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xsweetcatastrophe · 5 hours ago

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You Broke Me First

part 34

authors note: 2 chapters in 2 days WHO IS SHE

trigger warnings: fainting, bleeding - there will be mentions of pregnancy & miscarriage in the next couple of chapters. if that’s triggering or a sensitive subject for you, please do not read!

Cillian woke up the next morning at 9am, immediately rolling over to check his phone.

He had some emails, a text from his brother.. but nothing from Zoe.

To say his stomach sank was an understatement.

This is exactly what happened with his ex-wife. His ex-wife, whom he was madly in love with, his best friend, the person he chose to share his life with. He thought he was going to have kids with her, grow old with her, everything - and it was ripped out from under him.

He dwelled a lot on the breakdown of his marriage, and some days he blamed himself more than others. He could never forgive himself for being so blind, so unaware and ignorant while his wife was struggling. Could he have helped? Was there more he could have done? She, of course, didn’t communicate as often as she should have. They were both at fault, but Cillian was the bearer of it all. He now had to watch his ex-wife marry someone else and live the dream that was taken from him.

There were dark days when his ex-wife moved out. A lot of sleepless nights, drinking in the living room, poor hygiene… thank god for his brother for constantly checking in, going food shopping for him, forcing himself into the shower… even when Cillian still had his clothes on.

“Sober up!” he’d yell, as Cillian stumbled and fell into the corner of the shower, water soaking his sweatpants and shirt that he hasn’t changed out of in 3 days. “You lost your wife, but you didn’t lose your family. You still have nephews who look up to you and have been asking about their uncle. get it together man,” Padi had yelled.

So, Cillian slowly re-built his life, day by day, hour by hour.

Some days, when the pain was overbearing, he had to go minute by minute.

The pain that once consumed his entire life slowly only consumed days, like Sundays when he knew she would be teaching a pottery class downtown (I wonder how that class is going? Is enrollment up for the next class?), in addition to birthdays and anniversaries. He wondered if he would never get a text from her on his birthday.

He didn’t.

Then, pain shrunk from days to hours, like when he knew when she would be on the 405 coming home from work (I hope she took my advice and take the other way I showed her, to avoid traffic.)

Pain, that was once an entire novel in his life, dwindled into just a chapter.

Then a page.

Then a paragraph.

Then a word.

The pain would always be there, but it wasn’t all consuming.

It did, however, affect how he approached relationships… and by that, he avoided them completely.

He will never allow someone to up and leave him again, he was fairly confident he wouldn’t be able to survive it again. He avoided any spark of emotional connection to a woman, and shut them down before they could even attempt at making a move.

That is, until Zoe and her tape recorder came along.

Cillian showered and ordered some tea from room service. He wanted to relax until Hannah got here at 10, and just sit in silence. He knew he shouldn’t dwell but …. an hour couldn’t hurt, right?

10am, Hannah knocked and entered. “Good morning!” She announced, cheery and wide awake.

“Hey.” Cillian responded with no emotion.

“Uh-oh, everything okay?” Hannah said, dropping her work bag onto the table.

“Yea it’s just… Zoe,” Cillian said, putting his head in his hands.

“Oh no! what’s wrong?” Hannah said dramatically, sitting down at the table.

“She saw the photos and .. I don’t know. I think she’s taking this harder than I thought she would.”

“Well Cillian, if she can’t handle it, you know what you have to do,” Hannah shrugged, making the scissor motion with her hand.

“Jesus,” Cillian said, shooting her a look. “That quick to just end things, huh?”

“I’m sorry, but this is your career, your life. This won’t be the first time you’re away from her for work. If she can’t handle it, she can’t handle it. It’s not easy dating a successful actor,” Hannah said, smiling, hoping the compliment stroked his ego a bit.

“I’d give up everything if she told me to,” Cillian mumbled, looking out the window.

“Are you NUTS?” Hannah exclaimed, breaking her composure. She caught herself, before continuing, “You’re only dating her. It hasn’t even been a year. Don’t jump to conclusions. And don’t make rash decisions based on emotions. Let’s just focus on today… What would Tommy Shelby do? He would have a new girl in his bed every night,” Hannah winked.

Cillian broke his stare from the window and looked at Hannah.

“I’m not Tommy.”

——————————

Cillian made his way to the lobby to wait for the rest of the cast for their “outing.” He didn’t understand why there were so many “team building” activities as of lately. He begrudgingly pulled on the clothes wardrobe pulled for him - khaki pants, a black button down, and shoes. He had on his heavy winter coat and sunglasses, hoping they would hide his identity even a little bit.

His phone pinged. His heart stopped. He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket - an email from a girl named Cynthia, who worked with Zoe. She was assigned to re-doing the interview and wanted to know available dates.

Why did it have to be re-done? he wondered.

He bit the bullet and pulled up a text to Zoe.

Cill: morning bunny. I got an email from someone named Cynthia asking for availability for a redo on the interview we did?

Cill: Also, I hope you slept well. I haven’t stopped thinking about you and how much of a mess this is. I miss you badly. I don’t want to do this distance anymore. Come here. Or I'll fly home on the weekends. Let’s fix this. please. I love you endlessly. Me and you, remember?

Cillian wanted to stay strong so bad, but he couldn’t help but add the 2nd text. He wanted to fight for her. He had to show her he was 1000% devoted to her and only her, and would go to the ends of the earth for her.

“Hey Cillian!” He heard Lizzie from the elevator. He looked up and saw Lizzie walking towards him, in dark blue skinny jeans, brown leather riding boots, and a tan oversized sweater. She had her hair swept up in a ponytail with some hair falling out, framing her face. Her smile was bright, her skin was clear… She was the definition of beauty and perfection.

But… she was no Zoe.

“Ready to go?” She said once she got closer to him.

“I’m the first one here. We should wait for everyone else," he said, confused.

Lizzie giggled. “Oh no, it’s just me and you. Didn’t Hannah tell you?”

Cillian’s deadpanned expression answered that question for her.

“Oh man, I'm sorry Cill. I thought Hannah told you, at least that’s what my manager said. Do you wanna not go?” Lizzie responded apologetically.

Cillian sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m not in the right mind for a fun day today. My girlfriend ….” he looked at his phone, drifting off. “Things aren’t good right now. and it’s killing me.”

Lizzie patted his shoulder. “It's hard. My boyfriend struggled with it too.” She looked out the door and sighed. “Wanna go for a walk anyway and talk it out? I’m a good listener, and a good friend. Happy to share anything that helped me when I was experiencing this.” she smiled.

Cillian smiled back. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good. Thanks Liz”

“One condition though,” Lizzie said, very seriously. “If you bring that phone, you’ll be half present, half waiting for it to go off. Go put it in your room,” She said, pointing to the elevators.

Cillian looked at the elevators, and sighed. “I’m on the top floor…” Cillian said, his laziness kicking in. His eyes scanned the hotel before bringing his gaze back to Lizzie, but stopped short when he saw Hannah at the hotel bar working on her laptop.

“Okay, deal.” Cillian said, walking towards Hannah.

“Hey Hannah, can you hold onto my phone for me?”

——————————-

Zoe sat at the table across from Dana at dinner, reading her text messages from Cillian.

As tough as she wanted to be, her heart melted at his 2nd text.

That was the Cillian she knew and loved.

“I don’t buy it.” Dana said, taking a sip of her drink and interrupting Zoe’s train of thought. “Don’t let him sweet talk you.”

Zoe rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to answer him. Maybe I'll call him later. I hate this. This has been draining on me, I even feel like shit now,” Zoe said, clutching her stomach. She had horrible cramps, the kind you have to take deep breaths to get through, but they seemed to be getting worse.

“Fine.” Dana replied.

“You’re not mad?” Zoe squeezed out before wincing from a cramp, rubbing her abdomen.

Dana sighed. “Listen. I'm team Zoe forever. I'll be here for whatever you decide. Whether I agree or not. I won’t stop being your friend…. but i’ll be sure to let you know when you’re being a dumb bitch” She said, chuckling.

“There’s a compliment in there somewhere,” Zoe said.

Zoe felt a sensation between her legs.

Shit, did I just get my period?

“Do you have a tampon? I think i just got my period, I need to go to the bathroom,” Zoe said, standing up. She felt her dress soaked between her legs, entirely too much. That’s odd, I never used to bleed this much ….

She never got a chance to hear Dana’s response, because she fell to the floor unconscious as she took her first step from the table.

tags: @lau219 @cillianmurphyvevo @bleakmidwinter00 @amelyyyyyyy @teawonderfultea-blog1 @lavender-haze-01 @cillianinlove @supershadowymiraclestudent @shopgirl6us @allie131313

#cillian fic #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction

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matttgirlies · 9 months ago

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Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - suicide attempt,, arguing

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 15

By the mid-sixties he was holding Bible readings in the den of our Bel Air home. I sat next to him one evening as he read passages with great force. Facing us were several of his young female admirers wearing the lowest-cut blouses and the shortest miniskirts. They all listened attentively, disciples enraptured in the presence of “their” lord. The sermon stretched to hours, followed by a question-and-answer period during which they vied for his attention.

Sitting at his feet was an attractive, wellendowed young girl wearing a blouse unbuttoned to her navel. Leaning over seductively, she asked in honeyed tones, “Matt, do you think the woman at the well was a virgin?” With me right beside him, he avoided taking in the fleshy spectacle obviously exposed for his benefit.

“Well, honey,” he said, “that’s somethin’ you’ll have to come to a conclusion on yourself. As for me, I personally think Jesus was attracted to her, but that’s my opinion. I’m not sayin’ it’s fact.”

I watched Matt and the girl talking, feeling undermined and angry. How stupid, I thought. Can’t he see what she’s doing? It’s so obvious.

He drew in a deep breath and said, “I like your perfume, honey. What’s it called?”

“Chanel Number Five,” she answered.

Chanel Number Five? That’s what I was wearing! Why didn’t he notice it on me? I slowly rose and walked into my dressing room adjacent to the den. Determined to snare his attention, I changed into his favorite outfit—a tight-fitting black sheath he had picked out himself.

Returning a few minutes later, I took my place beside him, but he was wrapped up in preaching to his devotees and had totally overlooked my absence. To make matters worse, he didn’t even notice my change of costume. I managed to conceal my distress behind a fake smile and an attentive gaze, but I couldn’t help noticing that he was responding to them with an occasional wink or smile.

I asked questions like they did, but my heart wasn’t in it; I knew they all wanted to take my place. “That’s it,” I thought. “If I’m not appreciated, loved, or wanted, I’ll end it. That will make it easier for everyone.”

I got up and went back to our room. Picking up a half-full bottle of Placidyls, I devised a plan to create a dramatic effect that, in my mind, would win his attention. I stared at them, thinking, What if I choke to death? I decided to take two pills to start. That way I could take a quick shower, redo my makeup, put on my prettiest camisole, and still have time to position myself dramatically on the bed before I consumed the rest of the bottle.

I swallowed the pills and started to prepare myself for the end. In tears, I thought of leaving him a note, writing down everything I’d never been able to say. I’d tell him how I wished that it could have been just the two of us again, as it had been during the long hours we’d spent together in his room in Germany. I’d confess that I was jealous of any woman who caught his attention and that I hated the times when there was only silence between us, even though he’d said he had things on his mind. I’d tell him how I feared his violent temper, which robbed me of my freedom of expression; and how I wished that he’d have tried to understand me as I’d desperately tried to understand him.

Maybe he’s missed me by now, I thought. I ran to the door and pressed my ear against it. I heard him laughing. He was having a great time. They all were. I found that I was disgusted with all of it. I wouldn’t go in there now if he begged me, I told myself. I was too tired anyway.

But I wasn’t too tired to remember how I wanted to be found. I lay down on the bed with my long jet black hair spread over the white pillows, my lips moist with gloss. In my naive fantasy he’d take my listless body in his arms and tell me how much he loved me, kissing me passionately back to life.

I forced down one more pill, lay perfectly still in the position I wanted to be discovered, and waited for what seemed like hours for sleep to overtake me. But the longer I lay there, the less sleepy I became. The more I heard Matt’s laughter, the angrier I got. My adrenaline-charged fury was overriding the effect of the pills. Soon I began to feel foolish.

Then I heard Matt say good night to everyone as he approached the room. I grabbed the nearest book and lay it at my side, as though I’d been reading and had fallen asleep. I heard him come in, quietly walk over to the bed, and pick up the book. He whispered the title, The Listener. I could imagine him smiling, pleased as always when I read philosophical books. He stood over me for a second, probably thinking how sweet I looked and how tired I must have been to retire so early.

Then he covered me snugly with blankets and bent down to kiss my carefully-parted lips. All my anger and jealously vanished. I realized how even a little of his attention could make me happy.

In April of 1964, Larry Geller was hired to replace Matt’s barber, Sal Orfice. Little did we know that their relationship would not only cause a drastic change in Matt, but it would create tension, jealousy, and fear within the group.

I was in Boston when he first met Larry, but I learned all about him through our nightly phone conversations. Matt’s enthusiasm over his newfound friend was infectious.

“You’re not going to believe this guy, Sattnin,” he said. “Larry knows more about the spiritual world than all the preachers and Catholic priests and religious fanatics put together. We have discussions that last hours, just talkin’ and talkin’ about the great masters and my purpose for being here. I’m invitin’ him to Graceland. He’ll enlighten your spiritual development.”

When Larry and his wife, Stevie Geller, joined us, I was surprised to find them both young and attractive. He was kind and mellow. She was sweet and quiet and kept to herself.

However, many in the group, myself included, were suspicious of them. We were all threatened by Matt’s involvement with Larry. It was keeping him from us. It seemed as if Matt was always off alone reading esoteric books or deep in discussion with Larry about God’s master plan for the universe.

Matt discovered there were many great masters besides Jesus. There were Buddha, Muhammad, Moses, and others, each “chosen by God to serve a purpose.” What I was now witnessing in Matt was the emergence of that part of his nature that was thirsting for answers to all the fundamental questions of life.

He asked Larry why, out of all the people in the universe, he had been chosen to influence so many millions of souls. Granted this unique position, how could he contribute to save a world burdened with hunger, disease, and poverty? Why was there so much human suffering in the first place? And why wasn’t he happy, when he had more than anyone could want? He felt he was missing something in life. Through Larry’s insight, he hoped to find the path that would lead him to the answers.

He was eager for all of us—especially me—to absorb all the knowledge he was consuming. Happy to share everything, just as he had with his Bible discussions in L.A., he read to us for hours and handed out books he thought would interest us. He announced that in order for us to be perfect soul mates, I’d have to join him in his search for the answers to the universe. To help me, he gave me several large books, including Vera Stanley Adler’s The Initiation of the World.

He suggested I attend the lectures of the metaphysical philosopher and author Manley P. Hall. I did. I found the lectures difficult to understand and painful to endure, but I managed to survive with the hope that “this too shall pass.”

Then he became interested in Cheiro’s Book of Numbers, which defined people’s personality traits and characteristics according to the day of the month on which they were born. To find out who was compatible with whom, Matt added up the numbers in the birthdays of everyone within the group. I waited in terror, praying that my number would be a six, seven, or eight, so I would be compatible with Matt, who was an eight. Fortunately, my number linked with his.

Although I was striving to be his soul mate and subtly becoming more aware of myself as a spiritual being, my heart longed for the very temptations he was fighting to conquer.

While I patiently waited at home at Graceland for his returns, planning romantic interludes, he was attempting to overcome worldly temptations and believed he was going through a cleansing period, physically and spiritually. Any sexual temptations were against everything he was striving for, and he did not wish to betray me, the girl waiting for him at home who was preparing to be his wife.

He felt guilty and confused about his natural reaction to female advances and I believe that this was his greatest fear when it came to marriage. He loved me and deeply wanted to be faithful to me but never felt certain that he could resist temptation. It was a persistent battle, and it even got to the point where he felt he had to resist me.

“y/nn,” he said one night before we went to bed, “you’re going to have to be pretty understanding these next few weeks, or however long it takes. I feel that I have to withdraw myself from the temptations of sex.”

“But why? And why with me?”

He was quite solemn. “We have to control our desires so they don’t control us. If we can control sex, then we can master all other desires.”

When we were in bed, he took his usual dose of sleeping pills, handed me mine, and then, fighting off drowsiness from the pills, pored over his metaphysical books.

As his soul mate I was expected to search for answers as fervently as he did, but I just couldn’t bear reading the ponderous tracts that surrounded us in bed every night. Usually within five minutes of opening one, I’d be sound asleep. Annoyed at my obvious disinterest, he woke me to share an insightful passage. If I voiced the slightest protest, he’d say, “Things will never work out between us, y/nn, because you don’t show any interest in me or my philosophies.” Then, pointedly: “There are a lot of women out there who would share these things with me.”

Faced with this threat, I forced myself to sit up and try to read the passage. The print swam before my eyes in one big blur.

I wanted to share romantic, not religious, inspirations with him. I tried to cuddle as close to him as I could, feeling the warmth of his body. He told me to sit up and listen, and he read yet another passage, repeating it several times to make sure I grasped its significance. I could bear it no longer. I lost control and started screaming.

“I can’t stand it! I don’t want to hear any more! I’m sick and tired of your voice going on and on! It’s—driving—me—crazy!” I was hysterical, pulling at my hair like a wild woman.

“What do you see?” I demanded. “Tell me, what do you see?”

He stared up at me, his eyes half-closed. “A madwoman, a goddamn raving madwoman,” he answered, slurring his words because of the sleeping pills.

I fell on my knees beside him, crying, “No, Matt, not a madwoman, a woman who needs to make love to and to feel desired by her man. Matt, you can have your books and me too. Please don’t make me beg,” I cried. “I really need you and want you.”

By the time I’d finished my tirade, all I could hear was the faint sound of religious music playing on the radio. I looked up at him. He had fallen into a deep sleep.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - i feel like you guys are going to want to kill me when i get to the last chapter..🎀

#matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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wompwomp-1mh3re · 2 months ago

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You’re the salt air, I’m the suitcase

One way ticket to a new a place

You can zip up

All of my of love

But it would spill out

Cause it weighs too much

Buck is sat on Eddie’s couch, the revelation that Eddie too is leaving sinking in deep. He’ll be getting on a plane and heading off to Texas, another person Buck cares greatly for leaving. He can’t leave though, sure he doesn’t want to miss out on more of Christopher’s big moments but Buck needs him like he needs air to live. The two of them are intertwined in every sense of being, wherever Eddie is Buck is sure to follow but Texas is too far Buck can’t leave behind the 118, he can’t leave his family. Eddie is the person who gets him, Eddie knows everything about Buck and vice versa he can’t just leave like that, no, no, no he can’t just be gone like that, like it’s as easy as that, Eddie isn’t Abby. He doesn’t know what is causing him to feel like this, yes Eddie was, is his best friend but this isn’t how someone reacts to a friend leaving.

Eddie comes over and sits next to Buck handing him a coffee which he takes and sets the tablet down. “So is this gonna be a forever thing? Why not try to convince him to come back instead of going the whole route of moving?” Buck breaks the brief silence, he hates how clingy he sounds, how needy. “You know how it’s been lately Buck, he barely talks to me let alone enough to have that kinda conversation with him,” Eddie sounds so dejected, the tiredness in his voice reaches into Buck’s chest and grips his heart tightly.

The two talked for a while discussing houses while Buck slowly died inside as he was forced to deal with the fact that he was losing his best friend. Sure they’d probably text and call but he knew how that ended, he’d seen it happen with Abby, they grew out of touch, didn’t talk after a couple of months and nothing had ever hurt Buck that badly, not his parents negligence, not leaving Maddie, not any of his breakups, this pain was raw and cut to the core of his very being and it hadn’t even happened yet, Eddie was still next to him. Why did it hurt so bad?

I’d wait, forever in your hallway

Change your colors, start to wonder, paint it over

Or stay the same

It happened, Eddie left. The house was sold, all his belongings in boxes gone, no trace of him ever being there other than the contact in Buck’s phone and the gaping hole in his being. Buck felt like it was Abby all over again but Eddie wasn’t Abby, he wouldn’t abandon Buck, right? Why did he feel this way, they were nothing more than friends so why did he feel like a brokenhearted lover? Eddie had texted him once he landed, letting Buck know he was safe but Buck couldn’t bring himself to reply, he shut off his phone and tossed it on his nightstand.

A few weeks later Buck found himself standing in the hallway outside the empty apartment that Eddie once called home, he didn’t even realize his feet had brought him there until someone tapped his shoulder and asked if he was looking into buying. He had unconsciously gone to seek out Eddie in his shitty mindset, looking for comfort in his best friend but miles now separated them.

Buck wakes at 12 on a Sunday, what’s meant to be a peaceful day off is started with a crushing headache from the binge drinking he’d done the night before, his phone buzzes on the nightstand Eddie’s contact displayed on the screen for a second before it goes away and he’s met with the notifications of multiple missed calls and unanswered texts from Eddie. Buck doesn’t think as he grabs the device and calls Eddie back, the line connects immediately. “Buck, Jesus Christ are you okay?!” Eddie’s voice is relieved yet frantic and Buck can only groan in response as it makes his head throb, he pulls the phone back a bit to quiet it. “I’m fine, did something happen? Why’d you call so many times?” Buck yawns. “Did something happen- Buck you texted me at two in the morning saying ‘I love you and I’m sorry’ where the hell did that come from? I thought you were going to kill yourself or something! You can’t scare me like that man.” “I did?” Buck pulls the phone down all the way and puts the call on speaker, opening his and Eddie’s chat. He finds the text, passing over all of Eddie’s frantic texts. “I guess I did…I don’t remember sending that or anything, god did I really drink that much last night? I dunno, but sorry Eddie I didn’t mean to worry you.” “Buck seriously are you okay? Bobby, Hen, and Chim have all texted me asking if I know what’s going on with you. And don’t bullshit me here, are you okay?” “I’m fine Eddie,” Buck lies through his teeth, “just dealing with a few minor things, I don’t know why they’re all so worried.” “Buck. They wouldn’t text if it was something minor.” “Maybe they texted you cause you’re my best friend Eddie, I talk to you about everything you know I wouldn’t hide anything from you even if I wanted to.” “Evan, you don’t make habit of drinking until you don’t remember what the hell happened and you don’t casually drop I love you’s dr-” the call suddenly cuts out and Buck curses as his phone dies and plugs it in.

Buck doesn’t bother to call back and gets up and goes to the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror after washing his hands, he doesn’t recognize the person staring back at him, the figure's hair is unkempt and his stubble grown out, dark bags rest under his dull eyes. Who has he become?

Chat I wrote this at early hours of the morning by bad if this is ass

Please help I want this to have some form of comfort I’m open to any ideas I kinda wanna make it so Buck shows up to Texas but idk

This is not the full work

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #songfic #song lyrics #im going insane #i love them #so i must #angst #writing #hurt/comfort #hopefully #someone save me #Spotify #I hate dialogue #ignore the mess

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pequena-colibri · 1 year ago

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I texted my ex on the 12th and Saturday and didn’t receive a response. Which is fine, whatever.

But he texted me at midnight tonight for my birthday, and I was going to text him back immediately. Say thank you, but I felt so sad and angry. Why did he bother to text me today? His silence has been telling, it’s been hard and painful. I’ve been in so much pain, forcing myself to bet back out there, bursting into tears at movie theaters, my holiday party, as I worked out. While he’s out and about with his new person, ignoring me. So why bother texting me for my birthday? It’s so mean-spirited. And now it’s 4AM, I’m weeping into my pillow again. I don’t think I’m going to answer.

I had thought to myself earlier, what would be worse. Would it hurt more if he sent me something, or if his silence continued. I think it hurts more that he sent me something? Jesus Christ, if I had been poking at a scab, he went ahead and ripped it clean off.

And the delusional part of me, the very broken part of me, swelled with hope. It means he cares, he was thinking of me, he still loves me. I want to respond and gratitude, make it clear that I’m still waiting, like Jay Gatsby or Tita de La Garza. But I can’t romanticize this pain, any longer. I’m thirty years old today, and I have to protect myself. I have to heal my inner child that felt rejected by her father. Did I ever mention that when my dad left when I was 8/9 he also went no contact? And so when I hit 11, I took a public bus from my public school in Hollywood and I asked around my friends for change to get to his job in downtown. And so I waited for my dad and finally saw him, but I saw him with his new wife, holding hands. And so I was hit with the realization, that my dad was alive and well and was choosing not to see me. And when he saw me, he sternly instructed me to go back home, and gave me 75 cents for the bus fare, which wasn’t even enough for one way fare. I was eleven. I have a niece who is 11, and I wouldn’t dream of sending her away like that. It’s mind-boggling.

So if I respond to this man’s text, I’m betraying that little girl again. Except this time it’d be my own choice, I wouldn’t be the victim, just an equal part aggressor.

My heart aches.

#musings

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ungodly-amounts-of-godly-trauma · 2 years ago

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Is it time for Neku Sakuraba propaganda? I think it is! Okay so. Neku’s an angsty 15-year-old who doesn’t get people (“never have, never will”) when he awakens and finds himself in some kind of weird weeklong Reaper’s Game, with no idea who he is or what he’s doing here. Turns out, his memory was his entry fee - the thing he valued most - to enter the game. To win the game and avoid erasure, he has to team up with a Partner and fight with them. In the course of the week, he discovers he’s dead and forms a close enough attachment to his Partner, Shiki, that she becomes his next entry fee when he’s forced to play for a second week straight.

His second week, some little shit makes the Partner Pact FOR him. “You looked like an expert, so I just helped myself,” he says. Enter: Yoshiya Kiryu, but Mother and Father call him Joshua, so he supposes you can too. He’s smarmy, abrasive, overly-familiar, and has somehow been watching Neku (?) despite Neku being in the afterlife and knowing this kid hasn’t played before. Oh, and he remembers seeing Neku laying on the ground the last place Neku remembers being… and he still doesn’t remember how he died. They spend the week, in turns, with Joshua getting on Neku’s nerves infodumping about Shibuya and making innuendo, talking about how they mutually don’t get people (with Joshua concluding he’d rather get rid of them all because understanding others is impossible,) and Neku accusing Joshua of murdering him after Joshua remembers coming at Neku holding a gun. During this, Neku discovers that Joshua’s apparently somehow Playing while alive - he could always see the afterlife, decided he belonged there and wanted to become the Composer who runs it all (basically a local god,) and has incredible powers that let him teleport into the air and use massive, cherub-laden lasers of doom. We call them the Jesus Beams.

The week ends with a fight with this week’s Game Master, who’s been harassing them personally throughout. During it, Neku suddenly remembers that HE was at the site of Neku’s death with a gun, too, and concludes he was wrong about Joshua. When the GM is defeated, he unleashes a massive explosive attack that’ll take them all out, but Joshua smiles and pushes Neku out of the way, taking the brunt of the blast. Neku assumes that Joshua sacrificed himself, feeling bad for the week of shadiness. This messes Neku up DEEPLY! And Neku has to play ANOTHER week, because Joshua was playing while alive.

Through the week, Neku and his third Partner Beat conclude they have to take out the Composer and put Beat in charge, like Joshua wanted to do, as the city and game get increasingly messed up. They conclude the Composer is probably the game’s mentor figure, break into the secret sewer base of the Reapers, and fight the Composer’s second-in-command Kitaniji. They win, when suddenly Joshua reappears and seems to know Kitaniji, who incorporates him (with Joshua posing like he’s been crucified) into his massive monstrous dragon form and traps Beat and Shiki. Neku fights. Neku wins. And then we get explanations.

1) The reason why the entire city was falling under creepy mind control was because of Kitaniji’s plan to unite the city under his vision.

2) This was because he was playing a Game with the Composer, whose plan for the city was WORSE - outright destruction. The Composer wouldn’t directly interfere, but use a Proxy he’d chosen for this purpose.

3) Who is the Composer? Hee hee. It was Joshua all along!

4) Whose Proxy, of course, was Neku. And how did he pick him? Well Neku, he never said he DIDN’T kill you.

But if Neku wants to stop him (or even if he doesn’t,) time for one more Game. The winner gets to be Composer and do whatever they want with the city. Of course, Joshua’s already decided.

Here’s a gun. Joshua will count to ten, and then they fire. Neku, tears in his eyes, readies the gun - and then lowers it. Despite everything, he can’t do it. He’s changed too much over the past three weeks.

Joshua shoots.

Neku wakes up in the middle of the street for the fourth straight week in a row, everything seemingly unchanged. He looks around and screams “What the HELL?!”

And this is before we get to the part where Neku later dies AGAIN so Joshua sends him to a destroyed city removed from reality for three years. As one does.

To sum up: One of Neku’s best friends is the local god of the underworld, who murdered him, shot him twice, does seem to genuinely care about him despite it all, and collects Jesus symbolism like it’s a contest.

Play The World Ends With You!

holy jesus fucking christ. I REMEMBER THE NEKU SAKURABA SUBMISSION. also i think he and josh were in the homoerotic betrayal tournament or something??? good god. bloody hell. godly trauma unparalleled

#asks #not a poll #mod jelly #WHY is the tagging so weird rn #ill link this in the post also

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ceilingfan5 · 2 years ago

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Prompt 4 with blupjeans or taakitz please?

“Be honest.”

“Fuck off.”

“Are you, or are you not, crying about the commercial with the kitten in it?” Kravtiz is so smug. Smug as a bug in a rug, even. Smug as an anti-drug shutterbug sea slug on an unplug from social media. Taako hates his guts in this moment.

“Fuck off, I said,” Taako insists, and the music swells again and he can’t help but sniffle. He paws at his face as quick and as subtly as he can, but it isn’t subtle enough. Stupid eagle eyed boyfriend.

“There it is!!” Kravitz points wildly at him. “You said we didn’t need a cat. You said you didn’t like them. You said rescuing one would be a waste of money and time and that they’re just hairy little barf machines, but what evidence do I spy to the contrary?? Hm??”

“Okay, asshole, you’re getting upgraded to a fuck you, free of charge! A guy’s allowed to do a bit of emotions, isn’t he? I don’t have to fuckin’- fuckin’ commit to a whole entire conscious creature that’s gonna shred my under-couch to tatters! I don’t need tatters in my life, Krav!”

“It’s not about the tatters! It’s about the emotional connection! And you had one!”

“Augh!”

“Go ahead, disagree with me! But you know in your heart that you want to go to the shelter right fucking now and change the life of one those fuzzy little barf machines. Don’t you.”

Taako staunchly looks anywhere else.

“Listen,” he says, elegantly, and not like a person who could do a violence or flee the country. “Listen. Maybe,”

“THERE IT IS!”

“Maybe fuck you! Jesus! Let me finish a sentence! Maybe cats aren’t the full devil. Okay?” Taako throws his hands up in a big show of being defeated. Kravitz couldn’t be more pleased.

“Mhmmm.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t. You know. Be the end of the world to go. And just look. And if I don’t vibe with any of them-!”

“You don’t have to take one home. Obviously. Of course.” Kravitz makes a big show of how magnanimous and genteel he is. How understanding. Taako throws a pillow at his head, which he sadly dodges “I’m not trying to force one on you, love, I just wanted you to be honest!”

“If we get one, we’re naming it something stupid, or else,” Taako grumbles, still avoiding full eye contact.

Kravitz laughs, and leans over the couch to kiss him on the head.

“I’ll get my keys. And we don’t have to make a commitment today, you know, just…browse.”

“Obviously. Browsing. We probably won’t even come home with one.”

“Obviously!”

So they name him Garyl. Obviously.

#taakitz #tazb #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #taz balance #taakitz fic #fan5fics #taz #thank you!!

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maximoff-pan · 3 years ago

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all roads lead (back to you) | bruce wayne

Summary: You and Bruce used to be friends, some might say more than that. But things change, shit happens. Bruce finds himself in the position of the hero, and you, the villain’s accomplice

Pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: dark(ish) themes, little to no fluff, not really edited (so maybe some grammar mistakes)

A/n: woah it’s been a minute! But I saw The Batman, and immediately knew I had to write for it. (I’d love to write some more if y’all are down…) also, I know this is short, and probably not very good (I’m fairly certain this is pretty ooc for Bruce), but oh well… I hope you guys enjoy!

Edward had told you where you could find it, hidden in a slit in the wall, a paper with your next instructions. It’s coded, you wouldn’t expect anything less from him. Unfolding it and taking a quick glance at the symbols that litter the page, a sinister smile creeps onto your face. He always was a tricky bastard.

Reading it in awe, you realize he’d really done it, he was going to fucking flood Gotham. Once and for all. And you’d be there to relish in it. Breathe it in, fucking live to see it pass. After everything this city has put you through, this message feels like a spark, lighting the flame of your life force. An energy courses through your veins, this is really happening.

“Drop it.” A gravelly tone floods your senses. Batman, you think. The vigilante’s voice carries stoically across the room, strong, and bold. But there’s something so recognizable about it.

It’s him…

Up until this moment, you hadn’t heard his voice in so long. It sounds almost foreign to your ears, but even dressed in his Batman suit, you’d know that voice anywhere.

With your back facing him, and the coded cypher in your right hand, you release a dark chuckle. “You know I can’t do that Bruce.”

You hear his breath hitch as you angle your body to face his. All of a sudden, Edward’s science lab of a secret apartment feels much smaller than it had a moment ago.

How could you possibly know his real name….unless…

“(Y/n).” The realization hits him like a fucking truck. You’re the only person who could possibly know, the only person who could possibly figure out his identity simply from the sound of his voice.

Lips slanting upward, you raise an eyebrow menacingly at him. “Surprise.”

Bruce doesn’t like showing emotion. You know this better than anyone. He doesn’t like letting someone know that they’ve managed to get under his skin. But you’re different. He’s very aware how easily you can read him, micro expressions and all. So, he deems, there’s little to no point in trying to conceal his shock.

Glancing at the cypher in your hand, and then back up to your face, the pieces click instantly. The Riddler had mentioned something about an accomplice, taunted Bruce about having someone from his past. She belongs to me, he’d said.

He never once thought he could mean you. His best friend.

Bruce’s deep blue orbs observe. He’s watching you, you can feel it with every fibre in your being. But unlike you expected, there’s no judgement that passes through his gaze. Even worse, there’s a flicker of pity. Regret.

You take your turn to take him in. His eyes won’t meet your own, and you know he feels bad, guilty even. For what, you’re not quite sure, but whatever it is, it’s written all over his face.

Even with a mask, you can still read him like a book.

“Don’t.” Your tone is threatening, but behind the bravado is the scared child you used to be. The one that maybe you still are…

His eyes narrow in thought. “I never said anything.”

You hum, a venom seeping passed your lips. “You didn’t have to.”

A lull drags through the air, thick and poignant. Conversation was never your strong suit. Nor was it Bruce’s.

“I want to fix this.” He says finally.

“Fix it?” You question, a scoff bubbling in your throat. “Or make it go away? Isn’t that the Wayne way? Making problems disappear?”

The pitch in his voice raising ever so slightly, he says, “Jesus (Y/n). You’re not a fucking problem.”

He watches as your eyes roll in disgust, moments ticking by slowly. You’re annoyed.

You decide to challenge him. “Then what am I?”

“Not this.” He answers, ever the son of a politician.

“How vague.” You tsk, picking your nails in disinterest. “Not this.” You imitate the deep chortle of his voice, eyeing him with contempt. It almost makes you laugh. “Fucking what I am?”

Bruce decides to push it. “Not what he made you.” He pauses. “You’re my best friend.”

“Liar, Bruce,” You hum. The use of present tense is comical. “No more lies….”

“(Y/n).” His attempts are starting to wear you down, but you’re not quite ready to give in yet.

“You’re not him.” He says. “You don’t have to sound like him.”

“No,” you seethe. He’s hit a sore spot. “I’m not.”

You’d always worried that if anyone found out about you, The Riddler’s second in command, they’d accuse you of being a poser, a simple follower. But you’re much more than that.

“Come back to me,” Bruce urges. “You don’t have to be what he wants you to be. You can just be yourself.”

Be yourself? The thought sounds so ludicrous. For months you’d been at Edward’s side, being exactly who he wanted you to be. You’d lost sight of the woman you once were, too focused on the task at hand: destroying Gotham.

Bruce always made you feel sane. He never once tried to change you, making you feel safe in who you were. He was always good to you, unlike most of the people in this godforsaken city. Until he wasn’t. Until he shut you out.

He started keeping secrets, becoming more and more quiet as the days passed. You felt like you had lost him…lost the only person who made you feel whole.

Your thoughts bombard you, harshly and suddenly. Tears prick the corner of your eye. Why were you even doing this?

For Edward, you say to yourself in disgust. Is that the only reason you’re truly doing all this?

Bruce’s pleading cuts through the static of your mind. “Please (Y/n).” The look in his eyes plunges like a dagger to your soul. “You can come home.” This might just be the first time you’ve heard him beg.

Your home was never a place, you realize. It has always been him.

Tears begin to fall down your cheeks, the emotions overwhelming you. “Home.” You choke out with a nod of your head. “I want to go home.”

Knees sinking to the ground as sobs rack through your body, Bruce follows your every move, almost as if he knows what you’re going to do before you even think of doing it.

Allowing yourself to reach for him, kneeling into each other, your breathing slows to a content pace. In and out. A second passes. Two. Then three.

And all you can think is: maybe all roads do lead back to him.

Bruce Wayne.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #battinson x reader #battinson x y/n #battinson x you #batman x reader #the batman #the batman x reader #the batman x you #battinson!bruce x reader

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salemwritesxx · 4 years ago

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𝓷𝓸 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰.

𝔹 𝔸 𝕂 𝕌 𝔾 𝕆 𝕌 𝕂 𝔸 𝕋 𝕊 𝕌 𝕂 𝕀

⇴ male reader [pro-hero] ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ summary: You are Katsuki’s little secret, since he can’t be open about your relationship. Inevitably, all falls apart eventually when you want to attend the pride parade in Tokyo and you want Bakugou to come with you.

↣ rating: general audiences ↣ warnings: bakugou being insecure about his sexuality, an argument/fight break-up in the beginning but fluffy at the end, coming out, fluff

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“I just don’t understand why you won’t come with me?!”

“You know damn fucking well why!”, Katsuki argued back, his already loud voice reaching it’s peak. You had been fighting for quite some time.

“I just don’t know why the fuck you keep being so… stubborn! UGH!”, you really had to hold yourself back to not punch the next wall, thus you went away from the situation into the living room. Katsuki, however, following you immediately.

“You knew when we started dating that I… I can’t be open about this stuff!”, he screamed again, though became quieter at the end. His stiff shoulders relaxing a little when he sighed.

“Why can’t you understand and fucking respect that??”

“Look!”, you suddenly stood up again, meeting him eye to eye, “I understand, okay?! I know not everyone can be open, but fuck- Katsuki. It’s been almost a year since we started dating??”

You sighed and rubbed over your face before falling back into the couch.

“I just thought this time around I could already openly show my affection towards you.”

Bakugou felt guilty and bad. He knew he wasn’t easy to date. Always being cautious no one would see or notice. Always hiding. Just so no one would find out Bakugou Katsuki was into men. He knew he hurt you.

“I’m sorry, okay? But I can’t…”, he barely mumbled, then also sighed.

“Okay. Fine.”, and Bakugou really thought that’s it when you said that, but…

“And I am sorry but I can’t continue this relationship.”

And it truly was like someone punched him in his face and kicked him in his balls all at the same time.

“Wha- Wai- I- What?”, he stammered, ruby eyes widened.

“You heard me. I’m sorry. But I am done being treated like your dirty little secret.”, you said, and with that, you stood up and walked past him.

----

“HEEYY BRO!”, your friend shouted while semi-walking and kind of dancing towards you with two alcoholic drinks in his hand.

The music was loud. The temperature gruesome. But seeing so many people, proud and happy, made you also happy. It was also a nice way to try and forget what happened last week, the inevitable break up with your boyfriend… and you really thought you could give him strength to come out eventually.

“Thanks, Aki.”, you said, more shouted against the music, when he gave you something to drink.

While faking a small smile, you watched as he danced back into the crowd as you just walked on the sidelines, wishing that you could have brought Bakugou with you and just enjoy this moment. How much you yearned to just drink and be cute with your boyfriend during this parade so everyone could see and he wouldn’t care.

But it wasn’t that simple and it wasn’t your responsibility to force him out of the closet. But… it WAS your responsibility to do what was best for yourself and you knew you couldn’t keep on waiting.

Bakugou knew he had to do something. He loved you. And he wasn’t willing to give up on you or the relationship you had. Katsuki wanted to be together with you. He also knew very well that he shouldn’t be hiding anymore. He had been scared people wouldn’t want to be saved by him anymore, that his career as a hero would die if he was open about his sexuality, but… you had always been open. And yet, you were, just like him, in the Top Ten of Japan’s Pro-Heroes and there had never been an instance where someone commented on your sexuality negatively.

Maybe, he just lied to himself. People were much more accepting, even praising you for being an idol to young queer kids. But, for him, not wanting people to know you were together was safer than having to break up and explain things, yet… Katsuki was ready to get you back and tell everyone he loved you. No more hiding. No more lies. Just being honest and open and vulnerable.

But for god’s sake getting through this fucking crowd was almost impossible.

“Fucking Jesus, where the hell are you?!”, he growled to himself while hastily looking around. So many people. How did he think he was able to find you in such a big parade?

And it was so damn hot, too. Ugh! Why couldn’t he realize all of these things a few days ago, then he could have easily walked up to your door and talk to you, but no. Then again, Bakugou DID want to prove to you he was ready to change, so there was no better place than during this parade. Though, if he couldn’t find you, everything was in vain.

“KitKat…”

When he heard those words, a jolt went through his body, making Katsuki stand there stiffly for a few seconds, just to slowly turn around in the end. There was only one person who was able to utter this nickname without getting murdered.

You stared at him in disbelief just as much as he stared back at you with wide eyes and in shock. He wasn’t prepared to suddenly be found and not be the one finding you.

“What are you do-“, you wanted to ask, however, were interrupted by Bakugou sprinting towards you and into your arms. And it felt right holding him again – fuck.

“Wait, Kat-“

But before you could say anymore, he had grabbed your neck and pulled you towards him, connecting your lips in the middle of the streets while people were walking past you. Some even cheering and howling while doing so.

It was just a short kiss, before he pulled back to look into your [eye.color] eyes.

“I love you, [Your.name]. And I’m sorry. I know you deserve better, like fuck, look at me. I am trash.”

“You’re hot trash though.”, you teased him with a grin, thankfully making him snort and playfully punch you.

“I will be open. No more hiding. Life’s too fucking short to worry about what others think. Sorry it took so long to understand. Can you forgive me?”

The music was still blasting, the crowd cheering, yet, you heard him perfectly and it really warmed your heart. Thus, with a smile on your lips, you nodded.

“Yeah. Forgiven and Forgotten.”

So, you pulled him closer, your arms wrapped around his smaller frame as your lips collided once more, not caring about anything or anyone other than the man in your arms. And for Bakugou it wasn’t any different. He had never cared about anyone before, about their presumptions about him becoming a villain with his quirk, or him not being suited to be a hero, so why was he so hung up about being gay? Fuck it if anyone knew.

He wasn’t going to hide in any closet ever again.

And as he grabbed your hand to march alongside you while singing and drinking – Katsuki knew it was the right decision and he would never regret it.

---

The next morning, he found himself hugged against your body while your head was snuggled into his pecs, which elicit a small snort from him. Yeah… waking up like that was something he had missed the last week. As he looked to the side though, Katsuki saw his phone blinking and lighting up wildly – something was going on.

And soon, he found out what had been going on. His agency was calling and he was tagged in way too many Twitter posts, because someone had snapped a photo of him and you yesterday during the pride parade, embraced and kissing. This was now going around the internet. But for once, he didn’t give a fuck about it.

Instead, he fueled the fire when he flopped back into the bed and snapped a photo of himself, flipping them off and with you visibly cuddling him. His caption: Just woke up like this. Happy Pride Month, fuckers!

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: happy pride month y’all, let’s be loud and proud of who we are 🌈 usually I believe baku wouldn’t give two fucks about what others think about him, but for the sake of this story I might have made him a bit ooc

#salemswriting.#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x male reader #bnha x male reader #bakugou x you #gay pride #male reader

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skiller0dani · 4 years ago

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Intoxicated | Klaus Hargreeves

M A S T E R L I S T TUA Masterlist

smut | teen!klaus x teen!reader requests info w.c | 8.9k summary | you fell in love with klaus when you were teenagers. but after he continues to relapse, you lose faith that he will get clean. when you see him again as an adult, has anything changed?

The first time you properly met Klaus you were both around 17, and he was slumped against the wall of an alleyway. His face was bare of facial hair, and he looked far too boyish for a needle to be still in his arm. You were only out looking for him as a favor to Allison, whom you’d known since you were both children. You never paid much attention to Klaus, or any of her other siblings but after hours of incessant begging you’d finally agreed to go look for him. You still remembered her frantic voice over the phone.

“Please? If my Dad notices Klaus is gone he’ll lock him up in the Mausoleum to dry him out.”

You might not care much for Klaus or his drug habit, but you couldn’t just let Mr. Hargreeves lock him up so that ghosts can torment him while he sobers up. You know Allison is just protecting him, but you can tell even she is starting to lose faith in Klaus. It’s honestly sort of heartbreaking. But hopefully if you get him back in time, maybe you can get him sober enough to fool Mr. Hargreeves into thinking Klaus finally cleaned up.

“Klaus!” You rush to him immediately, carefully pulling the needle out of his arm. You tuck it into your bag so that Grace can help you and Allison figure out what Klaus took. You trust that Grace wont tell Mr. Hargreeves, the only thing more powerful than the programming is her desire to protect her children. His eyes are barely open when he smiles at you, his pupils blown wide open. You brush his hair out of his face, his palm twitching in yours as you take his hand to pull him to stand.

“Can you stand?” You ask him, watching as his arm limply falls from your hand.

“You’re not really here, you’ve never even looked at me twice…” Klaus mumbles through a slack jaw. That’s when his eyes roll back.

“Klaus?” You gently slap his cheeks, trying to get his attention. You sigh deeply, worried when you see his eyes roll again behind closed eyelids. Is he seizing? His body jerks once before sliding further down the wall. You know you can’t leave him here, but you also know that you need Luther to come get Klaus, you can’t move him.

“Please don’t move, I’ll be right back.” You say hurriedly, cupping his cheeks to force him to look at you. Klaus grunts in what you can only hope is an acknowledgement that he heard you before you’re standing and sprinting for the Academy. By the time you’d reached your destination and had delivered your convincing argument to Luther, it’d been 45 minutes. You lead the way back to Klaus praying to God that he was exactly where you’d left him, but you doubt it. Sure enough, when you turned the corner into the alley, Klaus was nowhere to be seen.

“Shit!” You cursed, a panicked glint in your eyes as you helplessly turned to Luther.

“Please help me find him.” You plead, grasping desperately onto his arm. Luther has what you can only describe as a scowl on his face as he turns to you.

“I’m not doing this again.” He snapped.

“What do you mean?”

“Getting invested in Klaus’s recovery, I’m not doing it again. Letting myself believe that he could get clean only leads to more disappointment when he eventually uses again.” You can see layers of old scars in his eyes, reflections of all the times Klaus has relapsed and let his siblings down.

“Luther I get it, really I do. But right now Klaus is God knows where, and when Reginald realizes-” The mention of his father causes Luther to stiffen considerably. Deep down Luther knows that Klaus wouldn’t have substance abuse issues if he didn’t spend half his childhood locked in that damn Mausoleum being tormented by the dead.

“Let’s just find him quickly.” You nearly celebrate when Luther finally relents but you don’t, instead you immediately start searching the surrounding streets and alleys in search of your resident junkie. You doubt Klaus could go very far, he’d been in really bad shape when you saw him last. He could hardly sit up let alone walk, did he crawl?

“Found him!” You hear Luther call, and when you turn you see Luther standing with Klaus slung over his shoulder at the end of the alleyway. Klaus has the hint of a smile on his face as Luther hauls him back, and you’d almost say Klaus looks entertained. Although, it could be the hallucinations making him smile like that. By the time you’d arrived back at the Academy, the mysterious needle you’d taken from Klaus’s arm earlier had been thoroughly tested by Grace.

“It’s heroin.” Allison’s shaky voice came from the doorway of Klaus’s bedroom. You turned to look at her, watching as nothing but anger fills her eyes.

“He promised me that he’d never done any hard drugs, he promised it was just weed and painkillers! And he’s injecting heroin?” You can tell that she really is hurt, you can see the betrayal in her eyes before she’s turning out of his room.

“Allison-”

“No, I won’t watch him slowly kill himself. In 2 weeks when we finally turn 18 he’ll be gone anyway. Don’t forget to invite me to his funeral.” She snaps, wiping her eyes before slamming his door shut. It was then that you’d decided not to give up on him, because the second everyone lost faith in him was the second they signed his death certificate. Loving an addict is harder than you would think, but you were willing to be Klaus’s person, so long as he was dedicated to getting better. If Klaus gives up on himself, then there’s no point. So you sat on the edge of his bed and used a rag to wipe away dried vomit on his face and neck, plus you dabbed at a closing gash on his head which was still bleeding a little.

“Y/N?” You hear him mumble, and when you look up at him again you see his eyes have cracked open. You brush his hair off his forehead, and the look in his eyes has your entire body heating up. It’s not a particularly provocative look, more of a hungry curiosity. There was still gentleness there, and a sincerity beneath it all. All his siblings have given up on him at this point, and deep down you think Klaus knows that. They’ve reached the point that the next time Klaus goes missing, they won’t look for him or even worse- they won’t even realize he’s gone. The thought breaks your heart.

“Hi.” You can’t think of anything else to say. Klaus reaches one hand up to wind into your hair, a sly smile crossing onto his face.

“Can’t say I remember the last time we properly spent quality time together.” He raises one brow, his hazel eyes twinkling mischievously.

“That’s because we never have.”

“What a shame.” The smug smile on his face makes your cheeks heat up embarrassingly. You feel all mushy in his presence.

“You have to get clean before Reginald gets home tomorrow.”

“Oh wouldn’t want to disappoint daddy dearest.” You can practically taste the sarcasm in his tone, but still he keeps that damn smile stretched across his face.

“He’ll lock you away if he finds out, stop pretending like this isn’t a big deal.” You sigh, standing to find him clean clothes. Klaus pushes himself onto his elbows, his head is swimming. The nausea twisting his gut is hard to ignore, but watching you bend over in those tight jeans has him ignoring the discomfort. He wouldn’t miss the show for anything.

“Enjoying yourself?” You ask him once you notice him staring. You use snarky comments to hide how flushed you are, how flustered you are from the heat in his gaze.

“Enjoying the view.” Is all Klaus says, and you know he can see how red your cheeks are. You shake your head as you toss clean clothes at him, quickly diverting your eyes when he begins to undress with you still in the room.

“Jesus, warn me next time!” You squeak as you turn your eyes to the ground when he tosses his dirty pair of tight jeans at you along with his shirt. You hear the zipper of his tight black jeans pull up and that’s when you decide it’s safe to look. When you eye him again, he’s sitting up on the bed pulling his shirt on over his head.

“What’s the fun in that?” Despite his snarky comebacks and the smirk on his face, you can tell he doesn’t feel good at all. There are bags under his eyes and he winces every time he moves. You place a hand on his shoulder when he tries to stand, a look he can’t quite read on your face.

“I’m gonna make you something to eat, please don’t go anywhere.” The genuine fear in your eyes as you look down at him has Klaus rooted to the bed. Suddenly a fear of letting you down cripples him then, and he can only manage a nod before you’re leaving the room.

The first time you saw Klaus overdosing you had come home from work early. It was a few months since you and Luther found him in that alleyway, and he’d made no attempts to clean up. Of course you thought he was clean and attending meetings. Klaus knew you’d be heartbroken if you knew the truth, and he was borderline worried you’d kick him out if you knew he spent most of the day high. If he knew that you’d fallen head over heels for him, he wouldn’t be worried about being kicked out. Klaus was clean the first week he moved in with you, but then came the ghosts. Their voices echoing in his head, their bloodied and battered bodies plaguing his every waking moment. He had clamped his hands over his ears to try and block them out, and he actually endured the tortuous voices for 17 hours before he gave in and popped some oxy.

“Klaus I’m back-'' Before you could finish whatever you were saying you spotted him lying unconscious on the living room floor. You dropped a glass platter and everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. You immediately scrambled towards him as the glass shattered everywhere. Your hands cupped his cheeks as tears filled your eyes, and you could not stop shaking.

“K-Klaus?” You gasped, shaking his shoulders to no avail. His body was practically lifeless, and his skin was almost gray and colorless. You lifted his wrist to check his pulse, and nearly burst into tears of relief when you felt a pulse but it was fading fast.

“Damnit Klaus!” You sobbed to yourself, leaning down to see if he was breathing. You held your breath, and prayed you would hear his faint breath. When you didn’t, it felt like you had been plunged into cold water. The panic struck you deep in your chest and you quickly sat up to perform CPR. You tilted his head back as the tears flowed down your cheeks, and you quickly started compressions. You reached into your pocket to press the stupid little life alert button you’d purchased when Klaus moved in. In moments like this you knew you needed a quick way to call an ambulance. You listened for his breathing once more, and cried softly when you still didn’t hear any breathing.

“Klaus please, please.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for, but you were so desperate for him to be okay that you couldn’t think straight. You continued compressions and then breathing into his mouth for 10 minutes before the emergency services arrived. They nearly had to pry you off him before shoving a breathing tube down his throat, and injecting him with something in a syringe. You’d climbed into the ambulance next to Klaus, his hand held tightly in yours. He looked lifeless in the hospital room, his eyes were closed and there were tubes sticking out of him. The steady beeping from the monitor was your only clue that his heart was still beating. You called his siblings, but after 5 hours you figured they weren’t going to come, you doubt they’d even listen to the message. Underneath the fear there’s anger, so much anger. How could he do this to you? He lied to you. He said he was clean! Did he ever attend a meeting or was that just a lie to go get more weed and pills?

“Hey you.” You hear his raspy voice from beside you. Once he started breathing on his own again they replaced the breathing tube for oxygen in his nose. The doctors said they would need to keep him here until he completely detoxed. There are tears welling in your eyes and you refuse to meet his eyes, you’re upset and he knows that.

“Baby I’m sorry.” Klaus tries, his hand reaching out for yours. You keep your arms folded as a tear finally falls down your cheek. Klaus hates seeing you cry and he hates even more that he is the reason you’re crying. You weren’t entirely surprised to hear him call you baby, you and Klaus have gotten close during the time he’s been living with you.

“Please look at me.” Klaus begs, a break in his voice that lets you know he has tears in his eyes. You lifted your gaze to meet his, and you see how sick he looks. His skin is gray, his eyes are sunken in and they have bags under them.

“How could you? You lied to me.” Your voice is soft, broken. This is the first time Klaus has truly let you down and you can’t help but wonder if this is how his siblings have felt every time he’s let them down. You see guilt flash in his eyes, the look in your eyes is worse than any other look Klaus has received from his brothers and sisters.

“What if I didn’t get off work early? Then you’d be dead Klaus!” You sobbed, tears wracking your body.

“Baby I swear when I get out I’ll get it together. I-I’ll clean up I promise.” A stray tear falls down his cheek and Klaus quickly reaches up to wipe it away. His hands are trembling when they reach for yours again but you still don’t budge.

“No Klaus, you’re going into fucking rehab. I can’t live with the constant fear of coming home and finding you dead. I love you too much to lose you.” The last part slips out by accident, but you can’t take it back. Klaus’s eyes widen as another tear trails down his cheek, and this time he doesn’t wipe it away.

“You love me?” How could he not know? You laugh bitterly as tears continue to cascade down your cheeks.

“Yes I do, and if you give even half a damn about me you’ll check into rehab.” You beg, your watery eyes finding his. Klaus lays his head back, his own teary eyes looking up to the ceiling before they close and he takes a deep breath.

“I love you so fucking much, so I’ll do it. For you.” Klaus finally whispers, reaching for you one last time and this time, you take his hand.

“Please tell me you’re going to take this seriously. Please? I-I can’t lose you.” You beg a few days later once Klaus was finally cleared to leave the hospital, but he would be going right to rehab. The doctors had him sign a document agreeing to be taken straight to an intensive rehab program as soon as he was released from the hospital. Klaus in all honesty was a tad bit put off by the idea of going into rehab, and was downright terrified of having to deal with the voices. Luckily he had Ben with him to help keep him sane while he was in rehab. Klaus really does love you, and he really does want to give sobriety a shot- but only for you.

“I promise, I already said I was really going to try.” Klaus sighed, turning his gaze down to look at you.

“You have no idea what that was like for me Klaus. Coming home to your lifeless body, I-I thought you were fucking dead.” You snapped, looking away from him as tears build in your eyes again. You’re so sick of crying. You feel his fingers grasping your chin, turning your head to look at him.

“I’m not dead baby, I’m here. I’m gonna get clean, and I’m gonna stay clean. I promise.” Klaus whispered before pressing his lips against yours. What you didn’t know then was that Klaus would be making that promise a hundred more times, and he’d be breaking it a hundred times. Deep down he didn’t want to get clean, he didn’t care enough about himself to try. The dead were too overwhelming, too scary, too much. Klaus couldn’t handle it, he didn’t want to. What he wanted was to be completely numb. The kiss was watery, but you pressed against him with such ferocity you almost took him by surprise.

“Mr. Hargreeves? The van is here.” A nurse says, clearing her throat awkwardly from the door. Klaus breaks the kiss first, his forehead pressed against yours. You can’t stop the tears as they trail down your cheeks. You sling his bag over your shoulder as the two of you head outside together. You see a man in scrubs take Klaus’s bag as other patients from the hospital pile into the van.

“I’ll only be gone for 3 months. Be back in a flash.” Klaus smiles, but the mischievousness doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I love you.” You whisper as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.” Is the last thing you hear him whisper before he’s climbing into the van.

Klaus’s sobriety didn’t last long after rehab. Sure he’d attended all the group therapy sessions, and the annual detox therapy, he saw his therapist and followed the steps. He’d gone through the entire agonizing process of detoxing from the drugs. He wanted to be better, but then the voices came once more. Wailing in his ear about how desperately they wished to be alive, all the horrible details of their death, all the people they left behind. Ben tried to talk Klaus through it, to help him embrace his powers rather than reject them. But when Klaus sat straight up in bed, your sleeping body next to him and a thousand desperate voices screaming in his head he couldn’t take anymore.

“Don’t do this.” Ben pleaded, although he sounded defeated more than desperate. But Klaus’s shaking hands were already reaching for the closest pair of pants, which happened to be one of your skirts. Klaus was way more than itching for a fix, he was downright clawing for one. His eyes were wild as he stood up slowly, careful not to wake you up.

“She trusts you Klaus.” Ben tries again, he’s begun resorting to guilt tripping to keep Klaus sober. For the last few days it’s seemed to work, but Ben doubts it’s going to work now. Klaus is too far gone. “That isn’t going to last forever, eventually she will give up on you.”

“Shut up.” Klaus hisses, pulling sneakers on before turning for the door of the apartment. Ben appears in the doorway of the staircase, and Klaus raises a brow.

“Save whatever speech you have planned, I need it now.” Klaus says desperately, walking down the stairs- through Ben.

“Screw you Klaus, you’re taking advantage of her!” Ben snaps, you may not know Ben is around but he’s gotten to know you. He cares about you, in a sisterly way, and he hates seeing Klaus take your love and throw it away.

“Shut the hell up Ben.” There is genuine anger in Klaus’s tone now, his fists clenched as he continued towards where his normal dealer hangs out. Ben doesn’t particularly like hurting Klaus, but dammit someone has to stop him from destroying his own life.

“If you really cared about Y/N, you’d turn around and go home. She’s still laying in bed, thinking you’re next to her. How amazing is it that she wants you to be next to her, and you don’t seem to care at all. If I was alive, I’d love her right.” Ben yells, and this causes Klaus to freeze.

“Like hell you could! Y/N only wants me.” Klaus insists, but Ben can see the insecurity swirling in his eyes.

“For how long? When she realizes you relapsed again she isn’t going to want anything to do with you. Or you could go home Klaus, and put her first for once.” Ben says, his voice calmer this time. Tears well in Klaus’s eyes, he loves you more than anything on this whole planet.

“I’m sorry, I need it.” Klaus whispers before turning down the alley to see his dealer. This time, Ben doesn’t follow him. He can’t watch Klaus overdose again, he can’t watch him throw you away for drugs.

The first time you have sex with Klaus, he was high. You don’t know that, and Klaus knows exactly how you’d react if you did. It was a month since Klaus had gotten out of rehab, and you believed it also signaled a month of sobriety for him. In reality, Klaus hadn’t even made it a week before he relapsed after rehab. You wanted to celebrate with him, to do something nice for him. Ben watched you light candles while Klaus took a “nap”. It made him sick to see you do so many nice things for Klaus, while Klaus was really shooting up in your shared bathroom. You’re out here setting up something nice to celebrate Klaus’s sobriety, and he’s injecting heroin into his veins. It truly does make Ben sick. You lit the last candle, and when you reached up to remove your robe and reveal your lingerie- Ben disappeared. He isn't a pervert, he knew where this was going.

“Klaus?” You called nervously, smoothing your babydoll lace as you sat on the bed. You knew you wanted this, you were just nervous. When he emerged from the bathroom, his eyes widened as they landed on your nearly exposed breasts. He’d never seen you so naked before. Klaus swallowed a thick lump in his throat, and suddenly everything felt hotter, and tighter.

“Hey.” Is all he can say before an easy smile makes its way across his face.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on 1 month of sobriety.” You say softly with a smile, and then all the happiness drains away. Klaus feels sick to his stomach as guilt nearly brings him to his knees. You believe in him, and he’s pissing it all away. He wished he was stronger, but he isn’t. Klaus is weak and he isn’t worth it, and soon you’re going to realize that.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Klaus whispers and you shrug with a nervous smile on your face.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, your eyes widening. You’re really putting yourself out there and you can only hope he likes this. Klaus takes a step forward, his hands landing on your hips.

“No baby I do! I love this.” Klaus reassures you, and you feel your cheeks heat up when you see his eyes go wandering down your body. HIs lips lower to yours then and you feel like you’re up in the clouds. Klaus feels his heart breaking with every tender movement, every gentle brush of your fingers through his hair. It’s all he can do but to grab you and press you against his body with a bruising force. The desperation in his movements is what catches you off guard, his hands are hauling your thighs up around his waist. Normally Klaus isn’t this assertive in the bedroom, but he needs to feel your skin against his. He needs to know you’re here with him, because soon you won’t be. He knows that.

It’s not long before you’re undressed and your legs are spread open for him, and Klaus has no idea what he ever did to deserve you. Deep down he knows he doesn’t, you deserve someone like Ben. Maybe that’s why what Ben said really struck a nerve, because deep down Klaus knows if Ben were alive- you’d choose him. You’d never choose Klaus if he were being compared to Ben. Klaus grasps his cock in his hand before guiding the head into your tight opening, and when he pushes into you- it feels like absolute heaven. But there’s only one thought on Klaus’s mind, I don’t deserve this.

The second time you see Klaus overdose, it’s the morning after the best night of your life. It’s the morning after you sleep with him, the morning after you feel truly connected to him like you’re one. You stretched with a yawn, a smile on your face as your hand reaches over to where Klaus is sleeping next to you. When your hand finds cold sheets your eyes blink open, he’s already awake?

“Klaus?” You call softly, waiting for a response. When you don’t get one you finally drag yourself out of bed, you enter the living room. Again no sign of Klaus whatsoever. Panic creeps into your chest then, he’s just out getting coffee or something to surprise you. You bite nervously at your nails before you turn back to your room to push into the bathroom. The sight before you draws a gasp from you. Klaus is slumped against the wall, his arm still on the toilet with the tourniquet around his arm. The needle is on the lid of the toilet next to his arm, and you immediately rush towards him.

“What have you done?” You whisper desperately, reaching for the life alert you have in the bathroom. You have one in every room in your apartment, which at the time felt like overkill but now looking back on it you’re happy you did. You pull Klaus to lay on his back, yanking the tourniquet off his arm. You try to feel for a pulse, and much to your horror you don��t feel a pulse. You frantically press your ear to his chest, his heart isn’t beating.

“Oh my God Klaus!” You nearly scream in horror, balling your fist up and slamming it down on his chest as hard as you can. You continue to do this, tears cascading down your cheeks. He’s dead, his heart isn’t beating.

“Klaus, why? You said you were sober!” You scream in pure emotional agony. You hardly notice when the paramedics arrive until they pull you away from him.

“H-his heart isn’t beating. Please help him.” You beg as they rush him out of the apartment, but this time...you don’t go with him. You’ve finally reached the point all of Klaus’s siblings reached, the point where you just can’t take being let down anymore. You believe in him, you feel hopeful. Then you feel lower than low when you realize he relapsed again, you can’t do this anymore. You can’t take the let down anymore.

It’s a few days before you go see Klaus in the hospital, and you know what you have to do but you’re not sure you have the strength to do it. Klaus is sitting in bed, eating chocolate pudding, and this time he looks worse than last time. He glances up at you when you come in, and he has to do a double take.

“Baby-”

“Please don’t. I don’t want to hear your excuses, or your promises to get clean.” You interrupt, and it’s only just now that he notices a suitcase in your hand. There are tears endlessly falling down your cheeks, and inside you feel completely dead. Klaus knows what the suitcase is for, he knows that you’ve lost faith in him. Just like Ben predicted you would, but despite the fact that this is all Klaus’s fault...Ben still sits nearby with a look of sadness upon his face.

“What’s the suitcase for?” Klaus brings himself to ask the dreaded question even though he already knows the answer. You swallow a lump before depositing the suitcase on a chair at the end of his bed.

“That’s all your stuff. D-Don’t come back to my apartment. Don’t call. I can’t be with you like this.” You cry, watching as the broken look on your face crosses onto Klaus’s.

“Baby please don’t do this. Just give me another chance, I’ll stay clean this time-” But you’re already shaking your head, taking slow steps back towards the door.

“We’re over Klaus. I’m done. I can’t be terrified of finding your dead body, I can’t wonder where you are at night or where you’re going when you sneak out. I can’t live like this anymore, I don’t want to live like this.” You sob, your shoulders shaking as you cry softly.

“Please don’t give up on me, not you.” Klaus pleads, and the look in his eyes nearly makes you change your mind, But then you remember where he is, that he did this to himself. You shake your head.

“You’ve given me no choice Klaus! I can’t take it anymore, I can’t handle anymore heartbreak.” You snap, tears heavy on your cheeks.

“I can get my shit together, I can!” Klaus pleads as your hand finds the door handle. He can’t lose you, not you. Anybody but you.

“I know you can, but I can’t wait around wondering if you’ll get your shit together before you overdose and die. I can’t wait around hoping the latter will come first. Goodbye Klaus.” You open the door and step into the hallway.

“No, Y/N please. I love you.” You hear Klaus call before you’re closing the door behind you. Your heart shatters as you do, and continues to shatter as you walk away.

Despite what you said, he called. He called over and over again and even came to your apartment. You remember him knocking and begging you to open the door, you had slid down the wall sobbing softly with your hand over your mouth. You love Klaus more than you’ve ever loved anyone, but you can’t watch him die. You can’t. You had to let him go and hope that someday he gets clean, and that he stays clean. You hope that someday he finds something or someone to stay clean for. Clearly, you weren’t enough.

“Please open the door, I know you’re in there.” Klaus begs, leaning against the closed door.

“She’s crying. I don’t think she’s going to open the door.” Ben says, poking his head through the door to look at you. His heart breaks for you, he tried to warn Klaus this was going to happen.

“I love you Y/N, just give me one more chance please.” Klaus tries again but you stay rooted to the floor, your body shaking through the tears.

“You’re hurting her Klaus.” Ben says softly, and Klaus finally takes a step away from the door with a look of realization on his face. He is hurting you. You don’t want him here, and as much as that kills him it’s the truth. The longer he sits here in the hallway, the more you’re going to cry. He has to let you go. He quickly wipes away falling tears before slinging his bag over his shoulder. Klaus leans down to slide something under the door before heading back down the stairs, and this time he isn’t going to be coming back. You turn to see a piece of paper with a plastic bag sitting on your kitchen floor. You lift the bag, and inside it is a necklace. It’s a silver heart with diamonds along the side, but on the inside is a rose made out of rose gold. You feel tears drifting down your cheeks as you turn to the note.

“Happy 1 Year Anniversary. I love you. -K”

You collapse to the floor, clutching the necklace and the note to your chest tightly. You never thought you would lose him, actually you were stupid enough to believe you could save him from himself. But you can’t save him, you never could. No matter how much you love him, it’s time to let him go and you can only hope that the next time you see him isn’t at his funeral.

-9 Years Later-

The letter clutched in your hand was one you never thought you’d be receiving. It’s from Allison, saying that her father died so she’s in town. You can’t fight the excitement you feel upon realizing you’re probably going to see her soon. You missed her. The prospect of running into Klaus crosses your mind, but c’mon what are the chances he’ll even show up? His father locked him in a Mausoleum for most of his childhood, you know for a fact that Klaus has no love for Reginald. You’re surprised Allison is going, but then again Reginald always did his little “experiments” on Klaus. Never the others. Besides Vanya, he treated Klaus the absolute worst. So you seriously doubt Klaus will turn up, plus you’ll only be there for like 10 minutes to see Allison. That’s the only reason you’re standing here, knocking on the door.

“It’s been a while Miss Y/L/N.” Pogo says once the door opens. You smile upon seeing him and can’t help yourself as you stoop down to hug him tightly. You’ve really missed Pogo these last few years. But you had to forget all of this, push it to the back of your mind. Any reminder of Klaus would cause you to collapse into tears, so you couldn’t think about any of it. There were a few times you nearly asked Allison to use her powers to erase your relationship with Klaus from your head. There was a while where you felt like you couldn’t be happy without him, but overall you did fine.

“Oh my God! Y/N!” You hear her before you see her and before you’ve even properly turned around Allison’s arms are winding around you tightly. You feel tears burning the backs of your eyes as you hug her back, it’s so good to see her. When Allison pulls back, her eyes scan your face before flickering behind you.

“Where’s Klaus?” If it were a few years ago, the question would have sent you to your knees in tears. You shake your head with a smile.

“We broke up a few years ago.” The pain behind your eyes is unmistakable. Allison nods before her gaze is flickering down to the necklace secured around your neck.

“Then what’s that?” She lifts the necklace in her hand, the necklace Klaus had slid under your door.

“It’s just a necklace I don’t know what you-”

“I helped him pick it out Y/N. It was the last time I talked to him.” She said and you nod slowly. You hold the metal in your hands, you’ve been wearing it every day since he gave it to you. Clinging to it like it’s the last piece of him you have, which is sort of true. You stole a few t-shirts of his too.

“I was just about to poke around in my Dad’s office, wanna come?” The playful glint in her eyes sends away the tears that were about to spill over your cheeks. You nod instantly, that was the one room they were never allowed to go into. You skip up the stairs behind Allison, running your fingers along the bannister. You remember all the times you ran up these stairs with Allison, either running away from Reginald or Pogo. Or the times you’d gotten hurt and Grace was there to run her fingers through your hair and hold you to her chest, she really was the best mom. She was a mom to you too, your own parents are pieces of shit and the only person you ever really had was Grace.

“Wow, so weird being in here.” You say once you two breach the threshold into the office. It only takes a few seconds for you to hear someone rummaging around in the drawers. You doubt Luther could fit behind the desk without you seeing him so it’s not him, and you just saw Diego in the hallway. Vanya was downstairs last time you checked so that means…

“Klaus?” Allison says it first. Your heart is in your throat as he stands to his full height, which is a few inches taller than the last time you saw him. He has facial hair, he doesn’t look like a boy anymore. He’s really grown into himself, he’s still super skinny though. His fashion style has changed a lot since the last time you saw him. He’s almost sort of feminine now, and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t look hot as hell. His eyes light up upon seeing her, a wide smile stretched across his face. He hasn’t seen you yet, so you’re going to just sneak out. You turn and head for the door when you hear his voice.

“Y/N? That you?” You hear the happiness edging at the tone of his voice. You can’t bring yourself to turn around, you can’t look into his eyes and remember how much you’ve missed him. He’s probably still using and you can’t get sucked into his addiction again. You stay stock still, tears burning at the corner of your eyes as you see him come into your view. He uses two fingers to tilt your chin up, and when you look into his eyes- it’s all over. They’re the same hazel eyes that you remember, the same softness behind them. The tears trickle down your cheeks before you can stop them. You shove past him and out of the room just as Luther comes in, he lights up when he sees you but the look quickly falters when he sees the tears on your face. His gaze trails back to Klaus and then a look of realization finally reaches his eyes.

“You should go after her.” Ben suggests as he moves to sit on Reginald’s desk. Klaus doesn’t say anything as he empties his pockets of things he was planning to sell before Luther caught him.

“Klaus, you're like an open wound for her, fix it. I thought you loved her.” Ben snaps, and this time Klaus glares at him before storming out of the room.

“I do love her.” Klaus snaps back.

“So talk to her and stop being an idiot.” Ben says, and the anger in his eyes is unmistakable. Klaus groans, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“How about, ‘I’m sorry’?” Ben suggests sarcastically. Klaus rolls his eyes. Turning towards the railing of the stairs, Klaus spots you next to a giant window. You’re stood with your arms crossed, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see you.

“Don’t think it’s going to be enough, but I’ll try.” Klaus says softly, looking into Ben’s eyes. Tucking the ornate box he stole from the office into his pants, Klaus makes his way towards you.

“Hey you.” Is all he says, but hearing him say those words with his voice, it’s almost too much. It sends you right back to the first time you saw Klaus overdosing, it’s what he said in the hospital room when he woke up. You push a smile onto your face through the tears.

“Hey.” You wipe away a falling tear as you turn to look at him, and you see his eye fixated on your neck. Klaus reaches up to touch the necklace, there’s a smile on his face.

“You’re wearing it.”

“I never took it off, since you gave it to me.” You admit softly. Klaus looks up to meet your eyes again, and you swear he’s wearing eyeliner. Why is that so hot? Why is him dressing sort of like a woman so damn sexy?

“So, I hate this small talk but how have you been?” Klaus asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You casually wipe away a few tears, pretending that neither of you know why you’re crying. Even though you both know you’re crying because of him, again. What kills you the most is that everything else about him looks different enough for you to convince yourself that it’s a different person. But his eyes are the same. The same soft, puppy like eyes and every time you look into them you see the broken look on his face when you broke up with him.

“Good. I’m good, you?” You and Klaus really did detest small talk, but when it comes to you two you need to take baby steps. Maybe you can be friends but you doubt it, either way you have to take it slow. Really slow.

“I’m great.” He says with a wide smile, you nod once before turning your gaze out the window again. There’s one question poking at your head, refusing to be ignored. So you lick your lips and slowly turn to him.

“Klaus?”

“Hm?”

“Did you have anywhere to go after I...I um-”

“After you kicked me out?” You don’t expect the words to sting so much when he says them, you don’t think he intended to say it bitterly but he did. You nod.

“No I didn’t, but I figured it out.” He says with a shrug. You feel guilty as you look back out the window, and that’s when you notice him inch closer to you.

“I’ve missed you Y/N.” He says softly, turning his body to face yours. You feel tears in your eyes again, you know what he’s doing.

“Don’t.” You say softly, but his arms reach on either side of you to grasp the railing behind you- effectively trapping you in place.

“I really missed you.” Klaus says sincerely, his lips ghosting over yours. It’s too much.

“Stop! We can’t do this again Klaus.” You gasp, shoving him away from you. Klaus’s eyebrows knit together, but you know he really isn’t surprised.

“Baby I’m different now, I won’t let you down again-”

“Really? Then what’s this?” You snap as tears drift down your face. You grasp the bracelet on his wrist, the bracelet from rehab next to the one from the emergency room. You see him shrink in on himself, knowing that he had in fact been caught.

“After all these years and you’re still using, and you overdosed again? Do you know how lucky you are to be alive? Dammit Klaus, I’m not getting pulled into this bullshit again. I can’t.” You yell, crying uncontrollably now.

“But I still love you, I’m so fucking in love with you.” Klaus pleads and you know he means it. The annoying part is that you love him too, there’s never going to be a time in your life that you’re not in love with Klaus. You shake your head, you really wished you could control your damn emotions. You turn to storm down the stairs when you feel his fingers gently close around your wrist.

“I know you love me, you wouldn’t wear that necklace if you didn’t.” Klaus says desperately, a look in his eyes you can’t quite place.

“Please Y/N, just kiss me. One more time, please.” Klaus pleads, and you close your eyes as you release a heavy breath. You grasp onto his shirt tightly before pulling his lips down to meet yours. Klaus sighs happily against your lips as his hands grasp tightly at your own shirt, pulling you as close to his body as you can get. Your lips move against each other, and you can already feel the heat rising. You moan against him when his hand slips between your legs on the outside of your jeans. You pull away from him as he presses his palm against your core.

“W-We can’t do this Klaus.” You gasp, your head tilting back as he grinds his hardening cock against you. He winds his arms around your waist, his lips finding the sweet spot just under your ear. You mewl softly, your hands grasping his shoulders tightly.

“Sure we can, you don’t want a relationship- fine. Doesn’t mean we can’t have a physical relationship.” He whispers, biting at your neck in a way that makes you feel like you’re melting. You sigh softly as his hand slides under your shirt and up your back.

“C’mon baby, let me make you feel good. Use me to get off. Please.” His filthy words send another wave of arousal through you. You look into his eyes and when you see the heat simmering in them, you know you can’t say no.

“God please make me cum Klaus.” You plead hoarsely, and his lips press against yours again. He hauls your legs around his waist as he takes a back hallway to his bedroom. He presses you against the wall outside of his bedroom, grinding his cock up against your core. His lips trail kisses from the corner of your mouth, all the way down the column of your throat. Your head tilts back and hits the wall, your entire body buzzing.

“Just please tell me, are you high right now?” You gasp, his hand toying with the button of your jeans. Klaus hums in thought.

“A little.” He admits, and it definitely bothers you, but you need to cum so damn badly that you don’t care too much. Klaus kicks the door shut behind him before dropping you onto the bed, his hands yanking your shirt over your head.

“Wait, is this my shirt?” He asks, lifting the fabric to inspect it.

“A memento, come here and kiss me.” You plead again, your bra joining his shirt not too long after. Klaus happily obliges, yanking his shirt over his head before his lips are on yours. Your hands find his scarf, which strangely looks good on him before pulling it from around his neck.

“Nice scarf.” You comment against his lips. Klaus’s tongue swiftly enters your mouth and you, honest to God whimper against his lips. No man has ever made you whimper before. Your hands reach down to unbutton his pants, and you begin to push them down his legs. Remarkably, Klaus has managed to keep the giant box tucked into his pants concealed, kicking it under the bed when you look down to help untangle the pants from his ankles. You help peel his pants off before you’re sliding onto the floor in front of him. You pump his cock in your hand a few times before you’re taking him down your throat. Klaus hisses as his head tosses back, and you have to admit that the way he looks sends heat between your legs. His arms holding himself up as his neck is exposed, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving. He looks fucking beautiful. You lick a line up the underside of his cock, you still remember exactly what he likes. That’s honestly a little pathetic, but at this moment you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck baby I don’t remember you being so-” he’s cut off when you suck lightly, and he moans. “-being so good at this.”

He swallows thickly, daring himself to look down at you. The sight before him nearly makes him cum on the spot. You’re looking up at him through your lashes, there are tears in your eyes, and your mouth is stuffed full of his cock. He can see it bulging in your throat. You bob your head up and down his full length, but eventually Klaus yanks you off him by your hair.

“If you don’t stop I’m going to cum and I won’t get hard again.” He growls, pulling your lips against his. Klaus’s hands are quickly unbuttoning your jeans, his hands hooking into the waistband to push them down your legs along with your underwear.

“You’re too clothed.” He mumbles against your lips, you eagerly help him undress you. Klaus gently pushes you back against the mattress to lay underneath you, his hands pressed on either side of your head. His eyes are practically twinkling as he gazes down at you, and there’s a fond smile on his face as his fingers brush against the necklace once more.

“What?” You ask, your cheeks heating up from the look in his eyes.

“Nothing. Just...this is my happy place.” He says and you turn your head away when it starts to feel too emotional.

“This is just sex Klaus remember? We’re not getting back together.” You remind him, and you hate the crushed look in his eyes but he nods.

“Yeah, I remember.” He says softly, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. You moan when you feel his tip sliding against your lips, and just that one sound has reignited the fire in Klaus’s eyes. He reaches down to grasp the base of his cock, watching with nearly sadistic eyes as he teases you by rubbing the head along your entrance.

“Don’t be an asshole.” You groan, your fingers curling around the sheets. Klaus leans down to press his lips against yours before he’s sliding into you in one languid thrust. Your breath catches in your throat as you wind your arms around his shoulders. You’re not as tight as Klaus was expecting, which can only mean one thing. You’ve had sex with somebody else, and deep down Klaus knows that he has no right to be upset about it. But he is, he’s really upset about it. He quickly sets a brutal pace, pinning your arms to the bed as he bites down softly on your lower lip. You wriggle one arm free so you can reach up and grasp tightly onto his neck, your fingers curled around his throat. Klaus’s eyes roll back as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck I missed this.” Klaus groans, his other hand snaking between your bodies to toy with your clit. Klaus has slept with one other person since he was with you, but that was different. It was a man. To Klaus, sex with men is just as good as sex with women but nothing is as good as sex with you. There’s something about you that just makes his toes curl, that edges him a little higher. Maybe it’s because he’s helplessly in love with you, but who knows. Klaus knows he won’t last much longer, especially when you begin to clench around him. He missed being this close to you, feeling one with you. Feeling you. He missed it all, everything about you. He is going to get you back, Klaus has made it his goal to get clean. For you. He never wants to lose you again.

“I missed you,” You gasp, you can’t help it. You did miss him. More than you thought you would, and you thought that time would heal the wound but it didn’t. Actually, the more time that went on the more the wound seemed to open. Klaus continues to push into you roughly, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. You hold his chest tightly to yours, your eyes squeezing shut when his fingers gently pinch your clit. The tidal wave breaks open then and you’re squeezing around him so tightly that it draws a strangled groan from him as you gush around him. You moan obscenely as you cum around him, your hands holding him tightly. Klaus gasps as he thrusts into you roughly before pulling out of you and instantly cumming all over your stomach.

“I needed that.” Klaus sighs happily, standing to clean your stomach off. You watch him toss the tissue in a trash can before reaching around for his clothes.

“Leaving?” You ask in disbelief, he won’t stay with you for a little bit? Klaus leans back over you before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sorry baby, got an errand to run.” He says reaching under the bed to grab the box. Klaus slides the scarf around his neck once more, and when you see the box you know what he’s up to. He’s going to sell it for drug money. He tosses your clothes onto the bed before turning towards the door. Just before his hand tugs the door open, he turns towards you again.

“Be honest with me, do you still love me?” He asks and you bite down on your bottom lip.

“I still love you Klaus.” You admit, watching the small smile on his face.

“I love you too.” And before you know it, he’s out of the bedroom and closing the door behind him. It’s immediate that you should not have had sex with him, you should have said no but you couldn’t. Why?

Because Klaus is your addiction.

#klaus hargreeves smut #tua fanfic #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #tua smut #the umbrella academy smut #luther hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus x reader #klaus x you

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lightblueterracota · 3 years ago

Text

Tenderness, Undescribed

hermitcraft grian x mumbo jumbo. i don’t have a fully established and intricate universe for this storyline, but basically it’s their hermitcraft characters and grian also has wings :^)

another note is this is in no way shipping the irl people, this is absolutely only for their fictional characters! please don’t ship real people and/or harass the actual people behind these characters :)

There’s a certain tenderness to Mumbo that Grian finds fascinating.

For his long legs, clumsy mobility, and dark eyes above a bold mustache, Mumbo is not often associated with the word tender. More often than not, other Hermits know him for being the friendly neighborhood Redstoner that often finds himself in disasterous, life-threatening situations, often needing to call for other Hermits to dive in and save him last second. His general obtuse nature and lack of direction make him seem like a friendly yet out of control aircraft helicoper with styrofoam blades.

But there’s no denying that Mumbo is a genius as well. Almost on par with Doc, Grian would say that Mumbo is one of the brightest people he knows, despite his daftness. Even if he gets his Redstone wiring mixed up terribly sometimes, there’s a brilliance beneath that mustache that shines through everytime Mumbo eagerly invites Grian to his base to show him another massive and impressive machine.

And when he talks about his Redstone -- he’s all over the place. Big gestures and waving arms, loud exclamations of excitement as he eaglerly jumps around and points out each piece of Redstone and its wiring, it’s hard for Grian to keep up sometimes. But there’s something oddly fond whenever Mumbo gets insanely proud of a build, and even if Grian doesn’t understand it 100%, he listens attentively anyway as Mumbo explains it to him.

It’s hilarious, sometimes. Mumbo’s fingers are big and clumsy sometimes, and he struggles with piecing together intricate Redstone wiring that require small pieces. When he’s impatient, sometimes he has to ask Grian’s sharp eagle-eyes to help him piece together a particularly tricky part of a machine, and Grian is more than happy to help.

All in all, while Grian is very fond of Mumbo, he’s not someone Grian would consider gentle and tender.

There was a moment though, when that changed.

It happened on one of Grian’s worst nights. Upon visiting a nearby village, he hadn’t realized that he had accidentally triggered a raid, and at that time he had no combat gear on him. As the mobs swarmed from the hillsides and Grian desperately tried to protect the villagers and herd them indoors, arrows and slashes of melee weapons cut across Grian’s body. Even when he decided to draw back, trying to make his escape by flying away, several arrows were shot into his wings, and he almost didn’t make it.

He was on low health and bleeding when he crash-landed into Mumbo’s base -- the only other person that was also active at that time of night. He had scared the crap out of the man, Mumbo jumping out of his focus on his Redstone as the winged individual crashed through his window, heavily injured and weak.

He was too faint to respond to Mumbo’s frightened, “Jesus, Grian, what happened?!” as he collapsed onto the floor, wings spread across the floorboards of Mumbo’s base. He blearily watched as the man jumped up, immediately rummaging through some storage for healing supplies.

“Your wings,” Mumbo had said, and there was some saddening awe in his voice. “Oh Grian, your wings. They must hurt so bad. Hold on a second.”

Grian didn’t want to think about it. He could feel blood dripping from his wings and could see a few scattered feathers that had fallen off in his crash-landing. His beautiful wings, ruined.

“Can you stand?” Mumbo asked, and Grian was about to protest, when Mumbo continued, saying, “Wait no, you probably can’t. Hold still. I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

Grian cringed, expecting to be hauled like a sack of potatoes and bracing for impact, but was shocked when he felt Mumbo’s gentle hold as the taller hoisted the winged man up, moving him to a nearby bed. Mumbo seemed to be very careful of not brushing his damaged and bleeding wings, gently shouldering Grian so that his limbs were comfortable and his wings had room.

The closeness of Mumbo’s body caught Grian off guard and he silently let Mumbo gently place him down onto the bed. Then Mumbo got to work, grabbing some healing supplies and bandages.

“I’m sorry,” Mumbo warned in advance as he disinfected his own hands, “but there’s a couple of arrowheads still in your wings. I need to take them out before I bandage you. This is going to hurt.”

Before Grian could react, a sharp, excruitating pain blossomed from his left wing as Mumbo carefully removed the sharp object, the scalding pain shooting up his spine. A pained yelp came escaped from Grian, only to be sizzled away by Mumbo’s gentle shushing as he immediately started applying pressure to the wound.

“Shh,” Mumbo said softly, disposing of the arrowhead and cleaning the area. “Shh, I know it hurts a lot. It’s okay. You’re alright, I got you.”

It wasn’t often Grian heard Mumbo speak in such a soft manner. Oddly enough, his words were comforting, settling over Grian’s tired bones like a blanket, and Grian forced himself to relax as Mumbo continued to softly speak some encouragements.

Whimpers of pain continued to come from Grian as Mumbo continued to clean him up, his normally clumsy and large hands now extremely gentle and intricate as he delicately plucked the damage out of Grian’s wings and applied healing salves to his wounds. As Mumbo gently worked through patching up Grian’s wings, he made sure to inspect the rest of Grian’s body carefully, checking for other signs of bleeding and wounds.

Once he was doing bandaging him, Mumbo told him, “Lean back, please.”

Grian obeyed, settling back carefully into the bed and watched as picked up a bottle of healing potion. Grian groaned in protest, not in any mood to digest anything, but Mumbo simply leaned forward to place two fingers underneath Grian’s chin and lifted, making Grian’s mouth aim upwards.

“I know you probably don’t want to drink anything right now, but this will make you feel much better, I promise,” Mumbo said gently as he held Grian’s face up firmly and lifted the cool glass edge of the bottle to his lips. “Please drink.”

A feeling of tenderness, undescribed, washed over Grian as he became acutely aware of Mumbo’s fingers underneath his chin, and the way his thumb barely brushed against his bottom lip.

Too weak to fight against the gentle push of Mumbo’s hands, Grian let Mumbo slowly feed the potion into his mouth, obediently swallowing the restorative liquid. Mumbo let out a pleased hum as he watched Grian consume the potion.

Once Mumbo made sure Grian drank every last drop, he softly released Grian’s chin, letting his face fell back softly.

There was a belated, blurry moment where Grian realized he enjoyed Mumbo’s warm touch on his face.

Falling back into the bed pillows, exhausted, Grian felt his eyes go heavy. It seemed that the healing potion Mumbo fed him had a drowsy side-effect, likely to encourage overnight healing. As sleepiness slowly ebbed over his brain, Grian watched as Mumbo cleaned up, the warm light from the nearby lantern seeming to frame Mumbo in an entirely new perspective.

Who knew Mumbo would have such good bedside manners as a doctor, Grian thought lazily.

“You can sleep here for tonight,” Mumbo said. “I wouldn’t want you flying around in the dark now anyway. Your wings will be okay, they just need some time to heal a bit.”

Oh. Yeah.

“My wings,” Grian whined softly. “They look so damaged...”

“No,” Mumbo cut in gently. “Your wings will be back to beautiful once you rest up for a bit. I promise. You’ll be back to flying in no time, don’t worry.”

“They’re so ugly now,” Grian lamented miserably.

“They don’t,” Mumbo insisted. “You look beautiful right now, Grian, I promise. Now go to sleep.”

Grian knew damn well he was in no good-looking shape. He could still feel the dirt on his face and the way his hair was still curled and messy from crashing. But he was too tired to open his mouth and argue against Mumbo, so Grian let his eyes shut, the last thought drfiting in his mind being:

He thinks I’m beautiful.

After that, Grian could only ever see the tender side to Mumbo.

After nursing him back to health, Grian had thanked him countless times, with Mumbo simply giving him a kind smile and insisting it was no problem. From then on, Grian could only ever see that gentleness in Mumbo, and remember the way he tended to his wounds and cleaned his wings and held his face that night. The kindness and way he had jumped up immediately to take care of Grian. The gentleness and how he soothed his pain.

So maybe to other Hermits, they know Mumbo as a clumsy, bumbling human being.

But to Grian, he knows him as someone tender, undescribed.

#hermitcraft shipping #hermitshipping #grian #mumbo jumbo #grian x mumbo jumbo #grumbo #fanfic

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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ok. karin vs anakin's genome being 50% the Force. go

Jesus fuck, okay. Uh, fair warning, I know very little about this subject, so it’s 90% bullshit. I am in no way qualified to talk about biology past the high school level.

Anakin's sixteen. He's part of a set of Jedi assigned to a weird mission regarding making contact with an isolated planet of near-humans with superpowers but no space travel. He doesn’t really have a Job here and now, he’s just there as Obi-Wan’s plus-one. There's an underlying plot about Sidious trying to acquire people from Ninja Land, but none of the Jedi are fully aware of it. Mostly they're distracted by all the ninjas and their bitching.

They call it the Shinobi Planet, because nobody can agree on a name for the planet when they ask and the last major international alliance was named after the shinobi profession, right? Good enough, you can change it later when you idiots can agree on literally anything, oh my god. The Samurai are very offended and it's a whole thing.

Anakin wanders a lot. He runs into various strange people and is mostly polite because, listen, half his friends are distinctly not human. When your immediate circle includes nautolans and besalisks and twi’leks and whatever the fuck Yoda is, you’re not gonna blink at a Hoshigaki or... uh... okay that kid just turned into a giant fox, is anybody gonna--no? That’s normal? Just him? Cool, cool, cool.

There’s a kage summit involved in the negotiations going on. IDK what’s being negotiated, probably something to get the ninjas to set up a singular spaceport so there’s somewhere to land WITHOUT ships being regularly shot down by village defense systems powered by that massive flaming purple skeleton warrior or the girl who punched down a mountain or the.. the literal desert? There’s a guy that can control the desert? Is there any way of keeping him away from Anakin?

(Gaara’s tickled pink that the reason someone wants to stay away from him has nothing to do with fear or respect for authority, and everything to do with ‘he is also from the desert and fucking hates it, so he’s staying away from the sand powers,’ because it’s very novel and kind of funny.)

ANYWAY where was I. Uh. Right, kage summit, lots of villages, they invite smaller villages to pitch in, but nobody ever ever ever wants Orochimaru anywhere near this situation, for hopefully obvious reasons, so Otogakure sends Karin.

Really, who else was it gonna be? Suigetsu? You want Suigetsu representing you on an interstellar political field? You want Juugo before he’s stabilized? You want Sasuke, master of ruining kage summits? You want these idiots representing you at the big kids’ table?

They send Karin. She’s a bitch with a temper, but at least she’s not as big of a political risk as... literally anyone else from the snakepit.

Anyway, Anakin wanders around, meeting people, trying foods, showing off when asked for demonstrations. He doesn’t have an Entire Protocol Droid, but he did cobble together a little floating helper that can do translations for him. Assume all translations are accurate and being done by the little helper bot. Bot’s name is G1-0T. Anakin calls it Glot.

He runs into Karin at one point, who’s not super into the whole situation, but at least Anakin’s interesting. She’s not interested in him, because he’s sixteen and she’s like... mid-twenties. And his hair is stupid. But! All these force-sensitive people feel weird to her, because sensor stuff, and it’s not chakra but it’s... something. Anakin is, of course, the weirdest.

(There are non-sensitives in the envoy, so she knows it’s not just a space thing.)

She strikes up a conversation about it, because hey, she hasn’t made it this far to not lean into... you know, being the kind of person who barges ahead with Weird Questions that might lead into fun science stuff.

Anakin is like. Well. This woman’s very strange, but it’s not like there’s anything against talking about midichlorians to random people. It’s easy enough to look up in the core. Not everyone knows about them, but it’s not a secret or anything.

“Wow,” Karin says, though not in so many words, “that sounds incredibly strange, and actually a lot like it functions completely differently from chakra, though maybe it intersects with nature chakra somehow. Can I take a blood sample?”

Anakin doesn’t want to give a blood sample to a stranger. Karin isn’t stupid enough to try to steal one. She’s seen what this Force Stuff can do, and this kid’s got a lot of it. She hasn’t got enough information on hand about it to know if he’d notice.

“How about I let you look at the blood of a guy that can turn into water?” Karin asks, because she’s not going to let him look at her blood. “I’ve got it with me.”

“...why?” Anakin asks, reasonably disturbed.

“He owes me,” she says, and does not elaborate.

“What, there’s nothing weird about your blood to share?” Anakin demands, like the ornery little bastard he is.

“People took my blood against my will for over a decade,” Karin says, with the kind of smile that threatens a stabbing. This is not secret information. Her healing factor is in the bingo book. Plenty of people still want her dead. “Nobody gets my blood except me.”

Anakin has no idea what to do with that answer. Most people wouldn’t know what to do with that answer. It’s not exactly a standard answer.

“So there is something weird about your--e chu ta what the fuck are those scars?”

Karin looks at her arm. She looks back at him. She raises an eyebrow.

“What do you think they are?”

He stares a little longer, and then very carefully does not say anything as she pushes her sleeve back down.

“So can I look at your blood?” she asks again.

“Uh--”

“You can look at mine under a microscope,” she wheedles. “You can’t take any, though.”

Anakin... does eventually agree. Eventually.

-----------

There is a very angry redhead yelling at a machine, and Anakin does not know what to do.

“Is something wr--”

“What the fuck is your blood?” she demands. “It’s glowing in ultraviolet. It burned the dye up. I tried to sequence your genome--”

“Woah, I did not agree to that.”

“--and look at this. Look at this!”

“I don’t know how to read your graphs. None of this is a language I know.”

“It’s garbage,” she hisses at him. Glot takes a few moments to process it. “Look at this. This is supposed to--fuck, where’s the Jiraiya file, he’s standard--this is what it’s supposed to look like for most humans with chakra. And this is a civilian, and a few bloodline users--”

“Do you just carry these around with you?”

“Shut up, you don’t exist. You have--you have more in common with summons than people. I ran a blood test on one of your human diplomats, the ones that aren’t monks--”

“When did they agree to that?”

“They didn’t, I’m just sneaky.”

“I should tell Obi-W--”

“STAY THERE, I’M NOT DONE YELLING YET. Do you see this? Do you see this shit? This is the one and only time I’ve managed to perform any kind of analysis on a bijuu. They don’t usually have blood. Shukaku is sand. Matatabi is literally just fire. This was almost impossible to make happen, but I did it because I’m a dedicated biomedical resea--”

“Because you’re unhinged.”

“--rcher, and you know what? You know what I’ve found?”

“What?”

“Your blood looks like you’re half demon,” she says, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking, a little wild-eyed and clearly pissed at him. “Half of it’s human! Half of it looks like the non-physical chakra manifestations that were torn-apart remnants of a godlike demon. The fuckers can’t die. They also can’t breed. They don’t have reproductive organs! This isn’t just demon-tainted like a jinchuuriki, I’ve got that analyzed--”

“Why?”

“Because my cousin’s a moron, don’t change the subject. You--you shouldn’t exist. Your blood is stupid. Fuck, is this what I’d find if I analyzed the Sage of the Six Paths?”

“The what?”

She ignores him, frowning at papers. “Is--I need to call Haruno, she might still have some of Kaguya’s blood dried on her old gloves from the war, I know she kept those as a souvenir from the whole ‘punched a god’ thing.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“There was a thing a few years back, godlike alien demon princess who got sealed into a moon by her sons a thousand years ago, but her immortal sentient goo child brought her back with a giant tree that consumed all the tailed beasts-the flaming fox you saw earlier is one of them--and then used a giant eyeball to reflect off the moon to put everyone in a hallucination at the same time so she could eat our life-forces,” Karin dismisses. “It’s not important.”

“There is--what?”

Jedi see many things. Many of those things are very strange.

This is a little much even for Anakin.

“It’s over, if you want the actual details, talk to my idiot cousin,” she huffs. “But now I need to run comparisons between the actual nonsense that is your entire existence and the actual nonsense that is my cousin’s existence, and maybe Sasuke’s... fuck this is going to be a mess, I’m going to have to cross-reference all the clans with bloodlines we know are derived from Kaguya, she’s the only angle we have on gods like that, unless... maybe there’s still some black Zetsu goo somewhere... Orochimaru must have kept a sample...”

“Uh, can I--can I go? I’m not comfortable here.”

“I need to find Naruto so he can call the Sage of the Six Paths out of the afterlife so I can see if I can get blood from a ghost to compare to yours.”

#Anakin Skywalker #Uzumaki Karin #Karin #Karin Uzumaki #Naruto #star wars #mini fic #Phoenix Posts #Phoenix Answers Asks #this is so stupid and I have no idea what I'm talking about #bijuu don't even have blood but Anakin's has more in common with THEM than with humans

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yourcooladdiction · 4 years ago

Text

i didn’t have a back-up plan | bucky barnes

summary: reader x bucky break-up but nothing one of tony’s infamous galas can’t fix ;)

pairings: bucky barnes x female reader

warnings: 18+ only pls!! (smut, unprotected sex, public sex), angsty, little bit of fluff, jealous bucky, cuss words

You’re sitting at the kitchen table with your head cradled in both of your hands. Your cheeks are stained from the hour's worth of tears and for a second you are so glad you didn’t put on any mascara this morning. You hear the screeching sound of a chair pulling out across from you and you refuse to look up. You’ve been going at it for hours now.

He just got back from a three-month-long mission, and everything had been fine until he told you how long he was going to be gone this time. You couldn’t do another three, four, maybe even five months without seeing him. You’ve been together for almost two years, yet it seems like you’ve only physically been with him for maybe 4-5 months. You didn’t expect much from this relationship. You knew when you met him it was going to be hard, and if you’re being honest, you didn’t think it was going to last this long…but there was something about him you couldn’t get over. You fell for him hard and now you are dealing with the consequences. You weren’t accustomed to his lifestyle, and you knew you’d never adapt to it. Being an Avenger isn’t something you just sign up for and it’s certainly not for everyone. He didn’t force the lifestyle upon you, he never forced you to Tony’s lavish parties even though he wanted you to but he knew you’d be too uncomfortable. He loved you. You knew that. You loved him. He knew that. But you knew he deserved more, someone like him, and you deserved someone more like you, with nothing too special about them.

“You want to yell at me some more?” You ask.

“Doll...” His tone is cold and emotionless. You know where this is going. You both have known where this is going.

“Do you think we need to break up?” the words escape his lips, and you finally glance up at him.

“If that’s what you want.” You state.

His shocked response is not what you were expecting.

“What do you want? Do you want this to work? Do you love me?” His tone now filled with sincerity. Where the fuck has this been the past two hours you think to yourself. You could’ve sworn you were taking the words out of his mouth, you wanted to beat him to it. But his puzzled look is telling you otherwise, telling you he doesn’t want this at all.

“Bucky, we haven’t been doing well for so long. It’s just... it’s just not working. Our lives do not mesh together anymore. You are all over the place and I can’t drop everything when convenient for you.” You explain your decision and he sits back in his chair.

“I’ve never once expected you to ‘drop your life for me.’ Jesus fucking Christ.” His tone back to irritated. There he is. There’s the Bucky that you’ve been dealing with for the past few hours and the past few months.

“We fight all the fucking time! That’s all we’ve done for months! When you’re gone it’s over the phone or in text, when you’re here it’s in person. Nothing has changed. Nothing helps. It’s not fucking working.” Your voice cracks and his eyes begin to water.

“I... I love you, I don’t want this to end. We can work on this. I can work on this. I can tell Sam I need a break and take some time off.” He attempts to save himself and you shake your head.

“Buck – I love you but I’m holding you back. You need to be with someone who understands your world and I- I’m just not that person.” You try to fight back the stream of tears and he drops his head in defeat.

He attempts to save himself one more time as his mouth opens but nothing comes out. You stare deeply into his piercing eyes. Trying to memorize his face. Trying to memorize him.

He stands up from the table and stops beside you. He reaches down and squeezes your hand. You squeeze back and glance up at him one last time. His eyes fill with tears once more and he takes off to the door. You sit there and force yourself to stare at the now empty seat across from you. You hear the door shut and the floodgates of emotions hits. You sit there for the longest time. Tears and tears flow down your face. Your heart has found a new home in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes eventually dry up and you know that this was the right decision. It was never going to work…

You are pulled out of your poorly timed reminiscing when your date reaches out and grabs ahold of your hand,

“Ready babe?” He asks.

You force a smile and step out of the car.

You find it oh so incredibly ironic that your work is co-hosting one of Tony’s infamous charity galas. After you and Bucky broke up you landed a big-time PR job which involved working the one and only…avengers. You haven’t seen Bucky since the breakup but he had to know that you were practically working for the team by now. You had wondered how long you two could avoid each other, it was bound to happen eventually.

Nevertheless, 8 months post break up...here you are. The guy you’ve been seeing, a stockbroker on Wall Street was more than eager to be your date to this event. He wouldn’t shut up about the networking opportunity, and a chance to “meet the avengers.” Eyeroll.

You, on the other hand, didn’t want to go. You’ve been staring at the guestlist for weeks, well, you’ve been staring at one particular name on the guestlist for weeks. You’ve been racking your brain on why he would come to this event. He usually never goes to these stupid gala events, but yet he is attending a random gala…that you are in charge of…come on. You also find it convenient that he had a plus one beside his name. Of course, he does. He’s Bucky Barnes, why wouldn’t he have a date.

You and your date walk the imitation red carpet that’s laid out. You are the chair of this event so you have to pose for pictures and stop for questions. You hated this part of your job, you just wanted to be behind the scenes but unfortunately, people love you and your work, so they want to know all about you at all times.

You make it through the interviews and pull your date inside. He is enjoying this publicity a little too much. You find some co-workers/friends and push him off on them, and quickly head to the bar to get the strongest drink possible.

You order a dry martini with extra gin and take a sip.

“Some things don’t change, hm doll?”

You stand there frozen. The accent. The beautiful Brooklyn accent that you miss every fucking day. Those six words send chills down your back. The way “doll” flowed off his lips. This fucker. You take a deep breath and pray your makeup has remained in tack and your hair looks good from behind.

You slowly turn around and are met with those deep blue eyes. His hair was much shorter than the last time you saw him, but still so damn handsome. The scruff along his chin almost makes you drool because you miss the feeling of it against your skin. Your eyes make their way back up to him and he is smiling.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” You say back.

“You look...fantastic,” he smirks.

You bought this dress specifically for tonight. For this moment. You got it in his favorite color because you wanted him to see you and admit you looked good. You give yourself an internal high five before responding to him.

“Thank you, so do you.” You gesture at his tux. One of your favorite looks on him.

“I-uh-I hope that it’s not weird that I am here,” he says as he takes a step into you.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I am glad you’re here.”

You quickly realize what you said and try to recover,

“SO you can take part in the donations! The more avengers the merrier!” You laugh nervously

You idiot.

He chuckles at you and shakes his head.

“Is there somewhere more private we can talk?” He asks.

“Uh-I shouldn’t. I have to-“

“Oh right, yes, of course, you’re working. Well, maybe we can meet up before the night is over? I would love to catch up,” his voice is almost a whisper as he is only a few centimes from you. You can smell his unique scent. You used to joke that if he could bottle it up and sell it he wouldn’t have to run off and save the world every other day.

“Yeah, mhm, enjoy your night!” You respond and walk off.

An hour or so passes as you get caught talking to other donors before you can make your way back to your date. He is completely sloshed and making a fool of himself. Great. You call him an Uber and tell him he has to leave. He doesn’t take this very well and begins yelling at you. You and a few co-workers manage to get him outside as you wait for the Uber but he continues yelling at you.

“You’re just a fucking bitch! Get over your fucking metal-arm freak of an ex and you will be happy! I could make you so happy!” He says as he points a finger in your face.

Before you can respond a man quickly jumps in between the two of you and slams him into a wall

“Call her a bitch again and I will kill you, yeah?”

Your date's eyes go wide, and he runs off to the Uber as it pulls up.

“Bucky, what in the absolute fuck is wrong with you?” You yell and he chuckles.

“Really? I just helped you with that fucking asshole and you want to yell at me?”

Without thinking you take ahold of Bucky’s hand and pull him inside and off to a side room. You slam the door behind them both of you and he takes a few steps inside before turning around to face you. You cross your arms along your chest and tell yourself to be calm, give him a chance to explain himself, but as he opens his mouth you cut him off.

“What the fuck are you doing here, James?” You question

A smile splays across his face as you use his first name. He takes a few steps towards you, attempting to close the gap. You slowly take a step or two back still allowing the distance between the two of you. He smirks as he realizes what you’re doing.

“Well doll, if you must know. I needed to see you He says. His accent was thicker than before, which is a clear indicator he’s been enjoying the open bar or some Asgardian liquor or both.

“What about your plus one? Where is she, hm?” You question.

“You mean Sam? Yeah, I’m sure he’s having a great time in there.” He chuckles.

Of fucking course it’s Sam.

“Why was Sam not on the – oh forget it, we aren’t together anymore Buck, you don’t get to just show up and call me doll and pretend that everything is normal.” You sigh.

“Why not?” He asks playfully.

“We broke up, Bucky.” You sigh once more.

“Yeah and?”

“And!? And YOU walked away” You scoff

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, doll?” His voice irritated.

“No, I’m not fucking kidding ‘you.” You tilt your head and mock his accent. His eyes narrow and the muscles in his jaw clench. You forgot how fucking sexy he is when he’s mad.

You two stare at each other for a few seconds as if you’re having a contest. Your emotions begin to overwhelm you and you feel the tears swelling in your eyes. You look down in defeat and you hear him let out a small sigh.

“Love.” His voice cracks. Fuck. You can’t hold the tears back any longer and you feel them fall down your cheek. You look back up at him and his eyes are bloodshot too.

“I fucked up, doll.” He mutters.

“Yeah. You did.”

“I know I did! I know! I should have stayed and fought for you. I know that now. I am sorry. But I’m here now. I’ve been working on this little plan for weeks now, to see you and –“

“No! No, no. You can’t do this. You don’t get to do this.” You interrupt, you wipe a tear away, and turn around to leave.

“It wasn't just me, doll! What about you, huh? You couldn’t adjust to my lifestyle yet you’ve been parading around all the other avengers for the past 8 months. Helping Tony with these bullshit galas!” He challenges.

You spin around and narrow your gaze at him.

“It’s my job.” You defend yourself.

“Yeah? I was your fucking boyfriend, not a lot of effort given there though?”

“Oh, fuck you, Bucky. Fuck. You.” You ridicule.

You both stare at each other down. Waiting for the next one to say something. You are soon questioning why you were so excited to see him tonight. Why you picked out this specific dress. Why you enjoyed it when he defended you against your douchebag date. You feel another tear fall and you quickly wipe it away.

“I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry. I couldn’t handle the distance and I gave up on us too easily because I was scared and I’m sorry.” You finally confess.

He stares at you. Contemplating what you just said. His jaw is still clenched, and both of his hands are stuffed into his pockets. The silence is almost deafening, and you turn to leave as your heart can’t take this anymore. 8 months later and you’re still not over him. You’ll never be over him.

Bucky grabs your hand as you begin to turn and spins you back around to face him.

“Doll, I miss you. God, I fucking miss you.” He croaks.

Before you can speak his lips crash against yours. He quickly has you pushed against the wall as he deepens the kiss. You moan as you feel his tongue enter into your mouth. You wrap your hands in his brown locks and attempt to pull him further into you. He slides a leg in between yours and you moan as he grazes your sweet spot.

“Buck, we’re in public-“ you let out a raspy moan.

“I need you, please.” He groans.

And with that, you’re gone. You give in to whatever he wants. He slips off the straps of your dress and you step out of it, he takes you in as if it was the very first time seeing you. You attempt to cover yourself up, you haven’t been this exposed since the last time you were together.

“Don’t,” he demands.

He lifts your chin with his finger and places the sweetest kiss on your lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers.

“Buck, I haven’t- I haven’t been with anyone else.” You admit.

“Me either, baby. I couldn’t bring myself to think about anyone but you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Let me show you how much I've missed you."

This time the tears swelling in your eyes were happy ones. He smiles as he finally renders you speechless. He wipes the tear away and kisses you once more. The kiss goes back to heated and passionate. You reach for his belt buckle, and he groans as your hands brush up against his erect member. He pulls his bow tie off and quickly unbuttons his shirt. He slips off his pants and underwear and once again has you pushed against the door. He begins kissing down your neck as he slips off your bra. He hooks a finger into your underwear, and you moan as his hands slide down your thighs.

“You ready?” He asks

All you can do is nod as the sight of him is enough to make you come.

He hoists you up against the door and you wrap your legs around him as he slips himself inside of you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” He groans.

“Buck – Jesus.” You cry out as he fills you up. He stills as he thinks he hurts you and pulls away to check on you,

“Move, please.” You giggle and he nuzzles his head into your neck and begins peppering kisses along your collarbone.

He thrusts himself in and out of you at an unrelenting pace. Anyone else would probably be embarrassed with how quickly you’re about to fall apart but you don’t care. You’ve missed this touch for months. You’ve craved it for months. You knew you needed him again. You just needed to realize it.

“Y-you close baby? I’m so close. Fuck.” He moans.

You attempt to speak but all that comes out is a loud moan of his name. He smiles at how easily you fall apart for him. He’s always loved this effect he’s had on you. Even though you held your own, there was something about Bucky that made you putty in his hands. He knew he had to get that feeling back. He knew the second he walked out he wanted to come back. He almost did. He stood outside your door for the longest time but couldn’t bring himself to knock. He knew you’d come back to him. He knew he’d find you again and you two couldn’t help but get back together. You were meant to be.

“Fuck, I’m-“ is all you get out as your orgasm takes over.

“That’s it, doll. Let go. Fuck. I love you. I love you so much.” He praises you as you clench around his cock.

Your head spins as you see stars. With a few more sloppy thrusts, Bucky is moaning your name as he lets go inside of you. He slowly places you back down on the ground and kisses you all over.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I love you.” You say as you lean up to steal a kiss.

He smirks against your lips and wraps his arms around your waist. You two stand there in each other’s embrace.

“Can we make this work? Can you be mine again?” He whispers

“Yes.” You smile.

“Good, I didn’t have a backup plan if you said no.” He smirks and you laugh.

“Let’s get dressed. I’m sure everyone heard us.” You roll your eyes.

“Hey that’s never bothered you before,” he teases.

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