ Alastor!” You screamed in pain.

“ Of course.” He stood up and carried you in his arms, running toward his car, being mindful of your shaking form. You could see his shadow moving around the wall and taking everything it deemed necessary for you. Did it just take a candle--?

You screamed in pain once more. Damn it, being almost slashed was less painful ! Alastor placed you in the car and drove to the nearest hospital while trying to calm you. You looked at his shadow which gave you Eamon as you screamed in the car. The shadow looked so scared, it was cute. You wanted to smile at him as you took Eamon but another contraction made you scream.

Damn it!

You tried to breathe like Alastor was telling you but then you didn’t know why you felt panic. Where was your shadow? You haven't seen it since the pain began? Where was it ?

“ Where is it?” you shouted.

“ What? What is where?” asked Alastor as he kept a hand on your knee and the other one on the steering wheel.

“ My shadow !” You cried, squeezing Eamon against you so hard you were almost afraid to hurt it.

“ It’s not important right now, darling.” said Alastor, his smile strained.

“ I want my shadow!” You hollered not even caring that you were making a tantrum about your shadow while your baby was literally on its way.

Alastor stopped in front of the hospital, left the car before taking you in his arms and running inside the building. You didn’t really know what happened, you could hear shouts and sweet words as you were being taken into a room too white for its own good. You could feel people spreading your legs, touching you, what was going on? Where was Alastor ?

“ Where is my husband?” You yelled. A nurse told you they made him wait in the corridor. “ Bring him here!” you grabbed her collar before letting her go look for your husband. You cried as your head hit the pillow , when were you put into a bed? You wanted this pain to end.

You then felt a hand on your skin and you knew who it belonged to. You opened your eyes and smiled weakly at Alastor, he was smiling but it seemed like it was taking everything out of him to keep this facade.

“ Alastor..!” You cried as he kissed you multiple times before kissing your hand.

“ Darling, no matter what happened… Stay here for me.” He pleaded with his eyes and then you realize… Alastor was scared that you wouldn’t make it. That you would die during childbirth. You grabbed his hand with your, smiling at him with a new fire burning inside of you.

“ I will stay…” You choked out those words.” I won’t leave you..” You screamed as pain was too intolerable. You heard a nurse ordering you to push but damn it you couldn’t even feel your legs…!

You would stay..

‘ You will be by my side.’

I will stay, nothing will separate us.

You pushed each time the nurses were telling you to do it. But it was getting harder and harder and you were getting more tired as time was passing.. You felt like you weren’t in your body anymore… You felt so tired…

“ She is bleeding too much, call the doctors!”

‘ Nothing can tear us apart. I dragged you on earth with me. You are my only light. You are my sanity.’

“ Miss, please just a little more! Don’t give up!”

I joined you… Because I wanted to live this life with you… And the next one too…

‘ Darling..?’

Alastor…

Cries.

You could hear cries.

You turned your head weakly toward Alastor that was grabbing your hand so hard it was shaking. His head was down, his forehead against yours hands. He didn’t seem to be the one crying…

“ Congratulations, Mrs and Mr Sanglar! You are the parent to a healthy and lovely girl!”

A girl..?

You turned your head toward the nurse that was cradling something in her arms..

A girl..

Your eyes widened sighly.

Your baby girl.

You took your baby that was crying against your chest and you couldn’t help but cry too. You did it… You made it.. You looked at Alastor who hadn't moved one bit. You couldn’t talk, you were crying but you were too tired to make any other noises.

Alastor… We have a girl…

Alastor’s head jerked up and he stared at you with his eyes wide open. He stared at you and only you. You smiled at him as you closed one eye, trying to reassure him. You were not gone. You saw his body relaxed and he kissed your forehead, pushing his lips hard against your skin.

You looked at your baby girl who stopped crying. You looked at her with so much pride. She opened her eyes, and you saw her beautiful eyes.

“ She has my eyes…” Alastor whispered, astonished. You looked at him, tears in your eyes.

“ You seem surprised…” you whispered, your voice hoarse from your screaming.

“ No… it’s just…I mean.. The way they shine… It’s definitely from you. “ You watched as your husband looked at your daughter. She was looking at you both, recognizing your voices. You kissed your baby with a shaking sigh. She was here… Finally…

You looked around as the nurses were busy with you didn’t know what. You smiled a little as you saw Papa Legba, on the corner of the room, looking at you with pride. You watched as Baron Samedi smiled widely at you, giving you a nod of appreciation. Kalfu smirked and winked at you, making you chuckle. They vanished when the nurse came to you.

“ She is beautiful, how should you name her?”

You looked at Alastor who was staring at you. You both have talked about multiple names depending on the gender of your baby. And now, as your baby was looking at you and Alastor, you were sure of yourself.

“ Yes… she shall be named…

Alice.”

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zepskies · 10 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 12

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: Thank you everyone for your kind words on Part 11! 🥰 It really meant so much to me.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ just to be safe on this one. Angst, hurt/comfort, minor violence and tension, fluff with a tinge of spice.~

Part 12: “All in the Family”

You didn’t realize until the funeral just how well loved your grandfather had been.

So many of his friends, along with your grandmother’s, came up to you personally to express their condolences even before the church service began. Some were more heartfelt and broken up than that of your extended family members, many of whom hardly checked on him when he was alive, even before his cancer returned.

You had no mascara left by the time the service started. Yet it wasn’t until you had to get up and speak that you noticed something else when you stared out into the crowd.

Almost all of Dean’s friends (and now yours) had come to support you. Meg and Cas, Sam and Eileen, Benny and Andréa, Jo and Ellen…they all sat in the row behind him, even though very few of them had even met your grandfather in person.

“George was born in Lebanon, Kansas in the early ‘40s,” you began. “At the time, its population was about 600. Now, it’s less than 200…and that’s why he left, he told me. I didn’t want to be the last relic left standin’ with the tumbleweeds.”

That bit earned you some laughs. You paused, smiling slightly. With a shaking breath, you managed to continue.

Though it was hard for you to even look at Andréa. It was with a mixture of lingering resentment, tempered only by your guilt at the last words you’d levied at your best friend. A large part of you still felt justified, even today, to hold your grudge. Maybe you were wrong for it, but that was just how you felt.

And right now, you were shaking. You barely managed to get through the speech you wrote down on a notepad. After you were done, you couldn’t force yourself to pry your fingers off the podium. You glanced over at the closed casket behind you, to your right.

The pastor was standing to your left, waiting on you to go back to your seat so he could resume the service. You could sense him watching you, and distantly you heard him call your name. You couldn’t respond. Your voice was stuck in your throat.

Both anxious and panicked, you looked up at the sea of people watching you. Your gaze darted from face to face, until you landed on Dean. He was staring up at you in thinly veiled concern.

You okay? he mouthed.

You shook your head subtly. You had the undeniable conviction that if you let go of the podium, you would fall into a heap. You’d make an embarrassing scene at your grandpa’s funeral—something George definitely would’ve gotten a kick out of, if he was here.

My granddaughter, ladies and gentlemen. She can talk real well, but apparently she can’t walk at the same time.

Before you could choke out a laugh, followed shortly by hyperventilating, Dean got out of his seat and went up to the stage.

His supportive hand came to rest on the small of your back, while the other was offered to you palm facing up, next to where you had a death grip on the podium. You met his eyes, and he gave you a steady look.

“You got this,” he said in a lowered voice.

You took his hand. He guided you off the stage and back into your seat. His lips pressed to your cheek.

“You did great,” Dean said quietly in your ear. “He’d be proud of you.”

You held onto his hand for the rest of the service.

Your big house was good for one thing: it made for a roomy reception.

Thank God you hadn’t had to cook yourself. Ellen had brought everything you might’ve wanted or needed by way of food and drinks, and true to Dean’s word, she’d given you what you suspected was a heavily discounted price. You’d tried to give her an extra tip earlier, but she’d folded the envelop and stuck it behind the neckline of your dress.

“We already covered payment, and I don’t wanna hear about it again,” Ellen said. “Now help me unwrap these chicken strips.”

You gave a tremulous smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Later, while Ellen went to grab the utensils and plates, you found yourself side by side with Jo in your kitchen. She gave you a smile that was both kind and reserved.

“I’m sorry about your grandpa,” she said, pausing on uncasing a container of sandwiches. Her blue eyes looked sincere.

“Thank you,” you replied. Your small smile was genuine as well. Until Andréa and Benny came in, with Dean right behind.

“Can we help?” Andréa asked. Her question was pointed, and filled with double meaning as her eyes met yours.

After a moment, you decided to swallow your pride for now. It was only a few more hours, and then your house would be empty.

“Can you get the dining table set up?” you asked.

Andréa nodded, but you stopped her before she could venture out into the dining room.

“Where’re you going?” you asked.

She shot you a frown. “To do what you asked.”

“Tablecloths are in the linen closet,” you reminded her. “You can grab the beige one.”

“Oh, I thought you would’ve taken that out already,” she said. As if you didn’t have a million other things to remember to do today.

“Well, it’s there,” you said, trying to be patient.

Andréa’s lips pursed. “In the linen closet? The one in the hall?”

You sighed as you finished unwrapping the second package of potato salad. Your patience thinned.

“No, the one in the attic,” you snipped dryly. You knew you were kind of being a bitch, but you could’ve grabbed the damn tablecloth yourself in this time.

Andréa agreed wordlessly and left the kitchen with clipped heels.

Meanwhile, Dean surveyed the scene between you and your friend, and sensed that something was off there. Even Jo shot him a subtle brow raise. Dean’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t want to say anything to you just yet. He knew you had a lot on your mind.

Instead, he glanced at Benny, who gave his friend a telling look.

Dean took in a breath. “Okay, uh. What else do you need, babe?”

You looked up at him, softening. “Maybe help Ellen bring in the drinks and stuff? She just went out to her car.”

Dean nodded. “Sure.”

He and Benny left the kitchen, giving Dean a chance to get the scoop.

“Something going on between Thelma and Louise? That was downright frosty back there,” he remarked.

Benny scoffed. “What, you didn’t know?”

“Know what?” Dean asked.

“They had a big blow out a couple weeks ago.”

“Seriously? I didn’t hear a word about it.”

“Well that’s confoundin’,” Benny said, rubbing at his beard. “‘Cause I certainly did. In excruciating detail.”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smirk, but it soon faded.

After the lasts guests left the house, and the cleanup was done for the night, it got down to you and Dean alone in the house. Your family had never been a large one. Just you and your grandparents. And then, it had been just you and your grandfather for so long…

You now dreaded the moment that it would finally be just you.

At least tonight, you had your boyfriend. The two of you were watching a movie on the couch with another slice of leftover cake split between you. For once, you didn’t have the stomach for it. You let Dean polish off the plate.

He tossed it onto the coffee table and then paused the movie for a moment. He knew you weren’t really watching anyway. He rested a hand on your thigh, earning your attention.

“You given any more thought to a new car?” he asked. Yours had been totaled in the accident last month. Between Dean and Meg and Ellen bringing in food and supplies, you hadn’t needed to venture out of your house much ever since the accident.

Now, however, you heaved a sigh. You leveled him with honesty.

“Even with the insurance money left over, I’m not sure I can afford one after the funeral expenses.”

Dean inclined his head. “Okay, hear me out…Bobby owns a salvage yard.”

Your brows rose. “A junkyard?”

“Salvage yard,” he corrected. “He occasionally gets some good finds. I’ll comb through and look for something I can fix up for you.”

“Thanks, but…” You were grateful for him trying to help, but you still weren’t sure about adopting a “salvage yard” rescue car.

“You think I’m gonna put you in something that isn’t safe?” Dean asked, squeezing your thigh. The weight in his eyes sobered you.

“Okay, thanks. Let me know what you find,” you agreed. He nodded, but before he put the movie back on, he decided to broach something else.

“So, Benny filled me in on your little fight club moment with Andréa,” he said.

You sighed and leaned back on the couch, crossing your arms. “It wasn’t fight club.”

But an awkward silence fell between you and Dean as you didn’t offer anything more. He sighed and rubbed your knee with his thumb.

“You guys had a falling out?” he asked.

Your brows knitted together. “You want to hear about my girl drama?”

Ordinarily? Not really, Dean could admit. He liked “tea” as much as the next person, but he wasn’t angling for drama so much as for your trust. He was still new to this whole “boyfriend” thing. But still, this felt like something you could’ve come to him with.

“Look, if you’re upset…for any reason, you can tell me,” he said. “Thinking that’s my job as the boyfriend.”

…Well, shit, you thought, as guilt sunk heavy in your chest. How could you argue with that?

You sighed and threw your hands up, before they landed on his. You took his hand with both of yours.

“Well,” you said, “I broke up with my best friend.”

Dean blinked at that. That would definitely make it awkward to double date.

“Aw, you didn’t break up, did you?”

When you merely gave him a look, he nodded. “All right. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

You sighed, but you explained it to him. You told him about your ongoing frustrations with your friend’s self-centeredness, and her lack of self-awareness at times. And while you took responsibility for the way you’d gone off on her that day on your porch, a large part of you still felt justified. Even if that made you the “bitch.”

“Well, look. If this is something that you can’t get past, then I get it. Sometimes you needa cut people out,” Dean said eventually. “But I’m thinking, right now, you need support. Maybe she didn’t give it when you needed her, but maybe she’s hurtin’ about this too… At least, that’s what Benny says.”

At first, you frowned. Your throat was tight with emotion, probably from today, but maybe because he was saying things you had already been thinking, deep down. You just didn’t want to admit it.

“You just want us to smooth things over so it won’t make it awkward for you with your friend,” you shot back.

Dean frowned, raising placating hands. “That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Come on. You know that’s not it.”

You wiped at your eyes, as they were starting to sting with unshed tears. You knew you weren’t being fair. He was just trying to help.

“Sorry,” you said, in a calmer voice. “…I’ll think about it, okay? Because you’re right. It’s not just her…I also just can’t shake this feeling. Like my world is getting smaller, and someday I’m going to be the only one left.”

And there it was. Yet another fear you didn’t want to admit. It was your worst fear: being alone.

You were hesitant to let your gaze leave your lap, to meet Dean’s. When you did, you were met by his softened look. He went for your hand again.

“Listen. You still have people,” he said. “Doesn’t matter if they’re related to you by blood or not. Real family’s gonna fight and bitch. But they’re also gonna be there, like your friend was today.”

You sighed heavily. Once again, you knew he was right. Despite the awfulness of your fight, Andréa had come to your grandfather’s funeral. She helped you set up for the reception, and she stayed until the last hour helping with the cleanup, along with Benny, Sam, Eileen, and the rest of Dean’s friends. They were now your friends too.

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.”

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily. “Dean, I love you. I love you so damn much.”

Dean’s fingers tangled in your hair. A sigh expelled through his nose as he pressed a lingering kiss into your neck.

Warm. It felt warm in his chest. Almost overwhelming.

He’d been letting instinct guide him since the day he met you. So even though he hesitated to answer at first, he knew.

“I love you too,” he admitted. You held onto him that much tighter.

In hindsight, he’d already known. The day of the car accident, when you’d called him in tears and asked for his help, he realized just how much he’d do for you. The lengths he would go to make sure you were okay.

That you were safe, and his.

Nick Savage was an opportunist at heart.

Sure, he’d flunked out of college. Big fucking whoop.

Now he stood at the literal head of a multimillion-dollar company. He ruled in the very same office where he once sat on the floor as a ten-year-old kid, playing with his Batman action figure. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d watched his father hook new “clients” between glasses of scotch.

Now, Nick was the one making deals.

He stared out of the immense window of his office as he practiced his putting swing. These golf clubs had been a gift (to himself), and he thought he could’ve pursued it harder when he was younger, if he hadn’t lost focus in high school.

Maybe if his dad had attended even one of his games, he would’ve pursued sports past the varsity level. He had the talent. He could’ve gotten scouted…

Nick blew out a breath.

“Well, this is what I like to see,” a droll voice said from the doorway. “A man hard at work.”

Nick’s head raised slowly. His brows twitched with surprise, but he soon covered it up with a hint of a dry smile.

“Welcome back, Dad,” Nick drawled. “Where were you? Venice? Greece?”

Daniel Savage was only slightly taller than his son. His build was broader, his blonde hair graying at the temples, but his blue eyes were sharp.

He dressed the part of a wealthy mogul: brown slacks, smart shoes, dark green turtleneck, with sleeves bunched up on his forearms, and a black Rolex on his wrist. Its watch face flashed in the afternoon light as he smoked a cigarette indoors.

He stepped inside the office, letting Nick’s assistant close the door.

“The hottest fucking country known to man,” said Daniel. He cocked his head as he took in all the changes to his office. He noted the untidy bar area with a critical eye.

“It was fun,” he added. “Got a nice tan. But it was starting to chafe…you know why?”

Nick rolled his eyes and straightened from his putting. He leaned on his club.

“I have everything under control,” he said.

“You see, if that were true,” Daniel said. His slow but measured gait drew him closer to his son. He flicked a bit of ash from his cigarette onto Nick’s shoe. “I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”

“You didn’t have to come,” Nick said, subtly shaking off his shoe. He tried to maintain his nonchalance, but even now, his father’s gaze pinned his feet to the floor. “Everything’s fine. I’m handling it.”

Daniel paused for a moment. The cigarette was poised between two fingers while his arm crossed beneath his elbow. He stared at his son like he was trying to figure out where the hell he went wrong.

“You know how I know you’re lying?” Daniel asked.

He then smacked his son so hard up the head, it made Nick trip over his golf club. It skittered to the floor, and he had to catch himself on the nearby couch. His arm chafed against the brown leather.

“Fuck,” he yelped.

Daniel grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hauled him around, until he was leaning against the couch arm.

“Because you’re single-handedly driving my empire into the ground with stupid. Fucking. Mistakes,” Daniel said. His tone was calm and even, but deep in his eyes was hellfire. “Alastair can only do so much to clean up after you.”

Nick swallowed. “I thought…using your brand would send a message. Remind people that our name still has power.”

By that, of course, he meant the various kills he’d ordered in the past six months. Each marked with a burn on their body—a symbol that even now was etched on his father’s ring: two snakes devouring one another.

“My name,” Daniel corrected. “The problem is, you use my mark, people think you’re me. And…well, you’re not, are you?”

Nick’s gaze cut away.

“And I was on sabbatical for a reason,” Daniel reminded. “I was kinda supposed to be dead.”

He took a long drag of his cigarette. When he blew out the smoke, the smell reminded Nick of nights he spent in the back rooms of old bars and clubs as a kid, watching his father play cards with old “friends of the family.”

But sometimes, family friends shot one another over money owed and disrespected protocols.

“Never kill your accountant, you idiot,” Daniel said. He punctuated this by tapping Nick hard on the chest, with the same two fingers that held his smoke. “The devil’s in the details. In this case, the numbers.”

Daniel shook his head and blew more smoke. “The cops are onto you…one in particular, in fact, who’s a few steps shy of pinning your ass against the wall.”

And one step away from mine, his tone implied. Hence why he’d returned from sabbatical, Nick realized, with a sinking feeling.

Okay, maybe he’d fucked up putting the hit on Jerry Stillwell, but the grubby little man had been demanding a bigger cut for his “continuing silence.”

Daniel sighed and raised a hand to rub between his eyes. He turned towards the desk and put out his cigarette on an ashtray.

“Technology’s gotten too good, Nicholas. It’s not like it was 30 years ago. Nowadays, when you start a damn fire, the cops tend to look at that shit a bit harder.”

Nick straightened up onto his feet. His hands clenched into fists with the same fire that always drove him: the desire to be useful. To be seen by his father. To matter.

“The cop, I know who he is. It’s the same one that tried to burn you last time,” Nick said. “John Winchester.”

Daniel scoffed, giving a short nod. “I know. The man’s fucking obsessed.”

Nick smiled. “I’ve already been working on a plan with Alastair—”

“You’ll do nothing,” Daniel snapped. He glanced at his son over his shoulder. “From now on, I’m back in the saddle. Nothing happens without my word. That includes this company.”

Nick frowned at that. A trill of anger made his nails bite into his palms.

“Savage & Co. is mine,” he argued. “You gave it to me.”

“That’s right. I’m correcting that bit of oversight.”

“We’ve been margining the best profits we’ve ever had,” Nick said. He mentally scoured your latest sales report in his brain. “Our projections—”

“Don’t mean shit,” Daniel said. He turned on his heel, with a hand in his pocket. “You do realize that this building? It’s just a pretty face. The real magic happens behind the curtain.”

He took note of the gold pen showcased on Nick’s desk. He picked it up…and threw it as hard as he could towards the bar. Nick flinched as glass bottles of fine liquor shattered.

“As we speak, there are deals closing all over the world,” Daniel continued. “Shipments being made back and forth through customs, all perfectly legal, as long as it has this company’s stamp…but that’s all about to unravel. And evidently, the only one who can keep the entire goddamn operation from crumbling into nothing, is ME!”

Nick tried not to flinch again at his father’s raised voice. That brought back memories too.

His gaze lowered. Meanwhile, Daniel took pains to inhale deeply, taking more even breaths. His hand brushed back his hair, as if smoothing down proverbial ruffled feathers.

“It’s all right, son,” he said with a slippery smile. “Azazel’s back in town.”

The next morning marked your official first day back in the office. After a little over a month of working from home, it felt odd to actually get dressed in the “workwear” side of your closet, complete with slacks, blouse, flat shoes, and a blazer.

No more making yourself a nice breakfast at home. No more Dean dropping in on his off days to hang out during the day, making you feel like you weren’t completely alone in your old, too-big house.

Back to the office, where you had to be completely and 100% on your game. Or else you wouldn’t be taken seriously by the would-be Jon Hamms of your office.

However, for every floor that Betsy the elevator climbed, the more your stomach churned. For once, it wasn’t just because you didn’t want to deal with Nick. You genuinely just didn’t want to be here.

“Buck up sweetheart,” as your grandfather would often say, when he watched you pause at the front door, taking a breath before you left for the day.

“Give it your very best, and no matter what crap happens afterwards, you can’t be disappointed in yourself.”

You remembered his encouragements. His smile. The way he subtly reminded you not to be so hard on yourself. The way he always knew how to make you laugh when you were at your most exhausted, or discouraged. The way he’d been your best friend and your father all at once.

You let out a shaky sigh, and you stopped the elevator three floors before the 22nd.

Before you fully realized what you were doing, you found yourself standing in the doorway of Andréa’s cubicle. She looked up at you a bit startled at first. Her brows drew together, but then, she seemed to soften.

You must’ve looked like hell.

“Hey…is it your first day back to the office?” she asked.

You nodded, because you weren’t sure what would come out if you spoke. Your hands were shaking, you also realized.

Andréa’s hazel eyes gentled. She stood and went over to you, resting a hand on your arm. After a beat, she just took your hand. You bit your lip, and your eyes watered, meeting hers.

“You’re not ready to be here, are you?” she asked.

After a beat, you made a negative sound and shook your head.

“Okay. Let’s get you back to your office so you can put in your PTO. I know you’ve got days racked up, since you’re a workaholic.”

You gave a tremulous smile. You let her lead you out of her cubicle and back towards the elevators.

“Nick is going to be an asshole about it,” you said weakly.

Andréa threw her head back and scoffed. “Nick can suck my dick twice on a Tuesday.”

She had you laughing through your tears. Then laughing until your stomach hurt.

She chortled, though she shushed you when you two walked out into the main hallway. A couple of guys from Legal shot you strange looks, but you ignored them. The lawyers at your company were starch-pressed assholes.

“Wanna grab brunch?” Andréa asked, when the elevator opened up for you two.

I’m sorry, her gaze said. You gave her a softer smile, accompanied by a nod.

Me too. You squeezed her hand. You two could talk the rest out later, but for now, you just wanted peace.

“Yeah, but for the love of God, not Geraldo’s,” you replied. “Last time, I think I got food poisoning just from the salad bar.”

Andréa laughed and pressed the floor for your office.

“Oh, hun. That’s what you get for eating rabbit food.”

Bit by bit, you started to pick up the pieces of yourself.

You ended up at Dean’s apartment more often than not, as being at home made your skin crawl with loneliness most nights.

He and Sam always welcomed you. In fact, Dean got a kick out of trading off cooking dinner with you. And you had to admit, he made a damn good burger.

So you decided to do something you hadn’t done in months. You grabbed every pan the brothers had, flour, eggs, sugar, salt, and the two leftover apples that looked like they were just about to turn. You started peeling them.

Meanwhile, Dean watched you spark to life as you baked in his kitchen. He sat from his corner at the dining table, still able to see you with his iPad in hand. A slow smile grew across his face.

“Apple pie?” he asked.

You looked up at him. “Apple cake. I don’t think I can compete with your mom’s recipe.”

“Damn, I really wish we had it,” he said. “I’d trust you do to it right.”

You tossed him a smile back. “Well, that’s high praise. Maybe one day I’ll give it a try…I don’t think I’ve made pie in a while.”

Dean watched you mix ingredients, whipping up a storm with the wooden spoon in the bowl. You dearly missed your Kitchen Aid mixer.

“You guys really need a better arsenal up in here,” you muttered. “Feel like I’m a damn Quaker churning butter over here.”

Your boyfriend burst out laughing. You looked up at him, your lips tugging back into a smile. You hadn’t even meant to make him laugh, but at least someone thought you were funny.

Dean tilted his head thoughtfully while he scrolled through football highlights on the small screen.

“Well, if you’re going to be over here more often, guess I’m gonna have to step up my game,” he said, “hit up a Homegoods.”

Your smile started to fall, as something occurred to you. “Oh, you don’t have to do all that.”

Dean noticed the shift in you, with a frown of his own.

“What?” he asked. You glanced over at him.

“Nothing, just…” You sighed. Hands on your hips, you paused in your churning to turn towards him. “It’s okay that I’ve been hanging out here more often, right? I mean…you’ll tell me if you need space. Or if Sam—”

Dean held up a hand. “Hold up. I’m gonna stop you right there.”

He set down his iPad on the table and got up from his seat. He joined you in the kitchen, letting his hand skim the counter as he drew into your personal space. You looked up at him and unconsciously held your breath.

Dean stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Have I said or done something to make you think I don’t want you here? Has Sam?”

You frowned, but you shook your head. “No, baby. I just want to make sure I’m not…I don’t know, overstaying my welcome.”

His eyes met yours frankly. “You’re not.”

His hand fell from your face, just to bring you in close by your waist. He dropped a kiss onto your forehead.

“I’d just be worrying about you over there anyway. Alone in that big house,” he admitted.

You blew out a breath and leaned into him, resting your hands against his chest.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Grandpa told me to sell it, but…I don’t know if I can do that.”

Dean didn’t want to tell you what to do here. Personally, he thought you’d be better off selling it, both for practical reasons and for your own wellbeing. But he could also understand the sentimental side of it too.

“Well, you’ve got time to figure it out,” he said.

You nodded. A smile returned to your face, and you looked up at him.

“But first, cake,” you said.

Dean smiled down at you. He could certainly live with that.

He later moaned while sampling said confection. The apple and spices were the perfect ratio of sweetness to softness. The cake was buttery and delicious. And you really were talented, he thought.

“I’m telling you, babe, you really need to get back into this,” he said around another bite. “I mean professionally. Who needs corporate assholes when you’ve got cinnamon apples?”

Sitting across from him at the dining table, you giggled at the sight of this massive man child with his mouth full. Though he might’ve had a point…maybe it was time to revisit your “pipe dream.” Or at least the very thing you went to school for.

If only working at a bakery slinging pastry dough paid the same as your sales job.

“This was my grandma’s recipe,” you told him. “She’s the one who taught me how to cook, how to bake.”

Dean made a “top notch” symbol with his hand. “She sure knew what she was doin’.”

Your good humor soon faded, though you tried to hide it. You were tired of bringing down the people around you. You wanted to just be yourself again…but it seemed your heavy heart wouldn’t let you.

You realized you hadn’t succeeded when Dean’s hand fell over yours. You looked up and met his eyes. They asked a question without speaking as his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand.

“My family’s gone, Dean,” you said wearily, fighting the tears stinging in your eyes.

You still technically had extended family members, but most of them had always looked down at your grandparents, after seeing how they’d “failed” with your mother, then raised the daughter she’d had from a one-night stand she’d met in a bar. Those same people had pitied you when you were young, and barely looked you in the eyes at both of your grandparents’ funerals.

So in your mind, the only real family you had was gone.

But Dean squeezed your hand.

“No,” he said. “They’re right here. In these hands.”

Once again his thumb swept across the back of your knuckles. “You’ve still got what they gave you. Your mind, your spirit, and a lot of other things that make you, you…”

His lips pulled at a smile.

“And you’ve still got me,” he added.

Slowly, you smiled back. You leaned over and held his face in your hands, stroking his stubble covered cheeks.

“That I do,” you said, and your voice only shook a little. “Thank God for that.”

When you kissed him, it felt as natural as taking a breath. You two had shared tender moments in the past few weeks, born of pain and comfort. But this time had a spark of hunger as your hand drifted down his neck.

Dean kissed you back, pleasantly surprised by the demand of your tongue. He hummed in question, though he gripped your arms to keep you close.

You answered him by licking further into his mouth, kissing him deeper. You broke for a moment, just to meet his eyes. The heat in his was familiar, prickling delightful sensations across your skin. Especially when he dragged you into his lap and continued to devour you against the kitchen table.

Your hands slipped under his black Henley and between the muscles in his back. Some of them twitched under your touch, and you let your nails drag slowly back down his spine.

Fuck, he shuddered. It felt nice (and arousing), but it reminded him of other times your nails had raked across his back.

He gripped your thighs tight, and he contemplated laying you out right here on the dining table, for all he cared. Matter of fact, he’d eat apple cake off your body, if you were down for it.

Unfortunately, that was when Sam finally unlocked the door and got home from work. He caught you and Dean breathless and pupils wide, your hair frizzy and your shirt halfway up over your bra. You hastily tugged it down, while he did the same for himself.

Meanwhile, Sam just rolled his eyes.

“You do have a room, you know,” he said wryly.

Dean cleared his throat and shot you a meaningful look. You nodded, slipping off his lap. But you grabbed his hand and pulled him up with you.

Dean shot his brother a wink over his shoulder. “When the room’s a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’.”

Sam scoffed. “As if I’d give myself that kind of family trauma.”

“Leftovers are in the fridge, Sam!” you called, even though you were halfway down the hall with Dean on your heels.

Sam huffed as he heard your squeal, followed by a door slamming shut. And yet, he smiled. His brother might’ve become part of the “happily committed,” but some things just didn’t change.

Afterwards, you really felt nothing but peace.

Your head rested on your arms, across Dean’s lap. You were comfortable and naked and tangled in his sheets, while he soothed a hand through your wild hair. Ace Ventura played on the TV, and you enjoyed listening to him laugh.

You were too tired, physically and emotionally, to be as vocal. Your body shook in silent laughter, goaded on by his. And that was enough for Dean.

It was enough for you too.

AN: 🥹 I hope you enjoyed that bit of hurt/comfort at the end there, but really throughout this. Dean's really proved himself, hasn't he? But let's talk about "Azazel"...

Did you like the reveal? It changes how you look at Nick, huh?

Well, he's about to get worse.

(Don't worry too much though. There will be protective!Dean.)

Next Time:

He grabbed your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge.

Keep Reading: PART 13

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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#All in the Family #Smoke Eater #Part 12 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #Castiel #spn #supernatural #benny lafitte #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #zepskies writes

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multi-fxndom446 · 4 months

Text

Think of me once in a while

John ‘Soap’ Mactavish

Warning: literally angst. I have no excuse I had an urge to write something sad so now you all suffer with me.

Summary: you sacrifice yourself for Johnny.

Word count: 1.3K

The violins started slowly, one by one joining the next until it was an overwhelmingly devastating sound.

He liked to think you would’ve liked it had it not been so sad. You always did like slower songs, if the orchestra he took you to years ago was anything to go by.

You were in tears by the end and he never understood how something without words could have such a drastic impact.

He understood now though.

He understood as he stared blankly at your coffin being lowered into the ground. The few people there were making there stops to put a rose down on the casket as it was being lowered and he couldn’t help but think how you deserved more.

Your line of work wouldn’t allow you to have a public funeral, not that it would’ve mattered. There was no one else beside the 141 in your life and they were all there watching.

But still…he couldn’t help but think how you deserved something bigger, something that you would be recognized for. Something that he could say a speech on how you saved many lives..how you saved His life.

He clenched his fist. He wanted to hate you for this. He wanted to hate you for taking the hit for him, for laying your life down for him. All because, in your words, the team needed him more than you.

God if you were stood next to him he’d be shaking you, calling you an idiot and to never do it again. He’d tell you to never lose your life for his. Hed-

Johnny stopped. His heart breaking into a thousand pieces. He’d cry.., he’d hold you just to feel you alive against him and maybe just maybe he’d get the chance to finally tell you he’d loved you and maybe you would’ve let him kiss you.

But he can’t now.

“Johnny.” Ghost laid a hand on his shoulder. He could tell he was trying to be gentle but he didn’t know if ghost had a gentle bone in his body. “They’re gonna start with the dirt soon..”

Johnny nodded in a daze. “Johnny.” Simon said again quietly. “The rose.”

He looked down to his clenched fists and saw what he meant. The rose, the same ones everyone had thrown onto your casket, was still clutched tightly in his hand.

Simon gave him a nudge forward and he took reluctant steps, his gaze falling onto his captain who wore a mask of indifference. Though if he looked close enough he could see the cracks.

The last time he saw you before you were laying in his arms came flooding to the forefront of his mind each step closer to the hole in the ground.

You were standing at a booth, pretending to look at some greeting cards when he appeared on the other side.

He picked up one of them but wasn’t paying attention to it. He was trying to discreetly get your attention but you wouldn’t look at him.

“Y/n, you seein’ anythin’?” Simon asked and Johnny watched as your gaze finally flitted up to meet his for a second before scanning the crowd.

“Targets getting ready to move.” You muttered softly and moved away. Johnny watched you get further from him and his heart ached.

He was angry, he had been angry for what felt like months since Makarov escaped. Sometimes his anger blinded him but he tried his best to never let it be directed at you.

Even if it had you had seen his anger a good amount of times, you’d been on the shit end of the stick more times then he’d like to admit but you never batted an eye. Never shut him out when he snapped at you, so why now?

You almost seemed distracted. Floating through the task at hand.

Johnny wanted to reach for you, wanted you to tell him what was wrong but when he took a step forward Prices voice cut through. “Soap get a move on.”

“Ey.” He forced himself to look away and move on. He wished now he would’ve taken the second to brush your hand, something small but comforting.

If he’d known it would be the last time he saw you breathing he would’ve told you to stay where you were. To not move.

But he couldn’t turn back time.

The dreaded moments that came after were ones he wished he could bury so deep they never resurfaced.

One minute he was calling orders at price so they could diffuse the bomb then next Makarov had a gun pointed to the side of his head.

His life flashed before his eyes. All those moments with you, the moments he should’ve said something, should’ve kissed you, held you, loved you. All gone.

“No!” Your voice cut through the fog. His eyes widened in shock when you seemingly came out of nowhere and managed to direct the gun to you the second Makarov pulled the trigger. Shooting you in the chest.

Johnnys eyes stared at you in shock as you looked at him with the same expression, blood already coating your clothes.

He caught you the moment you fell to the ground. The sounds of gun fire as price shot at Makarov falling on deaf ears. All that mattered was you.

“What-“ Johnny choked, hand fumbling with the straps of your gear so he could get a better angle of the wound. So he could put pressure on it. “What tha hell did you do.” He gritted at frustrated when your gear wouldn’t move.

“It couldn’t be you.” You told him. You had the audacity to look relieved about what you did. Like you accomplished your own goal. “They need you more.”

“What?!” He shook his head. “What the hell are ya’..?” Johnnys sentence trailed off. The distance, you being distracted, It all made sense. He recalled then the time he walked in on a heated conversation between you and Price. He thought he heard his name once or twice but the moment you saw him your whole demeanor changed and you were all smiles as you ushered him out.

You knew you were going to do this. You knew one day you’d give your life up for his. “Why…?” But you couldn’t talk anymore. Your body growing colder in his hold. All you could manage to do was grip onto his hand and nod as if that would explain everything.

The rest was a blur. Makarov got away but Johnny sat there with you in his arms until Simon came up, checking your pulse then shaking his head in Prices direction.

You were gone.

Johnny kept his eyes on Price until the very last moment when he dropped the rose down. Watching it as it joined the rest of the bouquet.

He glanced up. The violins had stopped playing. He realized it was because the funeral they were there for came to a close and they were all leaving and he was left feeling emptier.

“I know you won’t like the answer.” Price said with a sigh as he came to stand next to him. “But I think you want to know.”

“You knew.” He muttered.

Price nodded. “I knew she cared for you.” Johnny scoffed.

“She knew from the beginning this is how she wanted to go out.” Price continued. “She decided that on her own. Don’t waste what she gave you.”

Johnny titled his head toward the sky to try and stop the tears. Price patted his shoulder before he walked away, taking Gaz with him.

Simon watched further away so Johnny could have a moment.

There was so much Johnny wanted to say. So much he wanted to yell. But knowing he wouldn’t ever be able to come back to this spot to see you again, he said the only thing he hoped would give him closure.

“I love you.”

#call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #cod x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader

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lovelyjj · 2 years

Note

if you are taking requests ofc, i was wondering if you could do something where jj or the lounges comfort the reader because they had recently lost a family member? me personally i just lost my mother a few days ago and i feel it would bring me some sort of joy lol. if so thankyou!!

I’m so sorry for your loss. sending you lots of love.

Guardian Angel

jj maybank x reader

wc: 1.2k

The funeral was what you would expect it to be like. It was beautiful. It was on a gloomy day and it was full of sadness. The day had finally come to all mourn the death of your mother. You gave the eulogy and were so close to not crying. It was the end that made you break. Your voice cracking as you cried in front of everyone.

It was hard but you finally finished your speech, hot tears slipping down your cheeks as you delivered it.

The pogues were there to support you and be there for you which you appreciated. The death of your mother has come as quite a shock. Your grieving process has been a mess. You weren't eating and you were sleeping too much. It was hard even getting out of bed. The loss was taking a toll on you.

The reception was held at your house and by the end of it you were exhausted. People offered you their condolences and you herd enough "sorry for your loss" to last a lifetime. It was hard socializing. You just wanted to crawl into your bed and grieve.

When the reception was over you felt a weight lifted off your shoulders. It was all over. The pogues stayed after all the guests left to make sure you were ok.

"Are you alright?" Kie asked as she took a seat at your kitchen table.

You released a breath you didn't know you were holding and than spoke, "fine, just tired."

All of your friends were looking at you as if you might break. You hated it.

"We're all here for you y/n" John B mentioned.

You nodded and gave a reassuring smile.

"Thank you."

You lifted your head and caught a glance at JJ and his expression looked worried. You just about wanted to burst into tears and have him hold you with the way he was looking at you.

But you didn't. Instead you steadied yourself and spoke, "I really appreciate all you guys being here for me. It means so much."

With that you excused yourself and JJ followed you upstairs leaving the rest of the crew to clean up. They understood you had a hard day and you needed a moment to breathe.

When you reached your room you leaned against your door and exhaled.

You knew JJ was right behind you so you weren't surprised when you herd a knock.

You picked yourself up from leaning against the wall and faced the door. "Come in" you added.

JJ came in and shut the door behind him. He was quick to scoop you up in his arms. He held you tight and feeling the safety and comfort of the hug you practically fell apart.

JJ could feel your tears wetting himself and he felt so bad. He wished he could take your pain away. He hated seeing and hearing you cry.

"Sh sh sh" JJ whispered. He started rubbing your back and you pushed your face deeper into his neck.

JJ would hold you as long as you needed. If you needed him he was there. You took yourself from resting on his chest to facing him. JJ immediately cupped your face and used his thumb to swipe away still falling tears.

"JJ" you said voice breaking.

"What baby."

"She's really gone. I don't know what to do."

"Hey hey it's gonna be ok. I'm here for you ok? I'm right here." JJ soothed.

You only nodded face contorting back into a cry. You hugged JJ as you cried hard, sobbing into his shoulder.

JJ walked you over to the bed and got you to lay down with him. You laid your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. The sound soothing you.

You sniffled and JJ started stroking your hair.

"I think she's looking down on you and she's so proud of you." JJ muttered.

"She will always be with you, in here." JJ said pointing to your heart.

"And she's always watching over you. She's your guardian angel." JJ spoke trying to take away your hurt.

You simply nodded appreciating his efforts.

The day was a lot on you. Lots of emotions. Your puffy eyes were closing and your body was telling you it was tired.

You were almost on your way to dreamland when you herd a knock on the door.

"I'll get it" JJ suggested. He slowly lifted you off him and headed towards the door.

When JJ opened the door he was met with John B.

"What's up man" JJ grumbled.

"Well we were wondering if we could spend the night. We don't want y/n to feel alone tonight." John B voiced.

"That's really sweet of you" JJ announced.

"Of course you guys can." You said who herd the conversation from your bed.

You rolled yourself out of bed and walked over to the doorway.

"I'll help you guys with your beds" you responded.

You JJ and John B made your way back downstairs. You went to the hall closet and got out two air mattresses and a bunch of blankets.

You rearranged the living room so the air mattresses could fit. Then you handed John B the blankets for himself, Kiara, Pope, and Sarah.

"Let me know if you guys need anything else. Please don't be shy" You assured them.

"Alright thanks y/n" John B mentioned.

"Thanks for staying" you responded.

Another series of thank you's and goodnight's echoed from the living room directed at you.

You gave everyone a wave and said goodnight and proceeded up the stairs with JJ.

"It's nice of them to stay" you spoke to JJ once you reached the safety of your room.

"Yeah we're here to look out for you. We got a good group of friends. They'd do anything for us. For you" JJ reasoned.

"Yeah they're the best."

The two of you went back to your position on the bed. Both of you snuggled together. JJ combing his fingers through your hair and whispering words of praise.

"I love you JJ."

"I love you too baby" JJ responded.

With that you were ready for sleep to take you after your exhausting day you had.

———

The next morning you could tell your eyes were swollen. You shifted in your spot and rolled over.

JJ let out a grunt at your movements. His arms came up and he wrapped around you from behind. He inhaled your scent and nuzzled his nose in the back of your hair.

"Stop moving" he whispered.

You began to shift around to face him.

"No stay here" JJ suggested.

"JJ i have guests I should go check on them."

"Fine."

You stumbled out of bed and JJ was quick to follow you wanting to be by your body heat.

When you descended the stairs you were met with a table full of food and a bouquet of nice fresh flowers.

JJ bumped into your back and when he saw the table all set up he uttered “woah.”

“You guys did all this?” You asked.

“Yeah just for you.” John B mentioned.

The group of pogues gathered around the table with small smiles on their faces. And even with your mom gone you knew that you would be ok eventually as long as you had the pogues and JJ.

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starlingflight · 7 months

Text

Ginniversary drabble 5

Prompt: G58 -give me one good reason why I should wear a dress.

AO3 or read below:

“I can't do it.”

Ginny's words came out in a hushed whisper, one that Harry suspected he wouldn't have been able to hear if not for the heavy silence that had fallen over the Burrow in the days since the battle, making every word and movement, no matter how quiet, seem obnoxiously loud

He looked away from the Harpies poster he'd been idly staring at on her bedroom wall, eyes finding hers in the mirror she'd been standing in front of for the past twenty minutes.

She was still in her pyjamas. She'd ran a brush through her hair, but he doubted Mrs Weasley would say that was sufficient for the occasion; then again, he very much doubted Mrs Weasley would say anything at all today.

“You can,” he said softly.

A single tear slid down Ginny's cheek. A great deal more shone threateningly in her amber eyes. “I don't want to.”

“I know.” Harry swallowed thickly, blinking against the stinging in his own eyes. “Just start with getting dressed.”

It was how they'd managed everything so far. Get up, get dressed, don't think about where you're apparating to. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't think about how even that was a privilege so many no longer had.

“No.” Ginny shook her head. Her cheeks glinted where her now steady stream of tears passed through the sunlight beaming mockingly through the window. “I'm not doing it.”

If there was anything within arms reach Harry thought she might have thrown it at the wall. Fortunately, her desk, and the majority of her most treasured possessions, were at the far side of the room.

“I'm not going,” she declared, arms folded stubbornly over her chest.

Harry leaned forward on her bed, where he was sitting, trying very hard not to wrinkle the dress robes he was sick of wearing.

“You have to,” he said, a hint of apology in his voice. He wished she didn't have to.

“Why?” Ginny demanded, voice quivering, tears falling faster. She didn't give him a moment to answer. “Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress, and do my hair, and apparate to some desolate graveyard that Fred never set foot in once in his whole life and–”

Harry couldn't say if her words ended because of the embrace he'd crossed the room and enveloped her in, or because her sobs had simply become too thick to allow for speech. Either way, she sank into his arms, and all concern about the state of his dress robes was quickly forgotten. Ginny's tears seemed an appropriate adornment on the day of Fred's funeral anyway.

He didn't try to give her a good reason; there weren't any.

Instead, Harry's arms tightened around her, holding her to him for his sake as much as hers. He'd once, in this room, under very different circumstances, thought of her as the only real thing in the world; now she was the final thing left to him at the end of it. The one bright miracle he could cling to in the darkness, that she was still there. Her fingers gripped the front of his dress robes, holding on just as tightly.

Eventually, Ginny's sobs subsided, replaced by deep, shaking breaths that slowly became steady. When she looked up at him, her cheeks were still streaked with tears but her eyes were clear.

Footsteps sounding from the floor above forced Harry to break the silence that had once again settled between them. “You have to get dressed.”

Ginny nodded without argument, relinquishing her grip on his robes to wipe the moisture from her face.“I know… just stay with me, please.”

Harry released a shaking breath of his own, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. “I'm not going anywhere.”

#drabble #hinny #harry x ginny #me looking at this fun prompt: looks nice but needs a pinch of angst #and then my hand slipped and a heap of angst was added instead

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literaila · 2 years

Text

lean in, lean out

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary: in which peter invites you to a wedding. as his girlfriend. which, evidently, you are not.

warnings: hahahaha, fake dating trope, pure fluff, peter is an idiot, reader is an idiot, we’re all idiots.

a/n: let me know how you like it!

"this is stupid."

despite the tone of your voice, despite the absolute death grip you've got on his hand, and despite all other things—

peter looks down at you. smiles that same irritating smile.

you know—the smile that makes your whole body feel... alive. the kind of smile that lights you on fire and doesn't apologize. no, you think. he's not sorry.

and he's really not.

"you're doing great," peter whispers, leaning a little bit closer to you. maybe just a little bit amused.

or a lot. it's hard to tell with how much you hate him right now. his encouragement is not welcome.

his breath on your skin and every stupid ounce of affection and appreciation—it’s not welcome.

"why do i even have to be here?" you ask him, between gritted teeth. his hand is warm in yours. rough. "you could've said i got food poisoning, or the flu. or maybe i was ziplining and the wire broke."

peter looks forward, but you see the little crinkle of his brows.

"that's a terrible excuse," he tells you, "you can't just start ziplining. you have to, like, take a course."

"because that's my biggest concern right now. the course i didn't take."

peter snorts, but is quick to cover it up with a cough, smiling at the people who turn to stare at him.

and at you with their evil eyes.

with their very nice smiles and wonderful table manners. their curiosity towards the man who, at the moment, is tickling your hand with his fingertips.

you try to smile at them.

you're supposed to be keeping your mouth shut, listening to the speeches.

you're actually supposed to be completely in love with peter.

which, you think, in the deepest, darkest part of your mind, isn't really that big of a stretch.

"can't we just get kicked out?" you mutter to him, pretending that you're not both playing footsie under the table. that you’re a mature adult and peter is a child you’re just babysitting.

you're winning, obviously.

"i don't think you can get kicked out of weddings..." but peter still looks around, like he's checking for a sign.

"you can if you snuck in."

peter looks at you again, sunken down in your seat and crossing your arms.

which is what you'd be doing if that was a part of your elegant girlfriend role.

instead, you're sitting up straight, pretending not to admire how the light catches his jaw--the little concave of his throat. pretending that you didn't stare at him the entire ceremony. nor that his suit has elicited an unfortunate reaction in your chest.

"luckily, we didn't sneak in." peter takes a sip of his water. he is deliberately avoiding your eyes.

maybe it's the guilt.

"yeah, yeah," you mutter, into your own glass—your only solace. "these people are your closest confidants. the people you'd want at your funeral, the ones who know you like no other—“

peter squeezes your hand. you can't tell if he's telling you to shut up, or thanking you.

you honestly can't tell if it's hot in here or if you're just sweating.

you contemplate chugging your water.

"shh," peter whispers, but he leans in close again. just enough that you can smell his soap--some kind of spice, some kind of ridiculously addicting smell that you can never quite place. he kisses your head, smiles at someone who is looking at you.

but you're staring at the floor.

you're really trying to keep the dumb smile off of your face.

there are spiders crawling into your brain and making you short-circuit.

"gotta have a wedding before a funeral. and," he says, teasing you, breaking the rules, "you're my closest confidant."

"how romantic."

peter moves back. it might be your tone of voice. he glances at you with a raised brow. "i thought this was stupid?"

"it is," you're quick to answer. quick to throw yourself off of the nearest building. quick to run out of here and pretend that you got eaten alive by wolves. "i'm just saying—if you want to trick all of your family members, might as well do a good job."

"i think we're a good couple," peter pouts like he's absolutely serious.

the words want to send sparks down your heart. they want to hurl bowling balls down your stomach.

but you refuse.

"this is stupid," you repeat, but this time, your lip twitches. if only minimally.

peter kicks your foot under the table. he opens his mouth to say something back.

but then everyone is clapping, peter is looking over to you—you with wide eyes and far too temperamental emotions—and laughing.

you must look shocked.

the bride's father steps down from the stage, voice echoing as he tries to collect himself.

peter pretends to wipe a tear away.

when you turn away from him—thanking whatever gods there are that everyone is focused on the stage and away from your glowing eyes—you pretend that you can't feel him smirking back at you.

"it's really not that big of a deal—“

you blink. you stare at him. you count to a million in your head, trying not to feel angry. or upset.

it doesn't work.

"you told your aunt that i was your girlfriend, and it's 'not that big of a deal?'" your poor imitation almost makes him laugh. almost.

"she already thought we were dating anyway—“

you think about strangling him. or kicking the chair out from under his feet. "may thought that you were dating the stupid library girl?"

"you're not stupid."

"i was talking about the library."

peter looks almost offended. "hey."

you roll your eyes. drop your head into your hands. his eyes are warm on you, and you know that he's not going to look away until you say something else.

until you agree to this stupid plan and pretend that the only reason he's okay with this is that he feels absolutely nothing for you—

it's not that big of a deal. really.

peter places a hand on your shoulder. when you don't look up, he sighs. and then promptly pulls your hands away from your face.

he is unbearably kind. smiling at you.

"peter..." you say, almost relenting. almost letting him win.

as if this was a game and you were a handy object he picked up along the way. just something to come in later.

"hey," he says, softly, still staring at you. he's never been afraid of eye contact. "if you want me to call her back and tell her that i lied, i will. i don't want to make you uncomfortable."

you'd like to mention that the only uncomfortable thing about any of this is how hard your heart bangs on your chest.

your head lands back in your hands.

peter pokes the bit of cheek he can still reach. you twitch.

"or i can tell her we broke up. that you broke up with me. you'd get a kick out of that." he nudges your shoulder.

you pretend that he didn't just slide his chair even closer to you.

you peek an eye at him. "i would enjoy breaking up with you."

"ouch." but peter's smiling. "seriously," he says. "you don't have to go."

you lean up, brows furrowed. "why don't you just find an actual date?"

you try to say it seriously. like you're not bitter at the prospect.

"having a first date at a wedding?" peter says, dryly. "no, thank you."

"you could, i don't know, try actually dating someone. it doesn't have to be the first date."

"i don't wanna date someone's," he's almost pouting. your lip twitches.

this statement is a lie, of course, but it fills your heart with a little unnecessary glee. something a little bit like relief. you want to dig a hand into your ribcage and rip your heart out just so you can scold it a little.

instead, you shake your head at peter. "then don't go with anyone. maybe you'll meet someone there. wedding romances are very popular this time of year.”

peter winces. "i know. it's just..." he blows a breath. runs a hand through his hair, only making it even messier. his sweater is bunched at his wrists. his glasses are hanging at the tip of his nose.

you want to lean in close to him and push them up.

you clench your fists.

"it's just what?"

"if i go alone then everyone will ask questions."

you frown. "questions?"

"yeah." peter sighs, avoids your eyes again. "and then they'll all give me those pitiful looks because 'poor peter he can't move on' and 'may said he was doing better.'"

you observe his face carefully, tiny pricks of anger hitting directly at your chest.

"it happens at every family event," peter laughs, looking back at you. "i… wanted them to see that i'm okay, for once. and you know i don't like answering questions."

you laugh. you move a little bit closer to him, maybe subconsciously. "you don't have to go alone," you say. maybe to him.

"i know," peter stares at you a second, smiles. "there's no one else i'd want to go with, though."

unsure if he's poking fun at you or being serious, you choose the safe option. the smarter one.

"i hate weddings," you declare to him, glaring.

peter laughs, head thrown back, teeth showing.

you feel a sense of pride. a tiny little branch growing in your chest—getting bigger.

peter shakes his head, because he knows you're lying. he's nice enough not to say it. "plus, may already likes you. no awkward introduction."

you raise a brow. "there wasn't any awkward introduction when i went home with you for thanksgiving."

"because she already liked you."

"you giving me glowing reviews, parker?"

he smiles. "no," tilts his head like he's hilarious. "may likes that you called me out on my bullshit."

you push him, frowning. "i'm very nice to you."

he rubs at his arm, still smiling at you.

and then there's a moment where the two of you just stare. just look in each other's eyes like you wouldn't rather be doing anything else.

you wouldn't.

but you know peter is waiting.

you take a deep breath in.

it might be his stupid smile. or his dimples.

it might be the way he's pleading with you--without his eyes, without even asking--like it's a secret that only you can keep.

"okay," you tell him. "but i'm going to eat all of the cake."

peter holds his hands out to you.

it's late enough in the night that the lights are dim. that his eyes are bright, illuminated by the fluorescents above your head. his smile is soft, his hands are big.

you frown. "what?"

"let's dance." peter says this like it's obvious. like what else would you rather be doing right now?"

you look down at the table, empty now. you look towards the dance floor, full.

"yeah," you drawl. "maybe not."

peter pouts. "you don't want to dance with me?"

his hand is still out, still perfectly intimidating.

"it has nothing to do with you, peter," you promise. "i don't want to dance with anyone."

"but you're a great dancer."

you point a finger at him. "there is no evidence of that."

"fall semester, last year."

"how very specific, peter."

he smiles. he waves his hand like he's very impatient. "c'mon, it'll look weird if we don't dance."

"you already look weird so i don't see the issue."

his free hand goes to his chest, in mock offense. you smile at him, so adoring.

"you dance around in my kitchen all the time."

"not in heels."

his face is blank.

"not after i've just eaten a bunch of wedding cake."

peter just stares at you.

"peter," you whine, feeling intimidated. but mostly worried about being any clsoer to him than you have been all night. "please don't make me."

"this is supposed to be fun."

you cross your arms. your neck has begun to ache from looking up at him.

"just one song," he makes a tiny little one with his finger as if that is going to convince you anymore.

"it's never 'just' with you."

peter crosses his heart. "scouts honor."

"that was a cross, not a pledge. and you're not a boy scout."

"i could've been," he sighs dreamily, looking up at the ceiling like he's got big goals. entire aspirations.

and then he looks down at you and smiles again.

and fine.

maybe you dance with him.

but it has nothing to do with his smile. you're merely trying to keep up appearances.

"when may calls you tomorrow and asks why your girlfriend hates you, just tell her—“

peter follows you as you stumble into the hotel room.

he flicks the lights on and sets your bag down in the hallway.

because he owes you, you just flop down on the bed. admiring how soft the sheets are. you lose track of your sentence.

"do you want to shower?"

"it is three in the morning, peter."

"yeah but you're all sticky."

you sit up in bed and look at him--peter who has now removed his blazer. who is quickly undoing his tie and staring at you like he's never looked at you before.

you look down at the sheets. rub your hands together because you're cold.

"are you saying that you don't want to sleep next to me because i smell bad?" you ask him, scrunching your nose.

peter slips his shoes off, laughing so quietly that you can barely hear it. he flops down next to you, looking up at the ceiling.

"i don't remember implying that."

you crawl closer to him, almost right above him. "it was written all over your face, parker."

"well," he smiles at you, more amused. maybe delirious. "it's not like i haven't shared a bed with you before."

you lay back, copying him. your hands rest at your sides, very close to his.

you blink. the white of the ceiling looks particularly interesting.

"it's too early to tell if that was an insult or not."

peter snorts. his laughter shaking the entire bed.

shaking your entire body from the inside out.

and then he groans as he leans up, stretching. you close your eyes, refusing to look at him.

refusing to notice how his shirt has ridden up his back and you can see an inch of soft warm skin.

refusing to notice how the bed already smells like him.

and the fact that you're supposed to sleep next to him, all night.

and that maybe dancing with him left behind some spare anxiety, crawling up your skin and massaging your neck.

you refuse anything.

when you open your eyes again, peter is unbuttoning his shirt.

"are you at least going to get in pajamas?"

"peter, these are pajamas."

he snorts. "really?" a shirt is thrown on the floor. a zipper can be heard from across the room. similar to your heart. "because i distinctly remember someone telling me that 'it was the most uncomfortable outfit ever' and 'not even satan would allow this.'"

you sit up, moving to cross your legs. maybe you stare at him a little. "what?" you gasp. "who would say such a thing?"

peter looks back at you and smiles.

it's quite possibly—in the realm of possibilities and three in the morning thoughts—the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

"here," he tosses you a shirt. a pair of sweatpants.

how he found those in the vast depths of your suitcase, you are unsure.

"i'm going to go brush my teeth, moisturize."

"is that how you get that baby-smooth skin of yours?"

peter raises an eyebrow at you. gestures down to the clothes in your lap. "change. get in bed. you look tired."

you frown. "did my makeup smudge?"

peter stares for a moment, surveying your face. his eyes are wide and his lips are just slightly parted. just enough for you to see a tiny bit of pink. a flash of white.

it’s a moment too long. peter clears his throat. "no," he says. "you--it, um. it looks good. you look beautiful."

your eyes widen, if only a little bit.

peter seems to realize this. he seems to run from you, if not literally, then figuratively. "okay. uh, you. change." he shakes his head.

and then the bathroom door closes.

you're tucked into bed when peter comes out ten minutes later.

you don't bother to ask what took him so long.

he smiles at you in the dark—you can see this, or, at least feel it. you're very familiar with it.

and despite the fact that you have shared a bed with peter before, that you were miles closer to him only a couple of hours ago, you still feel a twitch of nerves as he climbs into bed next to you.

the covers shift ever so slightly.

and then peter turns towards you. he knows that you're still awake.

you know that his eyes are soft. that there are circles under his eyes but he still looks just as beautiful. but he still looks like the person that you're undeniably in love with.

whatever.

"tired?" he whispers to you because it's dark.

these are late-night secrets, see.

"yes." you whisper back. "no."

peter chuckles, so low and quiet.

it's silent for a moment. cars passing by the room. lights shining in through the curtains.

your heart bouncing across the walls and hoping to land in peter's hands.

"did you have fun?" he asks, so soft.

you almost freeze. almost completely forget yourself. "yeah. yes. i—it wasn't as bad as i thought it would be."

"i think the dancing really sold it."

"oh, you mean, you stepping on my feet and me not yelling at you?"

"uh-huh."

"that's the testament to a good relationship, for sure."

peter is smiling.

you know that.

maybe because you're also smiling.

"you should go to bed," you say. "you're tired."

"i'm really not," peter says.

you want to lean in closer. something about the dark. something about spending the whole day with him. something about his eyes and his lips and his smiles—which, even now—are terrifying.

something about the dark.

"may wants to have breakfast with us," peter whispers to you.

"yeah?"

"yeah. i can tell her that you're too tired if you want."

you clear your throat. swallow. "no. it's okay. i like hanging out with her."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

peter is silent for a moment. he is so quiet that you're almost worried that he's disappeared into the dark.

but he's there.

your heart won't let you forget that.

"peter?" you whisper.

"yeah?"

"thank you for bringing me."

"thank you for being my girlfriend."

the sentence weighs more than a pile of bricks on your chest.

you think about the next ten minutes. about how this might be—this is—your last chance. this is it for peter being your boyfriend. even fake.

it's worth something.

but peter turns on his side, eyes shutting.

and so you follow, pretending that you can't feel him, warm, so soft, next to you.

you pretend that you can't hear his breathing. that all of this is meaningless.

and you're getting used to it. pretending.

still, you feel it, about seven minutes later.

a couple of minutes after you're sure that peter's already fallen asleep. that he isn't plagued by these thoughts, these ideas like you are.

it doesn't matter.

it's seven minutes later, in the dark, so early in the morning.

you feel peter's hand, right next to you.

you feel him intertwine his fingers with you.

and peter is warm and soft. rough and cold.

he is asleep. but it means something.

you pretend it doesn't.

you fall asleep holding his hand.

my masterlist here.

tags: @moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @random_writer1021

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starlightshadowsworld · 1 year

Text

I love Percy and Annabeth but they should not have been in Heroes of Olympus.

Because they overshadow everyone else.

People even say they skipped other characters povs just to read there's.

I love them but I think they shouldn't have been as prominently apart of the story.

Because yeah I love them but I've had 5 books of these guys, I'd really like to know the rest of the seven.

Hell Jason's birthday is the day they fall into Tartarus soo...tell me they aren't overshadowed..

Jason's our main character and he constantly gets pushed aside and is not written well and constantly compared to as being Percy's lesser version.

Which isn't fair.

And he's not given a chance to change that.

He's not allowed to exist outside of Percy because of course he isn't.

Percy's right there.

Also give them a break.

They just fought a war.

Personally would love if the lost hero started with a snap shot of the battle of Manhatten and zoomed out to the Roman part of the fight.

Jason leading the charge and just "Yeah.. That's me, your probably wondering how I got here."

And takes us all the way back to a mysterious woman giving Jason up and the wolves coming for him.

With us learning from kid Thalia demanding to know where Jason is that this Jason is her Jason.

Jason Grace.

We see the wolf house we watch Jason try to survive and absolutely break our hearts hearing someone so young think he's so alone and no one loves him.

Lupa becoming more motherly to him but that fear Jason has always remains that she will turn on him one day.

Jason wandering the streets to Camp Jupiter.

Jason's situation bring the reverse of Percy's.

Being out casted immediately and than put on a pedestal once he's claimed.

Jason immediately hating it.

Jason being pushed into this good soilder narrative but he doesn't fit it at all.

His upbringing has left him wild, less bothered with proper fighting techniques and more on survival.

He fights to kill.

He fights to live.

And no one else gets that.

Except one camper, Octavian, who's older than Jason abd the Augur.

Everyone after reading the Pjo series seeing Octavian...I got my eye on you Mr.

Who insults the elders and is the first to get Jason to laugh.

And encourages Jason to stand up for what he believes in.

Giving Jason the courage to deny his place in the 1st cohort and join the 5th.

This

Pisses everyone off.

Mostly the 1st.

Who are downright offended because you don't turn down the first cohort.

And Jason's like, but I just did.

The 5th have no idea what to make of Jason but in time they become friendly.

Dakota becoming a friend to him.

Jason knows this because he shares his kool aid with him sometimes.

He does get in trouble for squaring off with and scaring off some bullies of the upper cohorts.

Because Jason hates bullies and he recognises the kid, Frank being picked on.

Apparently they stole his stick and while Jason has no idea it's importance, it made Frank sad soo he goes after them.

Ends up on probatio and friends with Frank.

Who admires Jason's bravery and wishes he could be too.

So the rest of the leigion kinda miffed some 5th upstart is embarrassing them.

And so when the next quest is given its to him.

Quests are different here to Camp Half-blood.

Since they don't have a true oracle, specifics are never mentioned.

Leaving the leigion to give the prophecy to whoever they want.

And they want to knock Jason down a few pegs and so they send him.

Jason picking Frank and Dakota.

Neither of the two are hopeful because the day a 5th is sent on a quest is the day their funeral is held.

Not the case though and they do in fact succeed and do it well.

Frank even opening up about his stick and showing that he is as brave and courageous as he wants to be.

It's through that act of bravery Frank is claimed as a son of Mars.

And though he's not exactly sure he should be one, Jason and Dakota both tell him it suites him well.

They both even do the "all hail Frank Zhang, Son of Mars" speech.

Which makes him smile.

On the way back though they do find Reyna.

Jason gets the short straw and has to do the oh the Roman God's are real but she knows and that she's a daughter of Bellona.

And they all head back to camp together.

And while Reyna has her guard up she does genuinely seem to enjoy her company with the others.

She's also the only other person to truly understand how Jason fights and his instinct to survive.

Though she doesn't share why.

Octavian greets them, proud and Reyna is on probatio until they can see what cohort she fits into.

Though she remarks after seeing the egos of the 1st that the 5th might be better afterall.

Celebrations are held and Jason wonders if the quest is really over.

Also all or us wondering if Octavian was genuine about what he said to Jason to follow his dreams.

Or if he did it to take Jason's place in the 1st.

Can't tell me after Luke anyone of you guys wouldn't be mad suss of an older blonde boy befriending Jason.

Fool me once.

Shame on you.

Fool me twice...

Damn...

Also reading the series prior and than this means everyone agrees with Jason.

Like we saw Percy fight for his life over and over and are just like... Oh you bitches gonna have a rude awakening when you face real monsters 💅🏽.

I have no idea what the quest would be but I'd want them to all line up to the next big prophecy.

Instead of it coming out of nowhere.

Hazel does come around but later on because of the doors and with her so does Nico.

#jason grace #heroes of olympus #This was supposed to be short smh #Dakota pjo #reyna avila ramirez arellano #octavian pjo #frank zhang #The lost hero #percy jackson #annabeth chase

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dual1pa · 8 months

Text

the tribute

Warnings: THIS IS SAD, talks about Eddie's death, death in general, quick snippet of eddie dying, crying, trauma, eddie's gf's speech at his funeral, talking about seeing someone die

eddie munson's girlfriend at his funeral

SPOILER ALERT

She sat with her arms folded together while sitting near the front of the church, at times she picked off the black polish that was chipping off her nails.

She was sure her eyes were red from all the crying she had done for the last few days.

Seeing the love of her life, the person she thought she'd marry one day. (She knew this cause they talked about it constantly)

"You and I are gonna get hitched one day, babe, I know it," he said while driving with the windows down, breathing in the warm summer air.

She could cry just thinking about it.

She was there when Eddie died. She couldn't describe the pain she felt, like she was being stabbed over and over again by an invisible knife.

She continued to kiss his forehead and repeated that everything was going to be alright - but they both knew it wouldn't be.

He wanted the last thing he saw to be her, and it was.

She didn't want to be there - but probably not for the same reason everyone else didn't want to be there - she didn't even think the priest wanted to be there.

Of course, there weren't many, but a few of Eddie's family showed up to mourn the loss.

Most people thought Eddie was a monster, that he was the one who murdered Chrissy - he didn't - it was some monster from another world.

But who could she explain that to? No one listened... or cared.

The only people that knew the truth were seated next to her or behind her.

She sat next to his uncle in the front row, who encouraged her to sit with him, he told her she was family.

When it was her turn, she gently got up from her feet and walked up the stairs, looking at Eddie's casket and a huge picture of the man she loved and tried not to cry.

She looked around at the looks on everyone's faces, her best friends, Nancy and Robin gave her supporting smiles all while Dustin, the kid Eddie was closest to the most, wiped a tear from his eye.

"Uh, hi everyone. I know most of you know who I am but for the past two years, I am, uh was, Eddie's girlfriend. We met when I was a sophomore and he was a junior. It was like we clicked instantly, even though we had different tastes in music, movies, and celebrities, we just... connected. Most people knew Eddaie as Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, but I knew him as Eds. I was the only one that could call him that though, someone in his club, excuse my language father, The Hellfire Club, heard me call Eddie Eds, so he said it and was almost punched in the face. 'My girl can only call me Eds' he said to him. It almost made me laugh so hard that I fell out of my chair."

She had to stop herself from crying, even though she couldn't help it.

She quickly wiped a tear away and continued, "I know most of you think my boyfriend is a monster. he is nothing of the sort. i get faces everywhere I go in this town and I hear what people say about me, 'the monster's girlfriend' and all that. It's not true, if some of you got to know him on a personal level, you would know that. But I didn't come here to convince you anything - I'm here to tell you about my Eds. eddie died a hero, he was looking out for his friends, his family, me, and the world from the unexplainable, the reality no one wants to listen to."

She took a deep breath and read her next sentence, "When Eddie died, I saw it. I wouldn't wish witnessing the death of a loved one on anyone. it's vile, cruel, and not to mention traumatizing. there's no right words on how to explain how i felt watching him die. the man i knew i was going to marry one day."

She grabbed the front of the podium and shielded her face from the crowd so one could see her sobbing, except the priest of course.

He got up and asked her if she wanted to take a break and he would finish what was on her paper.

"No, no. I'm okay. I want to read this," she said.

"Sorry. Uh, yeah, if he would have proposed to me before we finished high school I would have said yes. He made me laugh, cry, angry, happy, heard, and just made me feel special. He stood up for me, he held me when i failed a test that i studied so hard for, made me laugh with his dumb jokes. When I introduced my family, at first they were pretty skeptical of the way he dressed or how he styled his hair, but he eventually won them over and they wanted him over for dinner as much as possible. I'm going to miss all those things about him, I'm going to miss his touch, his laugh, his smile, his kisses."

She looked over to his picture and finished her speech, "I'll miss you my Eds. Rest easy, baby."

She folded up the crumbled-up piece of paper and went back to her seat.

She felt many hands on her back and hand as she got through one of the hardest things she'd ever done.

#eddie munson #my writings #my writing #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine

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ankmankpank · 6 months

Text

Aaron Z. x baby sis!reader

Tw: cussing and a sunburn maybe?? Nothing else, 4*town playing basketball shirtless as fuck. Ur not even a baby, just 4. I don’t have the talent to write and it’s maybe cringe at some places. I mean, I just had the idea and rlly wanted to do something with it, i don’t even care if it’s not well written. (I’m gonna kms)

4*TOWN was a world famous boy band , we know that. But they were also human, which meant they had their families too.

And you, you were one of the members' little sister, Aaron Z.’s! He was 18 years older than you, which meant that you were 4 now, babe.

And your parents had to leave for a summer vacation, so they gave you to Aaron Z. for the summer who lived with the other members of 4*TOWN by second. To make work easier, or who knows why. Which meant, you lived with them too now.

But the thing was, Z. haven’t met you since your birth. Your parents never treated him well, except than buying him everything he needed since they were mad rich. It’s not like they treat you any better, you’re just a kid and you don’t really care how strict they are. How much does reputation matter for them. How much they expect from you, or how much they expected from Z. before the band took off and he decided to leave.

He wanted to get you out of there, but he couldn’t. And it’s not like he wanted to go back anyway.

So, this is how is it now.

It was a waaarm, warm afternoon and the boys were playing basketball outside on their court in the garden. And none of them would really leave you unsupervised(except T.), so you were sitting at one of the benches next to the court with two horse toys in your little hands, which were given to you by Jesse after Z. had a speech to him about not knowing what the fuck to do with a kid. It wasn’t like he didn’t want you there, he did! He was glad that he could finally meet you properly and that you were finally out of that hell of a sadly huge house that he was forced to grow up in, it’s just.. he was scared that he will fuck this up.

But like, playing with horsies and having zero problems in the world at all wasn’t so entertaining to you at the moment.

So you shifted your attention towards the boys. And maybe you didn’t pay attention to this detail at all, but fangirls would go mad crazy to see them like this. Shirtless, moving and jumping around, and sweat dripping off them as they playfully teased each other and T. sometimes started play fighting with Robaire. Truly a sight, too bad you didn’t care at all.

BOOOOOOOOORING, you wanted to go to an amusement park, the beach, a funeral just to wander off halfway into it and scare some birds! Just let something happen already.

“What’s up, Sweetcheeks?” FUCK AARON T. SCARED YOU.

T. chuckled at the way you jumped slightly as he sat down next to you on the bench, drying his face and sweaty body with a towel while he drank from his bottle. The five bottles and the towels were next to you on the ridiculously huge bench, you even thought about doing bowling with them, if you’d know how to do that.

“It’s hot.” You whined. “I’m bored.” You continued. “And I’m tired without even moving. How are you still alive?” You were swinging your feet as you talked, the two horses now on the bench on the other side of you.

But like, really. Did being shirtless help? Or it was the moving? He’s fit and you’re not? He’s 22? He was weird.

“I’m okay, Little Z. This is just a quick break then we’re back at it again.” T. told you as he closed the bottle and put it back at it’s place, taking a look at the others still playing before looking back at you. “But you need to be careful when it’s hot like this, baby. Do you need anything?”

“No I don’t.” You shook your little head. You didn’t think you did, but not like you wanted to do anything right now.

“Oh yes you do.” Walked Aaron Z. over to the two of you, patting T.’s shoulder to tell him that he can go now.

With that, T. and Z. switched places, now Z. sitting next to you, taking the tube of sunscreen next to the bottles before putting you into his lap with a quiet. “C’mere.”

“But I already have sunscreen on!”

“But you need more.” Z.’s expression stayed the usual I-wouldn’t-care-if-there-was-a-bomb-on-my-back face, popping open the small tube and applying some to the tip of his fingers. He pushed your hair back with one hand and he applied it to your puffy face with the other, happy that you’re not complaining while he’s putting it on.

You put your tongue out a little, angry that it was a defeat. “But the sunscreen is warm now! It was out in the sun too! Didn’t it get a sunburn?”

“Don’t be stupid and let me finish.”

By those words, people would think he didn’t care. But he did. His fingers were soft, gentle, as if he was afraid that he’d break you any moment. Z. was careful to apply it everywhere where the sun reached you. When he was finished, he took his bottle to pour some water into his palm before getting your scalp wet with it.

And the water was sooo cold it was SO good!

Just a moment after him finally drinking, which he thought could wait after he made sure you’re all safe from the sun, Z. scratched you behind your ear. The paparazzi would eat this moment up.

“Don’t you need sunscreen?” You asked him, pouting that he applied yours perfectly, so you couldn’t even slip out of his hands because of the slippery sunscreen. No, he had to do it perfectly.

“No.”

“Then can you put sunscreen on my horsies too? Or can I put it on for them?” You asked him, eyes shining as you pointed to the two horses next to the two of you on the bench.

A few seconds of silence went by, and your big brother sighed. But then he grabbed the tube of sunscreen off the bench, and started applying it on the horse toys’ ears, one by one.

“Thank you!” You chirped as you stood up on his lap, quickly hugging his neck before you climbed out of his lap, back to your place.

They were always surprised how bubbly you were. How cute, oh my god. Look at you! You were always smiling, you loved every bug, every flower and everyone with no break at all! Tae was an absolute sweetheart to you and Z. was… Z., but you still treated them the same!

Not caring if Z. didn’t hug back sometimes.

With that, he was gone. Back on the game, with T. clinging into his neck like you did before, whining that how much he missed him and they were totally going to lose.

They all looked so sweaty and hot. It was weird how they weren't even thinking about how much they sweat, or that they were shirtless. That's the difference between boys and girls, boys can just do whatever they want without caring.

You envied them. Not for the fame or something like that, no.

For being boys, being older than you, being free when around each other, having fun.

You had fun too, but there was something different about boys being boys. Their personalities. The way that Z. looked like he’s going to hit his head into the wall until there’s a dent in his forehead every time T. decided to have a conversation. You liked watching them.

But you quickly got bored of this thought chain too.

You got off the bench and ran off into the big garden of the mansion, taking your horse toys with you. Your little legs ran off, your small hands holding the horse toys while you ran. The grass was soft beneath your feet, and you felt the sun on your puffy little face.

You didn't know where you were walking, but you went deeper and deeper into the huge garden while your big brother played with the others and laughed at each other. They were still yelling and swearing at each other, like they always do. They were nice to be around, you just couldn’t focus on something for more than 30 minutes.

You found yourself in a very quiet place. It was so calm and peaceful.

You were so busy playing with the grass, dirt, mud and flowers and bugs. It was like this little place belonged just to you, that you didn’t notice that sun was starting to go down, creating the most beautiful colors as it settled in the west. You had your bug friends named one by one, the rock castle you built just for them, their personalities and connections, you didn’t need anything else!

Well, maybe except another round of sunscreen. You didn’t know how long you were out in the sun, but you had fun. Had fun, it’s just that your face felt hot. And legs. And it had a funny feeling with it.

Mhm, shit.

Aaron Z.-1

You-0

You stayed longer than you should have. You knew that.

You won at having fun, but definitely lost at being scolded.

The sky was now a weak blue and pink color, the sun was about to set and it was so calm and peaceful just being outside in the garden by yourself. You didn’t care about your sunburn, but that wouldn’t stop your big brother from getting very, very angry once he saw you.

“There you are.”

You turned around as you heard your big brother’s voice, he found you! Hi Z.!!

"How long were you here?" He said sternly, not even giving you the time to explain as he quickly walked towards you. Just to notice that you were basically swimming in dirt, and.. was that a bug crawling on your arm?

“Umm.. since you put sunscreen on me and my horses.” You smiled, dusting off your dirty hands on your little overall. Tae chose your clothes for today, you thought he had a good taste! Even though that good taste, you already ruined it with the mud, so you didn’t stand up from the grass. You loved sitting in it!

He groaned, knowing that you definitely did get a sunburn.

“It’s been 5 hours. You’ve been out here with no protection from the sun. Have you seen your face?” He said, pointing towards your face as he crouched down to your level.

His hands slowly approached your cheeks, as he brushed your face, feeling how hot it was. Fuuuck.

“No, but it does hurt though..” You mumbled, patting your little arms with your little hands. “And my arm does too..” And it was hot. And it felt bad.

You realized now how burned you were by the sun. That was not good.

"Show me your shoulders and back," your big brother said with concern as he took off your overall and pulled down your undershirt slightly, to check your back and shoulders.

"This is not good. At all. Get up." He frowned, his eyes softening up for a moment. Then he sighed. He lifted you up effortlessly and carried you. You saw him doing all typa sports before, but it was so cool that how easy he could carry you!

You were always amazed by him.

He was going straight to Jesse with you. He knew that you liked talking to Jesse, and he also knew that Jesse enjoyed your company too. He knew how to deal with kids of course, so Z. often asked for advice from him.

“Mmhmhm.” You groaned. You didn’t want to go inside, you wanted to stay out to play. Though, your skin hurt and you felt hot and tired so you didn’t complain. Not like you really had the energy to. So, you laid your puffy cheek on his collarbone, not caring that it hurt, you didn’t rest your little heavy head for hours. And you pretty much needed that.

He probably didn’t know how to express it, but he really did feel bad for you. He really did care and most of all, he loved you. A lot. This was new to him too and he wanted to do it right, and even he didn’t know, Z. did it the best. He was the best.

#turning red 4town #4town aaron z #4town taeyoung #4town jesse #4town aaron t #4town robaire #4town #4 town x reader #4town fanfic #4townie #4 town #4town headcanons #4 town aaron t #4 town aaron z #4 town tae young #4 town jesse #4 town robaire #4 town taeyoung #4town x reader

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hobiebrownismygod · 11 months

Text

Rising - 1610!Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

~3.1k words

Synopsis: Miles knew he would have to battle with his guilt from his Uncle Aaron's death, but he never expected to get involved with the Prowler again. This time, the Prowler returns with a new face.

TW: Death, Mention of Murder & Robbery

A/N: Reader doesn't have a specified race. I talk about Reader's eyes a little bit, but nothing is specified other than them being pretty <3

Edit: Based off prompt by @homiesondaweb go check them out

____________________________________________________________

10:36 A.M. Aaron Davis's Funeral - Miles' POV __________________________________________________

"Thank you for coming." Miles watched as his mom quietly whispered her thanks to the numerous family members approaching them with their kind words and back pats. He forced a smile as a woman he didn't even know cupped his face in her hands, her condolences barely audible over the loud murmurs of the rest of the funeral crowd. The cold Brooklyn breeze sent shivers down his spine, his thin suit coat doing little to prevent the goosebumps from rapidly spreading across his skin.

It was a gloomy day, dark clouds on the horizon blocking the sun, the inevitable chance of pouring rainfall growing closer and closer as the wind pushed the overcast towards the funeral service. It had been exactly one week and two days since his Uncle Aaron's sudden death. The cops, well Miles' dad Jeff, had done a good job covering up his uncle's involvement in the collider sequence that generated the tens of tiny earthquakes, shaking New York to its core and leading to thousands worth of property damage. It was as if the Prowler had never existed. They said that his uncle died during one of the earthquakes, trapped under the rubble while trying to help evacuate a neighborhood but Miles knew better.

He knew the truth. He knew that his uncle wasn't a good guy. He knew that he'd been working with Kingpin. He knew about the Sinister Six. But worse than all the rest, he knew that it was his fault his uncle was dead. Because if he hadn't been bit by that damn spider, Aaron Davis would still be alive.

"Dear friends and family, we gather here today in grief and love to remember the life of Aaron Davis and to support one another during this difficult time. As we come together, let us take a moment to offer a prayer of comfort, healing, and strength..."

It was starting. Miles quickly took a seat next to his mom who was silently dabbing the corner of her eye with a small, white napkin. She put her hand on top of Miles' squeezing gently and shooting him a slight smile before they both turned their heads to look back over at his father, who was approaching the podium to give his farewell speech. Miles watched as his father pulled out what looked like a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, looked at it for a moment, and then shoved it back in with a sigh. He placed his hands on both sides of the microphone, eliciting a small, high-pitched screech, evoking subtle winces among the crowd.

His dad cleared his throat, and began to speak, his voice wavering slightly with every change in tone. It was hard for him, probably harder than it was for Miles. Miles couldn't help but feel a little proud of his dad for being able to stand up there and talk about the man that they'd lost, because he knew that if he himself tried to go up there, he'd break down and never be able to build himself back up again.

"Aaron was my baby brother. But more than that, he was my best friend." His dad chuckled slightly, memories flooding his mind as he continued, "I remember when we were young, how the two of us would go out causing trouble like we were invincible. Like nothing could break us..."

As Miles's focus slowly wavered, he felt his father's voice becoming more and more muffled. Miles' mind was overwhelmed by unwelcome thoughts, flooding his senses and making his swallowing sharper and his eyes heavier. If I hadn't been bit...would he still be here today? He closed his eyes quickly, to prevent himself from breaking down right there, swallowing back his tears before opening them again and looking back at his father. If I hadn't been followed...would he have survived?

If I'd shook him off my path that day, he would've never realized that I was going to Aunt May's house. And he wouldn't have caught me. And I wouldn't have taken my mask off. And he wouldn't have been shot.

Miles heard clapping and opened his eyes again, forcing a smile onto his face and clapping along with everyone else while his dad sat down in the seat next to him. Another person went up to the stand, someone Miles didn't know. As the person began to talk, Miles felt his mind wandering again, back to those horrible, horrible thoughts. But there was a hint of truth behind them, wasn't there? If I hadn't-

He felt a tingling sensation in his body, the hairs on his arms standing up and a weird, almost nauseating feeling entering the front of his forehead. His spider-sense. It was detecting something.

He subtly turned his head to the side, where the sense was telling him to look. His eyes scanned over his surroundings, taking in the faces of all the people there, most of whom he'd never met before. Many of them were relatives on his dad's side, people who he didn't meet often because of his dad's messy relationship with his parents. He'd never told Miles why exactly he never got to meet his grandparents, but Miles knew not to ask. Family issues were difficult.

His eyes landed on a pair of people, one larger than the other. They were both covered from head to toe in funeral attire, the larger one wearing a black suit and the smaller one, probably a young girl, wearing a simple black dress. They looked just like everyone else, except for the fact that they were wearing face-masks to cover their faces, something you didn't often see at a funeral. It was as if they were trying to hide something.

Miles continued to stare at the pair, gears turning in his brain as he tried to see if he could recognize them. Despite not being able to see their expressions, they looked solemn. His spider-sense began to die down and he decided it must've been a fluke, but even then he couldn't help but continue to gaze at them. Especially at the girl. He was mesmerized. He couldn't even see her face, but he felt some kind of weird connection. Like he knew her from somewhere. Or she knew him.

Suddenly, her eyes darted towards him. He immediately looked away, feeling his face turn hot as he pursed his lips together, looking down and fidgeting with his fingers. His spider-sense went off like crazy and he could feel her hard stare boring into his skull, those entrancing eyes glaring right at him. He stayed like that for a few minutes, barely even breathing as he waited for her to look away. When she did, he looked back more subtly this time, and then looked back at the stand with a newfound sense of focus.

"Aaron Davis was a good man who died a hero's death. May his soul Rest In Peace for all eternity..."

Another person who must've been close to Miles' uncle was talking, preaching about how perfect he was. Miles couldn't help but wonder...if only they knew. His uncle was a hero, but not for the reasons everyone else believed. He'd saved Miles. But Miles couldn't save him.

Eventually, after all the speeches finished, Miles stood up and walked with the crowd toward where his uncle's coffin would be buried. Everyone watched intently as the coffin was lowered into the ground and everyone stayed silent while they threw in their white roses and other flowers. Some were crying, some were sniffling, but Miles stayed quiet. He couldn't break down yet. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

Once everyone else was finished, Miles approached the coffin silently, a single sunflower in his hand. He raised his hand out toward the coffin, and let the sunflower fall down, catching on the wind and slowly drifting onto the top of the coffin. "Goodbye, Unc." He whispered, just loud enough for nobody else but him to hear. He felt red hot tears filling up his eyes as he stepped back from the grave. "I'll miss you."

____________________________________________________________

8 days earlier, 17 hours after Aaron Davis's death Your house - your POV __________________________________________________

"Hey kiddo."

You looked up as your father walked into your room, sitting down on the bed and watching you as you continued working on your newest project. Hover-shoes. They looked like normal shoes, but the soles were replaced with a strong magnet which would push you off the floor and help you hover for a little more than a few minutes. They would be useful if you ever needed to sneak around without making noise, because they'd prevent you from touching the ground.

You placed the shoe sole you'd been manipulating down and looked over at your father, eyebrow raised. He rarely delivered good news like this, so something must've happened.

"Hey? What's up?" You asked, slightly nervous as you watched him put his hand on the back of his neck before looking away from you. The guilty look on his face told you something was definitely wrong. You quieted your voice to a whisper before leaning toward him slightly. "Don't tell me...we've been compromised?" You asked, eyes wide with fear as your mind immediately went to the worst.

You and your father weren't the average duo. Actually, you were a lot more than average. Murder, espionage and robbery weren't father-daughter dates that were revered in modern society. But it was how you survived. It was really all you knew. You were just a little kid when you discovered what your father really did for a job, murdering and stealing for unknown bosses, a mercenary of some sorts. But unlike a normal child, you were excited. You weren't scared of your father's job, in fact, you wanted to be a part of it.

Your genius intellect might have had a hand in that reaction, considering you were never normal to begin with. Always the top of your class, always having to wait for the others to catch up, life was phenomenally boring for someone like you, so a bit of excitement never hurt. Your father's job also helped you build connections, connections with people most would be scared of. Except these connections did more for you than any fancy private school ever could. Learning from the best, although the public would consider them the worst. Being taught how to accomplish impossible feats. A life fit for a little Einstein.

"No, nothing like that" your father said quickly, waving off your fear that you'd been caught. The constant meetings between criminals in the apartment you stayed in would probably raise suspicion eventually, but for now the two of you were in the clear.

You leaned back in your chair, arms folded over your chest as you tilted your head at him. "Then what?" your breathing slowed down as your fright subsided, heart-beat back to a regular pace. Being a genius didn't prevent the occasional panic attack, although occasional could be considered an understatement. They happened often and randomly. You were never 100% safe when the chance of losing your ability to move and breathe was always on the corner. It was one of the reasons your father was so against you being out in the field. But you wanted to be there anyways, because after all, where's the fun in staying to the side?

"It's about...Aaron."

Your eyes widened as you leaned forward again, hands clasping in your lap. "What happened?" You asked quietly, dreading the response you'd receive. Aaron Davis was the Prowler. A revered member of the Sinister Six cartel. The mercenary of all mercenaries. Your role model. Your dad's best friend. Nothing could happen to your idol, the man who ate dinner at your table just three days ago. Nothing.

"He's dead."

You swallowed that sharp pain in your stomach back, blinking away the arrival of a tear in your eye. "What happened?" You repeated, voice a little bit harsher, tone a little bit colder.

"We're not sure. He was killed during his hunt for that kid. The new Spider-man." Your expression hardened. "Spider-man?"

Your father nodded solemnly. "We're trying to figure out who this kid is. The rest of the cartel wants him too. Aaron...we think he killed Aaron. Our cameras show him fleeing the crime scene."

You nodded back, folding your arms over you chest as you leaned back in your chair for a second time. You tilted your head so the back of it hit the top of your chair, before rolling it to the side, looking back at the pair of shoes you'd been working on. "So what's the plan then?

Your father stood up, putting his hands in his pockets before he approached you. "Before we go over the plan, I have something that might cheer you up, kid." You looked up at him, a little surprised. A present of some sort? Unlikely. Why would he bring it up after dropping something so heavy on you?

You stood up and followed him out, arriving in the living room where a medium-sized box sat on the couch. He leaned down and gently lifted it before handing it over to you. "Open it." he said with a nod.

You scrutinized his expression, trying to guess what might be in the box before you opened it. "What's this, then?"

"Just open it, (reader's name)."

You chuckled softly before removing the top of the box, peering inside curiously. A soft gasp escaped your lips, eyes watering at the sight of the present. Removing the top layer of tissue, you pulled out a mask.

The Prowler mask.

"He-he-did he-?"

"He left a voice message saying it was for you." Your father forced a smile at your expression. He was trying to support you, but he was obviously frightened at the idea of his daughter growing up so fast. Of his little girl turning into him.

"Thank you." you whispered, blinking back your tears. This gesture was almost too much. Your idol wanted you to carry on his legacy. It was almost poetic in a sense.

Your father nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder in a comforting way. "Lets talk about this plan, shall we?"

____________________________________________________________

7:50 A.M. - Monday Two days after the funeral - Miles POV

____________________________________________________________

"Mami, I'm gonna be late for school!" Miles said quickly, dodging another one of his mom's sloppy kisses before walking out the door. "Hey, un momento más! Dame un kiss first!" Miles groaned as his mom grabbed his face and placed another kiss on his cheek, but he couldn't help but smile at the gesture. She handed him his bag before walking back inside.

Miles was already late to school. He had 5 minutes until class started and it took 10 minutes for him to walk there. There was no way he'd be able to make it in time, unless...

ten minutes later

Miles arrived on top of the school building, panting slightly as he struggled to pull his school uniform over his head after three minutes of intense web-swinging. Swinging was almost as tiring as running, but Miles would never complain about how it felt to swing through the city as Spider-man. The adrenaline pumping through his veins, the exhilarating feeling of the cold wind slamming against the skin of his suit, speeding past cars and trucks, threading the needle between buildings and alleyways.

He was still going to be late, he realized as he tried to fix his tie while he ran through the hallways. He skid past the door he was supposed to enter and tripped, falling onto his face before he recovered and swung the door open, right as the bell rang.

The entirety of the class turned to look at him, the silence so loud you could hear it as he walked inside, beads of sweat still wetting his eyebrows. "Nice of you to join us, Mr. Morales." His physics teacher said with an eye roll, her voice barely drowning out the sound of his bright red Jordans squeaking across the floor while he attempted to sit down. "Nice of you to wait for me" he replied with a sheepish grin, setting his backpack down.

His teacher gave him a fake smile before gesturing for him to stand up. "Actually, I'm going to have you sit next to someone else for a little while." she said, eyeing the boy Miles had sat down next to. Ganke Lee shot her a sly grin back before subtly giving Miles a high-five under the seat.

"Back corner of the room. Quick, don't keep us waiting." Miles looked back at the area she was pointing at and shuffled toward the empty seat. He barely gave his new partner a glance before he sat down. He looked over at the person he'd have to share a table with and he let out an audible gasp.

Those eyes...

____________________________________________________________

Your POV

____________________________________________________________

You glanced over at him, eyes narrowing as you began to recognize him, scanning over his figure. An amused grin spread across your face as you watched him shut his mouth and turn away, obviously embarrassed at how loud he'd just been. You shook your head gently, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

"Everyone pull out your textbooks and turn to page 76. Today we'll be learning about-"

Despite the teacher's ongoing lecture, you could feel his eyes on you, unmoving from your face. You bit the inside of your cheek, debating with yourself on whether or not you should ignore him. You decided to confront him, but before you could say anything-

"Hey. What's your name?"

You looked over at him, tucking a strand/lock of hair behind your ear as you did so.

"Y/N. You?" You tried your best to seem dry. You weren't here to make friends, but you couldn't help but shoot a smile at the sweet-looking boy next to you. He returned it, resting his face in his palm and leaning against the table as he watched you.

"I'm Mil-" his voice cracked slightly and he ducked his head in embarrassment, looking away. You stifled a laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as you nodded at him. His face was a little flushed when he looked back at you. "Miles. Miles Morales."

____________________________________________________________

Taglist:

@s6onder @therealloopylupin2099 @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @niqetine @gwennesy @itsparis-07 @@vileviale

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matan4il · 11 months

Text

Daily update post:

Yesterday, there were hints in the Israeli media at what the IDF has found in the Shifa hospital in Gaza, and that was linked to a statement by its director that Israeli soldiers had removed bodies from the hospital complex's refrigerators. I was sure that the director's words would be used to paint Israelis as inhumane, and sure enough, that's what happened (I even saw one tweet implying the Israeli soldiers took the bodies to posthumously rape them). Last night and today, it was confirmed that among the bodies taken from Shifa, two had been identified as those of hostages murdered in captivity by Hamas.

One was 64 years old Yehudit Weiss, whose husband Shmulik was murdered in front of her eyes before she was kidnapped. She was a cancer patient, in need of medications, it's possible Hamas realized that she's going to die anyway, and finished her off.

The other was 19 years old Noa Marziano, who Hamas forced to tape a vid for Israel, asking not to bomb Gaza, so the hostages wouldn't be accidentally killed. Despite having filmed this 4 days into Noa's captivity, Hamas only released the vid a day before the IDF was able to confirm that the terrorists had murdered Noa in captivity. Yesterday, Noa's mom was still begging Israel to retrieve her daughter's body, so there could be a funeral. Today, it was held in the city of Modi'in, with the presence of thousands of people.

May their memory be a blessing.

In a Hamas terrorist's home in Beit Hanoun, they found weapons hidden in children's beds:

youtube

Some of how the IDF knows to locate these weapons is based on intercepted phone calls between Gazan terrorists. Here's one exposing how two Palestinian Islamic Jihad terrorists are going to use a baby stroller to hide weapons:

I can't believe we've gotten to that point, but... apparently it's now socially okay to come out against condemning antisemitism at a US Ivy League university. Condemning antisemitism. This is at Harvard, where anti-Israel speech is still very much allowed.

I don't have a good enough response, so have an excellent one from Daniel Ryan Spaulding, who isn't even Jewish, but apparently does have a soul:

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A post shared by Daniel-Ryan Spaulding (@danielryanspaulding)

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The Israeli who was mortally injured in the terrorist attack on the road to Jerusalem is a soldier, who has later died of his wounds. His name is Avraham Fatna, he was 20 years old, and he's a hero who saved countless lives, by stopping the terrorists from executing a much bloodier attack on civilians inside Jerusalem. On a personal note, my mom was out and about in the city yesterday, so I feel this very close to home.

May his memory be a blessing.

This is Reut Karp and her son Lavi:

On Oct 7, Lavi and his sister Daria were staying with their dad (Reut's ex husband) Dvir in kibbutz Re'im. Hamas' terrorists murdered Dvir and his girlfriend Stav right in front of the kids, who were hiding in the bomb shelter. Daria called her mom, and for three hours, Reut stayed on the line with her, calming them down, until a neighbor came and saved the kids. Reut said that all she knew was, that if she wouldn't stay calm, neither would her kids. This is a part of the conversation she had with Daria:

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A post shared by ימית אברמוב (@yamitavramov)

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- Daria, where's Dad? - He's dead on the floor. - He's dead on the floor? - Yes. - Are you sure that he's dead? - Yes, he's lying on the floor. - He's not moving? - Mom, I'm scared. - Shhhh... Is he next to you? - Who? - Is he next to you, Daria? - I don't know. - Shhhh... Don't talk, don't talk, don't talk. How did they get in if he locked up [the house]? How did they get in if he locked up [the house]? I can't understand how they got in. Daria, did you lock up the house? - Yes, but they broke in. - Where did they break in from, from the window? - I don't know. - Okay, shhhh... I'm with you. - Mom, I'm scared. - Daria, I'm here, don't talk, don't talk.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #antisemitism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #Instagram

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cryscendo · 2 months

Note

For the fic ask, can I request one you wanted to write and weren't asked? Klaine, please! ♥

oooooh boy, you really opened up the floodgates with this one. I decided to go super angsty because i just really needed to get this out there. this takes place around the time of “the quarterback” and i went with the prompt “things you didn’t say at all”

i hope you enjoy and sorry in advance for the heartbreak :’(

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson

Word Count: 1599

Rating: T

Prompt: 5 - things you didn’t say at all

Warning: mentions of canon character death as a main plot point (references to The Quarterback)

if you would like to request a prompt, you can do so here.

Fic can be read under the cut

Finn’s death was hard on Kurt.

Make no mistake, it was hard on everyone. After watching Santana break down in the middle of the choir room, Blaine was truly able to see just how much this was taking a toll on his friends. Grief was shared amongst everyone who knew Finn, and it made it difficult to even pretend to be okay.

But Kurt… Kurt was suffocating with it. Every moment since his arrival back in Ohio for the funeral had been filled with this poisonous cocktail of emotions.

Kurt didn’t discuss this situation, at least not directly. He more so just tiptoed around the issue, and his words were like a children’s game of telephone where the original words get completely altered and warped, but the overall message is understood.

Blaine watched Kurt as his fiancé tried on no less than twelve different outfits for the funeral. They ranged from black to gray to navy, and he even tried his hand at adding a bit of deep plum. He looked gorgeous in all of them. None of them were good enough for Finn's funeral.

“This isn’t right either,” Kurt said, already moving to undo his tie. It was a sleek thing with very subtle, barely there gold-stitched accents. “Too flashy.” It really, truly wasn’t, but Blaine wasn’t about to argue.

“Maybe do the black suit with the plum sweater? Just forgo the tie completely.” Blaine knew that the problem wasn’t a tie. But Kurt wasn’t talking about what the actual problem was. “I’ll match to you.”

Kurt gave himself a long, hard look in the mirror before him. Blaine didn’t think that he would respond at all. That was until he eventually sighed and turned back towards Blaine. “Let’s try it, then.”

And so it goes.

The funeral ended without incident. Kurt actually agreed to Blaine’s outfit suggestion, which only further proved to Blaine that Kurt was, definitively, not doing well. Because if he was, there would’ve been a bit more scrutiny on Blaine’s choice of textile combinations, as well as how it affected the overall silhouette. He looked great of course, but it was also clear that he wore it not because he was actually in love with the outfit, but because he needed to pick something and allowing Blaine to make the decision took some of the pressure off of him.

Kurt didn’t talk much during the service. He did stand up and give a brief speech, which Blaine was grateful for — even if it felt a bit like Kurt was saying only a fraction of what he wanted to say.

They sat in Kurt’s bedroom a day or two later. Burt and Carole weren’t home, having needed to take care of a few things. They offered for Kurt and Blaine to join them, but Kurt turned the offer down on both of their behalfs. This seemed to disappoint Burt, but Blaine wasn’t interested in going against the wishes of his clearly grief-stricken fiancé.

So they stayed home. And Kurt once again did not speak much.

Eventually though, dinner came around, and Blaine had to make an effort to at least get Kurt to eat something (he has always been on the smaller side, but ever since Kurt moved to New York, Blaine got the sense that he prioritized things like work and school over eating). He brought Kurt a bowl of pasta up to his room — it was left over from the reception catering; Blaine wasn’t exactly the cook in the relationship.

While Kurt accepted the food, he made no move to actually eat it. Instead, he wordlessly spun his fork around inside the bowl, picking up noodles only to let them slip back off the utensil uselessly. He repeated this motion for several minutes until Blaine finally stopped him.

“Not hungry, honey?” Blaine asked, dragging Kurt’s attention back to reality.

Kurt’s eyes flickered up to Blaine’s face for a moment before peering back down towards the pasta, which up to that point had been virtually untouched. “Oh, yeah, I guess not.”

“You really need to eat.” Kurt hadn’t hardly eaten anything since the reception, and even then he grazed more than actually ate. That wasn’t entirely his fault, though. It was hard for Kurt and his parents to get much time to eat when people kept approaching them to express their condolences directly. It was well-meaning each and every time, but Blaine could see that it was taking a lot for Kurt to not tell people to ‘please leave me the fuck alone’. He was wound so tight that one wrong word could’ve easily made him snap.

“I know,” he confirmed. But rather than actually take a bite of his food, he set the bowl down on the mattress between them. Okay. Food wasn’t going to happen right now. That’s fine.

“Kurt, are you going to be okay?” He asked even though he sensed that he already knew the answer. Kurt was strong, powerful, resilient. But beyond that, he was still human.

“Yep,” Kurt responded directly. “Gotta keep on keeping on, y’know? Work and school aren’t going to wait for me forever. So I have no choice but to be okay.”

It was a reasonable enough answer, but Blaine knew it wasn’t what Kurt was feeling. This brave face that Kurt was putting on wasn’t him being honest with himself. Kurt has dealt with more loss than someone his age has any right to. His mother was first, and now Finn. And all the while, his own father was still in a balancing act with his own health and Blaine knew how much that worried Kurt.

Blaine knew he should’ve just left well enough alone, but that wasn’t really his style.

“It’s okay to not be okay, Kurt,” Blaine gently reminded. Kurt clearly didn’t want the reminder.

“You’re not going to lecture me into discussing my feelings. I won’t. I’m fine. And even if I’m not, that’s not going to bring Finn back, now is it?” Kurt put in great effort to make his words come out collected, but his own emotions worked to betray him. “So I’d be wasting my time weeping over something like this when it’s not going to change a single thing.”

“I know that, but please just listen, okay?” Blaine didn’t hold Kurt’s emotions against him. Asking someone to be entirely pleasant after undergoing severe loss was an unreasonable request. All he wanted was for Kurt to hear him for a moment. And with the way that Kurt fell silent, it seemed like he was willing to try.

“Nobody’s asking you to be fine,” Blaine began, moving both of their bowls to Kurt’s nightstand so that he could sit closer to his partner. “All I’m asking is that you be honest with yourself. Everyone can see how hard this has been on you; it’s not exactly a secret.” In response to Blaine’s words, Kurt looked away from him, instead choosing to examine his fingernails. It was artificial distance, not making eye contact. Blaine continued on regardless. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on inside your head, but just know that whatever it is, you’re allowed to feel it.”

Kurt didn’t respond, but the way that he bit anxiously at his lower lip told Blaine that he was at least listening. That was good at least, that he was attentive to what Blaine was saying to him.

Blaine continued, reaching down to hold Kurt’s hand in his, his thumb swiping instinctively over Kurt’s engagement ring. Kurt watched the motion and sucked in a shaky breath. Kurt didn’t need to say what he was thinking at that moment; Blaine already knew — Finn was never going to be able to see Kurt get married, or even be married himself.

“I don’t think you’ve let yourself feel much of anything since it happened. You didn’t even cry at the funeral.” Kurt tensed, but didn’t pull away. Blaine continued. “I’m not saying you have to talk about it. I’m not saying you have to pour your heart out to the first person who is willing to listen. All I’m saying is that you need to let yourself be not okay. If you go back to New York and pretend nothing’s wrong, I’m scared it’s going to eat you alive. I don’t want that for you.”

Blaine fell silent after that, now only watching Kurt’s face as he continued to stare down at their joined hands. Seconds bled into minutes of wordlessness, and Blaine was beginning to worry that everything he had just said was going to be discarded.

That is, until Kurt’s eyes turned glassy with tears.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked and was immediately followed by silent tears streaming in heavy drops down Kurt’s face. “Shit, Kurt…”

Blaine hugged Kurt close then and Kurt didn’t even try to turn it down. Kurt’s arms were tight around Blaine as if he was afraid that if he let Blaine go, he’d disappear. The room was silent save for the soft sounds of Kurt’s broken gasps as wept quietly into Blaine’s shoulder. It tore at Blaine’s heart, hearing those sounds come from Kurt, his one true love, who somehow unjustly is regularly the victim of tragedy.

Kurt never did end up saying all the things that he had locked up inside his head, but that was okay. He didn’t need to. His actions were loud enough that Blaine understood them as if he were reading them from a book. If Kurt never discussed this again, that would be okay too.

The message was already clear enough.

#glee #my fic #glee fic #klaine #klaine fic #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #episode: the quarterback #my stuff #tysm for giving me creative freedom to write whatever i hope this wasnt too heartbreaking #this just came to me and i knew i wouldnt be able to stop thinking about it until it was written #gleefulpoppet #ask box prompts

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