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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

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Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 4/FINAL PART) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 4.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: the real last part! i sincerely hope you enjoyed this series, it's very dear to my heart and so is all of the wonderful feedback you've given me on it. I love hearing what you think, it keeps me motivated to write more for you and I'm just so happy that I got to share this with you all. Thank you to anyone who's enjoyed this, I'm privileged to have shared your time and gotten your love in return. <333

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You feel like he’s gutted you. Like he’s plunged the hand holding the ring right into your stomach, twisted it so that the gem inside slits your insides into ribbons, and wrenched it back out dripping and glistening in crimson.

He looks so hopeful, eyes earnest and shining as he stares at you, that damn ring held between you like a life preserve. Like if you let him toss it over your finger, reel you in with his tender heartstrings, you wouldn’t drown. You’d escape the dreadful ocean of grief that’s been slowly filling your lungs since you’d left, you’d give your tired legs a break from treading water if you could just say yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue, and your achy heart begs you to say it, but you can’t.

Not when he doesn’t know.

“Bradley,” You whimper, reaching out to lay a gentle touch over his hand. You wrap your hand around both his own and the ring, squeezing tightly, “I have to tell you something.”

Bradley’s enthusiasm wanes. He hadn’t waited long enough. You’re not in love with him yet; he rushed into things just like he had before and he’d ruined it. How did he manage to ruin it two times? The best thing in his life, and he’s fucked it up twice in a row now.

You’re looking at him with eyes full of sadness, and he catches a flash of pity in them; just like he’d feared. His stomach sours and he balks, spooking like a startled horse.

“No, no. No, it’s okay, you’re- you’re not ready yet, sweetheart, that’s okay. We can wait,” He babbles, wrenching his hand out from your own and jamming the ring back into the drawer, like if he can just get it into a safe zone, it’ll hit undo on the entire fiasco.

“No, baby,” Your face screws up, a barely-withheld sob behind your frown, “Baby that’s not- we really need to talk. Okay? I promised we would today.”

“I- I know, but-” He stammers, trying to evade your gentle touch as you pry his hand back from his dresser drawer, the ring still clutched inside and lining his palm with a layer of sweat.

“Let me talk,” You plead, “Brad, I need to come clean. Please?”

He’s sure you can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows what little saliva there is in his mouth, “Okay.”

“Two weeks ago,” You start, and the words feel leaden on your tongue; impossibly heavy. “-before your crash. You- you remember Javy’s crash, yeah?”

“Yeah,” His breath catches in his throat, visions of his teammate's poor girlfriend swimming in his mind. Visions of the woman he never wanted you to have to be.

“That really-” You choke on a sob, “That really freaked me out, Bradley. I realized that you could go down like that. I- I’ve always known, y’know, ‘cause of your dad. But I just- I was so young when that happened, and it wasn’t fresh, so when Javy went down… I had this revelation. That I could-” Your voice tampers down into a weak whimper, “I could lose you, Brad. I could say goodbye to you one morning and not get to say hello again in the evening. I just- lost it,” You admit, brushing away stray hair from over your red-rimmed eyes, “I’m sure you noticed I wasn’t the most pleasant to say goodbye to in the mornings. But- but baby, I was always so happy when you came home, because it meant I had more time. It felt like some awful time bomb,” You recall, “Like every time I said goodbye to you would be the last, and I couldn’t rest until you were back home. I’ve never felt like that before, I’ve always had confidence in your abilities. Even on deployment, I know you’re working with people who have your back,” You sniffle, “I’ve always known you could die, but it’s never felt that much like you would before. But then- Javy wasn’t the one who crashed,” You explain, voice thick with blubbering tears, “I mean- that was just his jet malfunctioning. And then all of a sudden I- it was like I remembered that I could lose you in some freak accident. Like it wouldn’t have to be your fault, it could just happen, and you could die. Like your dad, Bradley, I- I didn't wanna lose you like we almost lost your dad."

“That is,” You collect yourself, swallowing a heavy sob that leaves your throat achy and gutted, “My nightmare, baby.” You tangle your fingers with his where you’re still clutching his hand, squeezing tight enough to probably bruise the guy, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I would die if I lost you, Brad. Even if I was alive, I’d be dead inside. I need you, I need you in my life, Bradley.”

What you’re saying sounds good to him. Terrible, of course, if he didn’t come home one day. But he is home, and you’re telling him you need him, and he can’t figure out why in the world you’ve said no twice to putting on the ring.

“You have me,” He vows, squeezing your hand right back, “Honey, you have me right here, right now. Why won’t you let me keep you?” He presses the ring into your palm, and you both feel the metal band burning your skin like it’s been superheated.

“You asked me to marry you before you crashed,” You blurt, and even though slamming a wrecking ball into your reverie of late feels like stabbing yourself in the chest, there’s something gratifying about telling the truth. About finally coming clean, about telling him exactly why you can’t say yes.

“You sat me down, and you gave me the sweetest speech in the world,” You recall with tears thick in your voice, “About how you loved me, and how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, and- and you proposed, and I said no.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, analyzing the grief in your voice. You sound anguished, like you’re upset with yourself for saying no, but you didn’t say yes this time around, so he can’t believe what he hears.

He takes a deep breath, cutting off whatever you’re going to say next, “I know.”

It feels good for him to come clean, too. Even if he's dreading what'll happen, even if he thinks there's a good chance you'll march out the door, he's glad to be done with the lies. He'd loved them while they'd lasted, but they went down in flames just like his jet.

“-and-” You stop, blinking twice, “What?”

“I know,” He admits, “I- I remember, honey.”

“You- what?” Your eyes widen, and you lean forwards, gazing imploringly at Bradley, “Brad, you- you remember? You remember everything now?”

“Yeah,” He nods, watching as you process the information.

You feel sick. You’re not sure why, because you’ve already told him the truth. But memories are different than retellings, and you both know that. No explanation on your part would have conveyed the crushed, betrayed look in his eyes when you’d declined his proposal; there’s not words in the english language suitable to describe how desperately he’d pleaded for you to stay, even in just the simplest of touches to your waist, trying to pull you back to him that night.

Now he remembers that, now you’re on the same page, and when you turn it, you’re not sure what you’ll see.

The end of a chapter? The beginning of a new one? Or the blank back cover of a book, perhaps, if your luck has run dry.

“When did your memories come back?” You ask, your voice sounding faraway and dazed in the back of your mind. You’re not even sure you’ve really said it, you’re too wrapped up in worrying about what he’s thinking. If your confession had spurred on his memories, you’re not sure you’ll ever get a chance to put on that ring.

Bradley swallows what little saliva is in his mouth, “A while ago.”

“How long?” Your brows furrow impossibly deeper, your brain running circles trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t, “Like- like since this morning?”

“Since I woke up,” He confesses with a heavy heart, because lying to you hurt even if he’d loved the outcome, “In the hospital. I- I didn’t remember at first, but they came back, uh, in a few minutes.”

You feel like you’ve walked into a cloud of smoke. Everything around you is foggy, and your brain can’t process what he’s told you. It feels like he’s lying to you, like he’s tricking you and pretending that he’s known the entire time just so as not to feel foolish. But that’s not Bradley, he doesn’t need to be smarter than you, or faster than you, or better than you, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“But- why did you lie?” You stare at him with tears glimmering in your waterline, and he’s sure this is what he looked like when he’d asked you not to go that night. Betrayed, confused, heartbroken.

“Because you did,” Bradley whimpers, wanting nothing more than to swipe a thumb under your eye and gather the tears there on his skin, taking the burden away from you.

“You came in and you asked to kiss me, and- and I wanted you to. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened, because I didn’t want you to walk out again, so I just- I lied. And I let you lie to me, too.”

You think back, and you remember how you’d walked back into the hospital room, on the verge of tears with nerves rolling in your belly. And you’d asked to kiss him, you’d given him the perfect opportunity to lie, and he’d taken it. And you can’t be mad at him, because you’d lied, too. You’re slightly hurt. It doesn’t feel good knowing that your lover- or, ex-lover lied to you. It feels even worse to know that Bradley lied because he thought you’d leave him if he told the truth. Like you’d turn tail and run, whooping through the parking lot about being free at last. But you’re the one that put that thought in his head; you’re the one that ran away. So you can’t blame him for keeping you on a short leash.

You feel too many things at once. You feel like a monster, like a cruel heartbreaker that had shattered Bradley’s to pieces. You feel confused, because you’re still processing that the past few days were entirely fake on both ends. You feel slightly betrayed, like you wish Bradley would have just told you. But you didn’t tell him either, and that makes you feel like an asshole. Too many feelings are bottled up inside, and they gush forth in a messy round of tears, one worse than Bradley’s ever seen from you.

It sets him in a panic, and he’d already been misty-eyed before. Now his own tears roll in fat droplets down his cheeks as he muscles down his sobs for your sake, dropping your hand only to take up your waist. He drags you closer on the bed, but it’s uncoordinated and a struggle as your limbs don’t cooperate. You’re limp like a ragdoll, and once he finally has you positioned in his lap he buries his face in your shoulder to soak his tears into your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, his chest heaving and shaking with sobs, “I’m sorry I lied. I shouldn’t have, I- I know it was wrong. I just- I wanted you to stay, honey. And I thought it would be okay if we were both lying, because then I could make you fall in love with me again, and- and it was a stupid plan, I’m sorry. I should have told you, I’m sorry, I- I never wanted to make you cry. I’m sorry, honey, please don’t- please don’t cry. I love you, please, don’t cry.”

He thinks he’s allergic to your tears. His chest hurts, his face burns, and the front of his shirt is slowly sticking to his chest where you’re crying against it. He’s not sure he can handle much more of this, he can barely breathe and if you don’t stop crying soon, his lungs might collapse. He doesn’t like that you’re crying; even though he knows its a messy situation, even though he knows it’s complicated beyond belief, he’s worried that lying to you fractured your trust in him, and that won’t look good on his permanent record, especially not when he’s waiting on a yes or no from you regarding marriage.

“Honey, please,” He knows he’s not the only one at fault, he knows you’re just as guilty for lying as he is, but you’d done it out of pity, and he’d done it out of greed. You’d played pretend with him so that he didn’t lay alone in a hospital bed, but he’d lied to you so that you wouldn’t leave. He’s kept you trapped, and he’s worried you’ll break free from the cage and run.

“I’m sorry,” He cries, clutching tighter at you when you try pulling away, scared you’re on your way out, “No, honey, please, I’m so sorry-”

“Stop apologizing!’ You beg, a raw quality to your throat that bleeds into your voice. You can’t take it anymore, you can’t let him blubber out sorry after sorry for something he’s not at fault for. You wish he’d been honest, sure, but you couldn’t possibly blame him for continuing the game that you started playing.

“Just- stop, please,” You breathe, quieter now this time. “I- You’re not the one that has to be sorry.”

“But I am,” Bradley gushes, clinging tight to you, still nervous you’re trying to leave. But you’re stationed to stay in his lap, smearing away tears with the skin of your wrists.

“Well don’t be.” You huff, frustration swirling in your chest, all self-directed, “Don’t- don’t apologize for my mistakes! Bradley,” You whimper, rubbing at your eyes hard enough to see swirls beyond your vision, “I left you. I rejected your proposal, and I left you, and then when you almost died, and forgot I left you, I lied to your face. You had amnesia, Bradley, and I lied to you, in what world should you be apologizing? You should hate me,” You decide, stomach churning at just the thought, “I’m so sorry, Bradley, I- I’m so sorry! You should be throwing me out, you should kick me to the curb, and-”

“I don’t hate you.” He says, his voice gruff. He says it plain and simple, like it’s easy. Like there’s no hard feelings, like he’s not perturbed at all by your dishonesty, your betrayal.

“I love you,” He continues, and oh, does that drive the nail into the coffin you’re trapped in, “I love you so much, honey, I just don’t understand you. Why did you leave?”

“I was so scared,” You’re getting tired of saying it, but you know you have to, “Javy crashed, and I realized you could, too. Brad, I’m so sorry, I was so selfish, I didn’t wanna go through that. I left you because I didn’t wanna get hurt. I- I left to save myself from mourning your loss. But it didn’t work, and- and you still crashed, and I still almost had to mourn your loss, and it still hurt, so- so bad, Bradley. It hurt so bad,” You blubber, and he pulls you back into his chest.

“I know,” He murmurs, and you can’t fathom why he’s still comforting you, why his large, calloused hand is rubbing sweet, soft, soothing circles over your back like you’re not a traitor, “I know, honey, I can’t imagine. I’m sorry you had to get that call.”

“Come on,” You plead, your fists clenched in Bradley’s shirt, nails digging into the fabric, “Bradley, this- this isn’t fair. You should be mad at me. Even if you-” You can barely say it, the thought sounding like a fantasy; too good to be true, “Even if you love me, you should be upset. That I left, that I- that I lied, you can’t do this. You can’t comfort me, and you can’t apologize.”

“I can, too.” He argues, his brows furrowed and his mustache turned down with his frown, “Sweetheart, I know you’re sorry about all those things, you told me yourself. I know you’re sorry you left, I know you’re sorry you lied, it’s okay. It hurt when you left, but I never hated you. I wanted you back,” He admits with a shaky voice, “I wanted to fix things. And when you asked to kiss me in the hospital, I chose to let you lie to me even though I knew the truth. I liked it, baby, I loved it, because I had you back. You’re sorry, and- and I’m sorry, and we’re both sorry, so let’s do something about it. Let’s fix it, baby, please.”

“I want to fix it,” You sob, “I really do, Bradley. I- I wanted to pretend forever,” You confess, “Because it felt like it did before I left, and- you have no idea how much I wanted that back, Brad.”

“Me too,” He agrees with a rough sniffle, “I- I wanted you to pretend forever, honey. I really did, I- that’s why I proposed again,” He cringes at the memory, at the second time he’d asked to no avail, “Because I just wanted you to keep pretending, and say yes, and I thought- I thought I might be able to make you love me again, so I went for it, but I shouldn’t have. I should- I should’ve talked to you first, I should have told you the truth, but I just- I was scared, and-”

“Oh, Bradley,” You gush, grabbing the back of his neck and tugging him down into a hug. You might be smothering him, you’re not sure if he can breathe where he’s buried in your shoulder, but he doesn’t care. He’s clutching you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t, and you’re horrified that he might really think that, but you understand why he does.

“Marry me,” He begs, “Please, honey, marry me. I’m not mad at you, I love you, please, just- just marry me, please. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me,” You promise, tears flowing steady down your cheeks, “Honey, I promise, I won’t walk out unless you want me to.”

“I don’t,” Bradley shakes his head, his arms encircling your waist even tighter now, “I don’t want that, honey, please- please don’t.”

“I won't,” You promise, “But Brad- do you want to marry me for love, or because you’re afraid I’ll leave if you don’t?”

“I love you,” He croaks into your shoulder, and you know he’s not lying to you now, “I mean- I mean of course I’m scared to lose you. But I’m scared because I love you, and I still wanted to marry you even before this happened, before I was scared. I’m not trying to tie you down so you can’t leave, I’m trying to love you forever. It’s love, honey, I love you.”

“I love you too,” You wail, unperturbed by your messy, tear-stained, snot-streaked faces as Bradley lifts his head out of your shoulder to kiss you. It’s desperate, sloppy, and uncoordinated, but it’s the first real kiss you’ve shared in a long time, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it if you could. It’s all desperate, grabby hands and quivering breaths as you familiarize yourselves with each other again, remember what it’s like to be honestly, truly in love with each other. You’ve thrown the lies away like a hardened cast, and the bones beneath it have mended, still tender but whole again. You can’t get enough of him, you can’t take your hands out of his hair and you can’t press your chest up against his enough. He feels the same, he can’t possibly tug your hips further against his own, and he can’t dig his nose any further into your cheek or he might poke a hole there. But he wants to, so he tries.

You’re ravenous, not with desire but with love, the purest and sweetest form of it. You’re so glad to have him back, to really have him back, that you can’t care about your leg falling asleep where it’s bent awkwardly against his lap, or the stickiness of his tears on your cheeks. All you care about is Bradley, all you know is Bradley, all you ever want to know is Bradley.

He reaches for your hand while still engaged in the kiss, and you swear you feel your heart crack when you pull yourself away to stop him in his tracks.

“Wait,” You pant, wondering why he’s doing the same when he’d practically stolen the air from your lungs, “You’re absolutely sure you want to marry me? Even though-”

“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, keeping the ring in one hand and reaching for your face in the other. He squishes your cheeks together, until your lips are puckered and he can brace his forehead against your own, eyes wide and grin exasperated, “Yes! Yes, I really want to marry you, even though you left, even though you lied. I lied, too, honey. You left because you were scared, and that’s why I lied. I get it, okay? I’m not gonna turn on you, I love you. I want to marry you.”

“But- but we should work through this,” You propose, pointedly not swatting him away when he poises the ring over your marriage finger.

“Okay. We can work through it in marriage counseling,” He promises with a breathless smile, the expression wholly genuine because for the first time in three weeks, he’s confident you’ll say yes, “Because I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?”

You’re not fucking this up a third time.

“Yes!” You gush, and you squeal when he jams the ring onto your finger, moving in for a kiss far more eagerly than you’re prepared for. It’s like being greeted by an overexcited puppy, one that’s a bit too big to be ramming into you, but that you can’t tell no. He kisses you voraciously, joining your hands together so that the metal band on your ring finger rubs against his own skin.

“I love you,” You pant, in a rare moment of being able to drag oxygen into your lungs, “And- I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Bradley swears, kissing you again before you can murmur any more apologies, “It’s okay. We’ll be okay, baby. We’ll work through it. You were scared, so I’ll help you however I can so that you’re not so scared. And I was scared, so I’ll probably be a bit of a clinger for a while. That’s it, baby, we don’t have to break up.” He promises, “That’s all it is, honey. We can work through it. We love each other, we can do this.”

“We do love each other,” Saying it feels like a blessing you’re casting over yourselves, an affirmation that you want to say in the mirror ten times before starting your day, “I love you, Bradley.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” He hums, dissuaded very little when you turn your head to look for your phone. He presses the same frequency of kisses to your cheek as he had your lips, and you let him smooch away at your face while you hunt for the device.

“Here!” You find it tangled in the bedsheets, “Brad, let’s tell everyone.”

“Hm?” He glances sideways at your phone, “Oh. Yeah, my parents are probably worried.”

“My dad, too.” You hum, “I told him at the store earlier.”

“I told my parents then, too.” He confesses, “But- but they’re not mad at you, or anything honey, they understand.”

You marvel at the revelation, that that's the reason Carole had been so confident bidding you goodbye.

“I.. told your mom already,” You realize you still haven’t put all of his puzzle pieces together for him, “Uh, she knew before you woke up, actually. She was the one to suggest that I pretend nothing happened. She didn’t want you to be too stressed in the hospital.”

His brow furrows where he’s in the middle of kissing your jaw, and he pulls back to evaluate the new information. But he’s not angry, more exhausted. He chuckles weakly, “I told her today, she pretended she had no idea. Damn, that woman is a good actor.”

“Very good,” You agree, snatching Bradley’s hand out of his lap to curl your own over the back of it. Your hands are stacked palm-to-back, with Bradley’s resting on the blanket and yours overtop. Your ring glistens in the afternoon sunlight and snapping a picture of it is one of the most gratifying things in the world, second only to the feeling of it laying permanently on your finger. You’ll have to put this one in the photo album, the beginning of a new chapter.

Bradley doesn’t let go of your hand after you snap the picture, only flips his own beneath it so that he can hold it more securely. He puts his chin over your shoulder to kiss your cheek as you use your only free hand to type out a group text message to your family members. Bradley’s squadron will be next on the list, but for now, your family receives the shot of your hands intertwined, a ring glistening on yours.

I said yes this time.💗

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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literaryavenger · 8 months ago

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You're Still My Sunshine

Summary: A year later, a lot has changed.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Grief. Fluff. No mentions of Y/N.

Word Count: 750

A/N: This is just a little drabble to continue You Were My Sunshine, hope ya like it.

Masterlist | Part 1

“Doll…” He says quietly while cupping your face with his free hand as he sees you holding back tears. “It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you care about. You taught me that.”

His gentle words, the way he softly strokes your cheek and the way he’s looking at you so lovingly, it’s all too much for you and can’t hold back your tears anymore.

With a broken sob, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest and hug him tightly, clinging to him while he wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, kissing the top of your head before nuzzling his face against your hair.

In this moment, while holding you in his arms, Bucky realizes it’s not like you don’t feel like you belong with the Avengers.

This is just something you feel like you have to go through on your own because you’ve always had to.

And he’ll be damned if he lets you go through it alone ever again.

A year later

“Hi, mom.” You kneel down in front of the grave, placing down the bouquet of blue roses.

You look around the cemetery for a moment, if anything just out of habit to make sure there’s no danger, but you’re alone.

“Happy birthday.” You look back at the grave, cleaning it a little by brushing off the weeds on it.

“Another year, huh?” You say quietly. “A lot happened… And I’m not sure how we got here, but…”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a hand on your shoulder but you don’t bother turning around.

“I’m sorry, baby, it took me a little to find the candle.” Bucky’s voice rings in your ear as he kneels down beside you.

You look at your boyfriend, smiling at him as he lights the candle on the cupcake and passes it to you.

Like usual, you look at it for a moment before you blow it out and you can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek, except this time Bucky’s there to promptly wipe it away.

You spend the next few hours there, the both of you talking to the tombstone and to each other while Bucky holds you and wipes your tears away.

When you’re back at the Compound, the team is gathered around the living room watching a movie.

“I still can’t believe Elsa is the only one you allow to know about your special day.” You roll your eyes at Tony’s nickname for Bucky while the team snickers.

“Actually,” You start while you and Bucky sit down on the couch next to Steve. “I… I’m ready to tell you guys.”

You’re a little hesitant, but for the past year you and Bucky have talked about it a lot, since you started dating you’ve opened up to him in a way he didn’t even know was possible considering you were already the most open person Bucky’s ever met.

And it felt good, you thought to yourself, and you decided last night you were ready to open up to the rest of your family too.

So you tell them everything, every little detail of the things you do, explaining why you do them because they were your mom’s favorite things. They’re understanding, not loving that you went through all that on your own, but they respect your choice and were glad you now allowed Bucky to be there for you. And, with some more grumbling from Tony, they accept that you aren’t ready to have them all there with you yet.

But that doesn’t mean they couldn’t do anything for you…

Another year later

You almost don’t recognize the grave, having to double check the tombstone to make sure it’s the right one.

And it is, only it’s full of flowers, teddy bears, papers and Avengers action figures for some reason.

You’re as confused as Bucky when the two of you kneel down and you reach for one of the papers and you start chuckling when you see it’s a message from Tony, to you. It’s clear that he wrote it to make you laugh, full of sarcasm and jokes, and Bucky’s glad to see it’s working.

You read all the notes one by one, all from the team to you, between tears and chuckles, and you can’t be more grateful to have found this family.

You almost forget that this year you have big news, the engagement ring sitting on your finger shining with the sunlight.

I have a lot of things to tell you, mama, you think to yourself while absentmindedly stroking your stomach, where you found out just yesterday your very own little ray of sunshine is growing.

Yes, things are definitely getting better.

#bucky barnes #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers #tony stark #avengers x platonic!reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfiction

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beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year ago

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Good Luck, Fermata Tower (18+)

pairing: fire-lookout!seungcheol x female!fire-lookout!reader

genre: firewatch au LMAO, smut (MDNI), soo much angst, COMFORT, fluff

description: after the death of your roommate you have to find a greater purpose to life. what better way than to became a fire lookout with a surprisingly charismatic neighbour tower?

warnings: this fic is a lot, please read ALL warnings. SUICIDE, implied suicidal thoughts, major character death 2x, reader goes through grief, so does seungcheol, AGE GAP, RADIO SEX??? LMAOOO, dirty talk, petnames, cockwarming, pentrative sex, strength kink, f. and m. masturbation (mutual?), PINING TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE, MENTIONS OF DOING DRUGS/DOING SHROOMS, talks of drowning, if u know the game i think you'll be able to visualize the beauty of this way more, intensive writing on the scenery and the emotions, LMK IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASe

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "im getting out lana", "im just gonna be making animal sounds", "can we make this into a play so i can perform this?", "OF ALL THE THINGS THAT COULD MAKE ME CRY IT WAS THE DESCRIPTION OF HIS HOT ASS FACE"

wordcount: 13.9k

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL. i love this fic. the writing is a little novelly for a fic, but i was so passionate ab this whole firewatch thing and i got SO INTO the arcs and their personal losses and i just really love yn and seungcheol. i hope this was worth the wait and i apologize for not finishing sooner. all my love, beefboy

You and Mingyu meet at college at some parkour club that you’d both joined to make friends. You face-plant into the pavement and knock out a tooth and Mingyu takes you to a nearby hospital. You click instantly.

You and Mingyu spend every moment together - you help him and he helps you. Mingyu is smart, you realize. He knows all the formulas in your mathematics course by heart. You tell him he’s smart and he says that no one else seems to think that.

You and Mingyu are best friends. You have matching necklaces that complete a heart.

You and Mingyu party together and when you get too drunk, he carries you down the halls, home. Sometimes at night he sleeps in your bed.

Your friend group thinks you’re dating, but you think you and Mingyu are something much more earnest than lovers. You think Mingyu is your soulmate.

You piggy-back ride Mingyu at graduation and you give him a peck on the cheek when he shakes hands with the dean.

You and Mingyu become roommates. You binge-watch terrible movies together and hold drinking games. It’s hard to admit some of your favorite memories are from watching the Alvin and The Chipmunks trilogy.

The night before it happens you and Mingyu eat dinner together that he cooked. You see his snaggletooth every time he smiles.

You’d almost lived together for two years that morning. He usually wakes earlier than you, but he is nowhere to be seen. The apartment is oddly still. You feel trapped.

You enter Mingyu’s room.

You think he’s asleep. You leave him alone.

Two hours later you grow worried. You enter his room to find him in the same position. You shake him. Mingyu doesn’t wake.

The doctors say a case like Mingyu’s is extremely rare - he was in great shape. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to make you feel better.

Mingyu’s funeral is grim. His death is so terrible, says the pastor, because it’s so domestic. You think it’s terrible because he is - was - the brightest, most amazing person to walk the earth. His parents want you to hold a speech, but you can’t find the words. You think you might sob if you go up there. You sob anyway. The flowers form a ring on the floor of the church and your soulmate is dead.

You can’t sleep anymore. You imagine him dying, left arm numb, alone in the dead of night and choking out your name, reaching for the thin wall that separated you. You cry for a whole month. The apartment is cursed so you live with your parents.

One day, you see an ad for a job in the paper.

You take it. _____________________________

“Hello?”

Static stormed the tower-house when the other end cut off.

“Are you there?”

Your eyes frantically darted around the cabin. It was no more than a 13 foot rectangle and yet your tired eyes couldn’t find the radio, churning out a gruff voice.

You’d just arrived, barely turned on the generator to allow light in. It was nighttime. The park’s dips and peaks were veiled in blue; the silhouettes of the trees, forking out in long, thin spikes, were navy and the lake Fermata was the brightest, glittering pearl from the moon above. Stars twinkled knowingly at you.

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side.

“Yeah, hi, I’m here,” you breathed out tiredly. You let go of the button and a small bit of static spoke back to you.

“Y/n?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m in Bay Valley Tower. It’s to the east. Saw your light turn on,” His voice was gruff, laced with sleep. It had a rasp at every vowel, strings of vocal chords straining to spit out the words in between sticky ropes of bile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. You had nothing else to say. The flimsy, one person bed beckoned to your tired body. You moved, like a doll, one limb at a time, into its harbor, collapsing into the thin mattress. You laid on your side, moonlight shining in from the window by the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, carelessly. Impatient in tone, you imagined he’d probably been through this a hundred times before. “So,” he sighed out, deeply. “What’s your problem?”

“Hm?”

There was a shooting star, dancing across the sky in that moment. You watched it, shuffling onto your back with half-closed eyes. Stardust sprinkled from it on the open, empty sky.

“People here are all running from something. So what’s your deal?”

You sighed, watching the star’s open path. It could go anywhere, you thought. Then you moved your arm, holding the receiver to your mouth.

“Listen, Seungcheol. I’ve been hiking for two days, so I’m gonna go to bed now, okay? Hopefully you’ve found some manners by the time I wake up,” you mumbled, then let go of the button (it had a harsh, grainy texture for some reason), and laid your hand, radio in it, limply at your side.

You heard a raspy chuckle from the other end. You had no energy to be angry.

“Alright, Fermata Tower,” there was a smile in the anonymous man’s voice.

There was a pause. The sound of the fierce breeze carried whiffs of autumn, as it lulled you to sleep. You had almost fallen into a black, snow-buried slumber when you heard the radio crinkle again:

“Fermata, do you see that shooting star?”

You had no energy to respond, radio spewing static in your open hand. Thankfully, Seungcheol seemed understanding.

“That’s good luck. So...”

A moment. You and Seungcheol watched the sky-dancer, apart.

“Good luck.” _____________________________

“You’re awake!”

It was Seungcheol’s voice. Transformed by the orange hues of daytime, he sounded much more alive than the night prior.

“I can see you sitting at your desk.”

Indeed you were sitting on your desk - a flimsy wooden thing, which looked like it had come form a yard sale - studying the map of the massive park. There were simple cartoonish figures to indicate stresses of trees and drops in the terrain, and rock quarries and waterfalls and lakes. You’d delicately pointed out your own position with red marker, scribbling ‘me’ by it with a heavy child’s hand.

It was cold - the thin boards did not do much to ward away the heavy wind, hooting creeping in the cracks. It smelled like pine needles and tea, as you’d just boiled a lavender on the kettle. IT sat, heating your fingers where it rested beside them in a mug left behind by the previous firewatchman (it read: “don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”).

The radio clattered against the wood when you clumsily picked it up.

“Didn’t know when I signed up for this that I would be dealing with a stalker,” you joked, smiling small when you heard the man on the other end let out a hearty laugh.

“Hey, don’t go labeling me just yet, kid.”

“Kid?!” you said incredulously, dropping the marker that you had been so diligently using to scribble excellent comments on your map (latest was: “maybe cute bears”). “How old are you?!”

“I’m 37,” Seungcheol said.

“Oof.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding!” you laughed, dropping your pen and leaning back in your seat. The view was beautiful. You could see the lake, surrounded by a rippling sea of trees, each top reaching for the sky, like you. “I’m 27, I’m getting up there with you.”

“Just a small decade.”

“I’m mature for my age.”

Seungcheol chuckled on the other end of the radio. You spun around in your chair (it creaked horribly - it sounded like a pig at the sight of a cleaver) surveying each square of the forest from your windows. You narrowed your eyes, trying to spot his lookout tower.

“How come you can see me but I can’t see you?” you mumbled, now standing to try and see, but it was drowned out by the sheer volume of pinewood. Seungcheol grumbled on the other end: “I should be East.”

“Yeah, fuck, I forgot to tell you, I think I dropped my fucking compass on the way here,” you ran a hand through your hair and frown.

“Uh, shit, you’re gonna have to pick up a new one, bud,” he said and you slumped. “Well, if you’re facing the lake - Fermata Lake, I mean - I should be to your left.”

You followed his instructions. You faced the lake, then took two loggy steps to face left, then squinted incessantly at the horizon. Not dissimilar to a crowd in Times Square, the trees stood toe to toe all across at every inch you spied. The pines zagged upwards like Giza, and culminated into the biggest mountain in the park, just under the sun. The mountain loomed overhead where you finally spotted the lookout tower, like a monster crouched over its prey. You tried to shake off the thought and focus on the lone, floating tower in the pit of pointy trees.

“I see you, Bay Valley,” you breathed into the radio.

The tower looked much more lonely from so far away. It was different when you were in it, but with the miles-long stretch between you two, you found it looked so small and feeble. You could make out the light turned on within it, a rectangle of burning orange. The shooting star must’ve crossed directly between your two towers.

“Attagirl,” Seungcheol smiles. “Do you see me waving?”

“No, what the fuck.”

“I got binoculars.”

“Ew, you are a stalker!”

“It’s for bird-watching!” Seungcheol informed you, offense in his tone. You cackled into the radio. “I like watching birds, thank you very much.”

“Jeez, can’t believe what this job does to people.”

“I liked bird-watching before I got this job,” Seungcheol said.

“You’re so white,” you grinned.

“I’m not even white!”

You and Seungcheol both laughed, joyous hiccups interrupted by bursts of static and 3 miles of rocky terrain and pine needles. You squint at the sun, traversing and dipping under the jagged hedges of the tree-line.

Your head lolled over to spot between the desk and doorway, where you’d dropped your orange backpack (a peculiar color, come to think of it - same color as the lifejacket they deploy on airplanes when everything has already gone wrong). Now it was flopped onto its side, zipper ripped open and knick knacks and crumbs at its mouth, spilling onto the floor.

“Where do I get a new compass?” you asked, looking at a yellowed book sat beside the backpack.

“Uh, shit, gimme a sec,” Seungcheol mumbled, and before his radio cut off, you heard, briefly, the itchy scrambling of papers, and the sound made him seem a lot more real. “We have these, uh, supply boxes scattered around. ‘M readin’ this, uhhh, fuckin’ info-thing.. Should say which of them supposedly has a compass.”

“Sounds like you really know your stuff.”

“Get off my ass, Fermata.”

You heard papers rustle again and a small bump before the radio cut off, as if he put the radio down on the table. You awaited, arms crossed over your pink and gray striped hoodie, and staring at sundown. Orange flooded the sky, as if it were all engulfed in flames and this was really hell.

“Uhhh, okay, I got it! There’s one down at Eleison Valley? The code is 1-2-3-4. That’s actually the code to all of them.”

“Secure.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, I can get some exploring done, at least,” you frown, spying a not-so-casual hike on the dotted surface of your map, when you tangoed back to the table, fiddling with the edge of the paper.

“Yeah. You should probably do it tomorrow though. Sun’s coming down.”

“Yeah. Can’t believe I slept that long.”

“Don’t feel too bad about it, kid. I was knocked out for, like, two days after the hike out here. It’s a miracle you’re already awake.”

“Thanks, Bay Valley,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat with some strained shuffling. You watched, eyes half-lidded as the sun fully disappeared behind the curtain of the park. Its light still roamed the sky, where it hid. Half dark blue, half red, the sky twinkled at you and your insignificance brilliantly. You tried not to think about how lonely and floaty your lookout tower must look from afar. Everything feels big when it’s close enough.

“You’re welcome, Fermata.” _____________________________

“You think I could eat any of these mushrooms, BV?”

“BV?”

“Bay Valley.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol sighed on his end of the radio. You were trudging through the undergrowth in your new hiking boots, lifesaver-colored backpack on the plates of your back, weight pushing through the fabric of your jacket. “No, I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Damn it. Was gonna get hella high,” you joked, eyeing another cluster of snow-white mushrooms under the shade of a tree, sloping along a gnarly root. Your crunching steps in the loose dirt came to a halt - there was a dropoff. The cliff cut off like a broken chocolate bar and a sharp rockwall supported it to the next layer of earth.

The path was snaking down towards the lake. You’d circle around and climb up towards Tri Forks Tower, where eventually the climbing heights would bowl into Eleison Valley - a flower field, supposedly (in the map a little flower icon alerted you of this).

“If I die from this rockwall, please, tell my family I love them,” you grumbled, fetching an itchy, frayed rope from the depths of your backpack. Squinting at the high sun, pale drops of sweat forming around your forehead, you slung it over the hook. The park was littered with these - rusted old things that were leaning forward from years of heavy hikers’ tugging. This one was particularly bent.

“You’re so dramatic,” came Seungcheol from the speaker.

“Am not, man, these rocks are like fucking knives!”

“Such a drama queen. A real Primadonna.”

You huffed and puffed as you lowered yourself down the cliffside. Your boots pressed flat against the jagged rock, biceps burning as you held yourself up and walked down the side of it. The whole world was with you, sideways, and you would’ve stopped to appreciate it were you not sure you would pass out doing so.

“Holy shit,” you said to yourself when you were finally on stable ground and not spider-manning the mineral deposits of the park. You put your hands on your hips and squinted at its imposing open jaw.

“You down yet, Queen B?”

You panted, grimacing, when you tugged the rope hard and it leapt down like a flying snake: “Yeah, I’m down.”

You continued padding through the forest. The earth was dry and it was summer, but the wind was harsh and it cooled your stovetop-skin as you walked along a rock quarry, Fermata Lake hiding behind the covers of huge, flat bulwark. You listened to the cacophonous call of the forest: rustling leaves and birds.

“I had a friend - uh, friend of a friend, actually - who, like, got high as fuck off mushrooms and had a bad trip,” you said, mouth to the mic of the radio, as you studied the cover of the leaves.

“Yeah? What happened?” Seungcheol hummed.

“She said that, like -- fuck,” you breathed, scrambling over a particularly rocky rock. “She said there was, like, like her house flooded. Like, water just came gushing in and the whole house was, like, underwater suddenly and she.. She thought she was gonna drown. And her fuckin’ kitchen turned into, like, a coral reef or some shit, I don’t know.”

“Shit,” Seungcheol seemed much more alert now. You heard him put something down on his table (you imagined it was just as shitty as your own). “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“It’s fucking crazy. Don’t do drugs, man.”

You turned past the quarry and was met with the sight of the huge, gaping hole of Fermata Lake. Strangely oval, the lake was flanked on all sides with thick pineland, except for a slight angle where grassy hills turned upwards towards Tri Forks Tower.

The water was much more green up close. Algae sloshed up the side of the gravel-earth, willing you into the murky depths.

You stared at it for a while. You thought maybe you could make out someone standing at the bottom of the bowl-shape.

“I’m at Fermata Lake,” you said then, and then started walking again.

“Good job! And you haven’t even died at a drop off yet,” Seungcheol joked and you laughed.

“God, you’re such a jerk. I bet you’re fuckin’.. Watching birds right now like a nerd.”

“Okay, rude-”

“Why don’t you go outside and be productive?”

“I’m looking for fires,” Seungcheol snarked back. “The binoculars are multi-use.”

You let the conversation die down for a bit, focused on the walk. It was peaceful when you let it be, but at times you came to feel like you were being swallowed alive, or like the looming figure of Aluralura Mountain was pressing its boulder-brawn in between your shoulder blades. The air in the forests was thicker, so you stayed persistent in your path, as you climbed up the clearings and spotted Tri Forks in the distance.

“Hey, uh, Y/n?”

The sudden intrusion of Seungcheol on the radio had you jolting, dropping the radio into the earth (thankfully it was fine - here the earth was softer and it dipped under your boot and water pressed out from the mull). You bent over and picked it back up.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” you scolded, wiping mud off the yellow plastic of the radio.

“Oh, uh, sorry..”

It was only then that you noticed a meekness in Seungcheol’s voice. You, of course, had not the furthest idea what he looked like, but he sounded like he was holding a knife behind his back. You furrowed your brows and stared down the radio, as if it would give you answers. There was dirt clamoring the yellow, where your fingers had held on.

“What’s up?” you said and sounded fakely bright.

“Well, I just-” he cut himself off with a cough, one that reached those stringent, thinning vocal cords and brought back the rasp. “I wanted to apologize. For the other night. I mean, when you came to the tower.”

You didn’t respond, only furrowed your brow and looked out across the sun-lit moor. There was a deer traversing across the grass.

“Uhm. Because. I was- I was kinda drunk, uh, when you came, and I know I was kinda pushy about, you know, why you came out here and all that.”

“OH!” you exclaimed and the noise ended in a laugh. “Please, Seungcheol. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine.”

“Okay, good,” he mumbled.

The flower field came into view after climbing a particularly steep hill and it was a flower field - not just cartography myth.

It was all sunflowers and catmint - a huge, long stretch of purple and yellow splotches, stemming from green, untamed grass - stretching as far as you could see, disappearing into a hill at the far horizon. You were sure the smell of pollen went for miles, flowerdust sprinkling the air in heavy coats. The path you were following split the field in two, a dry, boring gravel streak, but you saw, faded from sunlight, a once deep, now light, ashy brown box at the right side.

“I found it!” you shrieked into the radio, a newfound strength gearing your legs into a sprint. “Fuck, yes!”

“Good job, Fermata!” there was a smile in his voice.

“Thank you!”

You were also smiling, when you went up to it. It was rectangular and made of planks, held together by a metal loop and a padlock. Like everything else, it was dirty and ravished, and you felt a faint worry at the sight of scratch marks on its side. You clicked in the code: 1-2-3-4.

The interior of the box was mostly empty. To your horror the first thing you saw was a porn magazine, which you did not dare to touch; then you saw a granola bar, which you did touch and stash away in your backpack, without any regard for how old it may have been; then came the compass, small and cheap metal and pointing out that you were, in fact, facing Northwest.

There was another item in the box. You did not initially see it, as it was taped to the interior of the lid, but when you raised your eyes, you saw it. It was a piece of paper - a note.

Grimacing, you ripped it off where it was blowing violently in the wind, holding it tight between your fingers and smudging dirt along the untainted white.

It read:

‘Hey, Cheol. If you head up the path there’s a family of raccoons! I left this granola bar here so you could feed them! From Jun.’

“Hey, Seungcheol?” you said absently, staring over the blue, scribbled ink, worn out from months of rainwater dripping in through the planks. He hummed on the other end of the line. “There’s a note here for you. From a, uh, Jun?”

“Oh.”

There was a pause that you couldn’t decipher - maybe you could have, had you been there with Seungcheol. Maybe if you could read his face, his body, you could’ve known what it meant. But for now you just stood in the breeze. It was picking up, getting angrier, hurling at your clothes and hair, banishing you from the field. The flowers dangled uselessly.

“Do you want me to read it to you?”

Silence.

“No, not really.”

“Oh, okay. Uh, who’s- who’s Jun?”

Silence.

“The guy who used to work in Fermata Tower. Before you.”

“Oh.”

Every second was longer than the last. You wish you knew what it all meant, but you sensed in Seungcheol’s curtness that he was not taking questions currently, and so you looked around the quickly graying sky and the suddenly spiteful wind and folded the note away in your jacket pocket.

“I’m gonna head back now,” even your voice was rocked by the wind.

Seungcheol didn’t respond.

You left Eleison Valley alone. _____________________________

This was where it was supposed to be - greatness. Not success, but something greater, larger, more alive than you could ever be. You thought you’d find it in the mountains, the valleys, the lakes and the forests and maybe that had been naive of you - to think that nature and earth could give any sort of meaning that death had taken away from you. These shadowed parts only served to make you feel smaller, you realized. The mountains glared at you, the forests swallowed and spat you out.

You couldn’t sleep. The image of Mingyu’s outstretched hand was back and you could almost see him from your flimsy bed, lying on his back with a tanned hand out for you. You left him alone, just like you always had.

Burrowed under the veil of your thin blanket, grabbing at it with clumsy hands, you turned your back to Mingyu’s corpse on your floor.

A prickle sauntered up your back. It was that emotion that something was creeping closer, something was out to get you. That you would feel a cool, dead hand on your back and when it would spin you around his face would be there, and he’d look nothing like himself; he’d be pale and purple around the mouth and his eyes would be sunken and dark and all the glitter he possessed - that he used to possess - would be gone and something menacing, like a hungry mountain, would have replaced it.

You thrashed, suddenly, to look back at the corpse. It was still there. Hadn’t moved an inch. Deja vu.

Thoughtlessly, desperately, you fumbled for the radio wrapped up the sheets of your bed. Your fingertips found the plastic hardware, and it bounced at your eagerness, before you pulled it along the sheets and up to your mouth.

“Seungcheol?” you gasped.

When did you start crying? You decided you must’ve been crying all night and maybe you’d cried so much that your brain had stopped registering the feeling of wet tears.

There was a pause. A long one. So long, you started to really become aware of the cries of the wind, the patter of the rain and the endless mumbling of the trees (and the gargled, bubbling blood rising from Imaginary Friend Mingyu’s half-open mouth). Then static spoke back to you:

“Yeah?” his voice was so raspy, you registered that you must’ve awoken him from his sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your nails dug into the radio and you pressed it into your chest, holding on tight.

“I can’t sleep,” you whispered, words full of shaky air. There was another pause and for a second you feared that Seungcheol might’ve gotten angry and gone back to bed. But he spoke again.

“Are you okay?” You heard rustling on his end, and you imagined him standing up from the bed, looking out at your lonely island of a lookout tower. “Do I need to trek over there?”

“No!- no, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you protested, then trailed off.

“... Are you crying?”

You squeezed your eyes shut: “I just- d’you remember what I said? About my- my friend’s friend who- who had a bad mushroom trip?”

“Uh, yeah, I remember. Her- Her house flooded, right?” Seungcheol’s voice was tainted with thorough confusion, but not annoyance. Never annoyance.

“Well, I just-” you sputtered and sighed. You almost wanted to stop talking and give up when Seungcheol stayed quiet on his end and drew the words forward: “It’s so stupid. Sometimes I just- I just feel like that. Like you’re drowning, everywhere you go. You know?”

Your voice was stringent with nervousness, and you picked at your nail, wrapped around the radio in the shallow dark.

“It’s not stupid, sweetheart,” he mumbled. It was amazing to you how gruff and tough Seungcheol turned soothing and caring so fast. The nickname felt like a warm hug, and you almost didn’t register the sound of fabric rustling once more. “I’m coming over.”

“N-No!” you gasped sharply. Your eyes flickered down. Mingyu watched from the floor, eyes glazed over from death. He smelled foul.

“Can you.. Can you just- talk to me?” you whispered helplessly, and Seungcheol quieted down, seemingly weighing your proposal.

“Okay. Okay, sweetheart, I’ll talk to you,” Seungcheol whispered soothingly, and for God’s sake, you didn’t even know what he looked like, but the rasp in his voice, and the comfort and warmth that sung out the speaker of the radio had your heart clenching in your chest. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Um, I don’t know,” you sniffled. Seungcheol only softened his voice and sat, awake in the middle of the night, comforting you.

“Can I tell you about birds?”

He told you about birds for 45 minutes before you fell asleep (something he had predicted would happen); he told you about how pheasants are known for their striking colors and how they have excellent eyesight; he told you how he saw a nightjar just before going to bed that night, and how they’re incredibly hard to spot; he told you about Barrow’s Goldeneyes, and how they’re the funniest little guys, and he loves them, because they glow purple in the sunlight; he told you about g…

Oh. You must’ve started dozing off. _____________________________

You weren’t sure when it changed, but at some point you looked out the window, and the mountain looked a lot more like yourself.

You were getting better, happier, you were waking up with more energy, you were bubblier. You weren’t entirely sure you could blame it on the park though. For two months you’d had your job and for about two months, every once in a while, you’d radioed Seungcheol at night, and without any question, he’d tell you about birds.

It sounded stupid the more you thought about it, but his voice lulled you into a comfortable sleep even on Mingyu’s most insistent nights.

You’d wake up and patrol your area, then you’d settle back in for a couple of hours, watching out for fire hazards and guests in the park, before you’d patrol one more time. Then you’d go to bed.

This was not the type of job you took to make friends, but somehow Seungcheol had become the reason you woke up everyday. Everyday you looked forward to walking through the woods with his voice on your radio, and you looked forward to making him laugh and him making you laugh.

“Seungcheol, I’ve got eyes on what I’m pretty sure is a Red-breasted Merganser, come in.”

This morning you were up extraordinarily early - for you, that is. You weren’t certain what exactly prompted this early rise (maybe you were finally sleeping right thanks to a certain rough-throated man?), but nonetheless you’d enjoyed the view of dawn along the undergrowth and had eaten half-warm oatmeal in bed with an open book. Now you were bored and craving the attention of your only forest-companion.

Seungcheol didn’t respond like you were expecting though. When the radio crinkled in response, you heard him panting on the other end and thumps, like he was picking it up off the floor.

“That’s… That’s great, Fermata. I’ve gotta get my.. My binoculars out,” he heaved for air and fumbled clumsily with the sensitive mic. You cringed at the sound.

“What are you doing? Why are you so out of breath?” you asked. A twinge of worry slipped out in your tone. Was he okay?

“I’m, uh, working out,” Seungcheol chuckled, and he seemed to finally regain composure, clearing his throat sheepishly. “You’re not usually awake to hear it.”

“You work out every day?”

“Sure do - gotta be prepared to knock out a grizzly,” he grunted.

You leaned back in your seat, a less than amused expression on your face, because a twirling strand of fire danced up your chest and settled into your cheeks. Why was it suddenly so hot? Fire spread across your nerve endings and twinged you red in the apples of your cheeks. You ran your hands over your face to soothe the sizzling.

This was ridiculous, you thought. Seungcheol was not making you blush. You didn’t even know what he looked like! He might as well have had an eye patch and a mohawk. But even as you halfheartedly scrutinized yourself, your thoughts clouded over the idea of sweet, attentive, raspy Seungcheol with big arms and thighs and a sculpted chest and-

“Are you- are you, like, buff?”

The question left your lips before you could stop it. Your voice broke halfway through the sentence and you let go of the button with an embarrassed hiss, like a kettle huffing out air. The embarrassment, that was potent and squeezing at your chest, worsened when you heard Seungcheol’s throaty chuckle on the other end, limp and dry.

“You’re curious today, aren’t you?” he mused then, smirk clear from the tone and pronunciation of the words, and you squeezed your eyes shut because why was his voice and the thought of him and the warmth coming through the radio speaker suddenly bothering you so much?

The truth was you hadn’t masturbated in months. With everything going on, you simply hadn’t felt the urge or the want. But, it occurred to you, now that you were slowly becoming a functioning human once more, the urge was returning hot and fast in your core, and, of course, your only companion with the raspy voice and the attentive words and the apparently muscly body was bringing forth this urge with ease.

You pressed down the urge, taking a deep breath before you pressed the button once more. You were not going to masturbate to the thought of Seungcheol - not Seungcheol who you only knew by voice, who had been nothing but caring and sweet to you. You could not corrupt the preciousness of your companionship with your lewd, depraved thoughts.

“I’m just curious what you look like. Unlike you, stalker, I don’t have binoculars!” That sounded a lot more like the you that had not just gotten wet at the thought of Seungcheol’s bulging muscles.

“Hey! The power of the binoculars is limited. I can only really see your silhouette, nothing fancy,” he defended and then right as you were about to respond, he knocked the wind out of you again: “And yes, I’m pretty buff, if I do say so myself.”

Ugh.

You went the rounds that day and got through another day without having to complete fire protocol, ending out the evening with a pack of instant noodles your family had so graciously sent you (Seungcheol scolded you: “That has no nutrients!”). However each step through the forest and each slurp of noodles and page of your book was plagued by the latent fire inside you. A burning occupied your abdomen fueled by the echoing morning voice of Bay Valley Tower.

By nightfall you gave in. You were only a girl. This didn’t have to change anything, you thought, as the park turned plum purple. You settled into bed in your pajamas, sitting upright against the frail wood wall and letting your hair bunch on the rattling plate of glass. Your eyes moved to and fro, bouncing over the now lived-in cabin and taking in the dark void of the farest corner.

Briefly, you fiddled with your radio in your palm. You could call Seungcheol and- wait, why would you do that? No, no. You packed away that wicked thought - it only served to make you feel more guilty. No, instead you slid down the wall to lay in your pillow, now positive you were alone.

An owl hooted outside and you slipped your hand into your underwear.

It was surprisingly easy to surrender your consciousness to the lust (and you had, God bless your soul, stayed wet throughout the entire day). It clouded you over, as you began rubbing up and down your pussy, ghosting over your clit to dip down to your glazed slit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you conjured your best doll-replica of Seungcheol.

In your dream he was a faceless mist, but he had a carved upper body, and from the fog surrounding his head spewed his voice - dripping in warmth and comfort, as you imagined it was his toned arm reaching between your legs and pumping into you.

Your other hand snaked down to your clit, where your hips canted off the bed. In the whirl of thrusting into yourself and rubbing tight circles in your clit, you realized, lip bitten raw under your prying teeth, that there was no reason to hold back your moans. It was only forest and wasteland for miles - and surely Seungcheol would not hear you in his floating snow globe.

“A-ah, Seungcheol,” you wantonly murmured, burying your head in your pillow and sighing lazily. A flush had crept up your neck, where your chest expanded to allow for air. The pleasure was immense - probably more intense, since it had been quite a while - warmth spreading in your lower stomach and culminating at your throbbing clit. Recklessly, you moaned and thrashed as you fucked yourself on your fingers, hiking towards your orgasm. “Seungcheoool-”

“Y/n?”

You froze.

Maybe you’d imagined it. Still, your fingers were stopped in their tracks, simply resting on the warmth of your folds, itching to continue. You sat up in bed and tried to ward away the creeping panic. Your heart began to gallop to the beat of a siren.

The air had been starched when you finally pulled your hand out of your underwear, hot cheeks and glistening hands all over, when you began searching for the radio.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You had your back hunched over the edge of the bed, searching for the little yellow receiver, when his voice came again in a thick forest of static. You snapped your head to under your comforter, where the noise was slightly muffled.

In a blurred panic, you threw the comforter off of you and spotted the small radio by your calf, and you scrambled to pick it up. When the dirty plastic touched your cheek, you stopped, sighed a shaky, hot breath, and closed your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine. What’s up?” you let go of the button and cringed at your own disheveledness, the breath and shake in your voice. You pressed your forehead radio-front in a silent prayer.

There was a hesitance to Seungcheol when he spoke next: “... You were calling for me, you sounded in pain?”

This was certainly the worst thing he could’ve said. You would’ve rather he told you he spotted a bear at the foot of your tower, trying to eat you! You must’ve accidentally kicked the radio and hit the button, you decide, and you damn yourself for keeping it in the bed - of course, shit like this would happen!

“I was…-” (If only you were a better liar), “- pranking you…”

Seungcheol huffed out in amusement on the other end and you wanted to jump off the railing to the lookout tower and break your neck. “You were pranking me?”

You gulped with a decidedly dry mouth. “It was a bear attack prank.”

Seungcheol was smiling: “Yeah?”

You were not: “Yeah.”

There was an entropic silence, where you thoughts came rambled and pleading in your head: Please, just let this go, please, just let this go, let’s pretend it never happened, let’s-

“You wanna know what I think you were doing?”

Seungcheol’s voice had dropped an octave. The smile in his voice was gone and there was something menacing and commanding about him now. In the moment, overcome with a cocktail of guilt and shame, you could not discern if this was anger or lust - the first seemed fitting.

“I think you were fucking your little fingers thinkin’ about me,” he hummed and in response you whined and squeezed your eyes shut. The shame encapsulated you. “Shh, shh, calm down, I’m not mad, honey.”

Blinking through rapidly forming tears, you opened your eyes to stare, dumbfounded, at the radio (as if it were Seungcheol and you were not several miles apart). “Really?”

“Not mad at all. Jus’ think you should’ve told me if you wanted my help,” he tutted on his end and, God, he was so nurturing and comforting and he knew it, and it was so sexy. Your pussy, which had vaguely throbbed from the negligence throughout, was now screaming for your attention, hole clenching sadly around nothing.

“I thought you wouldn’t want-”

“You’re crying again, baby,” he must’ve noted from the hoarseness of your voice and the sniffles that accompanied every syllable.

“Just want you so bad,” you sobbed, now shamelessly slipping your hand back into your underwear and sighing dazedly in relief when you touched it again.

“Need Seungcheol to take care of you, huh?” The smile in his voice was back.

“Yeah.”

“Bet you don’t want me talking about birds now, hm?” he chuckled (at his own joke), voice low and raspy. “Are you touching that pretty pussy?”

“Mhmm,” you responded lazily, floating high on the sound of his voice and jolts of electricity they sent as you worked up a pace on your clit once more. The pain of the interruption ebbed away.

“Good girl, hm?” He knew. “Getting off to the sound of my voice, eh? Don’t even know what I look like.”

“Hng- k-know you’re b-buff,” you gritted out, voice coming in sharp breaths. Your body moved languidly, back arching off the bed and hair coming out in choppy strands on your pillow. Seungcheol scoffed out a laugh: “Like knowing I could just fold you in half? Fuck you into tomorrow? Hm?”

You let out a loud, dumb whine of his name. It was a total inability to get over his words; how melodious it was, and yet, how contradictory the smoothness of his words were to the strained nature of his thrumming voice. And the worst of it all was how confident he was - you supposed hearing someone else masturbate to you would be a confidence boost - and how the arrogance swelled out in the most comforting, nurturing way. Each word felt like a hand on your body, like a caress that sent shivers down your spine.

“Fuck, princess, say my name like that again. Please.”

“Seungcheol!” you obliged mindlessly, legs shaking on either side of your glistening hand.

“Shit, I-” he grunted, and you heard a fumbling of fabrics on his end. Your nerves spun in excitement at the thought of him getting hard at your voice. “Can you put two fingers in the pretty pussy - it’ll feel like one of mine, baby.”

You cried out when your fingers entered yourself, pads of your fingertips rubbing against your walls. Outside of the windows, the park was an empty wasteland of mauve and orchid, and the Fermata lake was brilliantly alive and dipping under the three-quarter-moon.

“Wish it was your pussy wrapped around my cock right now,” he grunted, and he’d lost breath and composure and if you knew what his face looked like, you would imagine it sweaty and twisted up and a red-lipped ‘o’ letting the jaw slack.

Resuming your earlier motions (double-handing your own kitty), you felt your orgasm lurking in the pit of your stomach, a tight-wound knot being ripped apart. You were panting into the cool air, creating silver-clouds in your tower-home. “A-ah, want you inside me so bad, Cheol- shit! Gonna- gonna cum-”

“Yeah? You gonna cum thinking about my cock inside you baby? Thinkin’ about me just bouncing you up and down like my little fuckdoll?” His speech ended in the prettiest moan you’d ever heard, and you imagined every well-defined, flexed muscle under the moonlight and the thought had your whole body jerking and shaking and when you closed your eyes the stars stayed with you, white and glimmering under your eyelid.

The strangled moans of your orgasm sent Seungcheol over the edge - at least from what you could tell. His dirty talk turned into strings of curses and moans and grunts until the radio went dead, and all you could hear was your own labored breaths and the faraway hooting of a horned owl.

The silence flatlined the excitement into nervousness. Your lip was almost automatically caught in your teeth and you glanced over the radio beside you through your lashes.

Oh shit. What the fuck had you done?

“Uh, did you-” the smell of sweat shot up as you shuffled in your sheet to grab the radio once more. “Did you, uh, cum?”

Oh fuck. You just made it way worse.

The silence from the radio was much louder than any response, but when the receiver did finally crinkle with static, the sound of laughter exploded from it.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me, BV,” you scolded, but you were smiling and relief flooded you like water overflows Fermata Lake during heavy downpour.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped on the other end. “It’s just-.. ‘DID YOU CUM?’”

“Alright, I’m going to bed now. You suck,” you quacked, and even though you were alone you thought to suppress the gentle tugging at your lips into a sharky smile.

“DID YOU CUM?”

He sounded pretty when he laughed. _____________________________

“I can’t believe I have to hike down here to confiscate some fireworks.”

Your grumble came from the forest beside Fermata Lake. You were walking down a patch of dirt revealed from years’ of trampling feet, dewy sprigs of grass arching into the mud. A group of (presumably) teenagers were firing fireworks down near the edge of your assigned territory.

“They’re a fire hazard!” Seungcheol squawked obviously, and you huffed in your boots, preparing to climb down a rocky slope.

“I know that! It’s just everywhere - the website, the signs - don’t use fireworks!” you complained. Seungcheol hummed absently on the other line: “Go teach those suckers a lesson, Fermata!”

“I will,” you said, agitated.

“Just don’t fuck with their personal belongings. Last thing we need is a lawsuit. Again.”

“I won’t,” you said, deflated.

Even in your most angered moments, you could hand yourself over to the gentle forest. No longer were you protruding into a bubble, straining to get through a barrier that was urging you out, but you were absorbed into it, like you were one of its own.

The forest was lush with pines and brown and green moss painting bark and rocks, and the grass leapt higher than your knees, as you trudged further and further in.

SWOOOOSH!

A firework propelled into the sky about 100 meters away, and you watched its ignited trails of smoke before it exploded into a fest of sparkling blue and gold. You huffed out in anger at the sight. The sky wasn’t even fully dark - it was merely a muted blue evening.

“Did you see that?” Seungcheol came from the radio-speaker.

“Yeah, I’m right with them.”

As you padded closer the smell of wet pine cones and coltsfoot accompanied the sound of distant voices - indeed, they sounded juvenile. You could make out at least two girls and at least one boy, although their voices were hard to distinguish, the way they echoed in between the grid of trees.

“Hey!” you yelled, as you creeped just close enough. Their voices hushed and you saw their frightened faces lit by handheld, Target-bought flashlights when you peeled back the screen of a bramblebush. They were gathered together amongst a tent, flashlight lighting the plates of the faces ablaze in cool white.

“Cut it out with the fireworks, alright?” you huffed and your anger melted a little when you saw that they were indeed just kids - maybe 19? They seemed to have nothing to say, and so you scanned the beer cans and the scattered backpacks and finally caught sight of a bundle of rockets in the grass. Your brows furrowed, and you picked it up with a sternness.

“Hey, that’s ours!” one kid chimed, but he made no move to stop you, really, as you trudged angrily back to the bush you had come from.

“Not as long as you’re in our park, man. It’s a fire hazard.”

“We’ll take them back home-”

“Goodnight!” The desperate plea fell on deaf, tired ears. You just wanted to eat dinner, so you disappeared out on a trail of pine needles and valiantly ignored the trail of curses and insults following you. You could care less.

“I got the fireworks, Seungcheol,” you sighed tiredly and your eyes were dark pits and your face was relaxed, if only to conservative energy.

“Good job, Fermata.”

You were not in the talking mood. Maybe Seungcheol could tell by your tone of voice; maybe he could hear it in your sigh; but Seungcheol piped up again: “You know, if you need some energy for the hike back, there’s a supply box - uhh, 52? - if you head upwards instead of towards Fermata Lake.”

You wanted to be grumpy, you really did, but the thought of a salivating, expired, delicious, out-of-date granola bar had you changing course to the slowly gaining hill of the forest.

It was weird. This was probably the closest you’d ever been to Seungcheol’s tower. Under the prickly cover of pine some mile in the distance, you could see a glowing square, perched over the treetops by long, wooden pillars, support beams crossing the middle. You couldn’t help but wanna go up to it. There had been an unbearable magnetic pull to his tower ever since that night however long ago. You decided to stay the course for Supply Box 52.

“I can practically see you from here,” you commented, and the tower was becoming a beacon as the evening mulled darker and darker by the minute.

“Really? Hang on,” he did not let go of the radio-button, and so you had the pleasure of listening to the ruffling of fabrics and thumps on the floor. “Can you see me flexing in the window?”

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, and the sound bounced off the pines and traveled up to the rock of the nearby Aluralura Mountain. “No, I’m not quite that close.”

“Damn it!”

“Yeah, it‘s a real shame,” you muttered, smiling, and then you caught sight of the supply box up ahead. The hill flattened out once more (to which you breathed a sigh of relief) and the box was perched on the edge facing the path that began onto the cliffs. This was Seungcheol’s territory - cliff sides and all. “I think I see Supply Box 52.”

“Open that bad boy up.”

You entered the code, scrolling the mechanisms one by one until the numbers read 1-2-3-4 (you still thought this combination was ridiculous), and when you opened the lid it creaked horribly, worn from the weather.

The wind was harsh that day, and a note, identical to the one you’d found at Eleison Valley, broke off its tape from the mean pushes of the wind. Instinctively, you grabbed it as it started to fly off, and your hand closed around it and crinkled it under your fingers. You looked at it with knitted brows.

Wordlessly, you tucked it in between your side and your arm, redirecting your attention to the goodies in the supply box. 52 held a rope and a map and another directory for supply boxes and, to your exhausted delight, a box of grandma-looking caramels. You took the whole thing and stuffed it into your bag.

As you shuffled, you put the note between your lips, stuffing the plastic container of gold-wrapped, sugary candies in between your rope and your own map and a coat for possible rain. When you zipped it up, the fabric of the bag warped grotesquely to fit the various items you’d brought.

You pulled the note back out from your lips. A small wet patch of spit lingered on the paper, as you unfolded it.

It read:

‘Hey Seungcheol,

If you find this, I gotta go be with my mom now. I’ll miss you forever.

From Jun.’

The wind blew kisses on your back like the presence of a ghost.

“You find anything good?” Seungcheol’s voice peeked through the static of the radio. It had been quiet for a while. You couldn’t take your eyes off the letter. The ink was smudged and slurred.

“Uh, caramels, actually,” you said, eyes dancing over each slope of ‘forever’. “Like, granny caramels.”

You put the letter away. _____________________________

A week later and you were looking out of the window at pouring rain. The sky was smothered by a duvet of dark gray clouds, and the rain was coming harder than you’d ever seen. It was like thousands of bullets pelting into the ground and turning it soft and muddy, and the drops hit your roof like the nonstop click of a keyboard.

"Rainy season, huh?” your mouth was to the radio.

“Yeah. We’re gonna be staying up all night to watch out for lightning. Fire hazard.”

“Shit, I should make coffee.”

“I’m way ahead of you.”

The lightning came and thunder followed. The sound was enormous and terrifying. It grumbled like a hungry beast and the sound bounced off of every mountain-wall and echoed from all sides. You felt very small, wrapped up in a blanket at your desk, a steaming cup of coffee by your side and your fire extinguisher evacuated from its holder to stand beside you, all red and shiny aluminum and rubber nozzle.

“Did that look like it hit a tree?” you asked after seeing a zig-zagging bolt of lightning hanging a little too low over the crowns. Your voice was louder than usual - this night was a game of overpowering the screaming rain. It was some 1 AM.

“Uhhhhh, shit. Maybe. We’d see the fire, but it’s possible it’s at the root.”

“Fuck,” you whispered. “Was that yours or my area?”

“Uhhhhh-”

“I’m gonna check it out.”

Determined, you let the radio fall on the table, as you fumbled for another sweater. The knitted fabric slipped over your other sweater, and then you were wrapping yourself up in your raincoat.

“Maybe I should go - it’s slippery right now, it’s dangerous as fuck. You could fall and hit your head, you know. I think it was closer to me anyway, so--”

“Seungcheol, I already have my coat on, I’m going!”

And indeed you were going, despite the grumbled protests of Seungcheol. Your coat blew in the hurricane wind as you stood atop the cliff, looking down at the cascading water, that’d all race down to the sinkhole that was Fermata Lake. Through the clouds, there were no stars to trade glances with, not even ghosts.

You fought headwind the entire way, your hair flowing wildly and your coat threatening to unbutton at the will of the blasts. The ground under your rainboots had become mud and the further you trudged into the forest, the more the mud crept up your yellow shoe, slinging over you like liquid ropes.

“I’m going down the drop off again!” you were screaming to overpower the wind, radio to your mouth before you dropped it into your pocket and retrieved your bag to regather your rope.

“Be careful!” Seungcheol commandeered bitterly, muffled from your pocket. “It’s slippery as shit! Radio me immediately when you’re down, so I know you’re okay.”

Even as your face grew wet and sore from the whipping rain, you scoffed. A gloved hand shoved into your pocket, brought the radio back up to your red lips: “Stop being such a pussy!”

“Say yes, Y/n!”

You rolled your eyes. “Aye, aye.”

“... I’ll take that, asshole.”

Wet as a wipe, you slung your rope over the hook and prepared it in a slew of motions you’d by now memorized. Although, you noted your movements were awkward, somewhat impaired by the layers of fabric that encased you. Stubborn, you stood before the hook, grabbed onto the rope, and began walking backwards.

Your booted foot curled around the edge of the cliffside, and with the tightened rope you began your careful horizontal walk. Raindrops pelted your face like a clenched fist, but you only blinked away the water and tried to focus on stepping carefully down the side of the rockface.

KRRRRRRRRKKKKKK!

You screamed girlishly when your rope snapped from the hook, and you watched it come flying out over the ledge, before you realized, horrifically, you were already falling.

It was barely a second, just one blurry image of the weeping sky, before you were on the ground, groaning in pain. A pulsing ache creeped up your spine, and you twisted your body in the mud to put the weight on your side. You sighed into the mud, dirt on your squished cheek.

The rain was uncaring of your unfortunate situation, as you laid pathetically in the dirt, body scrunching up like an elastic, while your shadow was cast by sudden bursts of lightning. Panting, you pushed yourself up by your arms and felt blindly for your-

Where was your radio?

Your pocket was deflated and empty, and you scrambled in the dirt, desperately, pushing yourself up completely to scan the area. You noted how the pain subsided into a small, dwindling soreness, thanking whatever God for your layers of clothing and the softness of the earth.

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision, aided by another strike of lightning atop Aluralura Mountain. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side.

“Hello? Seungcheol?”

There was no static to indicate your message had been relayed, and the usual red digital numbers telling you what channel you were on was gone, a simple, black screen remaining, mirroring your muddied face, twisted in anguish.

“Fuck this,” you hissed, standing up on two legs. You looked back up to where your lookout tower was still ablaze, a yellow box in the heights. The rope was fucked. You had to go down anyway. Huffing, you started walking.

You marched through the undergrowth, crossing through unpathed forest to reach the destination. It was near a hollow marked on your map, and so the expedition, although scarier, more empty and dark without Seungcheol's warm voice, was mild.

Wet petals brushed your face from rows of bushes, and even through your gloves the cold left your fingertips numb. You sniffled in the dark.

You found the hollow, then you found the tree. There was, indeed, ash going up the side of it, seemingly stemming from a smaller bush in the clearing, but the fire had been long put out by the insistent rain, and partially you felt disappointment that you’d trekked all the way out here, only for there to be no real danger.

Heavier than ever, you turned your gaze to the glowing hut in the distance.

You almost wanted to go back to your own hut, to turn your back to Seungcheol’s glowing tower and forget this ever happened. The anticipation of seeing him - of him seeing you - was a tall wall to overcome. But, you realized, not only was his tower closer; you also needed help.

Your radio was fucked, your rope was fucked and moreover, you needed to be sure you hadn’t done irreparable damage to your back. With water dripping over the ledge of your hood, you began walking towards Seungcheol.

Rainwater cascaded off the edge of the trees and the consistent dashed dots looked like tiny glass orbs in the light of Bay Valley Tower. It was intensely quiet for a while - it seemed like every bush-tailed critter of the forest had scuttered away to hide from the rain and the echoing growling of the sky.

“Y/n!”

You were so tired you almost could’ve missed it. Each layer of fabric weighed you down and the dirt smearing your cheeks and hands and fabrics could’ve melted you right into the earth. But indeed, a voice - so familiar it almost hurt - was calling to you in the dead of night.

“Seungcheol?” your first call was not a call, but a whisper, as you peered into the thick grooves of the forest. Then, your senses returned to you and you screamed as loud as you could: “Seungcheol!”

“Y/n!”

You and Seungcheol called for each other, syllables echoing off the huge, towering presence Aluralura Mountain. Getting closer and then closer, and then you could see the figure of another raincoated person, shaded by a hood.

“Y/n? Oh, thank God!” He ran to you, swimming in the rubber of his red coat and pink lips peeking over the closed hood.

It was a little paralyzing. He was so beautiful, you didn’t even know which speck of his shadowed face to look at. Tan, wet skin and big eyes from which the longest, blackest lashes you’d ever seen sprung. Most notable were his fuzzy, blocky eyebrows sitting over his brown eyes, fine wrinkles springing from the corners (you’d like to think you’d helped create some of those). His lips were big and bright and pouty, but it was wiped away when he smiled at the sight of you, and you could die, because a dimple indented itself in his cheek at the motion.

“Are you okay?” his smile faded when you said nothing, only stared at him, and then stared at where his thick fingers wrapped around your arm. He leaned into you and God, you hadn’t seen him before this very moment, and now he was leaning over you and he was so close and he smelled like pinewood, and you were pretty sure you smelt exactly the same.

You lowered yourself from your daze, trying to follow the pattering of rain atop both of your hoods. “Uh,” you gulped, finding his eyes, “yeah, I jus’... I thought you were joking when you said you weren’t white.”

His laugh. His laugh was even prettier in person and it had the same rasp and the same disapproving hint to it that it had had at all your other jokes. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, Fermata?”

“Bird watching is crazy, man.”

He smiled and studied your face for a moment, still leaned over you and thoroughly ignoring the rain and the thunder and the dirt on your boots. Then the smile faded, just a little: “What happened to your radio?”

“Oh- oh my God! Do you- do you remember my first day? The drop off! I fuckin’- fell down, my rope came undone on the hook! My radio was knocked the fuck out, it was crazy, I’m gonna need a new one-”

“Are you okay? You fell?” Seungcheol’s strong eyebrows became furrowed and the sight was so utterly mesmerizing to you. You waved him off: “I’ll be fine, please, I just want to get out of this weather.”

Seungcheol did not seem to entirely believe you, but nonetheless he grabbed your hand - in his own rough, used one - and started leading you upwards (“If I don’t hold your hand, how can I be sure you don’t fall down another drop off?”).

Time was not as agonizingly slow by his size, and the tower seemed to propel towards you and the hands on your wristwatch seemed to move backwards. Not before long, you were climbing up the stairway with Seungcheol’s iron fist on your wrist, so as to prevent you from falling down something else (you had a feeling that he would not let this go).

“I’m gonna make us some tea,” grumbled Seungcheol when you arrived.

“Yes, please,” you murmured. Your coat was folded beside you, starry raindrops soaking into a blanket thrown over his bed.

It was warm in Seungcheol’s tower house - he had half a brain to put an electric heater in the corner of the room, unlike you - and it was only the sudden embrace of warmth that had you looking out into the park and realizing you would have frozen to death if you’d stayed.

There was a warm glow from a naked bulb in the ceiling (you guessed Seungcheol had put it up himself), an old rug full of sand-corns, and a shelf with various books. Seungcheol also had a small kitchen, a desk and a bed, just like you. The layout was exactly the same, but sitting down on Seungcheol’s bed, you noted he must’ve made some alterations. Your fingers pulled at the white of the mattress - it was his own and it was much softer.

When the electric kettle (a rusted, iron old thing) was cooking, Seungcheol turned to you sheepishly and unzipped his coat. You waited in secret anticipation for his supposedly smoking-hot bod, but were disappointed to see another sweater underneath it.

Seungcheol stopped the kettle and took two large mugs from his cupboard. These, he placed on a carved tray (you thought he might have made it himself from pinewood), and then from a small, wooden tea box on his countertop, he produced two bright yellow tea packets, which he gently placed in the mugs. Then he poured in the water, steam traveling up to open his pores and whatnot.

“Do you want anything in yours?” he asked, not really looking.

“Uhm. No, no, thank you,” your hands were folded in your lap.

He only grunted in response and left one tea untouched, then took a clear, plastic container of honey from an array of unrefrigerated condiments, and squirted half the bottle into his tea. He sniffled when he was done, grabbing the tray and turning to you. Tonight, Seungcheol was uncharacteristically nervous.

“Can you-?”

“Hm?”

“That little- little table over there-”

“What?”

“Can you grab it?- For- for the tray?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

The tea sat on the tray and the tray sat on the foldable table and you and Seungcheol sat before them on the edge of his bed. You took the hefty mug in your hand and took a slurp, looking over at him from the rim. Seungcheol looked at you awkwardly. He did not move for his tea.

“I should take a look at your back,” he said.

“What? Why?” you quacked disapprovingly. “You fell on it,” Seungcheol reminded you.

You shook your head silently. “I like your hut. It’s way better than mine.”

“I’ve been here longer,” Seungcheol shrugged. You looked at him and he seemed displeased - this would not have been a big deal were you speaking to him on the radio, but his aura was much more commanding in person - something about his eyes, you thought. You had to look away, settling on your mug again (there was a cartoon dog on it).

“I suppose that’s true,” you murmured. Seungcheol stared into the side of your face and his obvious concern for you weighed down at your muscles.

A gentle pause where rain pattered his roof.

“Are you okay?”

You glanced over, nervously: “Tired.”

He bit his lip: “Maybe I should’ve made coffee... Can we put instant coffee in tea?”

“Seungcheol, I wanted to ask you something,” you said and put your mug down on the tray again with a small ‘clink’. Seungcheol rubbed his hands over his trouser-clad thighs, nodding, maybe more nervous than you. The warm glow of the bulb made him even prettier and all was warm and dry in the hut, even though rain was falling down in thick curtains just outside by the troughs. “It’s just..” you began, “you’ve been so avoidant about this.. Jun guy..”

Seungcheol’s sigh interrupted you before you could finish: “He was just the guy that worked here before you.”

“I found another letter.”

Seungcheol’s furrowed expression softened and he looked at you with big, glassy brown eyes, hidden under a waft of choppy bangs. What was that in the shine of his pupil? Fear? Vulnerability? Sadness?

“It was about- it said he was gonna go be with his mother and that- that he would miss you,” you explained and your voice was snotty and throaty, and your eyes averted to a folded napkin beside a half-eaten slice of bread. A fly circulated it hungrily.

Seungcheol’s lips made a tight line, dimples poking out pathetically. He cleared his throat and you heard the strain in his vocal chords once more (and it was so real because there he was - right beside you).

“Me and Junhui came here together. We’d just finished college and we didn’t want-.. We didn’t want to be adults yet. Like, an office job, wife and kids,” he began and there was a tremor about Seungcheol tonight. “I don’t think he was made for a job like this though. I think the loneliness got to him.. Think he just lived with it ‘cause he could tell I liked it.”

You nodded along until he wasn’t speaking anymore. Then a thick silence absorbed the two of you, a patch of moss drowned in the downpour.

“His mom was dead, so..” he whispered. Tears gathered at his waterline like a string of stars. “So, yeah, he went to.. To be with her.”

“I’m so sorry, Seungcheol,” you whispered and the echoing whispers of the storm bouncing off the rock faces of Aluralura mountain beckoned your hand onto his woolen sleeve. “I had no idea.”

“They never found his body, you know? He’s just out there, somewhere,” both you and Seungcheol turned your heads out to the pitch black expanse of the massive park. Your mind wandered to every crook and crevice you’d seen out there, wondering if a dead body had hidden behind a quarry rock. “Fuckin’ terrified I’ll find him one day. Just… Rotten.”

You didn’t know what to say. What do you say? Even though you’d stood in a similar situation - losing a friend - you couldn’t find anything that could ease his pain, the pain that was now tinting the light blue and dulling the sound of the rain. The whole room was pulsating. Luckily, it seemed Seungcheol had something more to say. You watched his lips pucker as the words tried to leave his tongue, then watched them draw back.

“He used to.. He used to say this thing. It reminded me so much of what you- you said that night about, uhm, your friend’s friend. He used to say that- that sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d just be.. Totally.. Convinced that he was at the bottom of Fermata Lake and he was drowning,” Seungcheol’s voice broke one too many times and his jaw clenched. “God, I was so worried. Jus’ thought I couldn’t- I couldn’t be the reason that happened again.”

“I…” A tear slipped down your face and your hand left Seungcheol’s arm to wipe it, furiously.He turned to you pitifully, the broad width of his shoulders hanging low. “I’m sorry- you weren’t meant to feel that way-”

“It’s okay. I wanted to help,” Seungcheol grabbed your hands in his, a deep frown on his lips.

You stopped the tears, face burning hot and wet when you looked up at him again, calmed. His thumbs stroked over the backs of your hands. The pads were rough and beaten.

“Y’know it was sort of the same for me,” you said. Seungcheol waited for you to talk patiently and with a small, encouraging smile, as warmth streamed from his hands into yours.

“Yeah, my- uh roommate - best friend - died. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how I found him, like, his hand was just outstretched towards- towards the wall to my room, and he must’ve just lied there while his heart was giving out and I wasn’t there-... And I found him the next morning like that and I thought he was asleep and I left him there. Again. And I just can’t stop seeing him everywhere and for a while I was afraid that he would move, you know, like, start crawling towards me or some shit, but I think now I’m actually more afraid that he’ll never move. I think that’s the joke or whatever, he just won’t move, he’ll just be there the way I left him- and I guess- I guess, I thought I could find some sort of higher purpose out here, but I just can’t.. I feel more as though.. Like, it was these things that took him away from me, these fundamental parts of- existence. Like all the cliffs have evil faces and they want to take me too, and maybe I did want them to take me, but not- not anymore. I don’t know if that makes any sense?”

You peered up at Seungcheol through your lashes, wet and heavy. He was frowning, hands gripping yours tighter.

“You don’t want them to take you anymore?” he asked quietly. You shook your head. “How so?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it has much to do with me or the park. I think-” you gaze flitted to Seungcheol and he smiled knowingly. You scoffed and smiled too.

Although you both were fully clothed (Seungcheol annoyingly so), it felt as if all the layers had been stripped away one by one; sweaters and trousers, skin and meat and bones. All there was left were two brightly glowing hearts in front of one another.

“It’s okay,” he whispered then. “You don’t have to say it.”

You rolled your eyes: “I think it’s because of you.”

He grinned, wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes and cheeks bunching up in shiny, red fat. You poorly suppressed your own grin and the two of you leaned into each other when your eyes hooked, laughing into each other's shoulders.

“You’re so dumb,” you complained, forehead scratching against the stiff, knitted threads in Seungcheol’s shirt.

“I think- I think we both jus’ get dumber together,” you could feel his smile into your neck and the hot stream of air that bounced against the skin.

Right as you were about to pull away, Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around your back and pushed you back into him. You giggled at the motion, but with little thought your own arms wrapped around his back too, and your knees clashed where they met.

“Seungcheol?” your voice was muffled by his neck. His only response was hum, that ruminated from deep in his throat right by your ear. You pulled away until you were staring at his face.

Each thick stroke of eyebrow hair, each long, black eyelash and each mole dotted on his softly aging skin was crystal clear then. Your hands wrapped around his biceps and felt your heart buzz at their pronounced carvings under the wool. Seungcheol smiled down at you in a sort of adoring way.

“I think-” you began, then felt stupid, then felt idiotic and cowardly. “I don’t know- I think we should kiss now?”

It came out as more of a question than a statement.

Seungcheol gravelled a laugh and his eyes became all squinty and he pursed his lips as if it concealed his amusement in any way at how you squirmed beneath him and your face heated up.

“I think you’re right,” he nodded and you could barely register the feeling of joy that exploded in your chest, before Seungcheol’s pillowy lips crashed into yours at the same instance as a crack of thunder.

The lightning was a flickering show to the performance of yours and Seungcheol’s passionate kiss. His lips molded to yours and yours to his, warm and chapped and your hands couldn’t help but wrap around the soft planes of his cheeks - to pull him further, to keep him with you.

Seungcheol grappled for your hips, and you moaned in a sort of discombobulated agreement, as he, with shocking ease, pulled you into his lap. His hands on your body, stroking and pressing into the meat, left a burning ghostly trail behind it.

“Can I be honest?” you mumbled in between bitten kisses and panted breaths. “You’re hotter than I imagined.”

Seungcheol smiled into the kiss at that: “You too, baby. Now you get the real thing, hm? After fucking your sweet pussy thinking about me?”

You whined in response, hips canting down into his and head dropping into the warm crook of his neck. You licked mindlessly at the skin, rolling your hips into his. Seungcheol groaned and steel hands halted your eager core.

“Desperate so quick?” he quirked, and you cried out because how could even begin to describe how hot it was that he could entirely still your movements so nonchalantly? You swallowed before you tilted your head from the safety of his neck.

“I have waited so fucking long for your cock, Cheol. I need it inside me now,” you said seriously, and it was his turn to swallow the rising viscous in his throat, before he nodded and pushed you off his lap to remove his trousers.

You saw the way the metal of the belt reflected the light, as he (almost angrily) began journeying it off his middle, and you took the hint, beginning to discard your clothes. Your first sweater fell to the floor, then the next followed, and then you were stomping the floor to rid your soaked trousers. Another article of clothing that was soaked - your panties! And embarrassingly so, you thought, watching the slick, wet patch as you lowered the material to the floor.

Only then did your attention return to Seungcheol, now fully naked in his hut with windows on all sides, and you audibly gasped.

His torso was one huge slab of muscle and meat. The skin was relatively pale, pronounced pecs and his arms were like tree trunks at his sides. His thighs were fucking huge, indentations of muscles peering through his skin, as he impatiently worked his boxers off.

He halted though at your gasp, smirking cockily before returning to his work.

“Is it as good as you imagined when you came thinkin’ ‘bout me?” he muttered as his boxers slid down his calf. Too busy staring at his girthy, leaking cock sprouting between his legs, you neglected to answer and Seungcheol continued in a deliberately raspy tone: “Jus’ thinking about your pretty moans, my cock’s aching for you, princess. You’re not gonna come warm it up, beautiful?”

“Yes-” you stumbled over a treacherous boot, “yes, I am!”

“Good girl,” Seungcheol rumbled, bemused, as your knees floundered into the mattress and back into his lap. Seungcheol seemed to have other plans, however, because as soon as you had found your footing, and his warm hands were sliding up your back and his neck was craned up to you, breath hitting your breasts, he raised you and flipped you over, so you were digging into the mattress and he was above you. The shadows only served to define the chisel of his arms further.

His hand slid down your soft thighs, settling in between your legs to run two fingers through your folds.

“Your pussy is so pretty,” he whispered, somewhat mesmerized at the slick coating his fingertips. You squirmed impatiently and he shushed you, ever so gently: “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Immediately following up on his promise, the two fingers snaked down to your sensitive, pulsing hole, prodding gently. You wiggled and whined, one of your hands (which had been gripping his bedsheets) stopped him at the wrist. He stopped, eyes flitting up to your flushed, shiny face questioningly.

“I wan’ your cock now. No prep,” you scowled, strands of hair sticking out messily. Seungcheol frowned.

“I need to-”

“I’m wet enough, please, been thinkin’ ‘bout this since-..” you cut yourself off with a frustrated sigh, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile at how fucked out you were already, so precious, all beautiful and naked and womanly.

“You sure?” he asked, voice matching the depth of the thunder. You nodded eagerly: “Please, please-”

“Okay,” he murmured, sticky hand leaving your burning pussy in favor of pressing it against the underside of your thigh. At the command of his strong hands, your body folded in half and the realization of your position had you crying out pathetically. “Anything for my beautiful baby.”

My. His. The word choice had you clenching around nothing, all spread out for him while he lined his pretty, red cock up with your entrance.

“Gonna feel real full in a minute, yeah?” he said absently, watching intently at how your pretty pussy was splayed out and ready and aching for him, mind reeling at the sight of you and the smell of you and how you felt under his hands.

And suddenly it was there - a mountain of pressure building around the head of his cock as it pushed inside, bursting when he pushed in a little further, until he was fully nestled inside. Seungcheol was not unaffected, body curling over yours animalistically with a deep, throaty groan. You, too, had to squirm and moan wantonly, as your body shone under the bulb.

“You’re so tight, pretty,” Seungcheol managed, face scrunched up, as his pelvis met your pubic bone. His hands gripped your shaking legs once more, fully folding you in half and you cried as the movement invited him further inside, feeling him brush the spongy spot inside you.

“Feel s’good!” you moaned, even as he hadn’t moved yet, and Seungcheol’s hands squeezed you in response.

Experimentally (perhaps fearful, as you had rushed into it without preparation), Seungcheol thrust shallowly and was pleased at your broken cry, so he did it again and then again, and then he was building up a rhythm and your sultry moans were slipping through the cracks of the hut and bouncing off the walls of Aluralura mountain and echoing twenty times over.

There was nothing sweet about the pace of Seungcheol’s hips. He was pistoning in and out with an impressive agility, huffing over your folded body. It was desperation; the way your nails raked over his back and his sloping arms, and sweet, little whimpers and your pussy choking his cock.

“Sweetest, prettiest-” he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, stomach caving inwards and clenching. “Fuck, cutest, little princess being stuffed full of my cock.”

“Love your cock,” you babbled, “Love- love your cock, love you.”

The words slipped out as if they were nothing, but their meaning was solidified by your raking hand sneaking up to his neck and pulling him down into another sloppy kiss. Tongues melding and spit trickling down your chin as he hummed into your mouth in the most wonderful way.

“Love you, too. Pretty, funny, sweet girl-”

“A-ah, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you warned, voice nothing but a breath, and your face pleasured, scrunched up in the dead of night. Your stomach was a well of pressure.

“I know, baby, I know. Squeezing me so tight,” he soothed, hands running up and down the plush underside of your thighs, as his hips continued their unrelenting pace. “Come on, cum on my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Seungcheol-” a string of curses and his name followed as your pussy clenched one last hard time and your cum seeped out around his thick, veiny length.

Holding his own orgasm at bay, he clenched his jaw and gritted out: “Where d’you want my cum?”

“Inside!” you mewled, overstimulated and sore, and legs still pressed to your chest, clammy and slick.

Seungcheol would’ve made a snarky remark was he not already cumming at your words, white seed painting your insides and spilling out around his softening length. He thrust a couple more times, relishing in the sounds of your fucked-out moans before he’d emptied himself, and he dropped down beside you.

Due to the nature of a one-person bed, you and Seungcheol were both pressed close to one another, covered in sweat. Your panting, huffing breaths synchronized and you stared into each other's eyes, all wild and blushed.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, brought back to reality by a distant calling owl. You were still in the park, you realized - not some other pleasure dimension like one may have thought. Seungcheol smiled giddily.

You looked out into the wasteland, and your eyelids and limbs (draping over Seungcheol’s big, pretty body) were suddenly heavy. You yawned.

“D’you think we have to stay up anymore?”

Seungcheol watched you gauging the pinelands with starry eyes. “You can go to bed,” he offered gently, “I’ll stay up and make sure the storm’s over.”

“Are you sure?” you mumbled, but you were already settling into the domes of his chest, closing your eyes. Seungcheol looked at you and thought you were adorable.

“Yeah.”

“Can you stay here?”

“Yeah.”

“Can your dick stay inside me?”

This prompted a laughter blooming all the way from his chest, where your cheek bunched up against the skin. His arm was wrapped around your back.

“Sure, baby.”

You mumbled something like ‘okay’ or ‘good’ or ‘thank you’, and you drifted off into sleep with his arms around you, and when Seungcheol was certain the storm had passed, he nuzzled his head into your hair and dozed off himself.

At the swimming red sky of dawn, your eyes pried open to see Seungcheol already awake, still wrapped around you.

Nonchalantly (that is to say: as if your chest was not bursting with glee), you nodded your head over to the window behind him:

“Is that not a black-billed cuckoo?!”

And Seungcheol thought that maybe you and him could find birds together elsewhere too.

#svt smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #seungcheol angst #svt angst #seventeen angst #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #svt x you #seventeen x you #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #angst #smut

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pumpkin321xxx · 7 months ago

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𝒫𝑅𝒪𝑀𝐼𝒮𝐸

Promises are either to be fulfilled or to leave your heart in comfort with those beautiful lies of cruel tongues.

Yoriichi x GN!Reader (Platonic)

Innocent, naive, and fragile are the words to describe children. They grow up relying on adults, however, they can't help but make acquaintances of their age to escape the world with them through the bliss of delusions and fantasy or in this case, empty promises filled with hope adorned in their eyes, shining brighter than any star in the universe.

The room was filled with the hysterical laughter of a young child, playing around the other one who seemed to be quiet like a small doll, just smiling at the silliness of his friend.

"Come on Yorii! Join me!!" You giggled as you twirled around like a spinning top, insistent on making yourself turn into one until you hoped to reach above to the endless sky which is just a mere dream of yours.

He shook his head, although this poor boy was witnessing your organs twirling alongside you, and the sight of your brain moving and jiggling was pretty horrible but he stayed quiet about it, just letting you have your fun. He shuddered at the slight thought of having his organs move around like that.

Twirling and twirling, until your body had enough of it as your foot pressed harshly on the tatami mat to hold yourself but your head was also swaying side by side. Feeling the heaviness and nausea take over, your body gives up on its last strength, resulting in your fall with a small 'ow'.

Yoriichi got up and advanced toward you hesitantly with a small cute frown adorning his innocent feature, kneeling and poking your cheek to get a response from you. Your small lips lifted to a pout, feeling defeated to not reach the sky.

"I know what are you thinking... I am an idiot to think that I can fly but spinning myself endlessly..." You sat up, huffing from embarrassment and defeat.

"(Name)... Take care..." Yoriichi said with a small smile, his voice sounded so soft to your ears which led to your eyes widening in shock and happiness. "You spoke!!!" You cheered, pulling him for a tight hug and it was his turn to be surprised now. He was still in your tight embrace, unsure how to respond to this small gesture of affection.

"Now, since you can speak, can you promise to stay with me? Forever?" You said, pulling away and lifting your fisted hand with the pinky finger pointing toward him. "I know we did this before... but it will sound more nice for you to say it..." You smiled softly. He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes as he slowly raised his hand too, locking his pinky with yours to seal the promise.

"Take care..." He said it again which sounded upon the confused ears. After all... both of you were still too young to understand that the world is not in your favor.

You realized this the next morning when you discovered the empty mansion of the Tsugikuni family. Not empty from people, but empty from your friend. You didn't know Yoriichi's mother was sick and passed away after you left, nor realize why he was telling you to take care of yourself.

"Yoriichi...?" Tears soon fell after swelling up in your sad eyes, looking around his room with no sign of him around. Desperately running around in hope that it was his first terrible prank, but no hope as you were left alone, crying in despair of losing your friend.

The memories of you and him promising each other. It wasn't once or twice, but you at least wished he hadn't left you all alone to walk the path of this cruel world, wishing to comfort him once for his loss and bear the grief with him. But the fate says otherwise.

#demon slayer #yoriichi tsugikuni #kny #kny yoriichi #yoriichi x reader #platonic #kny x reader

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luvv4j4ybe11 · 1 year ago

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With time

✧𝐓𝐰𝐢n 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐥𝐨’𝐚𝐤

✧Tw!!: mentions of death,sibling loss, lo’ak dies instead of neteyam, lots of crying, first time celebrating birthday without your twin brother, mentions of su!c!de, underaged dr!nking, mentions of alcohol,mostly angst with some fluff towards the end (if you squint),feelings of grief and depression and I think that’s all, enjoy this lil Drabble<33

✧Dividers by @benkeibear

✧ translation(s): Skxawng-moron,idiot , kuru-queue, hammerbrow fish- the goldfish that kiri was playing with in that one scene (idk how else to describe it😭)

(Listen to this to make it extra sad🥰)

You woke up feeling the weight on your chest being even heavier than usual. Your face still wet with tears from last nights realization. That realization being that today was your birthday but not just yours, it was his too. Ever since the night he died, you haven’t left your side of the marui since.

Even though it’s been four months since your twin brother died, that day just keeps replaying in your head, the sound of your mother screaming, the look of absolute devastation on your older brothers face, the blood on your hands, the sound of tsireya crying, lo’aks cold expression, the way your father looked at you with complete disappointment and spat out a cold, “you’ve done enough”

Every time you thought about it you felt sick.

And naturally, being Navi twins you guys were connected more than normal siblings were, you felt each other’s heartbeats, felt when the other was happy or sad, uncomfortable or frustrated. So when you felt cold and utterly alone, you knew he was gone.

But yet there’s still times you hear his heartbeat, you feel how lonely he is and how much sorrow he’s filed with. And it makes you weak with sadness every time.

Being pulled out of your thoughts by a small pair of hands on your bicep shaking you back and forth, you turn around to see your baby sister staring back at you with a smile on her face, her eyes still washed with sadness. Yes, she was young, but she certainly wasn’t stupid. She knew how to read the room better than kids your age did.

“Sis, come on, get up! It’s your birthday!” She says while climbing onto you to give you a hug, which was something she did every year, but this one was more gentle and genuine than the others. You break the hug to place a hand on her head, lightly ruffling her braids,“Maybe later tuktuk, I’m still a little tired.” You say,weakly trying to hide the pain in your features with a fake smile.

She frowns at this, making you let out a soft chuckle as you go to push her off of you. Making her cling onto you more. “That’s what you always say!, please sis, can you get up? For me? For lo’ak?” She says while looking at you with puppy dog eyes. The slight mention of his name brings tears to your eyes, not ready to start this day without him.

“Sister, leave her be, alright? How about you go see what kiri is up to?” Neteyam says as he lifts the curtain to get into your side of the hut, holding it open for tuk to run out eagerly to find her sister.

Closing it, he glances at you before siting on your sleeping mat, “Sister, I’m-” “Teyam don’t. I can’t go through today with this fake sympathetic bullshit!, you guys were constantly on both of our asses for everything! You guys never cared about how we felt! How he felt! You know how many times he came to me telling me how dad made him feel like shit? Or how kiri was pushing him about certain things? Or how he caught dad talking to you about how he’s, “too reckless” and he “wouldn’t be surprised if he got himself killed”?”

His ears pin back to his skull immediately, knowing the exact conversation you were referring to. “Sister, you think that didn’t bother me too? I told him that lo’ak only acted like that because he wanted to be like him. But of course he didn’t listen. And do you think I wasn’t aware of how you guys felt? Why do you think I’d always have both of your guys backs whenever you got into trouble? Why do you think I came up with lies left and right to mom and dad so you two wouldn’t get your asses beat? I wanted to avoid making you guys feel like that, but I only have so much control y/n..” he says as he squeezes his his fists in anger, his feelings from that night bubbling to the surface again.

You move from your comfortable position to sit next to him, bringing him into a much needed hug. “Brother, I know you did. I know you try every single day. And I look up to you because of that. You’re stronger than I am. You keep pushing forward even though there’s so much shit happening to you, I don’t understand how you do it.” You say as you feel tears flowing from your face, the hug reminding you of how lo’ak used to hug you whenever you were in a mood.

“I do it because of you guys. Because of him. You guys are the reason I keep pushing. And especially the both of your skxawng asses” he says with a soft chuckle before breaking the hug, placing his hand on your head softly, something he did with you and lo’ak that became a comfort thing for the both of you. “You can do this today sister, I believe in you, we all do.” His tone making tears automatically spill over your eyes, and causing you to notice his tear filled eyes.

Looking for some sort of grounding you place your hand over his and squeeze, taking multiple deep breaths before speaking. “Teyam.. I can’t, I miss him so much. Everytime I wake up I feel so alone and cold, but I can still hear his breath, and his heartbeat. My pain is not only mine, but his too.” You say in between sobs, watching neteyams breathing get more shallow as he tries to hold in his tears. His features covered in concern.

“Oh baby sis..” bringing you into another much needed hug. He places a light kiss on your forehead before rubbing your back and gently swaying you from side to side,trying to calm down your cries.

Kiri walks in quietly, the feeling of your pain drawing her to your room. Her whole body goes slack and cold when she sees your state, making her glance at Neteyam. That feeling intensifying even more once she saw the pain in his eyes. She takes her place behind you, quickly inserting herself into the hug. Wrapping her right arm around your waist and the other overlapping with neteyams so she can hold him too,her chin resting on your shoulder.

“You feel him don’t you? His heartbeat? His sorrow? His breath? Like he’s just a word about to be spoken?” Without lifting your head you nod quickly, too mentally exhausted speak anymore. “I know how you feel sister. Take that feeling as a way of him telling you to keep going. Keep breathing for him, keep your heart beating for him. That sorrow will be gone once he sees that you’re living for him.”

Her words make you sob even more. Knowing she’s right, he’s always hated seeing you cry, and he did anything to fix it. Purposely making himself look like a dumbass, making you go on an ikran ride with him, asking you to go exploring with him, taking you to you guys secret spot, pinky promises. He did anything for you. And so did you.

A wave of calm suddenly hits you, making your sobs come to a complete stop, and your breathing becomes more level. Feeling the change, your siblings give each other a confused glance before looking down at you. “Sister?..” they both say in sync as you break the hug and get up, your features going completely cold. “I’m going to visit him..if that’s ok with you guys” you say while lifting up a blanket, revealing a stash of alcohol you’ve been keeping ever since his funeral.

Quickly you take a bottle and cover it back up, grabbing your hunting knife and putting on both you and lo’aks matching bracelets you made on your 10th birthday. Walking towards the curtain to leave, you’re pulled back by a gentle pull on your shoulder.

“Y/n..don’t don’t drink today. It’s not gonna stop you from hurting, and you know that.” Kiri says while gliding her hand down to your hand that was holding the alcohol firmly. “Yeah, I know that kiri, but it dulls it somewhat. And it stops me from wanting to throw myself off of a cliff so I think it’s worth it. Plus it’s my birthday! I’m allowed to drink as much as I want today!!” You say in a fake enthusiastic tone, your sarcasm reminding them so much of lo’ak.

“Y/n.” Neteyam says in a soft but stern tone, the one that told you that whatever he was about to say was gonna be serious. “Don’t drink. I know you’ve been hurting more than we have but we need you here. Lo’ak needs you here. You know how much he hates seeing you hurt.” He says as his voice starts to crack slightly, remembering all the things the three of them would come up with whenever you were anything but happy and content.

Feeling the tears well in your eyes again, you squeeze the bottle tighter, fighting the instinct to drown your feelings in the burning liquid.

Glancing over at them, your heart breaks seeing the genuine hurt on their faces because of the realization you’ve been drinking this whole time and they didn’t know. Sighing angrily,you shove the bottle into neteyams chest. “Fine, but when I get back just save me a bottle, because I know it’ll be gone by the time I come back.” You say while turning out of your room swiftly, leaving kiri and neteyam there speechless.

Once you get to the spirt tree, you thank payakan and tell him that you’ll see him soon. Ever since lo’aks passing you’ve only really left your marui to go see payakan, knowing he carries the same weight as you do.

While swimming towards the tree, you mentally prepare yourself for this painful experience. You’ve been avoiding coming to the tree in the first place, because you knew how much it take out of you. And he knew the same.

Connecting your kuru to the tree, you’re brought to you and lo’aks secret spot back at your actual home. The only place that brought you two comfort. Tentatively, you walk through the clearing, lo’ak still not in sight.

“Lo?, where are you?” You call out, the sound of your own voice making you realize you weren’t 15, but you were younger. Walking towards a curtain of flora that led to a small river, you catch a glimpse of your brother, making you walk quicker.

Once you get there you see lo’ak sitting at the edge of river with his feet languidly swaying in the water, just staring into the water. Almost like he was waiting for something, or someone. You don’t say anything at first, just taking in the sight of him after not seeing him for months.

“Brother..” you say softly, not wanting to disturb his peace. His head whips in the direction of your voice, his expression lighting up as he gets up and walks towards you. “Sister!!, I thought you’d never show!” He says as he takes you into a hug, the sound of his voice making you giggle since he was also his younger self.

“Of course I did, it just took me a little time. You know I’d always come to see your skxawng ass” you say as you break the hug to shove his face with your pointer and middle finger. He giggles at that, his smile making the weight on your chest get lighter.

Grabbing your hand, he guides you to where he was sitting. Taking your seat beside him, you gaze out into the water with him.Nervously playing with your extra finger, you take a breath before talking about what you were avoiding for so long.

“Brother I’m-” you exhale slowly before continuing, noticing out of the corner of your eye how all lo’aks attention was turned to you. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be here. It should’ve been me that got shot that night. I was the one that put the idea into your head to go save spider. I should’ve just told you and teyam to go so I could’ve got spider by myself-” “Sister,” he cuts you off, your rambling making the pain in his heart worse. “It’s not your fault. You need to stop hurting yourself like this. It’s not fair to you. You need to focus on now. Not ‘what if’. And plus, It’s not like I would’ve listened to you if you told me to go anyway, there’s no way in hell I’d let that happen.”

Both of you giggle at the last part, knowing that he’s not lying. Once your laughs die down, you look down at your hands, that feeling of guilt still lingering in your chest. Glancing over at you, he notices how you’re playing with your pinkies, a telltale sign that told him something was bothering you.“Sister, what else is it?” He says as he leans back onto his hands, noticing how your shoulders slightly go stiff from his question.

Turning your body to face him, you don’t fail to notice the genuine look of concern in his eyes. “You know what day it is today?” You ask, making his expression completely drop. “Yeah, I know.” The words feeling like a weight on his tongue. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do today without you lo’. I can’t. It hurts too much.” You say as the tears finally spill over your face, the grief crawling back up your throat once again. “No, y/n, you can and you will. For me. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean you can’t live out there. Live for me, y/n. Stop letting yourself be consumed by grief and guilt. I hate seeing you like this and you know that.” He says sternly, making sure you know he’s being serious.

All you do is nod your head, not trusting your voice with the lump in your throat and the never ending tears that keep falling from your eyes. The sight of your hurting form makes lo’aks heart twist in pain. And the fact he couldn’t really do much hurt even more. “Come here, sis,” Placing his hand on your shoulder he pulls you towards him. Giving you a much needed hug, immediately making you sob into the crook of his neck.

“I miss you, twin” he says while resting his chin on your shoulder, letting the tears fall freely from his eyes. You let out a broken, “i miss you more” as the void in your chest grows the longer you two hug.

Once you finally calm down,you break the hug, now seeing each other how you guys remember. “Well shit..” you both say in sync, making you both laugh. “You look so grown. I don’t like it.” Lo’ak says as he admires you a little longer, a feeling of peace swirling in his chest. “Yeah,me neither” you say in a soft tone, once again feeling guilty for moving on without him with you.

Placing left hand on your head, and his right on your shoulder he looks at you with a soft smile on his face, “Y/n,you’ll be ok. I’ll always be watching you, and I’ll always protect you.” The tone of his voice making you inhale sharply so the next wave of tears doesn’t come. He raises his pinky finger towards you, waiting for you to do the same. You let out a soft chuckle at his childish behavior before obliging.

Once both of you pinkies are holding onto one another, he grips your shoulder tighter. “Promise me, that you won’t give up on yourself, that you won’t push everyone away, that you won’t drink your feelings away. Promise me that you can get over this feeling. That you will live through this feeling.”

You squeeze his pinky even tightly as you feel the tears well up in your eyes, realizing that time will make no difference to how much you miss him. But it will for how much you will grow through this feeling.

Tugging his pinky towards yours, you nod your head ‘yes’ before saying, “I promise. I promise I’ll do my best for you. I promise that I’ll try for you.” The words making a smile appear on his face. He brings you into a loving hug, the warmth of comfort washing over both of you guys.

“Happy birthday,twin” you guys say in sync again, a soft giggle coming from both of you. Breaking the hug, he grabs your hands and squeezes them tightly “ow! That hurts!” “I don’t care! I want you to have fun for me today alright? Celebrate us! Spend time with everyone that loves you and gives a shit about you. You deserve it!” he says through his laughs, making you smile softly at his childish demeanor.

“Alright I will!! I’ll come visit you again tonight and I’ll tell you all about today!” You say in a giddy tone, noticing that this has been the first time you’ve been somewhat happy since these last 4 months.

“You better” he says while rolling his eyes dramatically, knowing he did it to make you laugh. Once your laughter dies down, you both look back at the water. Not wanting this moment to end already. “I love you,bro” you say while bumping your shoulder against his, making him laugh and do the same to you. “I love you more,sis” he says with a soft smile on his face, one that replaced the one on yours.

You two stay like this for a while, just basking in each others presence and invading each others space. Thoughts of leaving suddenly crowd your head and the second those thoughts occur, your brother says something about it.“Y/n go spend the day with them. You know how they get on our birthday, plus they’ll make you feel better.” He says in a delicate tone, a soft smile on his face from remembering how much they loved celebrating your birthdays. You sigh softly, before reluctantly standing up.

He gets up with you, bringing you into an affectionate hug. Without breaking it, he whispers “I’ll miss you,sister.” With complete sadness laced in his tone. A tear falls from your face from the sound of his voice,“I’ll miss you more than you’ll ever know, brother.” You two stay like this for a while, until it starts getting harder to breathe, a harsh reminder of the truth.

Breaking the hug, you give him a look that lets him know that, making him hesitantly let go of you. “I’ll see you later tonight brother, I promise. I love you!” You say while turning around to leave, hearing him let out a little ‘I love you, too’ before you leave.

Once you reach the surface you catch your breath, calling out to your ilu and mentally going over your interaction with your brother to avoid acknowledging that void in your chest.

It’s a peaceful ride back home, until you start getting in your head about ‘having fun’ today without lo’ak. Because it wasn’t just your birthday, but his too. And celebrating without him just doesn’t feel right, even tuk knows that.

But right when you start having those doubts, a group of hammerbrow fish swarm around you and your ilu, stopping you in your tracks. One of them swims up to your face and flicks your forehead, making you furrow your brows and shove it away. They swim around you and you ilu for awhile longer before leaving, one of them staying back a little longer to look at you.

The whole interaction left you with a smile on your face, knowing that it was definitely lo’ak telling you to calm down, and to stop worrying about unnecessary things. Making hope swirl in your chest.

With time, you know you’ll be okay.

A/N~ this took SO LONG to write oh my fucking god. But we made it!! And I hope you guys enjoyed this (and this is my first angst fic so pls cut me some slack if some phrasing gets repetitive😔) because I did, didn’t enjoy the tears I cried while writing this but it was worth it🩷 if you made it to the end and you’re reading this I wanna thank you so much for reading this whole long ass fic, must really love me huh😏?? LMFAOO but anyway! Otw to write for kinkmas now🏃🏽‍♀️💨

Duces🫶🏽,

Luvv4j4ybe11

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alexfromjersey · 1 year ago

Text

LONG ROAD TO GRIEF & RECOVERY

Vada Cavell x G!P OC

word count:

warnings: none

a/n: quick little chapter. I kinda neglected this story for my other Jenna one…sorry 😬.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

GIF by lowkeyvada

“Sleeping Beauty has finally awakened from her slumber”

Deep breath in.

“I’m older than both of you so what I say goes”

Hold it.

“I wish you would just let your balls drop and talk to her. The longing gaze from across the room is so Twilight”

Hold it.

“Happy Birthday youngsters”

Hold it.

“DEVYN!”

Hold it.

“JORDAN!”

Hold it.

“You have to keep your eyes open. Don’t close them”

Exhale.

You let out the breath you were holding into the spirometer. The doctor took the device from you and logged in the numbers. It's been a week since the school shooting. You were shot in your lower abdomen and the bullet lodged into your hip bone. Thankfully, nothing major was nicked or hit, But the doctors had to leave the bullet in otherwise it would cause extensive bleeding.

“Okay Miss Vaughn, your lungs seem clear and strong. But if you start to have trouble breathing or cough/vomit blood, unbearable pain in your hip, go to the ER immediately” The Doctor insisted.

You nodded at his words. Your mother sat in the chair bouncing her leg up and down.

“What about the physical therapy for her leg? Is there a program or something?” Your mom asked.

“There is a physical therapy program we have but without insurance, it costs $250 per session. Based off Jordan’s injury, she will need sessions twice a week” The Doctor explained.

You look over at your mother who seems to be in deep thought. Your face falls when you realize where her thought process is going.

“Okay, thank you Doc” Your mother nodded. She grabs your crutch and helps you to stand. The two of you walk out the office together. You make it to the car and with a bit of a struggle, you manage to get in the front seat.

Your mom gets in the car and pulls out a cigarette. The two of you just sit in silence inside your heads.

“I know what you’re thinking. I know I promised I’ll never go back but…you need those sessions baby” Your mom mumbled.

“I don’t need them. I can do it myself. I can find tutorials on YouTube and do it like that. You don’t have to go back” You said.

“Jordan you’re not a Doctor. You don’t know if doing it yourself will help. These shifts at the diner barely pays the bills and I need you back at 100%” Your mom stated.

You stare out the window with a despondent expression.

“I’m doing this for you. You are my world and I love you forever” Your mom said and grabbed your face to look at her.

You look into her slighted dilated eyes to see nothing but genuine love in them.

“I love you too Mom” You spoke genuinely. Your mom gives you a kiss on the forehead before starting the car.

“Can I go by Quinton’s? I want to check up on him” You asked.

“Of course” Your mom answered.

For the next 15 minutes, you sat in the car with your head against the window looking at the passing scenery. The radio was softly playing in the background and the smell of cigarettes filled the car. You and Quinton hasn’t talk since he told you the news of Devyn passing. You were preoccupied with recovering but you also wanted to give him space to grieve.

It was going to hard moving on with life without Devyn. You felt about the idea. You didn’t want to move on. You wanted to be swallowed up with guilt. Guilt that you survived and he didn’t. Guilt that you could possibly be happy one day.

“Hey Jord, we’re here” Your mom shook you out of your thoughts. You looked up and saw the house you’ve been to numerous times. It felt weird, you started to get nervous. You kept rubbing your sweaty palms on your pants. Your mom took notice and she grabbed your hand.

“Hey, why don’t we go together” Your mom offered.

You swallow harshly and nod at her offer. She gave you an encouraging smile before getting out and coming to your side. She helped you exit the car and walk up the stairs. She knocked on the door for you.

A few moments later, the door opens to reveal Mrs. Hasland.

“I…I” You struggled to find words to say.

Suddenly, you are eloped into a huge. Mrs. Hasland hugged you tightly with tears pouring out her eyes. She kept muttering Thank You Lord into your shoulder over and over again. You wrap your arms around her tightly to return the hug.

Quinton appears from behind his mother. After his mother was finished hugging you, he pulled you into a tight hug too. The two of you pouring everything you needed to say in the hug.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of days go by, you spent most of your time at Quinton’s house since your mother started having her company over. You didn’t want to see the men or hear the noises so you went over to Quinton’s, his parents not minding a bit.

You attended Devyn’s funeral which surprised you and everyone else because you absolutely despised funerals. If you could get out of going to one, you 100% did. But this was Devyn, one of your best friends. You couldn’t not go, you wanted to say goodbye to him one last time. You also didn’t want him to haunt you for not attending.

Another surprise was seeing Mia Reed and Vada at the service. You didn’t expect them to show up at all but you and Quinton appreciated it. The four of you all exchanged socials and phone numbers to keep in contact with one another and check up on each other.

Ding!

The sound of the text message sound brings you out of your thoughts. You grab your phone from the nightstand to see a text message from Vada.

Vada: hey (2:34 am)

Jordan: hey (2:35 am)

Vada: im surprised ur still up (2:35 am)

Jordan: could say the same thing for u (2:36 am)

Vada: i couldn’t sleep. the nightmares wont let me (2:36 am)

Jordan: same (2:37 am)

You watched as the text bubbles pop up and disappear. They pop up again with a new message.

Vada: this is probs a stupid question to ask but how r u? (2:39 am)

You sigh at the question. You could lie and say your okay or you could tell her the truth.

Jordan: fine as I can be. how bout u? (2:42 am)

Vada: good as anyone could be after something like that (2:43 am)

Jordan: understandable answer (2:43 am)

Vada: im sorry about devyn (2:45 am)

Jordan: thnx (2:48 am)

Vada: do u remember anything anything before u passed out (2:51 am)

Jordan: no. all I remember is falling out the stall and then blackness (2:52 am)

Jordan: truth be told I thought I died (2:52 am)

You don’t know why you lied to the girl. Maybe you think you are protecting from remembering anything from that…or protecting yourself.

Vada: we should hang out sometime (2:56 am)

Jordan: we should. when do u want to? (2:57 am)

Vada: maybe this weekend? (2:58 am)

Jordan: im down (2:59 am)

Vada: great 🙂 (3:01 am)

Jordan: 🙂 (3:01 am)

Vada: i should get some sleep. I’ll text u this weekend (3:02 am)

Jordan: looking forward to it (3:03 am)

Vada liked the message and you locked your phone. You placed your phone back on the charger on the nightstand.

“Looking forward to it, ugh” You cringed.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x oc #jenna marie ortega #g!p reader #jenna ortega #the fallout #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader

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slut4sohee · 6 months ago

Text

forever

how a boy processes, copes and spirals when he loses someone dear to him, someone he can never hold again — at least not in this lifetime

warnings. grief, mention of murder, implied suicide

part one

♫ is it really you

sohee was never the same after losing you.

he experienced basically every negative emotion ranging from sorrow to rage.

life felt like moving through static; it was nothing more than constant white noise. his depression made it hard for him to power through, but anger was what fueled him to keep going.

one day, after he visited your grave, he decided to go to a creek you both had visited once. as he walked, the urge to look behind him took over as he felt like he was being followed; though there weren't any signs to suggest that he was.

he was beyond astonished when he looked to see you behind him, and you were beyond stunned when you realized he could see you.

at first it took a little getting used to. there were times when your appearance would be inconsistent and times he couldn't see you at all. this caused sohee to doubt his mental state; maybe he was so grief stricken that he hallucinated your presence and you weren't really there.

he decided to ignore the doubt, though, because he thought seeing you helped him cope. it eased the pain of emptiness he felt from your absence.

however, he was greedy. seeing you wasn't enough, hearing your voice wasn't enough; it only made him angrier and he wanted more. he wanted to hold you, to feel you, to smell you. you were so within reach yet so... far. it only made the fact that you were taken away from him so much more real.

every time he saw you, he hoped you would have somehow, by some miracle, come back to life. he wanted you back badly. he wanted this spiritual or worldly divide, whatever it was, to disappear. he was homesick but could never go home.

and on top of that, there was the fact that the trial had started. having to see the sick bastard that murdered you in cold blood sit there showing no ounce of regret or guilt or shame angered him. it seemed sohee carried all the remorse your murderer was supposed to have. in sohee's eyes, it was his fault that you crossed paths with the guy. he had let you go home alone at night without making sure you were safe.

it came to a point where he could not bear being in the same room as him; even the thought of going to the courthouse made him want to throw up.

all his emotions — his sorrow, his hopelessness, his moral anguish, and his indignation — became too much for him. it seemed like his life had no worth if you weren't in it. he truly believed he would keep feeling this way for as long as he lived.

so his last visit with you, when he heard you say "my soul is forever; i'll be with you always," he knew what he had to do.

he visited your grave to pay his respects. it was overgrown with flowers he had planted per your request because you thought it was beautiful that even in your death, there existed life.afterwards, he went on autopilot. he went to the train station as usual and waited. when he saw his train coming, he walked off the platform and onto the tracks. he was thankful nobody tried to stop or save him or maybe it all happened too fast for anyone to help. oh well, regardless, he was happy because he was now finally coming home to you.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

a/n: hope you enjoyed and thank you to those who waited patiently!! the author curse is real lol

#lee sohee #riize sohee #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize scenarios #sohee imagines #sohee x reader #sohee angst #sohee

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atopvisenyashill · 10 months ago

Note

Do you… do you maybe want to share the nedcat sex headcanons?

alsdfj i got you anon

so emotional/timeline wise my headcanons are-

Ned actually knows a lot about sex because he grew up with Brandon and Robert in his ear talking about the women they'd been fucking but he sticks to missionary until after Sansa is born because he doesn't want Cat to think he's a man slut, he canNot get hard if he's thinking about Brandon or anything Brandon ever said to him even a little, and he's also like 75% sure they were just straight up lying to him.

Ned doesn't want to pressure her because he's unsure how long it takes to recover from birth and he's worried she hates him so he awkwardly asks if the birth was hard, how she's feeling, and Catelyn realizes he's asking if she's cleared to fuck and she's just like "yeah I'll come to your room tonight if you want" but Ned is like "no no i'll come to you!!" so the first few years, they're doing all their fucking in her room instead of his.

With the three year gap between Robb and Sansa, I think the first year or so the two of them are barely fucking. There's barely an eye contact because Catelyn still thinks he's mid and he always looks so serious and Ned keeps thinking about Brandon, going soft, and getting embarrassed (i'm an expert on grief and sexual dysfunction bro trust me on this) (i'm being serious here i got a lot of dead family members)

The crying incident happens like a month after the Ashara incident. Ned doesn't skip their Scheduled Sex Day, but the bruise he left takes forever to fade away and they're both really aware of it when they're fucking and he can't like, apologize even though he feels like the biggest asshole and she can't be mad at him because that's not how Proper Wives act, so it's just a lot of no eye contact sex until he's crying into her hair and trying to hide it. Catelyn feels so weird about it because she's like "he's crying over Ashara he hates me he wanted to marry her instead of me and we'll never be happy" but she's also Elder Sister Extreme so his crying makes her start playing with his hair, and then they're sad making out and both crying and he goes soft and they're both laughing at how deeply stupid they're being.

He comes to her room the next night to apologize for being a fucking wreck and then when they're banging - and it's going really well - he suggests she get on top and she's like...I can do that? Hell yes she can and it's real good.

They start fucking more spontaneously, with her dropping hints outside of Scheduled Sex Days that he could drop by if he wants, and Ned awkwardly asking if he can come by on other days, but before they really find a groove she's pregnant with Sansa and he's like "if we fuck it'll hurt the baby" but he notices Cat is clearly feeling some type of way about the fact that they stopped having sex and this is when Ned goes down on her for the first time.

Literally the moment she's cleared they start having sex again. I love that scene in the show where Ros says he rang all the bells in Winter's Town for a week after Sansa was born, because I just love the idea that Cat is feeling slightly bummed that this one came out with red hair and a girl at that (she wants a daughter eventually but what she wants is a son that looks like Ned) but Ned is so jazzed about being here for this birth and getting to hold Sansa when she's still a newborn and the birth was easy so they're both healthy, and keeps stopping random servants to be like "look at my baby i made this!!" that Cat just completely falls in love and is dropping hints about him visiting her rooms whenever he wants and Ned loves affection so. It's so good none of the kids are old enough to be scarred by how often their parents fuck yet.

Sometime after Arya is born and he's back from the Greyjoy Rebellion, they start getting super adventurous. He's going down on her in the godswood. She's going down on him in the middle of the day in his solar. One time she wears an old dress that's a lil too tight across the chest and he mumbles about visiting her later and she's just like you know what fuck it and they do it in a random room. He feels her up one time in the Sept but she's like i canNot do this with the Seven watching so he drags her to his room and it's not even lunchtime. They get ass over tits drunk at an Umber wedding and bang (really quickly and not very quietly) in a random hallway. Robb sees like the corner of Ned's ass one (1) time when they're fucking in the godswood and they calm down a little bit because Robb spends the rest of the month sullenly glaring at Ned while Jon is clearly trying to become one with whatever floor he's standing on because Robb obviously squealed immediately.

They start fucking in his room before Bran is born and she starts sleeping in there sometimes when they get tired out lmao. As they age, they gotta limber up a lil bit but that just means Ned has has an excuse to "massage" her aka feel her up. She will do that thing where she'll lightly massage his shoulders in public but it always gets him a lil rowdy (in an affectionate, loving way) and it makes Theon cackle and it makes Robb want to die and Jory is always saying he hopes he's happy like that with his wife while Robb is begging him to shut the fuck up.

Ned would never grab her ass in public but he definitely checks her out with zero shame in front of the gods and everyone because the pregnancies gave her a huge ass and sometimes Arya will narrow her eyes at him because she doesn't know what the fuck he's staring at but she knows it's inappropriate and then Ned feels guilty for being horny in front of his kids.

specific "what are they doing in bed" stuff-

most of the weird shit they get into is curiosity. neither of them is ever trying to be sexy (he doesn't want to pressure her, proper ladies don't enjoy they endure, etc) but she is naturally curious and they find each other so completely sexy that they just want to try everything to see how it feels.

they get into orgasm denial (for her). starts out as just like, they're unsure of what to do, he's fairly certain Robert was making up all that stuff about his girls screaming in ecstasy but once they find a groove, Ned finds he really enjoys like, methodically edging her until she's tearing her own hair out and then getting really rough, and it becomes a game to see how close he can get her without pushing her over, how long she can stay on the edge without going over, and then snowballs into how long they can fuck ~just for him~ until she's like, inconsolable. this is mostly because ~proper ladies don't ask for it~ right so Catelyn is always framing her own sexual desire as I'm Sure You Have Needs My Lord so Ned becomes determined to make her admit that she really wants him.

He goes down on her literally all the time. Man dreams about eating the pussy every night.

obviously Ned has a canon breeding kink a mile wide but that's because when they're fucking Catelyn is talking to him about making another son. she picked that up from a Manderly wedding they went to. she doesn't go down on him as often because he's like no it goes Inside You Cat and it's the most hilarious, most sexy thing he gets huffy about.

they do reverse cowgirl all the time specifically so he can watch her hair bounce all around. she really loves when she's in his lap and they're just kinda grinding and making out and he's playing with her hair because she really likes the feeling of her chest against his.

they go hard he has bruised her hips a lot but it's okay because she scratches the fuck out of his back. they're both really apologetic the first time it happens except as it turns out not only does Cat get a thrill out of pressing down on the bruises during the day, Ned likes looking at the scratches so they start doing it on purpose. he's really careful to never bruise her arms however (he did one time kind of accidentally because he was holding her wrists above her head and she was weird and moody all week until he realized he'd triggered The Bad Memory) but he will leave fingerprint bruises all over her thighs and chest. She'll scratch up his chest enough to draw blood and he'll be fingering the scrape and Luwin is like why do you two do this to me. make sure she washes her hands before at least so it doesn't get inflamed seven hells.

She catches Theon doing anal with a servant and gets curious and brings it to Ned and she likes how it's just a little painful and overwhelming. Ned never finishes inside her ass though he thinks it's really weird, so he finishes on her belly usually which he feels is a waste until she started scooping it up and licking it off her fingers again, mostly out of curiosity than anything, and he uh, really likes that.

He still refuses to come in her mouth though lmao.

#nedcat #asks #anons #ned stark #catelyn stark

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theoceanoasis · 3 months ago

Note

Rodimus being a surrogate for drift and ratchet. He loves them but knows it’ll always be a secret one sided love.

He ends up conjunxed to soundwave. They both just take such good care of each other in all aspects

Holding a box of candy in one hand he knocked with the other feeling his spark pound in his chest. Recently Ratchet and Drift had been spending a lot of time with him. Going on what seemed like dates and now they were inviting him over because they wanted to ask him something.

He was practically vibrating with excitement. He'd always loved Drift and he'd found himself falling for Ratchet. He thought they felt the same way and were going to ask him if he would be interested in dating them.

Ratchet opened the door happy to see him and quickly pulled him inside. Drift was already inside giving him a nervous smile as he was guided to sit across from them.

"There is something we want to ask you..."

He nodded shifting with excitement.

"We want you to be our surrogate."

He gave them a confused look.

"We've always wanted a family but neither of us can carry."

"Don't you have to have carried in the past to be considered?"

"Yes and from the exams I've given you over the years I know you've carried in the past."

His energon froze and he stiffened trying to hide his distress.

"Let me think about it."

Even though he tried to hide it from him, Drift could still tell something was wrong.

"Roddy?"

Feeling boxed in he began to panic and before Drift could touch him he ran back to his room where he collapsed onto the floor.

He began to uncontrollably sob as he thought about his sparkling who was gone. They'd died in the fall of Nyon and having Drift and Ratchet bring up carrying, brought back a flood of memories and emotions he'd tried to forget.

Breaking down he was despondent for days. He knew everyone was worried about him. Drift and Ratchet had come by apologizing Ratchet admitting that he'd been insensitive.

He should have realized there was a reason he never brought up having a sparkling.

He'd clawed at his belly right where his tank was. All it ever did was cause him grief. He thought Drift and Ratchet liked him but all they wanted was a surrogate.

Megatron was able to piece together what happened and knew why he was upset. He'd been there after all watching him break down and sob with Soundwave holding him.

The grief had torn them apart. Soundwave wanted to kill the high council and make them suffer as revenge. He wanted to burn Cybertron to the ground. However Hot Rod didn't want anyone else to suffer the same pain he did.

Soundwave chose the Decepticons and Hot Rod chose the Autobots and both of them liked to pretend that was it. Even though their sparks desperately reached for each other every time they were near. On the anniversary and birthday of their sparkling they would always get together. To mourn and to celebrate the life gone too soon.

Megatron knew Soundwave would be the only one who could help him and he was right.

When he heard a knock on the door he was going to ignore it until it was their secret knock. He'd gasped opening the door in shock to find Soundwave.

"Rodimus."

He broke down sobbing and Soundwave held him. Their sparks swelled and their fields desperately mixed together.

Soundwave pulled him inside before anyone could see him break down. Knowing he wouldn't want his crew to see him like that.

They clung to each other as he told Soundwave everything. He was pissed. How dare they try and use him?

They made him believe they liked him only to be manipulating him into giving them a sparkling. Ratchet especially should have known better and shouldn't have said that.

He felt violated and helpless. Soundwave suggested a new medic which was a start but he didn't know if he could trust them anymore.

"I feel my entire life has been destroyed and I don't know how to start over again. It hurt too much the first time."

"I'm sorry Rodimus. I promise you won't be alone this time I'm not leaving you."

Nodding he cuddled closer and Soundwave held him as they grieved.

#transformers #hot rod #rodimus #soundrod #soundwave #transformers cyberverse #hot rod x soundwave #cyberverse soundwave #fertile hot rod/rodimus #ratchet #drift #dratchet #surrogate au

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anyasathenaeum · 1 year ago

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Elysium (Dad!Vash fic) - Chapter 1

A/N: Hi everybody! So, I felt kinda beat up after Tumblr wiped my requests, but then I randomly got inspiration to write a Dad!Vash fic. This is going to have multiple chapters (no idea how many yet), but I'll be writing it as I can. I've cross-posted it to AO3 here.

Story Summary: Vash the Stampede remains in hiding after the disaster of Julai city. In the year since the disaster, you and Vash have had children and are living a quiet life in town, until one day, the arrival of bandits threatens to rip away the life you and Vash have built together. What will Vash give to protect his family?

Warnings: Reader is AFAB in this work, referred to using she/her pronouns and "Mama" by the kids, explicit mentions of pregnancy, childbirth, and violence

Chapter Wordcount: 5.8k

Chapter 1: On The Horizon

"Mama? Mama, wake up."

A little voice called from the side of your bed, and you groggily registered the feeling of little hands tugging on yours as your eyes fluttered open.

All you could see were two pairs of identical blue eyes, both wide open as they gazed at you curiously and somewhat impatiently. As soon as you awoke, two sets of identical grins broke out on your children's' faces.

"Mmm? What is it, my loves?" You asked groggily, sitting up in bed with a big yawn as you rubbed your sleepiness from your eyes. It couldn't have been later than 6 or 7 in the morning, but your twin children had always been early risers, much like their father.

"We brought you something!"

You watched as the boy, Nicholas, and his sister, Rem, came into your room with a tray they were holding. On it was a plate of food, as well as a cup of water and some beautiful flowers.

"Oh? Did you two make me breakfast in bed?" You asked, your heart warming at the sight of your babies doing this for you, "Thank you, my loves! I love it."

You took the tray from your children and placed it beside you on the bed before leaning over and enveloping both children into your arms, hugging them close and kissing their heads, causing them both to giggle happily as they hugged you back.

"Love you, mama!" Nicholas chimed happily, with Rem nodding her head in agreement and echoing her brother's sentiment, "Yes, mama, we love you!"

You chuckled happily as you hugged your children close, feeling their small bodies against your own. As you glanced up at the doorway, you felt your heart flutter at the sight of your husband smiling at you and your children.

Vash couldn't help but feel his heart swelling in his chest as he watched his children, your children, hugging you and giggling happily as you held them close in your and his shared bed, his smile only growing as he watched the scene before him.

In the past, Vash never would've dared to let himself hope that he'd ever experience happiness like this. He never would've let himself dream that he would have a family, have children and a spouse that he loved more than anything in his life. And yet, against all his expectations, against all his beliefs, happiness fell into his lap the day the two of you realized you were expecting.

You had found Vash shortly after the disaster at Julai city, when the entire city was turned into a crater in the ground and 90% of the population had been wiped out when Vash fell from the sky. Vash had been a broken man, unable to even speak from the grief and the shock of what had happened when you found him. His memories surrounding the incident were muddy at best, but eventually, they returned to him and Vash slowly began to work through what had happened.

During that time, a kind woman by the name of Sheryl and her only living grandchild, Lina, had taken you both in and gave you refuge as you and Vash recovered from the Julai incident, with Vash taking on the name "Eriks" as you both hid from the world. Many nights were spent with you comforting Vash as he wept from nightmares that plagued him constantly, or Vash holding you close and protecting you as memories tried to pull you into their dark depths.

Those nights together brought you and Vash closer together than ever before - the two of you had always been fast and good friends, but this... being each other's anchor when one was caught in a storm of grief and sadness and anger... it brought you two together in a way neither of you had anticipated.

You two had both chosen to silently let whatever bond the two of you had develop and become whatever it was going to become. However, after one particularly bad nightmare where Vash had dreamt of losing you and woken up crying, only to find you looking at him worriedly and with such warmth and tenderness behind your eyes, Vash couldn't help but blurt out those three words.

"I love you."

Vash had fully been crying as he said those words to you breathlessly, as if desperate to get them out into the real world, desperate for you to understand how much you meant to him. He had clutched you desperately to him, his face buried in your hair as he took in your comforting, familiar scent between sobs, mumbling over and over again.

"I love you. I love you, (Y/N), I love you. You're everything to me. P-Please... don't go."

Your heart had broken for him that night, before being set alight when you realized what Vash had said to you. He loved you. You wanted to scream with joy, but instead, all you could do was pull the man you loved so much closer to you, burying your face into him as you held him tighter than ever before as he cried against you.

"I love you, too, Vash. So, so much."

After that night, you and Vash were inseparable, and it was clear to anybody who saw you and Vash together that the two of you were in love and nobody would ever come between you. Grandma Sheryl and Lina had been kind in helping you both find a home to call your own in the town. A beaten-up, neglected old house on the outskirts of the town that desperately needed some love and care eventually became your new home, a home where neither you nor Vash needed to hide.

One day, out of the blue, you had suddenly realized your body was changing. When Vash had placed his hands on you, your belly had begun to glow with faint plant runes, much like the markings on Vash's body whenever he tapped into his Plant abilities and powers. As you looked at him curiously, you watched Vash's eyes widen and his jaw drop open.

"(Y/N)... you're pregnant."

"Woah, woah, woah, what do you mean "pregnant"?" You replied immediately, frowning at him. "That's not possible... is it?"

Vash looked down at you and replied softly, his eyes trained on your stomach, "It's possible. Just... extremely rare."

Your mind had began to spiral as your hand pressed to your belly protectively, as if to shield the life that was growing within it from the world.

"I'm pregnant," You repeated, clearly stunned, your hand beginning to mindlessly rubbing circles over your belly, tracing the plant markings that announced your pregnancy.

You and Vash had to sit down and discuss how everything was going to change now that you were pregnant, and at the end of that conversation, Vash had taken your hand in his and stood up before guiding you towards town.

"Vash? Where are we going?" You had inquired, gazing at him as he continued walking ahead of you, almost as if in a hurry.

He didn't answer you, instead just borderline dragging you through town until he stopped suddenly before an unassuming building. You had raised an eyebrow at him, clearly asking for an explanation.

"Marry me."

You blinked.

"What?"

Vash had grinned at you, his smile warmer than anything you'd ever seen from him before.

"Marry me, (Y/N). You're pregnant with my child, and I want you to be assured that no matter what happens, I'll always be there to love you and our child and protect you both for as long as I live."

You continued to stare at him as if he had grown a second head, failing to take in exactly what Vash had asked of you. Once it sunk in, your eyes widened and you had begun to splutter.

"B-But, Vash, what if you have to go on the run again? I can't be the reason you're held back! That's not fair to you."

Vash had stepped forward and pulled you to him, his large hand splaying over your abdomen protectively yet incredibly tenderly. His voice was low and gentle.

"(Y/N)... I don't care. You and this child are my family, now. And I swear to always protect my family. I love you both so much, and I refuse to let any harm come to either of you. I'll be damned if I leave you and my child unprotected. The best way for me to ensure your safety is by staying by your side. Forever."

You felt yourself moved to tears as you looked at Vash, who was simply smiling down at you with such love that it made your heart flutter in your chest. You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him with everything in you, trying to show him just how much you loved him through your actions.

"Okay," You whispered softly once the two of you had broken apart, "I'll marry you."

Without another word and grinning like he had just won the greatest prize on the planet, Vash took your hand in his much larger one and guided you into the building, where the two of you signed a marriage license and exchanged vows and rings to symbolize your commitment to each other.

After that day, you and Vash prepared for the arrival of your child. You had managed to create a nursery, crib and all, and awaited nervously for the day your child would arrive.

Your pregnancy advanced more rapidly than that of a regular human, given your baby was half-human, half-plant, and you found yourself struggling to carry the baby as your pregnancy progressed. Your body had to adjust more rapidly than anticipated, and Vash was terrified for your safety as time went on. He refused to let you do anything that potentially risked your safety or the baby's, constantly stepping in and taking over whatever task you were trying to accomplish.

"(Y/N), be careful," Vash would admonish you gently, "Don't want anything to happen to you or the little one."

It got to the point where Vash would've wrapped you in bubble wrap if he could've, and it drove you gently insane.

"I swear, Vash, if you don't let me do this, I'm going to scream."

Eventually, your waters broke about 4 1/2 months into your pregnancy and you had rushed to the medical clinic in the town. With several hours of screaming various profanities, pushing, and nearly breaking every bone in Vash's hand, you had managed to bring your baby boy into the world.

"Nicholas," You had uttered the moment you saw your little boy, panting heavily as the nurses took him away to get him cleaned up and swaddled.

"Nicholas?" Vash asked gently, clearly fighting off tears as he gazed at the little blue bundle in the nurse's arms. "After Wolfwood?"

"Yeah..." You replied, gazing at Vash with a warm smile as he held your son, "I think it fits."

"I-It does," Vash choked out, tears beginning to pour down his face as he held little Nicholas close and nuzzled the little baby's cheek with the tip of his finger, "Our little boy. Our Nicholas."

Vash looked over at you as he began to weep completely, "Oh, (Y/N)... thank you. Thank you for giving me him. Thank you for giving me my family. I love you so much. You two are everything to me."

You had smiled and opened your mouth to reply when another crippling contraction ripped through you, tearing a scream from you. Vash jumped and immediately came over, reaching out to you, fear evident on his face.

"Mayfly?! What's wrong?!"

You couldn't even answer him, groaning and crying out in pain as contraction after contraction wracked your body, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life. The doctor and nurses came sprinting in, and after a minute or two of careful assessment, the doctor promptly announced.

"There is another baby, it's coming now."

"Another?!" You shrieked, looking at the doctor and then at Vash, who looked positively stunned, his mouth open and his eyes owlishly wide.

"Yes," The doctor confirmed, "It seems you were carrying twins. The second baby is coming now."

Thankfully, this baby came quicker than its older sibling, and within a couple pushes, another little wailing sound filled the air as your daughter announced her arrival into the world.

You were completely exhausted, unable to even keep your eyes open as the nurses brought your daughter back, cleaned and swaddled to rest on your chest. As your energy slowly returned, you managed to open your eyes and look at your daughter for the first time.

Both she and Nicholas had wisps of Vash's blonde hair, and the same big blue eyes he had. They even had matching birthmarks under their right eyes, complimenting the one Vash had beneath his left eye. Near carbon copies of their father.

"(Y/N)..."

You glanced over at Vash and you could see him sobbing almost hysterically from joy as he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

"Mayfly... oh, Mayfly... they're perfect. They're perfect. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

Vash sat by your side and held you and your children close. The little girl yawned on your chest before dozing off promptly, much like her twin brother was sleeping happily in Vash's arms.

"What should we name you, little one?" You whispered gently, caressing your daughter's soft cheek with your fingertip.

You and Vash sat there quietly, just gazing down at your newborn babies, reveling in how things had forever been changed when Vash suddenly whispered.

"What about "Rem"?"

""Rem"? Like your adoptive mother?" You asked softly as you gazed at your daughter.

Vash nodded, wiping away his tears gently, "Yeah... is that okay?"

"I think it's perfect," You answered softly, reaching out to hold your husband's hand gently, squeezing it as you spoke.

"Nicholas and Rem," Vash repeated back, gazing down at the little bundled blankets in his and your arms.

He gave a watery smile as he looked back up at you, tears silently streaking down his face.

"My family, (Y/N). Our family."

Vash let out a shaky laugh before continuing, "I never thought I could ever be this happy. I feel like I swallowed a box of fireworks. I love you, (Y/N). I love you more than anything, and I... I love them. Little Nicholas... little Rem... I love them. Do they know just how much happiness they bring with them? Do they know I'd do anything to protect them?"

You couldn't help but laugh a little, your own tears going down your cheeks as you kissed Vash's cheek.

"I'm sure they'll know as they get older. I love you, Vash. I love our family, and I'll do anything to protect you, to protect them, too."

Vash slowly scooted into your hospital bed, sitting next to you and holding you close as he continued to hold Nicholas and as you continued to hold Rem. This was your family, now.

Rem and Nicholas proceeded to grow up pretty quickly due to their being half-human, half-plant, and within a year, they were already the equivalent of a human 4 year-old, able to walk and talk and tell stories and do things, like making you breakfast in bed with some help from their father.

"Thank you, my love, for making sure they didn't burn down the kitchen."

Your voice snapped Vash from his revelry as he stood in the doorway, and he looked up to see you smiling lovingly at him from your shared bed, your breakfast tray next to you and your children still hugging you tightly.

"Oh, my pleasure, Mayfly," Vash chuckled as he walked in and hugged you and the children, all of you giggling and laughing together. A moment of complete and utter happiness.

"Now, what should we do today?" You asked playfully, pressing a kiss to the top of both Rem and Nicholas's heads, before glancing up at Vash with a warm smile.

"How abouuuut...." Vash drawled playfully, before snagging Rem and Nicholas under their arms and pulling them into him as they squealed and laughed happily, "We all go see Grandma Sheryl and big sister Lina?"

"Yes!" Nicholas cried happily, clapping his little hands together, "Grandma Sheryl! Big sis Lina!"

"I wanna go!" Rem cried out, echoing her brother's sentiment as she tugged on Vash's shirt, looking up at him with the same big blue eyes he possessed.

You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of your family, and you exclaimed, "Alright, then! We'll do a field trip to Grandma Sheryl's and big sis Lina's! Papa's gonna go call Grandma Sheryl to let her know we're coming, but why don't you two come tell me what you made me for breakfast?"

Nicholas and Rem beelined right back to you, quickly crawling onto the bed and pointing at the different things they had made you for breakfast as Vash headed downstairs to call Grandma Sheryl.

"I made the eggs!" Rem said, a proud smile on her face.

"I made the pancakes!" Nicholas chimed in, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No, Papa made the pancakes!"

"No, I did!"

"No, you didn't!"

You couldn't help but laugh and pull the twins into you, hugging them close to stop their bickering, "Now, now, fighting won't get either of you anywhere. You both worked very hard to make me breakfast, so thank you, my loves. I love you both very, very much."

"Love you too, mama," Nicholas replied, burying his face into your tummy, as Rem snuggled into your side with a mumble of "Love you, mama."

You sat there as you slowly ate your breakfast, chuckling as the twins took pieces of food themselves from your breakfast tray ("Just to try, mama!" Rem assured you as she put a piece of pancake in her mouth).

Once you were done, you sent the kids to get dressed and ready to go see Grandma Sheryl while you took the time to shower and get ready for the day yourself. As you came out of the bathroom, you were greeted by the sight of Vash sitting on your shared bed, a frown on his face. He seemed lost in thought.

"You alright, Vash?" You asked softly, coming over to stand in front of him.

Vash quickly snapped out of his thoughts as he glanced up up at you, a small smile appearing on his lips as his hands came up to grab your hips before tugging you closer to him.

"Nothing, Mayfly. Just..." Vash trailed off, clearly trying to find a way to explain whatever was bothering him.

"It's okay, Vash," You encouraged him, cupping his face in your hands and making him look at you, "What's wrong?"

Vash sighed heavily before saying softly, "Grandma Sheryl says bandits have been wreaking havoc in town over the past couple days. Sounds like they've been behind all kind of trouble. I don't think we should still go see her. I don't want to risk your safety, or Rem's or Nicholas's. I don't want anything happening to you."

You frowned as you heard this, and you thought to yourself for a few moments before speaking up, "Well... why don't you and I go into town first and see how bad it is? If it's truly dangerous, we come straight back and spend the day home, instead. If it's okay, then we can bring the kids along and go see Sheryl."

Vash just gazed at you, carefully taking in your words and your expression before exhaling softly, "That might be the safest approach. Although, I don't think you should come either."

"Why not?" You asked, looking at Vash with a frown on your face.

"Because I don't want you in any danger, (Y/N)," Vash answered simply, pulling you into his lap and hugging you close to him, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, "And I don't want to leave the children home alone if bandits are in the area."

You sighed as you felt Vash press a soft kiss to your neck, and you knew he was right - if bandits were nearby, causing havoc in town, it was best not to leave Rem and Nicholas alone, unprotected.

"Alright..." You conceded, looking down at your husband, "I'll stay here with the kids. But, you need to be careful, Eriks. Promise me you'll come right back here."

You shot him a look as you used his fake name. He was never "Vash the Stampede" anywhere except within the four walls of your home; instead, he was "Eriks Saverem".

You had originally thought him using his adoptive mother's last name wasn't the best idea, but Vash argued that he needed a last name and Rem's last name was as good as any, given she was his mother in every way that mattered.

"Besides, who else would recognize that last name?" Vash had asked, a small smile on his face as he remembered his adoptive mother.

"Your brother, all the individuals who work for your brother, Brad and Luida..." You had listed off, counting them off on your fingers, which caused Vash to whine.

"(Y/NNNNNN)..."

"Alright, alright," You had conceded in the end, sighing with a roll of your eyes, "But don't come crying to me if you have to go on the run again."

In the present, you pressed a soft kiss to Vash's lips before you stood from his lap, patting his back gently.

"Be safe out there, my love," You whispered gently, "Come home to us. Come home to me."

"Always, Mayfly," Vash replied with a warm smile, "I will always come home to you. I swear it on my life."

"Good," You retorted, "I'll be keeping you to your promise."

"I'd expect no less."

Vash grinned at you, before taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your wedding ring - a way of sealing his promise to you.

"I love you, Stampede," You whispered to him, reaching out and brushing a strand of his now-long blonde hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear tenderly.

"And I love you, (Y/N)," Vash replied softly, catching your other hand in his and kissing your palm tenderly in return.

"Alright, off with you," You chuckled, stepping away from your husband and turning to head downstairs, "That way you can be back sooner."

All you could hear was Vash chuckling as you went downstairs, finding Rem and Nicholas playing in the living room of your small home. When you appeared, both of them looked up at you and smiled.

"What is it, Mama?" Rem asked suddenly, cocking her small head to the side as she studied you intently, almost exactly the way her father did.

You quickly forced a smile as you came over to where your children were sitting, joining them on the carpet.

"Well," You began softly, "Apparently, it's a bit hard for us to go see Grandma Sheryl and big sis Lina right now. Papa's gonna go take a look and see if we can still go."

Nicholas and Rem exchanged looks, and Nicholas now piped up, "Hard, mama?"

"Yes, my love," You answered, continuing to explain, "There are some bad guys in town, and neither Papa nor I want anything to happen to you two."

"Bad guys?" Rem asked, her eyes filling with a bit of fear. "Are they gonna hurt us?"

"No, my love," You replied immediately, "Papa and I will protect you two, we won't let anything or anybody hurt you. I promise."

Rem quickly scrambled over and hugged you tightly, and you could feel your daughter trembling in your embrace. You quickly held her close, stroking her hair gently.

"Mama's got you," You whispered to her gently, "And Papa's got you, too. Always."

Nicholas slowly came over and joined the hug, and you held both of them close. Suddenly, you felt an additional set of warm, muscular arms wrap around you and the twin, and you heard Vash's voice speaking gently.

"Mama and Papa will always protect you two. Always, my loves."

Rem and Nicholas shifted slightly so that they could hug both you and Vash at the same time, and you all held your group hug for a few moments before Vash finally pulled away.

"Alright, Papa's gotta go on a little adventure," Vash said gently, patting the children's heads, "I'll be back soon. Promise me you'll protect each other and Mama if anything happens."

"We will!" Nicholas exclaimed immediately, standing up straight, "I'll protect Mama and Rem!"

"No, I'll protect Mama and Nicholas!" Rem retorted, nudging her brother.

Before the twins could get into another small spat, Vash laughed heartily and pulled them into another hug.

"That's my girl and boy! I'm relying on you both, okay? See you both soon. I love you two."

"Love you, Papa!" Rem and Nicholas chimed in unison, and you mouthed to Vash as he glanced at you, "I love you".

With a final kiss to the top of the twins' heads, and a gentle kiss to your lips (met by loud "EWWWW"s from the twins), Vash stepped out of the house and headed into town.

Grandma Sheryl's warning had proven to be true - as Vash walked through the town, he noticed multiple buildings that now had holes in the wall, windows that were shattered, and that the inside of these buildings were filled with debris and torn to shreds. Vash could see smoke coming from some other part of town, and a feeling of dread began to take root in his chest.

'Oh, Gods... should I tell (Y/N) to get the children ready to move? Should we run? Should we go somewhere else, to a different town?' Vash's thoughts began to go wild as he carefully treaded through town, keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble. 'What if (Y/N) gets hurt? What if one of the children get hurt? What if-?... No, Vash, no, don't go there.'

Vash was snapped out of his internal panic by a cry from not too far away, and as he looked up, Vash saw a couple bandits surrounding an older gentleman who was laying on the ground, curled up in the fetal position as he tried to protect himself from the blows of the bandits. Vash recognized the older gentleman as the town doctor, the same doctor who had helped you deliver Nicholas and Rem about a year ago, a kind man who many looked to as the town grandfather.

"Hey!" Vash immediately shouted, his body moving before he could make sense of the situation, "Leave him alone!"

Vash managed to intervene, getting the bandits away from the doctor and helping him to his feet. The poor doctor was bleeding from his face where he had no doubt been kicked or punched, and one of his eyes were turning black.

"If ya know what's good for ya, get outta here!" One of the bandits, likely the leader of this particular squad, sneered at Vash. The other bandits circled around their leader, no doubt waiting for a sign to go after Vash and the doctor.

"Sorry, but no," Vash replied coolly, gazing at the bandits and trying to ascertain how much of a threat they posed. "What reason could you possibly have to attack the town doctor?"

"Because he said something I didn't like," the bandit leader retorted snidely. The bandit leader squared himself and approached Vash, getting much too close to him for Vash's comfort.

"I'll say it one last time - if ya know what's good for ya, leave. Now. Or we won't hold back on ya."

The bandit leader's eyes blazed as he said this, poking Vash hard in the chest in an attempt to intimidate him into backing off. However, Vash just shook his head once more.

"Sorry, guys, but violence doesn't fly with me. I'd suggest you get out of here before things go badly for you," Vash replied, even going so far as to smile at the bandit leader.

This, however, incensed the bandit leader, and he immediately swung at Vash, who easily dodged his attack and moved fast enough to flip the bandit leader onto his back and slam him into the ground.

"Aww, come on, guys!" Vash exclaimed, "There's no need for fighting! Just leave the doctor alone, simple as that!"

The other bandits came at Vash, but not one of them managed to get close to him as Vash swiftly dodged and evaded their attacks and used their attacks against each other. Within moments, most of the bandits lay on the ground, moaning softly and stirring a bit as they tried to regain their bearings.

"Mr. Saverem, thank you so much!" The doctor cried, shaking Vash's hand enthusiastically, "Your assistance was greatly appreciated!"

Vash went to answer the doctor, but he noticed how the bandit leader was now gazing at him, a look of pure and utter hatred on his face. Vash felt his heart fall to his feet - this wasn't over yet.

"S-Saverem, eh?" The bandit leader wheezed out, slowly getting to his feet and shooting Vash a wicked grin, "Good to have a name for the man whose ass I have to kick."

Vash sighed tiredly, "Look, buddy, I'm not in the mood to fight you again. Can you please leave so I can get on with my life, as can the rest of the town? I'm pretty sure you guys got everything of worth from here, anyways."

"We'll see about that," the bandit leader replied coolly, grinning once more at Vash and the doctor before holding something up in his hand. Vash felt his heart twist violently in his chest as he realized what it was - a picture. The picture Vash always carried on him in his pocket.

Of you, Rem and Nicholas.

Where did he get that?!

"My, my, she's a beauty," The bandit leader mused, his eyes filled with fire as he traced your smiling face in the photo. Vash had never felt such a strong urge to burn a picture before as the bandit leader traced over your face and then the faces of the twins, "And look at them. They look just like you, Mr. Saverem. You're a lucky man."

Vash suppressed a shiver as the bandit leader said his name with emphasis, and the smirk that grew on the bandit's face made Vash want to sprint home and hide you and the twins away from the world, somewhere where nobody could ever hurt any of you.

"Although..." The bandit leader continued, still smirking at Vash as he spoke, "I wonder at what point your luck will run out."

Vash had to bite his tongue, instead desperately fighting to remain calm and seem unbothered by the bandit leader's faintly veiled threats towards himself, towards you and the children.

So, instead, Vash merely shrugged and answered as if he didn't understand the threat the bandit leader was making, "I'm not sure."

The bandit leader's evil smirk only grew bigger as he crumpled the picture in his fist and threw it down on the ground, "Guess we'll have to find out."

With that, the bandit leader turned on his heel and stormed off, his lackeys trailing behind him as best they could as they ran off from where Vash had fought them off.

"Mr. Saverem..." The doctor spoke quietly, looking mortified, "I-I'm so sorry, I- I didn't think-"

"Don't worry, doctor," Vash responded kindly, picking up the now-crumpled photo off the ground before helping the older gentleman stand up a bit straighter and guiding him over to a bench nearby, "I think that guy was gonna find my name out one way or the other."

"You need to get home, son," the doctor spoke softly, looking at Vash worriedly despite his own wounds, "He made a threat to your family. And there's plenty of bandits in town. God knows what they might try to do. You need to go home. Now."

Vash shook his head, the fear beginning to seep into his veins as he replied, "I can't just leave you here, though. What if they come back?"

"Somehow, I don't think they will," the doctor answered, the smallest smile appearing on his lips. "Now, go home. Go to your family."

With a final nod, Vash quickly took off towards your home, going from a walk to a jog until he was full on sprinting towards the house. His panic was beginning to overwhelm him as he sprinted back towards his home, where his family was hidden. Hopefully, you'd still be there, playing with Rem and Nicholas, none the wiser as to the threats made against you and your children because of Vash's actions.

'Please, please, please, let them be there. Let them be alright,' Vash pleaded in his mind, unsure of who he was pleading to as he sprinted home.

Right away, Vash felt a sense of relief when he saw your shared home. None of the windows had been smashed, the doors were all closed, and your home looked completely untouched. No sign whatsoever of any kind of break-in.

'Thank the Gods,' Vash breathed a deep sigh of relief as he raced up the steps and opened the door, coming into his house, fully prepared to pull you and the twins into a tight hug and not let go of any of you for quite some time.

"(Y/N)? Mayfly?" Vash called as soon as he entered the house, quickly looking around to try and spot you or the children.

However, nothing answered him except silence. The house was eerily quiet.

"Rem?! Nicholas?!" Vash called, his voice growing louder as he walked from room to room. There wasn't even the slightest sign of any disturbance having occurred in any of the rooms - everything was perfectly in place.

'Where are they? Did (Y/N) take the kids out somewhere?' Vash wondered, continuing to look around until he had searched the house from top to bottom for some sign of where you and the children might've gone.

As Vash came back downstairs, he was at a complete loss of where you all might've gone. The panic and fear from before began to reappear, taking root once more in Vash's stomach as his mind began to race.

Where could you have gone? Where were Rem and Nicholas? Were you alright? Were you alive?

Vash's mind swirled with so many questions that he nearly missed the piece of paper lying on the kitchen table, alongside something glinting in the bright sunlight - your wedding ring, next to a piece of a broken children's toy that both Rem and Nicholas had treasured.

As Vash picked up the note, staring at your ring and the broken toy, he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces before it began to thunder in his chest from fear and horror as he read the unfamiliar handwriting on the note.

"Your luck has run out. Check the abandoned school building."

#anya's athenaeum #trigun stampede #trigun stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #eriks x reader #eriks!vash #trigun eriks

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codfanficedits · 1 year ago

Text

Christmas Troubles.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley & Reader

Summary: Reader doesn't like christmas too.

Wordcount: 3844 | Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: talk about flashbacks regarding childabuse and child neglect.

A/N:

I have thought about not posting this, as this fic describes childabuse, however, I write to cope, so I decided to post anyway

If you are struggling at home too, know that there is a way out, and things will get better, the cycle can be broken, no matter how hard it is.

Give yourself the kindness your parents couldn't give you.

Merry Christmas to all the children, no matter how old, whose life will always be marked by their parents.

Very merry Christmas.

You’ve always loved Christmas, the subtle decoration on base, never a whole Christmas tree, but a few Christmas ornaments taped to someone’s door, a few tinsels draped around in the mess hall, a Santa hat being pulled over someone’s helmet.

But most of all, it’s the changing atmosphere. The weight of the war no longer weighing soldiers down fully. Excited faces when they all realize they get to go home for the holidays. Longing for their wives, their husband, their kids, family. For a brief moment all they are is human. Humans longing for the connection they have with those around them.

When the days come closer, the base gets more and more empty. More and more excited voices when they can finally go back to the people they loved.

You spot a piece of crumbled up wrapping paper, and suddenly you’re no longer the soldier you are today. You’re five years old and your ear is ringing from the slap you’ve received from your father, the skin feeling hot and you already know it’s turning red. It’s boxing day, and your reaction wasn’t happy enough. But you’re five, socks aren’t really your thing yet and you don’t understand why Santa would give you such a thing while you asked for a new stuffed animal.

You’re five and your father drags you up the stairs by your collar, screaming at you that ungrateful children will get nothing. And you’re ungrateful. You try not to be, you try to be a good kid, but it just happened without your control. You spent the rest of the day alone in your room, the few toys you own keeping you company, your own imagination being the escape you need.

Your eyes shift to your lieutenant. For the past two years you’ve spent Christmas on the base you share. No interaction, no words, nothing. But you know something haunts him around Christmas too. But it is not up to you to mingle around in old wounds. If he wants to tell you, he should do it himself. All you know is that the feeling of loneliness and grief hangs around him. Your own grief and loneliness dancing around his whenever your eyes meet, but the dance is brief, as if both of you are too scared to admit it.

When you moved out of your childhood home and joined the army, you made yourself the promise you’d do it different. You would never become like your parents. So the first time you could buy yourself the gifts you really wanted, you cried. Cried as you never had before, because being raised by cold eyes taught you not to cry. You held the stuffed animal you had gotten yourself close to your chest. You couldn’t celebrate Christmas that year, every little thing reminding you of the Christmases you had deserved in your childhood. Leaving you sobbing in your bed while your partner stroked your hair, understanding the pain that came with your childhood.

Next to the crumbled up wrapping paper is a Christmas ornament, and you pick it up. You stare at the Christmas ornament in your hand, and all of the sudden you’re no longer the soldier you are today. You’re seven years old, hiding on the top of the stairs while you can hear your parents argue. Your mother had decorated the Christmas tree wrong, and your father is fuming. You’re too young to understand what the problem is, why couldn’t they just decorate the tree again? You hold the stuffed animal you sleep with close to your heart, as if the toy is supposed to protect you against your fathers rage. The sounds of breaking glass no longer scares you, instead it is a sign for you to leave the top of the stairs and hide into bed. You know the drill, you know the routine. Like clockwork your mother barges into your room, demanding you get up and pack a bag, she is leaving your father and you’re coming with her. You’re seven, your biggest prized possession is your stuffed animal and a few books, so you pack it in a little suitcase, dragging it along down the stairs, while your father refuses to look at you, grumbling about the now bare Christmas tree.

You’re seven and our mother drags you along to the nearby park, it’s cold, you’re wearing your pyjama’s and a jacket, but it’s not enough to protect you against the cold, harsh December wind. Your mother smokes her cigarette, ranting towards you how horrible your father is. You know better than to agree with her, everything you say can and will be used against you, so you do what you do best, you stare at the grass beneath you.

Your hands begin to tremble when you’re no longer seven, but the hardened soldier you are today, the Christmas ornament snapping in your hands. You can hear the whispers, whispers about your hate for Christmas, your hate for the holidays, and those are the reasons your teammates believe to be the reasons why you prefer to stay on base.

But in reality you have no one to come home to. It used to be different. Your partner loved Christmas just as much as you did. Urging you to buy those little gifts for yourself, decorating the house with you, decorating the Christmas tree together.

Hell, the two of you even made your own little traditions. Sweet little dinners together by the soft candlelight, personal gifts the two of you had bought weeks before, just for the two of you, it was something that would keep you alive during the whole year, those two days were enough to fuel you, to heal the broken and wounded child you kept in your heart.

But your childhood taught you that all the good things must come to an end. And how could you blame them? You came with a suitcase full of childhood trauma, and your partner had no longer the strength to carry that suitcase with you. Leaving you alone on your base during Christmas once again.

As you sit inside the mess hall, next to your teammates, you can hear Gaz talking about his mother, how much he loves her, and much she is going to love her gift. Proudly he tells his team, and that includes you, that he got her a getaway to see the northern lights. Something she’d wanted for years, and now he could finally give it to her, a payback for how much she had loved him when he was growing up.

And you can’t help but feel that familiar pit in your stomach again, but you’re a hardened soldier, so your eyes don’t show the war within you. Because you love your mother, she is your mother after all, and that is what you are supposed to do. But you hate her at the same time. You hate her when you walk in on her emptying your piggybank, because she needs to smoke and your father doesn’t give her the money anymore. You hate her, when you overhear her complain about her children, and how they’re the reason why her marriage is failing. But the child inside of you wants to love her so desperate. It wants to cling on to the illusion of having a mother.

Brown eyes meet yours, and that same short dance happens between you and Ghost. Your soul leads while his tries to keep you at a distance. No longer than three seconds before he looks away, his attention on Gaz again. A comment about how lovely this gift to his mother is. A joke about Ghost hating Christmas. Loud laughter.

When you’re alone in your barracks, you stare at the wall. The burden of Christmas is weighing you down, it is drowning you, but you’re a hardened soldier, so you can’t let anyone in. You’re so afraid of losing something or someone you love, that you refuse to love anything again, including yourself. And you can’t treat something you don’t love in a kind way, so you shut everything and everyone out, while your heart is sick and tired of the loneliness you bring it.

A loud knock on your door. Gaz.

“Hey. I’m leaving for Christmas.”

“I know. Have fun.” A fake smile plastered on your face, you’ve mastered the skill of putting up that damn wall.

“Thanks. Take care of Ghost, yeah? Christmas isn’t really the time of year that makes him happy.” But how can you take care of Ghost when you can’t even take care of yourself? And who will take care of you while you drown?

“Will do.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh and Gaz?”

“Hm?”

“It really is a lovely gift for your mother.” The smile on your face warms up to be a real one, you mean it, even when the little child inside of you is screaming at you, because what did it do wrong to deserve such treatment?

The excitement on his face is endearing, a bright smile and sparkling eyes when you mention his mother. God is that how you’re supposed to look when someone mentions her? All you can see while you look in the mirror and think of her, are your fathers eyes staring right back at you. It isn’t your fault that you have your fathers eyes, yet you hate yourself for it, because how can you be something you’re not when you look like him.

“I’ll let you know how she likes it!” And with those words Gaz leaves you alone, a spring in his step when he realizes that this family is within arm’s reach, the burden of being a soldier being left behind on your base.

You stare at the open door, not having the strength yet to get up and close it.

Brown eyes meeting yours as Ghost walks past your door. Your soul wanting to reach out to dance with his again. “Can take care of myself during Christmas.” He grumbles, as he had overheard your conversation with Gaz. Your soul backs off, taking a blow, making you feel unwanted. A short nod and he is on his way again, that lonely feeling taking over again.

And suddenly you’re twelve, and you’re dreading to go to school, because you don’t fit in. Your father had implemented a new rule. Showers were only allowed to be taken twice a week, a horrible combination considering you’re a teenager, your body needs to be cleansed every day, but he is unrelenting. Your body is burning with the shame of not belonging. Your classmates are quick to realise what is going on, the bullying is relentless, a never ending torture that continues the moment you arrive home. No safe haven on earth. You’re old enough to realize this isn’t normal, this isn’t the way normal people live.

And now you’re a hardened soldier, and you’re angry. Of course you’re angry. Because there had been so many opportunities where someone should have helped you, but never did.

Soap visits you the next day, because he too has a family to come home to. Something you’ve been craving ever since God has put you on this earth, you’re tired of longing for something that has not been written in your stars, but you’ve had a taste of it, and now you keep chasing a taste you can no longer remember, all you know is that you need it, the feeling of loving, of belonging, of being wanted. Soap is one of the last to leave, some soldiers leave together, because they too have no family to come home to, but they have each other. Because friends count as family too when Christmas is around the corner. Not for you, never for you.

“Oi.” The Scottish accent snaps you out of it. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. Won’t be home until new year’s.”

“Aight. Have fun, and please don’t blow up your neighbourhood with firework.”

A small smirk tugs around his lips after your remark. “Can’t promise a thing. But if Price asks, you tell him I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

Two arms around you when he pulls you in for a short hug. The smallest amount of affection brings a lump to your throat, and you need a few tries before you can swallow it down.

“Keep an eye out for Ghost, will ya?” His request is paired with his arms leaving you again, the loneliness seeping back into your pores, infecting your veins, reaching your brain.

“I will, if he lets me.”

“Aye, don’t take it personal.”

Every form of rejection is personal, no matter who it comes from.

“Sure, sure, sure.” It’s a mere mutter, you can’t even keep an eye out for yourself, how could you keep an eye out for Ghost? But you worry that if you admit you’re not up for the task, you won’t be needed anymore. Because what is your worth if you can’t be of service?

A rough hand ruffles your hair. “Take care, kid.”

“You too, Soap.”

Another one leaves.

Base is becoming more and more deserted, and the less distracting you have, the easier it is for the memories to seep to the cracks of the walls you’ve build to protect yourself, because trauma sends you letters, without warning for the rest of your life, usually disguised as something else.

You overhear a conversation about a Christmas dinner. And suddenly you’re eight again, your legs aren’t reaching the ground as you sit on the dining room chair, your gaze is fixed on your plate. Your parents are arguing about dinner, your mother under seasoned it, your father tried to fix it and now it’s a blend of flavours that do not mix together, and somehow it is your fault, because you dared to breath near them. Fear takes over your being when the cabinets in the kitchen get slammed shut, the loud footsteps coming closer. You flinch when he walks past you.

Mistake.

Because flinching means that you acknowledge that your father abuses you, and he doesn’t. He keeps telling you that and what your father says goes. He can’t be abusing you, because there are children in the world who have it worse, and you have a roof to live under, you are fed, what more can a child want? You are not abused, because the bruises are placed on spots on your body that no one sees, because the screaming, the name calling, the humiliating marks your brain, but never your body, because everyone can ignore your shoes, who are two sizes too small, your clothes being either too large or too small, there is no in between. You cannot be abused, because you still love your parents. And if you aren’t fed love from a silver spoon, you learn to lick it from knives.

A large hand grabs your hair, yanking it back. The chair you’re sitting on protests against the sudden movement.

You ruined Christmas dinner, and the both of them make sure that you know it. When you’re dragged to the stairs again, and you endure his punishment, your mind goes blank. You went to visit a friend from school, and her mother didn’t yell, didn’t scream, didn’t call her names, and you cried in their bathroom, because this woman radiated a warmth you didn’t know you were craving. As you lay in bed, you can feel his feet stomping on your body again. The marks he left are a reminder that you were the one who ruined Christmas, again.

The feeling of being watched snaps you out of it, and as the trained soldier that you are, is the first thing you do controlling your breathing, your chest heaving just a little less when you finally look up.

His brown eyes meeting yours once more, and your soul doesn’t dare to reach out to his again. You can see the walls that he has put up, because they have the same structure as yours. If only he would allow you to seep through the small cracks between the stones. But he doesn’t, because Ghost too remembers his childhood as a long wish to be elsewhere.

You shift your eyes away again. Not ready to face him, not ready to see a glimpse of his childhood in his eyes. No, you wish to forget, to drown your demons with something that will kill them, to make sure that they will never come back. But you can’t, every attempt only resulted in them coming back harder, stronger. But you can try, right? So you find yourself on the floor of your room, a bottle of vodka next to you. You had been drinking too much, too quick, and now your body feels paralysed while snippets of your youth creep in again, and there is nothing you can do against it. You want to push the memories away, bury them in the dirt, a skill you had managed to master, yet you seem to have lost completely.

The familiar feeling of a burn starts in your throat and you make an attempt to crawl to the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet. A wave of sour vomit leaves your lips, it splatters against the porcelain of the toilet bowl, staining the floor, and it brings a panic to your chest.

You’re nine, and you have a stomach flu, being woken up with the horrible urge to vomit. You try to run to the bathroom, your little legs carrying you as fast as they can.

But you don’t make it, instead you drop to your hands and knees and you can’t stop the waves coming out of you. You feel like you can’t breathe, and you’re afraid you’ll die, suffocated by your own vomit. Your father wakes up from the noise, and instead of a compassionate rubbing of your back, you’re met with a scowl on his face. His hands gripping the back of your neck. You try to mutter that you’re sorry, but before you can speak he presses your face on the floor, dragging you across your own vomit, the same way they used to drag dogs through their own urine in an attempt to housetrain them.

The alcohol in your blood makes you unable to supress your memories, and you find yourself sobbing on the floor, muttering that you’re sorry again and again. You flinch when an unknown man enters your bathroom, his large frame looming over you. You hold up your hands against your face, apologizing over and over again.

“Fuck, you’re a mess.” You recognize the voice, but you can’t remember if it is your father’s or someone else’s. You begin to cry harder when a hand grips your wrist, trying to pull you up.

“ ‘s okay. ‘s okay.” You hear the same voice mutter, before a damp washcloth is dabbed against your face, an attempt to clean you up. You’re pulled against a broad chest, your mind still way too fuzzy to comprehend who it is.

“I promise it won’t happen again dad, I’m so sorry.” You’re slurring your words, and you don’t notice the breath of the person holding you hitching in his throat.

“Let’s get you to bed, ‘kay?” He mutters as he gently yet firmly guides you to your bed, making sure that you’re tucked in under your covers before he goes to place a bucket next to your bed. Not that you notice. You’re drifting off to an empty sleep.

When you wake up the next morning your head is pounding and you let out an annoyed groan when you wake up. You automatically rub your temples in an attempt to make the pain pass a little. “There’s water and painkillers on your nightstand.” A gruff voice tells you and your eyes snap open, only to see Ghost sitting down on the chair in the corner of your room, his jacket put over him as a blanket.

“Dear God.” You groan as you spot him, so much for taking care of him. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to know your father is an asshole.” His words make your blood run cold, you always had tried to keep your past, the abuse, a secret. You try to swallow the lump in your throat. “How much do you know?”

“You didn’t say what happened, but from the way you apologized and flinched.” Ghost shrugged after his words. “I know what it means.”

Is that his soul reaching out to yours? Is this his invite into your life?

“Does it get better?” You ask, scared for the answer.

“Not without hard work.” He answers you. “Have you tried therapy?”

“Have you?” You shoot back, not wanting to admit you haven’t.

“I have.” He chuckled. “It wasn’t easy, but once I was done after nearly two years. Shit that felt amazing.”

You scoff, not fully convinced. “And what did you get out of it?”

He looks at you, his brown eyes piercing your soul. “I can look at myself in the mirror, and I no longer see my father. You deserve that too.”

You want to stop the tears, you really do, but his words hit the right spots. You turn around in your bed, your back facing him as you curl yourself into a little ball.

Your bed protests when he comes to sit on the edge, his fingers running through your hair. “Listen.” He lets out a sigh. “I’m not here to scold you, but the team has been telling you that you need to look out for me, and while I think that it is bullshit, it is a nice gesture. But do you know why they asked you?”

You don’t respond, instead you stare to the wall, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Ghost decided to continue anyway. “They asked you, because I told them about my past, not much, no details, just enough to let them in, to let them understand certain behaviour. And I’m not telling you, you should do the same, but think about it. Maybe it’ll help.”

His words did make sense, you knew you had to do something, knowing that you couldn’t keep on going with the amount of flashbacks you were having lately. “Just tell something to Price, okay?” Ghost continues. “And if you want, I can pull some strings, get you on some easier missions for the time being. And I can hook you up with my therapist. You remind me of myself, so it has been easier to avoid you. However, you deserve some happiness too and I’m sorry for avoiding you so much.”

You look up at him, through your teary eyes. “Thank you.” You manage to mutter.

“Don’t mention it.” He answers, while his fingers run through your hair again. “Christmas will become fun again, don’t let them take that from you.”

He stays silent for a second or two. “You know what, do you want to make some hot chocolate? Make our own little tradition?”

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